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Social media posts, visa reviews, and a vague, shifting definition of anti-Semitism: these are now some of the grounds for potential deportation in the United States under the Trump presidency.
“There’s no threshold anymore. People are overthinking every word, because they don’t know what’s enough to get them targeted,” said Juno Abdo, a representative of Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) at George Washington University, describing the fear rippling through campus communities.
These aren’t just vague warnings, they are showing up in students’ lives.
The fear deepened after the arrest of Mahmoud Khalil, a graduate student at Columbia University, for his role in student encampments, followed closely by the detention of Rümeysa Öztürk, a PhD student at Tufts and a Fulbright scholar, reportedly for writing an op-ed criticising Israel’s war on Gaza.
Right after these escalations, US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) announced it would begin reviewing visa applications with consideration of individuals’ social media activity, specifically referencing what they called “anti-Semitic activity and physical harassment of Jewish individuals.”
"Eight months later, things have changed. Those same students are afraid to be seen at a protest, to share a post, or even speak. They’re being watched, and now they know it"
The policy didn’t just raise eyebrows, it raised the stakes. I still remember sitting on GWU’s campus last September with an SJP student back then, multiple international students came up asking how they could get involved.
That moment, full of curiosity and courage, feels distant now. Eight months later, things have changed.
Those same students are afraid to be seen at a protest, to share a post, or even speak. They’re being watched, and now they know it.
In reality, the fear goes beyond protests. The New Arab spoke to students in New York who preferred to remain anonymous, saying that even American citizens no longer feel protected when speaking out, especially now.
While the Department of Homeland Security has not released a public breakdown, internal university communications and legal advocates estimate that more than 1,500 student visas have been revoked in recent weeks, many of them with no clear explanation or warning.
Behind each number is a student watching their future fall apart, often without warning.
One experienced immigration attorney, who asked not to be named, said that under the current US law, visa status is entirely discretionary.
“They don’t need to say it’s for political reasons,” he explained. “They just make you inadmissible. That’s it.”
The lack of transparency makes it nearly impossible for students to know what “crosses the line.”
As one student activist put it: “It’s like walking through fog with a target on your back.” The result is a paradox: even as the movement gains visibility, students are retreating into silence.
Juno told The New Arab that students are pulling back not only from organising for Palestine, but from engaging in political activity in general.
“I had one student reach out a few weeks ago asking if their personal email address was saved anywhere in our records,” he said.
“They asked us to remove it, just being listed on an email thread made them feel exposed, like it could be grounds for targeting.”
While some are pulling back, others — especially those with citizenship — are stepping forward.
As international students grow more silent, American citizens have become the frontline of pro-Palestinian activism on campus, not because they’re safe, but because they can’t be deported.
An immigration attorney told The New Arab that while citizens are protected from removal, they still face serious consequences: job loss, academic retaliation, and blacklisting by Zionist-aligned groups.
Many activists now find themselves on platforms like Canary Mission, which publicly profiles students and faculty critical of Israel.
Ruoa Daas, a Palestinian-American PhD student and organiser, is among those named.
When asked about seeing her name and university details on the list, she said: “Any feeling I have any inkling of fear is quickly overshadowed when I see the genocide continuing. Whatever might happen to me has already happened ten times worse to the people of Gaza and the West Bank.”
Despite these risks, Ruoa said students continue reaching out.
“Even with everything happening, even with the fear, I’m more determined than ever to keep going,” she told The New Arab.
“What’s been really powerful is seeing international students still reaching out to me, asking how they can contribute. They’re scared, yes, but they still want to be part of this. That gives me hope.”
She described a community caught between deep belief in the Palestinian cause and fear for their futures. And the administration, she said, is using that fear, putting students in a position where they’re forced to choose between their conscience and their safety.
What we’re seeing now might be the beginning of a new era, one where students, once confident in speaking their minds, are now thinking twice.
Several of those we reached out to, including people who used to speak clearly and publicly, declined to comment. The silence is not apathy; it’s fear.
And while the United States has long claimed the mantle of free speech, many now say that freedom ends the moment someone criticises Israel.
The question is: if that line can be drawn here, what’s to stop it from being drawn elsewhere by other powerful interests, in other moments to come?
Samah Wattad is an investigative journalist and a Master's student in Communication at George Washington University, specialising in political communications. With over nine years of experience, her work focuses on politics, disinformation, and media influence
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