How Trump's travel ban on Palestinians is separating families across borders

Emani, a Palestinian mother living in the West Bank, took a private taxi from her home in Tulkarm to an Israeli-controlled checkpoint in Ramallah — then another taxi from Ramallah to the Qalandia checkpoint, whose wall towers 30 feet above an entrance to Jerusalem. 

She presented her Israeli-issued permit to enter Jerusalem to Israeli soldiers stationed there. She crossed through the checkpoint after they searched her, scanned her fingerprints, and questioned her about the purpose of her trip. 

She then took a bus to the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem, where she walked until a private taxi came into sight. 

On time, and at last, she reached the US Embassy. The consular officer eventually approved Emani's tourist visa to visit her daughter living in the United States.

But now, she won't be using it.

On 16 December 2025, the Trump administration suspended both immigrant and visitor visas for Palestinian passport holders, expanding its previous travel ban from June 2025. 

The ban follows the administration's informal suspension of visitor visas for Palestinian passport holders. 

While neither version has applied to Palestinians who have already secured visas, Emani worries she could be denied entry and does not plan to visit her daughter.

The ban is part of the administration's broader crackdown on immigration. On 14 January 2026, the administration suspended immigrant visas for citizens of 75 countries.

As justification for adding Palestinians to the travel ban, the Trump administration said that Palestinian passport holders cannot be vetted properly. But the experiences of Palestinians, subjected to extensive Israeli security procedures, indicate otherwise.

Emani had made sure to wake up at 5 a.m. on the day of her US visa appointment to avoid delays; otherwise, she would have had to reschedule and cross the Israeli checkpoints again.

"Our journey has many stages, each one with difficulty, with time, with procedures, and with expenses that not everyone can handle," she said.

'It was already frightening before we even got there'

In April 2024, Aisha*, a teacher from northern Gaza who evacuated with her daughter and son, had to cross through a military checkpoint before walking 10.5 miles to the Rafah crossing in southern Gaza, the only evacuation route out of Gaza at the time.

Aisha's petition to immigrate to the United States, filed by her son Samir*, who is living in the United States, was approved.

The Israeli agency responsible for coordinating logistics in Gaza, COGAT, coordinated evacuation approvals with Egyptian authorities.

Attorney Farah Chalisa, who has represented American citizens and their relatives evacuating from Gaza, said many people have been denied evacuation at the Rafah crossing without reason, despite being approved by the US embassy.

After Israeli bombings increasingly killed their neighbours, Aisha's family decided to evacuate and rented a vehicle to reach a military checkpoint that Palestinians call Al-Halaba.

Other Palestinians gave them several instructions for walking the sandy path leading to the checkpoint: Do not bend down to pick up anything, do not stop looking straight ahead, do not argue with Israeli soldiers if they arrest someone, and keep walking if someone is shot.

"It was already frightening before we even got there," Aisha said.

At the checkpoint, Israeli soldiers collected their facial biometric data and questioned Aisha's daughter about her education and marital status.

The soldiers then instructed them to walk along a paved road. Hearing a loud tank behind them, Aisha's family and other Palestinians feared being crushed by tanks, which had been deliberately done before. They moved to the sidewalks, but Israeli soldiers forced them back on the road by firing their weapons.

Aisha and her children trekked four hours under the beaming sun. They reached the South sunburned and exhausted.

"That was the end of one chapter of leaving Gaza," Aisha said, one out of several to ultimately arrive in the United States.

'It’s purely political'

The Trump administration justified the travel ban under the pretext that it cannot properly vet Palestinians because US-designated terrorist groups "operate actively in the West Bank or Gaza Strip and have murdered American citizens."

"We already had systems in place to ensure that every security check was done," said former US diplomat Hala Rharrit. "It's strictly a xenophobic, racist, and inflammatory policy meant to keep a certain group of people out of America."

The Trump administration also cited the Palestinian Authority's weak control over its territory. Khaled Elgindy, Senior Fellow at the Quincy Institute, said this overlooks Israel's control over the West Bank.

Elgindy said the Palestinian Authority's weakness is by design. It is baked into the Oslo Accords, a series of interim agreements between Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization in the 1990s.

The Palestinian Authority, created by the agreement, was meant to be temporary and eventually replaced by an independent Palestinian government. Decades later, it continues to rely on the Israeli government for its own finances and security, while the majority of the West Bank remains under Israeli civil and security control.

Elgindy called the travel ban "purely political" and said it is "meant to handicap, cripple, and delegitimise the Palestinian nationality."

The administration's travel ban keeps families separated

The travel ban has deepened family separation, a crisis compounded by Israel's closure of the Rafah crossing in May 2025, which reopened only this month after nearly two years.

Kaleem*, a Palestinian from Gaza, and his parents are seeking asylum in the United States. They long to be reunited with their sister, who remains trapped in Gaza.

"My mum is so desperate," said Kaleem, "she feels that she will never see her [daughter] again."

Aisha's husband also remains trapped in Gaza. He initially hesitated to evacuate with Aisha in 2024 because he did not want to leave behind his homeland and the house he had inherited from his father.

Seventy-three years old at the time, he also suffered from knee pain and feared delaying his family's walk to the Rafah crossing. But under Israeli bombardment, he feels ready to leave.

"The war isn't really over," Aisha said, who began experiencing health issues in the United States.

"Moving a 65-year-old is like moving a tree,” Samir said, referring to his mother, Aisha. “When you try moving an established plant, the more damage and shock it has.”

Having lived in the United States for 20 years, Samir dreamt of bringing his family so his children could feel at home.

“With a stroke of a pen, the administration broke my family apart,” he said, “You do it the right way, and they will still bar you from bringing your family.”

In Tulkarm, Emani hopes for the ban to be lifted.

"I want my daughter's children to live in peace and freedom, to get their rights, to travel," she said.

"Our travel has become very difficult. I don't go directly from my home to the airport. It's home to a bridge, to another bridge, to another crossing. My life is very tiring."

*Names have been changed to protect identities 

Marwa Elessawy is a Master's student at Georgetown University, specialising in Arab politics and migrants' rights