❌

Reading view

10 people on weathering 12 months of immigration turmoil

A carousel of portraits
10 people tell all about the uncertainty, risk, and reward of navigating the US immigration system.

Sean Marc Lee, Angela Ponce, Chinky Shukla, Ian Tuttle for BI

The H-1B visa system is one of high stakes, shifting rules, and little certainty.

Over the past year, Business Insider has spoken to more than 20 H-1B visa holders and hopefuls about their decisions to opt in, push through, and sometimes give up on the H-1B American Dream as the Trump administration has become increasingly hostile to foreign workers.

As part of our H-1B Fallout series, published one year after the Trump administration introduced a $100,000 payment for some new H-1B petitions, we are telling the stories of people navigating the visa system. Some left the US and returned to their home countries, while others rebuilt elsewhere or are still trying to build a career in the US.

In a statement, a White House spokesperson said the goal of the $100,000 H-1B fee is to focus on sponsoring "truly highly specialized temporary labor." A Department of State spokesperson said the US is unapologetic about its "America first visa policies" and that the administration is working with partners to facilitate necessary visas. A Department of Labor spokesperson said the administration is protecting American jobs and increasing wages.

Keep reading to see what life has been like for people affected by the US's immigration policy changes.

H-1B by the numbers (Table)
Soumi Chanda, 35
Person stands in a narrow urban street lined with buildings, parked scooter, overhead wires, and streetlights.

Paromita Chatterjee for BI

Soumi Chanda had spent 13 years building a life in the US when a 2025 layoff put her H-1B status at risk.

Chanda moved from Kolkata to Spokane, Washington, in 2013 for graduate school. She was selected for an H-1B on her first attempt in 2021 — "pure luck," she said — and Amazon later took over her sponsorship, prompting her move to Seattle.

When Amazon laid her off, Chanda had 60 days to find a new sponsor or leave the country. "Sixty days sounded impossible from the start," she said. Her search came as debate intensified over the proposed fee. "Even with Amazon on my résumé, I didn't get a single interview the following month," she said.

When preparing to leave the US, Chanda made her two cats her priority. She spent weeks arranging their international travel and paid roughly $5,000 for paperwork, along with thousands more to break her lease, dispose of her belongings, and secure last-minute travel. In total, she estimates the move cost her $18,000.

Now back in Kolkata, she's still working out whether India will be her long-term home. "There's plenty here I value, and other things, as a feminist, I find harder to reconcile."

Person holds a fluffy black-and-white cat in a softly lit indoor room.

Paromita Chatterjee for BI

Even with Amazon on my résumé, I didn't get a single interview the following month.

Read: She was picked for an H-1B visa on her first try, but got laid off

Luciana Pereyra, 26
Luciana Pereya

Angela Ponce for BI

Luciana Pereyra moved from Peru to the US at 17 on a tennis scholarship. After graduating, she landed a marketing role at Ohio State. Her H-1B was approved in April 2024. She described that time as living in "survival mode," knowing that losing a job could also mean losing her home.

In December 2025, Pereyra said HR contacted her to say that her position would end the following month. She had 60 days to find another employer to sponsor her visa or leave the country. "I treated the job search like the last match of my career," she said.

She focused on university jobs, but the timing worked against her: Many campuses closed for winter break as her grace period began. She said two promising opportunities fell through after prospective employers raised concerns about securing a visa amid the proposed H-1B fees.

Pereyra returned to Peru in March. In Lima, she freelances for a US marketing client, coaches tennis, and is building a small business. She said she would consider moving to the US again, but only if it came with "a real path to permanent residency."

Luciana Pereyra

Angela Ponce for BI

I treated the job search like the last match of my career.

Read: She played college tennis, earned 2 degrees, then lost her H-1B job

Mohamed Zeeshan, 33
Mohamed Zeeshar

Jared Soares for BI

Recent changes to US immigration policy have made Mohamed Zeeshan, a green card holder, more concerned about whether immigrants like him can build stable lives in the country.

He's seen relatives and friends consider countries such as Germany and Australia, rather than the US, because of the difficulty of securing jobs and visas after graduation. The instability surrounding H-1B visas — including the proposed $100,000 fee for new applicants — has reinforced his concerns.

Zeeshan self-petitioned for a green card and received it in 2023, enabling him to live in the US without needing employer sponsorship.

In 2025, he started his own consulting firm. Over the past year, Zeeshan said he has watched the immigration landscape become more uncertain.

He still plans to become a US citizen but says that if he had to rely on an H-1B visa today, he doesn't think he'd do it: "When you're on an H-1B here in the US, you're kind of always on tenterhooks."

"You don't know if you're going to be here next month or two months or three months down the line. That's a very difficult position to be in."

His wife is still waiting for her green card, and the couple is holding off on having children until they have more clarity about her status.

Mohamed Zeeshar

Jared Soares for BI

When you're on an H-1B here in the US, you're kind of always on tenterhooks.

Read: He moved to the US on a green card and wouldn't do the same on an H-1B

Vivienne Yang, 31
Vivienne Yang

Sean Marc Lee for BI

Vivienne Yang found out she was being laid off from her H-1B-sponsored job while she was on vacation in Japan in October 2024.

She spent the rest of the trip speaking with immigration and labor lawyers, emailing her employer, and trying to enjoy sightseeing with her partner.

Yang, who is from Taiwan, managed to get her employment extended for a few weeks, allowing her to fly back to New York. She then switched to a B-2 tourist visa so she could stay in the US longer and search for another job. She went through over 20 job interviews in the next year, all of them unsuccessful.

So, she decided to pivot.

Yang was accepted into a New York acting program, but her application for a US student visa was denied after she returned to Taiwan to apply for it in December 2025. Her American partner now looks after her two cats in Brooklyn while she remains in Taiwan, living with her family and working as a content creator, business English coach, and freelance consultant.

She has put her US plans on hold. "I don't want to deal with visa issues anytime soon," she said.

"Now I can move on with my life without any regrets because I know I have tried," she said. "I have a better understanding of what living abroad looks like and what American dream looks like in reality."

Vivienne Yang

Sean Marc Lee for BI

I have a better understanding of what living abroad looks like and what American Dream looks like in reality.

Read: She lost her job and left behind her American dream — and her cats

Watch: Vivienne Yang on letting go of her American dream

Ananya Joshi, 26
Ananya Joshi

Natalia Kepesz for BI

Ananya Joshi's plans to build a career in the US came apart in 2025, when a visa setback and a sudden layoff pushed her to look for a future elsewhere.

Joshi had moved from India to Illinois to pursue a master's degree. After graduating in 2024, she joined a Chicago startup developing cultivated meat as a scientist, working on an F-1 Optional Practical Training, or OPT visa.

She was enjoying the work until she learned that her employer could not complete E-Verify, which employers must use to sponsor an extension of STEM graduates' OPT.

From May through July 2025, Joshi interviewed for jobs around the world. She received offers in Canada and Germany and ultimately chose Germany. "Having gone through so much, I realized I needed that stability," she said.

In January, she moved to Rostock, about three hours north of Berlin, to join another lab-grown-meat startup. These days, Joshi is taking German classes and adjusting to what she describes as a slower work culture. She's also learning to navigate a long-distance relationship with her boyfriend, who remains in the US.

Joshi said she would still like to return to the US, but said, "I can't forget what I went through."

Gu Yichen, 31
Yichen Gu

Ian Tuttle for BI

Gu Yichen's path to working in the US began in high school, when he spent a year as an exchange student in Yacolt, a small town in Washington State. He later attended college in the US, interning at Amazon before joining the company full-time after graduation.

With a STEM degree, Gu had three chances to enter the H-1B lottery. He was selected on his third try.

In late 2022, Gu left Amazon for a job at Google, despite his manager's warning that the market was becoming unstable. He was laid off the following month, before he had done "a single day of real work."

Gu faced pressure to find a new employer within the 60-day grace period. Rather than take a stopgap role, he returned to China for a break before ultimately rejoining his former Amazon team in the US on an I-140, an immigration petition that can support a green-card application.

He has since applied for a green card, hoping it will give him "more freedom in both my personal life and my career."

Over the past year, he said the biggest challenge has remained the same: His ability to stay in the US is tied to his job. "I've been thinking what kind of life I really want to live and what is my real interest in life."

Yichen Gu

Ian Tuttle for BI

I've been thinking what kind of life I really want to live and what is my real interest in life.

Read: Google laid him off a month after hiring him; he was on an H-1B visa

Disha Lamba, 28
Disha Lamba

Chinky Shukla for BI

Leaving a six-figure data-scientist job in New York and returning to India in May was not an easy decision for Disha Lamba, but she says being closer to her family — and free from the limits of an employment visa — made it worthwhile.

Lamba moved to the US in 2021 to pursue a master's degree. She later joined CVS Health as a data scientist and learned that she had been selected in the H-1B lottery in March 2026.

By then, however, Lamba had already decided to move home. Though she had a fulfilling job and social life in New York, she struggled with the distance from her parents.

The prospect of managing an H-1B long-term reinforced her decision. Lamba was concerned about the difficulty of obtaining visa stamps to travel, as well as the limits the visa can place on changing employers, taking a career break, or pursuing additional income.

"Anything comes with its pros and cons. H-1B has its pros but also has its cons. I wasn't OK with the cons of being in these restrictions," she said.

After resigning, Lamba moved back to live with her parents and brother. She took a two-month career break and secured a short-term contract role, but she's still looking for a permanent job. Nonetheless, she's still happy about her decision.

"Every moment when I get to hug my parents, that's when I realize, no, this was all worth it," she said.

Disha Lamba

Chinky Shukla for BI

Sunjana Ramana, 27
Sunjana Ramana

Ayesha Kazim for BI

After three failed attempts to obtain an H-1B visa, Sunjana Ramana is reinventing her "American Dream."

Ramana moved from Hyderabad, India, to New York in 2021 for her master's degree. After graduating in 2023, she joined a global insurance company. Her employer entered her in the H-1B lottery in 2023, 2024, and 2025. She was not selected.

When her work authorization ended in early 2026, Ramana had to leave the US.

"When I didn't get the visa, I was really, really clueless. I thought that was the end of everything that I had built for three years," she said, adding, "but I realized just a couple of months later that there are so many additional options that I didn't know existed."

Instead of returning to India, Ramana secured a 2-year UK visa that is not tied to one employer. She chose London as her base, where she could pursue the entrepreneurship she had wanted to explore in the US.

Ramana was accepted into Antler's founder-in-residence program and spent two months building Flax, a two-person tech company that helps AI founders and builders. In May, she moved into a product-management role in fintech.

"I want to go back and tell my younger self not to associate the 'dream' with America or a country for that matter, because it doesn't matter where you are. The dream should be aligned to you and your goals."

Sunjana Ramana

Ayesha Kazim for BI

When I didn't get the visa, I was really, really clueless. I thought that was the end of everything that I had built for three years

Read: She left the US when she didn't get an H-1B visa. Now, she's living a new dream.

Madhur Mehta, 36
Madhur Mehta

Chona Kasinger for BI

An H-1B selection brought immediate relief for Madhur Mehta this year, but it has not resolved the uncertainty that shapes his and his fiancée's plans in the US.

Mehta moved to the US in 2021, earned a master's degree in 2023, and was eligible for three years of student work authorization. Amazon offered him both a job and sponsorship.

He joined the company in 2025 as a program manager.

But over the past year, while the company was trying to get him an H-1B, Mehta grew concerned about changes to the lottery. He began exploring backup plans for his US life, including an EB-1A visa and opportunities in Canada and Australia.

He learned he was selected for an H-1B in March, potentially giving him the chance to work and remain in the US for another three years.

"It was a big relief," he said, adding, "It's like someone has taken a 100-pound load off your mind," he said.

Mehta's fiancée, who is also from India, has one remaining chance in the H-1B lottery before her work authorization expires.

"It's hard, you know, obviously you can't plan," Mehta said, adding, "unless we are both very clear on what our visa status is."

Madhur Mehta

Chona Kasinger for BI

It's like someone has taken a 100-pound load off your mind.

Read: He got an H-1B visa, but uncertainty makes it hard to plan his future

Shreya Mishra Reddy, 34
Shreya Mishra

Cassandra Rudolph for BI

Shreya Mishra Reddy left the US in January after not being selected for an H-1B visa. Her plan was to leave the country and keep applying for US jobs from abroad.

That plan, however, started to feel unrealistic after the Trump administration proposed the $100,000 fee on some H-1B applicants.

Though the fee has been challenged in court and is not being enforced, she said the uncertainty changed her mind: "I've decided not to pursue H-1B or any role in the US right now."

Reddy had moved to the US in 2021 for a master's degree in engineering management at Duke University. After graduating, she was hired by Visa, but her student work authorization expired before she could secure an H-1B visa.

She's now in Toronto with her husband on a tourist visa and weighing whether to base herself in Canada or India. During a career break, Reddy has been writing a fiction book and building a handloom brand while exploring fintech roles.

In March, Reddy was accepted into a master's program in psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. She decided not to attend, citing uncertainty around student visas and the US job market.

She said she's optimistic about her future and wishes she'd been more open to opportunities in other countries earlier, rather than banking everything on the US.

"I was thinking that H-1B would pan out for me, it didn't, and it's something that I definitely regret."

I was thinking that H-1B would pan out for me, it didn't, and it's something that I definitely regret.

Read: She gave up on H-1B amid $100K fee; now she's weighing Canada or India

Watch: Why an H-1B visa hopeful decided to give up on work in the US

Shreya Mishra

Cassandra Rudolph for BI

Read the original article on Business Insider

  •  

I model my day off pro athletes. Here's what that means for my schedule, my team's, and my approach to 996 culture.

Hardik Jagda is wearing a light blue suit and standing inside a stadium.
Jagda told Business Insider '996 culture' misses the point.

Courtesy of Proximity Works

  • Hardik Jagda wants to function like an Olympian, and waking up at 3 a.m. helps him do that.
  • He commits long hours to his AI-based company, but says he doesn't enforce 996 hours on his team.
  • For Jagda, 996 misses the point. Here's how he structures his day instead.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Hardik Jagda, 35, the CEO of Proximity Works, who lives in San Francisco. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In 2017, I wanted to build my own company, but I couldn't jump into it full-time because of my financial obligations at home.

Instead, I'd spend the mornings and evenings outside my full-time job working on my side projects. That time was foundational for building my company, Proxmity Works, which I launched in 2019. My aim was to help broadcasters scale their live sports streaming platforms worldwide. In 2020, we started building AI infrastructure for live sports.

Those years made me aware of how my body clock works. I read a lot of autobiographies from entrepreneurs and athletes to understand what allowed them to build what they achieved. I noticed athletes would talk about starting their day early to train and work, in time for rest and recovery throughout the day. I started modeling my days after this, waking up early so I could have four to five hours to build my company before work started. I still stick to this lifestyle now that I'm a full-time founder and CEO.

I want to structure my day to function like an Olympian

In the early stages of Proximity, I performed pretty much every role in the company. Today, I have a team of roughly 45 people, five in the US and the rest spread out globally. My cofounder is based in India.

After 7 a.m., my time isn't mine anymore because I have requests coming in from employees in different time zones.

I like to start the day early, so I'm protecting the first three hours as time for myself. I usually wake up between 3 a.m. and 5 a.m. Between 3 and 6 a.m., I don't touch my emails or look at messages.

I use these early hours to focus on strategic decisions. There was one point, roughly two years ago, when we had to interview a lot of engineers quickly for a new project. I sat down with my talent acquisition team and found a way to redesign our recruitment workflow to take place within 72 hours. That wouldn't have been possible if I didn't give myself the three-hour morning block.

Hardik Jagda is standing inside a sports stadium wearing a dark navy suit.
Jagda tries to protect the first 3 hours of his day.

Courtesy of Hardik Jagda.

In the mornings, I work out and write my goals down. These are usually measurable and trackable goals for my company, as well as goals for myself and my fitness.

Most of my team calls don't start before 7:30 or 8 a.m. I usually take my first couple of meetings at home before driving to the office. During the day, I try to minimize Zoom calls and take meetings as audio calls so I can move around during them. I try to wrap up my meetings by 2:30 p.m., work out at 3 p.m., and then focus on more creative tasks, like speech-writing, after that. I spend my evenings with loved ones before going to bed around 9 p.m. and trying to get seven hours of sleep.

It's not like I start my day at 4 a.m. and just work through the next 12 hours. I build in slots for "recovery" throughout the day. On my calendar, I put in 15-minute slots before important meetings, where I remind myself of my goal for the call.

For the most part, I work six days a week, spending my Saturdays focusing on a key skill I want to develop, like public speaking.

'996' misses the point. I don't run my team with this schedule in mind.

For the most part, I work six days a week.

I work more than 40 hours a week, but I don't keep track of the time. I listen to my body.

We don't keep track of how many hours the team works. It's more about a culture of ownership, where people really care about the problem they're working on.

Even though I've become a morning person, we're fine with engineers who are more productive at night, as long as they maintain a five-to-six-hour overlap with the other engineers.

"996 culture," working six days a week from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., has gained traction in Silicon Valley. I think it misses the point. It's more about volume than it is about structure. You want to structure your day towards putting in your best work by thinking about when you'll spend time training, recovering, and learning new skills. I'd rather focus on the right structures than on volume.

Do you have a story to share about working in a 996 culture? Contact this reporter at ccheong@businessinsider.com

Read the original article on Business Insider

  •  
❌