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A Costly Dream: Life for Undocumented Israelis in LA

Many undocumented Israelis are fearful of remaining in the U.S. illegally and are desperately seeking solutions.
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September 25, 2025
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“I’m in the process of applying for a green card with my wife. Unfortunately, she doesn’t earn enough to serve as my sponsor. I’m looking for help finding someone who would be willing to sponsor me and sign on my behalf.” (Anonymous participant on the “Israelis in Florida” Facebook page.)

“I wanted to know if it’s safe to travel from LAX to Miami, Florida, and whether immigration authorities check the status of people flying within the U.S.” (Anonymous participant on the “Israelis in LA” Facebook page.)

“Shalom, I just arrived in the US. I specialize in social media and video creation, and I can promote your business. I’m also hoping to find a business that will sponsor me and help me get my Green Card or Work Permit” (Maya C. on the Israelis Miami Facebook page.)

While these types of posts may seem naïve, it’s not uncommon to see such requests for advice and assistance on Facebook.

Since Oct. 7, 2023, there has been an influx of Israelis to the United States. There are young families with small children, families with teenage children and singles in their 20s all sharing one goal – to fulfill the American dream and escape the stress of the war in Israel. 

Indeed there were always Israelis who arrived in the U.S. throughout the years, but the war pushed many who had previously only toyed with the idea, to take the step. 

Soon enough they realize that they replace one stressful situation with another. Living in the U.S. without work permits and being undocumented makes it very difficult to find a good job, open a bank account and travel within the U.S., as Real ID is now required on flights. 

Many undocumented Israelis are fearful of remaining in the U.S. illegally and are desperately seeking solutions. One of the more common paths has been marriage, with the going rate for a green card climbing over the years to around $20,000. But these arrangements don’t always go smoothly. Some spouses have refused to appear at the required immigration interview, while others have demanded additional payments beyond the agreed amount — or simply vanished after receiving the initial sum.

Dvir, 27, who asked The Journal to use only his first name, said he feels fearful every time he leaves the house. Reports of ICE arrests and deportations of undocumented immigrants keep him on edge. “I can’t afford to get a traffic violation because I’m afraid of being deported,” he said. “I’ve been trying to find ways to stay here legally, but it’s impossible.” 

Dvir moved to the U.S. 15 months ago and has been working as a salesperson. His friends, who arrived a few years earlier, persuaded him to follow. “Some people tell me I should find a nice Jewish girl and get married, but it’s not that simple. I’m not comfortable marrying just for a green card. I heard there’s another option where you can invest in a business, but I don’t have that kind of money. Living here illegally has been really hard. I can’t visit my family, and I can’t even take a domestic flight because my visa expired.”

Despite everything, Dvir is determined to stay in the U.S. “This is the dream of so many Israelis. I’ve met so many who moved here since the war. We’re all just looking for a little peace and quiet from the constant news and stress,” he said.

What keeps him motivated, he added, are the opportunities. “You can earn much more here than in Israel. I know Israelis who’ve made it big — beautiful homes, successful companies, I want this for myself as well. The possibilities here are endless.”

Sapir, an Israeli actress, arrived in Los Angeles a little over a year ago. With only a modest portfolio, she has found it nearly impossible to secure an artist visa. At 25, she works as a waitress while squeezing in auditions whenever she can. So far, her résumé includes a short student film and a 20-minute independent film — both unpaid but valuable for the credit.

The artist visa process requires applicants to submit proof of recognition, such as newspaper articles written about them, to demonstrate that they are established in their field. “It’s very difficult to get this visa,” admitted Sapir (not her real name). “There are so many obstacles I encounter every day. I go to auditions, and there are so many girls there competing for the same role. I have an Israeli accent, which I’m trying to get rid of, but for that I need an accent coach — and it’s extremely expensive.”

In Israel, Sapir lived in the south, not far from the kibbutzim that were attacked. She recalls nerve-racking hours spent in the mamad, Israel’s bomb shelters. The stress of post-war life, combined with her ambition to make it in Hollywood, ultimately convinced her to take the leap and move.

“I meet actors from all around the world here — some, like me, arrived with no connections but managed to get acting gigs, though the majority are still struggling. I feel like I need to give myself enough time here in order to succeed. But in the meantime, it’s very difficult financially.”

Many actors from Israel and other countries who once pursued the same dream eventually gave up and returned home after years of struggle, realizing that the Hollywood dream is often just impossibly out of reach. Sapir is determined not to let that discourage her, though she admits the thought sometimes crosses her mind.

One source of strength has been the Israeli community in Los Angeles, which welcomed her with open arms. “I posted on Facebook that I had nowhere to celebrate Rosh Hashanah, and immediately received six offers from complete strangers to celebrate with their families. The Israeli community has been really amazing. I got job offers, a free place to stay when I first arrived, furniture and endless advice and support.”

Dana and Hagay have been living in Los Angeles for nearly two years. They arrived with their five-year-old daughter just before the war and decided to remain. Hagay found work as a locksmith with an Israeli company that was willing to overlook his undocumented status, while Dana took a part-time job teaching Hebrew. “We didn’t plan on staying, but we couldn’t go back because our flight had been canceled,” Dana said. “Then, we just decided to stay. My family went to our apartment, sold whatever they could, stored some things, and sent us what we needed.”

Hagay earns a decent income — more than he would have made in Israel — but the couple admitted that life in Los Angeles is very expensive. “Friends who have lived here for years told us the cost of living has gone up a lot,” Dana said. “We can’t afford to send our daughter to a Jewish school, we don’t eat out at restaurants and we really need to watch every dollar. Life here isn’t what we imagined it would be, but we’re hopeful it will get better. We’re not ready to give up on the dream just yet.”

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