01-08-2025
At longtime South Beach club, new immigration rules force dancers off stage
On a recent Wednesday night, dancers in glittering sequined costumes spun across a bartop stage, gyrating to bachata hits under the neon rainbow lighting at Mango's Tropical Cafe. But one of the iconic South Beach club's beloved performers was missing from the lineup.
A staple of dance performances at Mango's for the last two years, Eduardo was recently let go. Mango's owner David Wallack said Eduardo, a Cuban national who arrived in 2023 through a humanitarian parole program, is just one of many valuable employees the nightclub has lost because their work authorization was revoked.
'First we lost three, then it turned into four — suddenly I realized we've lost 10 people in the last two weeks,' Wallack said. 'That's a big percentage of staff for any small business. And a specialized person like a great dancer, an artist, that's extremely hard to replace.'
Eduardo, who agreed to speak to the Herald using only his middle name because he fears being deported, recently became one of thousands of Cubans in South Florida who have lost the right to work because of the tightening of immigration policies under President Donald Trump. In March, the Department of Homeland Security announced it would terminate the humanitarian parole program for Cubans, Haitians, Nicaraguans and Venezuelans. A lower court briefly blocked that change, but a U.S. Supreme Court ruling on May 30 overturned that order, clearing the way for DHS to cancel work permits tied to parole en masse.
At the time, DHS called the ruling 'a victory for the American people,' adding that ending the parole programs, 'as well as the paroles of those who exploited it, will be a necessary return to common-sense policies, a return to public safety, and a return to America First.'
Within days, immigrants in South Florida began receiving notices that their status had been terminated.
'We started getting phone calls from employees in tears saying they got letters from the Department of Homeland Security that their work authorization was revoked,' Mango's human resources director Natalie Corporan said.
Employers using the federal E‑Verify system — including Mango's — began receiving automated alerts in June that workers' employment authorization had lapsed. There was no grace period. For businesses like Mango's, the change meant instant staffing losses.
'It's heart-wrenching to have to do this,' Corporan said of the calls she's had to make to employees like Eduardo, letting them know they can't continue working at Mango's. 'It's totally unfair what's happening.'
One of those alerts flagged Eduardo.
In 2023, he had boarded a flight from Havana to Miami, entering the United States legally through the humanitarian parole program President Joe Biden had created to stem the flow of unauthorized migrants at the southern border. Under the program, citizens of Cuba, Haiti, Nicaragua and Venezuela could instead legally enter the United States for two years if they had a sponsor in the country, passed a background check and bought a plane ticket. Eager to continue the career he'd begun in Cuba as a professional dancer, Eduardo, then 26, soon landed a spot among Mango's roster of performers, a job where he instantly felt at home.
'I loved everything about Mango's,' Eduardo said. 'There were always new shows, different dances and great vibes — I made new friends, started new relationships and met colleagues, other dancers.'
Over the years, Mango's has drawn tourists looking for a quintessential South Beach experience, becoming famous for its entertainment and, in particular, its Cuban performers like the local legend Miguel Cruz. Wallack said he's always wanted Mango's to be the 'Tropicana of the U.S.,' referring to the renowned Havana cabaret club.
Eduardo imagined years of choreographing dances and performing at the classic South Beach club. But that dream fell apart in recent months.
'When Trump won the elections, I was worried about what might happen,' Eduardo said. 'I felt a bit of anxiety and fear, but I still hoped everything would be OK.'
Eduardo applied for permanent residency in 2023 shortly after arriving and didn't expect any issues with staying or working in the U.S. His parents and siblings, whom he lives with in Miami, were already permanent residents, having immigrated years prior.
Wallack said losing Eduardo was particularly painful. 'I loved watching him perform — such unique moves, so acrobatic — and I thought, 'What if I just let him keep working?'' But when Wallack spoke to Corporan about it, she told him the risk was too great.
Corporan said her job has become consumed by running weekly employment status checks and scrambling to find replacements for performers, bartenders and servers. 'It's become the top of my list to focus on, ensuring we're in compliance,' Corporan said, adding there's also 'extensive time training and doing rehearsals — we can't just hire anyone to replace employees with special talents.'
'It's a death sentence to our industry,' she added. 'Other businesses are going to face these same struggles with shortages of employees. We're all going to be struggling to do what we can to survive this.'
Mango's has recently lost roughly 10% of its staff because of work authorization issues, according to Wallack and Corporan. 'This is really happening right now in Miami Beach. There's a lot of hospitality businesses and many positions filled by immigrants,' Wallack said.
'It's choking us — people who did everything right and got the proper papers, now all of a sudden the government is letting their authorization expire, forcing them to drop out of the workforce,' Wallack added.
City commissioners in Miami Beach recently approved an official statement condemning 'the growing use of violent and dehumanizing rhetoric directed at immigrants — rhetoric that threatens the safety, dignity and well-being of thousands of families who call Miami Beach home.' Wallack dialed into the meeting to voice his support for the resolution and share how his business was being affected by the ongoing immigration crackdown.
'These are excellent staff, wonderful contributors to the community who generate tax funds for the city who have lost their ability to work,' Wallack told the commission.
'That resolution was so human. It was empathy, compassion — I felt it was very important to acknowledge that,' he later told the Herald.
Mango's has been around for 34 years, and Wallack said that many of his employees have become citizens while working at the nightclub.
'We have employees who've been here for 20 years, who've made their lives at Mango's and supported their families through it. We've given scholarships to some of their children. It's a shame what's happening now. These people are being ostracized,' Wallack said. 'Our staff leans heavily Latin American. They're people who've come here to find a better life — wonderful, hardworking, industrious, hopeful people that have families.'
Many of those families may now be facing serious struggles because of the sudden loss of income and employment, he said.
Eduardo still hopes to be reauthorized to work and said he'd return to Mango's in a heartbeat. But for now, there's few options — there's no job Eduardo can legally work in the U.S.
'My Mango's salary was totally important to my family's finances,' he said. 'I feel awful because now I can't work or help my family, and I can't do what I love most in the world — which is to dance.'
