Undocumented students have long been part of American college campuses, yet public debate continues to frame their presence as legally questionable or institutionally risky. This narrative is misleading. Federal law does not actually stop undocumented students from going to college or university. What it does create is a fragmented and often misunderstood policy environment that leaves institutions uncertain, students vulnerable, and equity unevenly applied across states.
At the federal level, two laws passed in 1996 continue to shape access to higher education for undocumented students. The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act (PRWORA) restricts access to federal public benefits, including Pell Grants and federal student loans, while the Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRAIRA) limits how states may offer residency-based tuition benefits. Together, these statutes exclude undocumented students from federal aid but stop short of prohibiting college enrollment itself. Higher education access, in other words, remains legally permissible but financially constrained.
This legal gray zone has often been misunderstood as a prohibition. It is not. Colleges retain broad discretion over admissions, institutional aid, student services, and privacy protections. Yet the absence of a clear federal pathway has shifted responsibility downward, forcing states and institutions to decide how inclusive or restrictive they want their campuses to be.
The Supreme Court’s landmark decision in Plyler v. Doe established that undocumented children cannot be denied access to K–12 education under the Equal Protection Clause. The ruling doesn’t directly apply to higher education, but it did make a point that still holds true: denying education based on immigration status hurts both the individual and society as a whole. The decision leaves open the legal space for higher education, allowing access but providing uneven support.
As a result, state policy now determines much of an undocumented student’s fate. States such as California and Texas grant in-state tuition based on high school attendance rather than immigration status, a workaround that complies with federal law while expanding access. Research shows that these policies are not symbolic; they directly improve enrollment stability, persistence, and academic outcomes. In contrast, states that deny in-state tuition or state aid effectively price students out of higher education, even when those students have lived, studied, and graduated locally.
Privacy has become one of the most important issues on campus, along with tuition. The Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act (FERPA) protects student education records, including immigration status, when collected, from being shared without permission or a valid legal order. Contrary to popular fear, colleges are not required to share student information proactively with immigration authorities. In fact, most disclosures would violate federal privacy law. When institutions fail to communicate these matters clearly, fear and misinformation fill the gap.
The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program further complicates the landscape. For recipients, DACA provides temporary protection from deportation and legal work authorization, enabling internships, licensure pathways, and campus employment that are otherwise inaccessible. But years of litigation and shifting federal directives have turned DACA into a source of chronic uncertainty. Students are expected to plan academic and professional futures atop a policy structure that could change overnight.
This uncertainty carries real consequences. Studies consistently document high levels of stress among undocumented and DACA-eligible students, driven by financial insecurity, fear of family separation, and unclear career prospects. Yet research also shows that when institutions provide targeted advising, legal referrals, emergency aid, and culturally informed support, students demonstrate strong academic commitment and resilience. Institutional climate matters as much as policy.
Faculty and staff often find themselves on the front lines of this tension. Many want to help but lack clear guidance or training, leading to inconsistent advice and unintended harm. Some undocumented students even become de facto legal interpreters for their families, shouldering responsibilities far beyond the classroom. These dynamics expose a deeper issue: the absence of coordinated, transparent institutional policy.
Colleges are not powerless here. Even within federal constraints, institutions can adopt formal undocumented student support policies, limit unnecessary data collection, expand institutionally funded scholarships, establish centralized support centers, and train faculty and staff on FERPA and state law. These steps are not acts of defiance; they are lawful exercises of institutional discretion aligned with higher education’s core mission.
The question, then, is not whether colleges are allowed to support undocumented students. It is whether they are willing to do so clearly, consistently, and responsibly.
At a time when immigration debates are increasingly politicized, higher education has a choice. Institutions can retreat into ambiguity and fear, or they can lead with clarity, legality, and purpose. Supporting undocumented students is not about circumventing the law. It is about understanding it fully and using the space it allows to expand opportunity, protect privacy, and uphold the fundamental promise of education.
Abdullahi Hussein is a community journalist focused on uplifting immigrant voices and local stories in Boston. He is also our director of editorial and development.
