Around the globe, approximately 10 million people live without a nationality, often labeled as 'legal ghosts.' These individuals, lacking citizenship, are frequently stripped of fundamental rights and opportunities that those with recognized nationalities take for granted. Statelessness arises from diverse causes—legislative decisions, survival needs, or even governmental errors. Each story is a harrowing tale of struggle and resilience.
10. Mikhail Sebastian

Mikhail Sebastian’s life embodies the truth behind John Donne’s timeless words, “No man is an island.” Born under Soviet rule in present-day Azerbaijan, a series of tragedies forced him to traverse countries and continents, ultimately leaving him marooned on an island without a homeland.
Sebastian’s troubles began in the late 1980s when violent clashes erupted between Armenian separatists and the Azerbaijani communist government. The bloodshed compelled him, an ethnic Armenian, to flee to Armenia after his aunt was brutally killed. Overwhelmed by a flood of refugees, he later moved to Turkmenistan, where he faced persecution as a gay man in a nation that outlawed homosexuality. Seeking safety, he arrived in the United States in 1995 and sought asylum. Despite his application being denied, Sebastian stayed in the country for years, determined to survive.
Sebastian’s unauthorized stay in the United States led to a six-month prison sentence. Released in February 2003, his newfound freedom came with complications. His nationality had become as obsolete as the Soviet Union, leaving him trapped in a legal limbo. While permitted to work and study in the US, he was forbidden from leaving the country. In 2011, a trip to Samoa to celebrate the new year proved disastrous. Unaware that western Samoa was an independent nation, Sebastian violated his residency terms, leading to severe consequences.
A judge denied Sebastian reentry to the United States, forcing him to remain in Samoa for over a year. He lived with a local family, surviving on a meager $50 weekly allowance. His luck changed in 2013 when the US granted him special humanitarian parole, allowing his return.
9. Deepan Budlakoti

Deepan Budlakoti’s case is a legal anomaly in the realm of statelessness. Born in Ottawa, Canada, his parents were Indian nationals who later became Canadian citizens. Despite holding a Canadian birth certificate and passport, the government denies his citizenship and seeks to deport him to India, a country that also refuses to recognize him.
Budlakoti’s troubles stem from his own poor decisions. In 2010, at age 19, he was convicted of drug and weapons trafficking. After serving his sentence, he was informed of Canada’s plan to deport him to India. The government’s reasoning hinges on his parents’ status at the time of his birth. Canadian law grants citizenship to children born in the country unless their parents were foreign government employees. Budlakoti’s parents worked for India’s High Commission, though he claims they resigned two months before his birth. The government disputes this, classifying him as a permanent resident before revoking that status.
The Canadian government faced a legal hurdle in its attempt to deport Budlakoti: India also rejected his citizenship claims. With no nation willing to accept him, Budlakoti was trapped. He was denied employment, education, and even healthcare. Despite his efforts to contest his status in court, he lost the case. The court ruled that he wasn’t stateless since he had never formally applied for citizenship in either country.
Since then, Budlakoti has relied on donations to survive. He remains determined to take his case to the Supreme Court, supported by lawyers who either work pro bono or at reduced rates.
8. The Children of International Surrogacy

While necessity drives innovation, the legal challenges it creates are often complex and resolved on a case-by-case basis. In the realm of parenthood, advancements in travel and communication have popularized international surrogacy. While this practice has helped many aspiring parents, it has also created confusion for nations trying to assign nationality to children born through such arrangements.
While most countries have straightforward rules for assigning nationality to traditionally born children, the situation becomes far more complicated for babies born through international surrogacy. Nations like Thailand and India, popular destinations for surrogacy, often face challenges when intended parents come from countries that prohibit commercial surrogacy. This can lead to babies being denied entry into their intended home country. Additionally, countries that permit international surrogacy may sometimes refuse citizenship to babies born within their borders but intended for foreign parents.
One notable case involves Kari Ann Volden from Norway, where commercial surrogacy is banned. Seeking to have a child, she traveled to India and used a surrogate who gave birth to twins. However, neither Norway nor India recognized the children as citizens. Volden spent two years resolving the issue while the twins remained stateless in India. Similarly, a gay Belgian couple faced hurdles bringing their child, born via a Ukrainian surrogate, into Belgium due to surrogacy laws. The child spent 16 months in foster care and another year in an orphanage before the couple succeeded.
As international surrogacy grows more common, an increasing number of children are likely to face instability and legal challenges during their early years.
7. Baby Ferouz

In November 2014, Ferouz Myuddin was just 11 months old. Though too young to comprehend his statelessness, this infant would go on to have a significant influence on Australia’s immigration policies.
Baby Ferouz was born in a Brisbane hospital in November 2013. His parents, Rohingya refugees from Myanmar, had arrived in Australia by boat three months earlier. As members of the persecuted Rohingya community, they had been denied citizenship and basic rights in Myanmar. Ferouz’s father had lived as a fugitive since childhood after his own father was killed by the military. Hoping to secure a better future for Ferouz and their three older children, the parents applied for a protection visa, relying on his Brisbane birth certificate. However, their hopes were dashed.
Despite being born on Australian soil, Baby Ferouz was classified as an “unauthorized maritime arrival” due to his parents’ status. Australia’s immigration minister argued that Ferouz and over 100 other children in similar situations should inherit their parents’ legal standing. This meant Ferouz and his family remained in a detention center, facing potential deportation. After a legal battle ended in defeat, the Myuddin family refused to give up.
The Myuddin family’s lawyers appealed the decision and pledged to pursue similar cases for other affected children. Just three months after the initial ruling, the Australian government reversed its stance, granting protection visas to Ferouz and 30 other babies. This allowed the parents to remain in the country and care for their children.
6. Thousands of Denationalized Dominicans

For years, residents of Haiti, a nation plagued by poverty and natural disasters, have crossed into the wealthier Dominican Republic to work in sugar plantations, construction, and hotels for meager pay. Over time, many children were born to Haitian parents in the Dominican Republic, and the government initially granted them birth certificates and citizenship. However, this practice ended in 2013 when a surge of social and political tensions led to the mass denationalization of Haitian descendants.
The 2010 earthquake in Haiti, which caused widespread devastation, triggered a massive influx of Haitians into the Dominican Republic seeking refuge. This exacerbated existing tensions between the two groups, as many Dominicans viewed Haitians with suspicion and disdain. The growing Haitian population fueled calls for immigration reform, culminating in a court ruling that intensified the denationalization crisis.
A Dominican constitutional court ruled that individuals born to foreign parents between 1929 and 2010 were no longer considered citizens. This decision threatened the status of approximately 200,000 Haitian Dominicans, many of whom had never set foot in Haiti. Some lost their jobs, while others were barred from attending universities or pursuing careers, leaving their futures in legal limbo.
While some Haitians attempted to stay by enrolling in a new non-citizenship program, over 41,000 stateless individuals chose to leave for Haiti. Facing international criticism and the risk of tourism boycotts, the Dominican Republic revised its policy in 2015, introducing a system to grant citizenship to those who could prove they were born in the country.
5. Mona Kareem

Mona Kareem is an accomplished writer, poet, and doctoral candidate in comparative literature. Through conferences, publications, interviews, and books, she has highlighted the struggles of marginalized communities. Despite her impressive achievements, few would know she also bears the weight of statelessness.
Kareem was born in Kuwait during the late 1980s to the Bedoon minority, whose name means “without nationality” in Arabic. The Bedoons, descendants of nomadic Bedouin tribes, became legal casualties after Kuwait’s independence from Britain in 1961. The new government required them to apply for citizenship, but many, including Kareem’s parents, were either unaware of the process or unable to provide the necessary documents. Their application went unanswered.
For 25 years, the Bedoons lived in limbo, denied political rights but allowed to work. This changed in 1986 when Kuwait banned the employment of anyone without a state-issued passport, leaving thousands jobless. Kareem grew up in this hostile environment, facing ostracism from classmates and teachers, as well as harassment and abuse from authorities.
Kareem found an escape through her intellect. In 2011, she moved to New York to pursue a doctorate at Binghamton University, using a special Kuwaiti passport for those with “unidentified” nationality. Since then, she has used her academic platform to raise awareness about statelessness. While she remains in the United States, she is unable to travel elsewhere.
4. Steven

Imagine living without the ability to prove your legal existence. While it may sound like a philosophical dilemma, for a UK resident known as “Steven,” it’s a chilling reality.
Steven’s origins remain shrouded in mystery. Born in either Zimbabwe or Mozambique, he has no record of his mother’s existence beyond his own memories and never knew his father. His mother, a traveling merchant, took him across Zimbabwe selling goods during his childhood. At 15, she left him with a relative and disappeared three years later. Without parents or documentation, Steven couldn’t obtain an ID, open a bank account, or secure employment.
As an adult, Steven joined a political group opposing Zimbabwean dictator Robert Mugabe. His activism drew government attention, forcing him to flee. Using a fake ID, he escaped to London, where life briefly improved. He fell in love with a Ugandan student, had a child with her, and worked at a rugby stadium where his immigration status was overlooked. However, his happiness didn’t last.
Steven’s girlfriend returned to Uganda with their child, leaving him behind due to his lack of legal identification. As businesses tightened immigration checks, he lost his job and ended up homeless. Friends abandoned him after learning of his status. Desperate, he even asked the police to arrest him for shelter, but they refused.
With no legal destination for deportation, Steven continues to live in the UK. He now resides with his girlfriend and her two children and has started volunteering at a crisis center.
3. Mark Lyttle

Mark Lyttle, a North Carolina native, faced lifelong challenges due to bipolar disorder and cognitive impairments. Raised in mental institutions and group homes, he had a history of legal troubles. In 2008, at age 35, a misdemeanor assault charge led to chaos when a clerk mistakenly listed his name as an alias, his birthplace as Mexico, and his nationality as “Alien” in the crime database. This error set off a chain of surreal and terrifying events.
An ICE officer was sent to question Lyttle. Despite his mental illness and apparent confusion—he believed he was being offered a trip to Mexico—officials proceeded with deportation efforts. They obtained a false affidavit identifying him as an undocumented immigrant. Shockingly, no background check was conducted, which would have confirmed his US citizenship and prevented the ordeal that followed.
Lyttle was sent to a Georgia immigrant detention center, where the harsh conditions drove him to attempt suicide. Realizing the severity of his situation, he tried to assert his American citizenship but was ignored. In December 2008, he was deported to Mexico. Despite not speaking Spanish, Lyttle found odd jobs and temporary shelter in churches and shelters. He attempted to reenter the US but was flagged as a deportee and sent back to Mexico, where his struggles only intensified.
Lyttle was deported by Mexico to Honduras after officials discovered he wasn't Mexican and doubted his American origin. Lost and disoriented, he reportedly journeyed on foot through El Salvador and Guatemala. Although the details remain unverified, it's confirmed that Lyttle eventually reached Guatemala, where he was taken to a U.S. embassy. Contact was made with his family, who had been searching for him in vain across the U.S. After verifying his citizenship, he was permitted to return to America in April 2009, only to be arrested and slated for deportation upon arrival. His family, with the aid of an experienced immigration attorney and media intervention, managed to prevent his wrongful deportation.
2. Eliana Rukyn

South America has been the site of approximately 80% of the world's reported transgender homicides since 2008. This extreme peril has prompted individuals like Eliana Rukyn, a transgender woman from Colombia, to seek asylum overseas. However, her quest for safety introduced her to a series of new challenges, culminating in her statelessness.
After surviving multiple assassination attempts in Colombia, Rukyn moved to Taiwan on a scholarship to study for an MBA in Health Administration. There, she began hormone therapy to transition from male to female. The significant changes she underwent necessitated an update to her passport's gender marker, leading her to travel to Hong Kong, where the nearest Colombian consulate was located.
Rukyn's gender transition unexpectedly led to a complex legal dilemma. Detained upon arrival at Hong Kong's airport, she faced aggressive questioning and the threat of deportation. Fearing for her life if returned to Colombia, Rukyn desperately reached out for help via her smartphone. Assistance came from Rainbow, a Hong Kong-based LGBT rights organization, which successfully lobbied for her entry into Hong Kong.
To avoid deportation, Rukyn sought asylum in Hong Kong, which required her to give up her Colombian citizenship. As a stateless refugee, she was barred from working or studying, surviving solely on minimal financial aid. Despite her hardships, she persisted with hormone treatments, which led to unforeseen complications. On one occasion, the physical strain caused her to collapse in public. Taken to the emergency room, she was involuntarily placed in a psychiatric ward due to her gender dysphoria. Rainbow stepped in once more, assisting her in leaving the country and relocating to a refugee center in New Zealand.
1. The Bihari

Life for the roughly 300,000 Bihari in Bangladesh is marked by unrelenting hardship. Around 94% of the population cannot read or write, and even for those who can, secondary education remains out of reach due to high tuition costs. Their living conditions are equally grim, with families of ten crammed into single-room mud-brick homes in slum-like settlements, sharing one toilet among 90 families. This level of poverty is not new to the Bihari, who have endured decades of generational statelessness.
The Bihari's plight traces back to the 1947 partition of India, which created India and Pakistan. Around one million Bihari migrated to East Pakistan, only to find themselves caught in sectarian violence. In 1971, East Pakistan fought for independence from West Pakistan, leading to the formation of Bangladesh. Many Bihari who supported West Pakistan were deported, while others moved voluntarily. Those who stayed faced hostility from Bangladeshis, losing their possessions and being forced into camps. Pakistan agreed to take in 163,000 Bihari but abandoned the rest, leaving them stranded in Bangladesh.
For years, the Bihari remaining in Bangladesh were unrecognized by both Bangladesh and Pakistan. They lived in tents and frequently clashed with local ethnic groups. In 2008, the Bangladeshi government granted citizenship to 150,000 Bihari who were born during or after the 1971 war. This decision allowed half the population to vote and access limited educational opportunities. However, severe poverty and inequality continue to afflict the Bihari, with no resolution in sight.
