This is the week the World Cup stops being a rumor and starts being a place you can drive to on Saturday.

Haiti is back on the biggest stage in 52 years, and Boston and Brockton are throwing the kind of parties our parents would have flown home for.

But underneath the celebration, there’s a Supreme Court decision hanging over a lot of kitchen tables right now, including one family in Jamaica Plain we’re going to tell you about.

(Both things can be true in the same week. They usually are.)

We’ve also got news of a permanent home for Haitian culture in a city that’s never quite had one.

Let’s get into it.

For Lusenie Jean and Marckenson Gilles, the question never really leaves the room.

It’s there when their sons head to school, during Gilles’s overnight housekeeping shift in Roslindale, and after the kids are asleep.

Will the Supreme Court allow the Trump administration to end Temporary Protected Status, the program that has allowed them to build a life here since 2022?

The decision is expected within weeks.

Around 330,000 Haitians live in this country legally under TPS, which opened to Haitians after the 2010 earthquake.

The administration argues it was never meant to be permanent.

Attorneys for Haitians argue the move was driven by racial animus and “bare dislike of Haitians.”

The justices sounded divided in April.

For this family, losing status means losing everything built since Gilles first left northern Haiti in 2014.

Going back isn’t an option because the violence has only worsened since Moïse’s assassination, and relatives there sometimes can’t afford to eat.

So they’re saving money in case they have to start over in Brazil again.

Their son Owen is nine years old.

He’s finishing fourth grade in Mattapan, has learned English quickly, loves science, and wants to be a police officer to protect people.

His dad watches him run up the school steps to his friends every morning.

That’s the part the legal arguments leave out.

This isn’t a policy debate for a nine-year-old who just wants to graduate with his class.

The Toussaint Louverture Cultural Center has been open since May, and if you haven’t made it to 131 Beverly St. yet, this weekend is your chance.

The TLCC sits at Lovejoy Wharf in the West End, a block from North Station, overlooking the Charles River.

It’s 2,000 square feet, with a 25-year lease, and houses a gallery of local Haitian artists, a library, and an event space.

The Danielle Legros Georges Reading Room has shelves of novels by Haitian authors and historical writing about the Revolution.

(It’s also around the corner from Converse’s world headquarters, which is just very Boston.)

This took 20 years.

Wilner and Mary Auguste started organizing in 2005.

Greater Boston has the third-largest Haitian population in the country, behind Miami and New York, and until last May, there was nothing like this in all of New England.

The reaction from older visitors says it plainly: people who’ve been here 50 or 60 years, stepping in and saying they never thought they’d see a space like this.

That should have been sooner.

But it’s here now.

Brockton is making it official.

Campanelli Stadium will host two FIFA-sanctioned World Cup watch parties later this month, Haiti vs. Morocco on June 24 and Cape Verde vs. Saudi Arabia on June 26, with a large screen and stage set up right around midfield, 5,000 seats and all.

What makes this one matter is who’s saying it out loud.

The mayor’s office is directly naming the city’s Haitian and Cape Verdean communities, calling this World Cup historic for Brockton.

That’s a civic recognition we don’t get every day.

Tickets are $5, sold at the box office and online.

When City Hall builds the stage for your flag, that’s not a coincidence.

That’s a community that finally got counted.

Your weekly map of what’s worth showing up for.

Menino Convention & Exhibition Center, Boston. Free, all-ages, and the easiest yes on this list for you and your wife. Haiti’s match on a big screen with a room full of people who’ve waited 52 years for it.

A curated, immersive Haitian experience built around the tournament, the kind of pop-up energy that’s hard to find unless someone tells you. This is the one to bring the cousin who needs convincing.

JAE Dance Center, Boston. A new community conversation series is launching its first session. If you’ve wanted to plug into real local dialogue instead of the comment section, start here.

An outdoor watch-party series for every Haiti match all summer. Bookmark this one for repeat Saturdays.

The visual of Owen running up those school steps in Mattapan and to the stage Brockton is building at midfield is striking.

It’s the same community in the same week with two completely different stakes.

That’s why this thing exists, to hold both.

If something here moved you, hit reply and send one word: Boston.

And if you know someone who’s getting generic Haitian content when they could be getting this, forward it to them.

That’s how we grow.

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Mèsi anpil. See you next Thursday.

GUSTAVE • FOUNDER, SAK PASE BOSTON