ATOTONILCO DE TULA, Mexico — The heartbreaking news struck Dayana Castro hard: the U.S. asylum appointment she had been eagerly awaiting for over a year was suddenly scrapped. Without hesitation, she decided to continue her journey northward by any means necessary.
At just 25 years old, Castro, along with her husband and their two children aged 4 and 7, had already lost everything back home in Venezuela. Their journey had been perilous, including a trek through the treacherous Darien Gap, a dense jungle separating Colombia from Panama, notorious for its dangers, particularly from criminal groups that target migrants.
Castro’s situation is reflective of the plight faced by thousands of migrants across Mexico, many of whom had scheduled appointments to apply for U.S. asylum through February. The landscape shifted dramatically with the arrival of President Donald Trump, who, through a series of executive orders aimed at strengthening border security, terminated the use of the CBP One app. This app had permitted almost a million individuals, many seeking asylum, to lawfully enter the U.S. since January 2023.
“We’re determined to keep moving forward. After everything we’ve faced, we cannot go back now,” Castro expressed from a modest shelter near a freight train line in central Mexico, from which she and her family were attempting to travel north.
As a result of these changes, migrants like Castro are grappling with a new and dangerous reality. Many have resolved to pursue their goal of reaching the U.S. through riskier methods, such as hitching rides on freight trains, hiring smugglers, and dodging law enforcement. Some have opted to line up at Mexico’s refugee offices in search of asylum within the country, while others are contemplating the possibility of returning to their homelands.
Recently, Trump declared a national emergency concerning the U.S.-Mexico border and revealed plans to deploy troops while restricting the intake of refugees and those seeking asylum. He indicated that these actions aim to mitigate illegal entry and border-related crimes, which have reportedly seen a decline in recent months.
Supporters of the CBP One app argued that it introduced much-needed order to the chaotic border situation. However, opponents contended that it attracted even more prospective migrants.
According to Adam Isacson, a defense oversight analyst associated with the Washington Office on Latin America, Trump’s stringent measures against illegal immigration may deter migrants in the short term. Still, they could lead to serious humanitarian repercussions. He warned that individuals with legitimate asylum claims might face fatal consequences in their home countries while migrants escaping from nations like Venezuela, Haiti, and Cuba, who cannot easily return, will be left adrift in the Americas without protections. Analysts expect that this policy shift will increase reliance on smugglers and compel migrants, including vulnerable children and families, to traverse more treacherous terrains to evade law enforcement.
By Tuesday, Castro began to internalize the harsh reality that moving forward after her canceled appointment on February 18 meant potentially risking her life and that of her family. With cartels increasingly extorting and abducting vulnerable migrants, she weighed the risks heavily.
“There’s the train, the cartels, migration police, and they all demand payment,” she stated while feeding her children bread outside their small shelter. “But if we don’t take the risk, we might never reach our destination.”
In stark contrast, along the southern border with Guatemala, another group of migrants in Tapachula chose a different approach. Cuban migrant Rosalí Martínez found herself waiting outside the Mexican Commission for Refugee Aid in the oppressive heat of the southern city, traveling with her child in hopes of reuniting with her husband in the U.S.
For now, she has decided to wait it out, becoming part of a growing number of migrants who have sought asylum in Mexico, viable either due to shifting U.S. restrictions or as a more permanent solution. Like many Cubans recently, Martínez is fleeing a dire economic situation.
“I will stay here and see how things unfold,” she affirmed. “But returning to Cuba is not an option for me. I am willing to pursue Mexican citizenship instead.”
Others, like 42-year-old Jomaris Figuera and her husband, have reached a breaking point after years of trying to forge a new life away from Venezuela, where escalating economic and political turmoil has forced nearly 8 million people to flee in recent years. After spending over four years working in Colombia, desperately trying to make a living, they decided to tackle the daunting trek through the Darien Gap. They had patiently awaited a legal pathway to the U.S. for nearly a year and a half, living in a wooden structure amid rampant crime in a migrant camp located in Mexico City.
However, the untenable situation in Venezuela means they do not possess passports. Lacking financial resources, they fear their only option might require them to journey south through Mexico and Central America, effectively retracing their arduous path through the rugged mountains of the Darien Gap.
“Anything would be preferable to staying in Mexico,” Figuera lamented. “It feels like abandoning all our efforts after everything we’ve faced.” Ultimately, her determination wavers as their attempts to secure an appointment have resulted in disappointment, leading them to consider giving up.
