As Marco huddles in a Tijuana shelter, the cold matches his despair. At just 16, he fled Michoacan, Mexico, after being forcibly recruited into a drug cartel. Now, after months of waiting, his hopes of U.S. asylum are dimmed by President Trump’s sweeping executive orders targeting immigration and border security.
Trump’s policies, signed hours after retaking office, include stricter asylum measures and declaring drug cartels terrorist organizations. These actions have disrupted lives like Marco’s and those of countless others. Marco recounts his escape from forced cartel servitude, believing he had a strong asylum case based on “credible fear” of persecution. But new restrictions, including the shutdown of the CBP One app a crucial tool for asylum seekers have left him questioning his future.
Oralia, another migrant from Michoacán, shares a similar plight. Living in a makeshift tent near the U.S.-Mexico border for seven months, she had hoped to secure medical care for her epileptic 10-year-old son. With the CBP One app gone and her path to legal entry blocked, she has resigned herself to returning home. “We have no choice but to go back and trust in God,” she says tearfully.
Advocates like Pastor Albert Rivera, who runs a migrant shelter, highlight a glaring contradiction in the new policies. Declaring cartels terrorist organizations strengthens the argument that migrants are fleeing dangerous conditions, yet asylum claims are being curtailed.
Supporters of Trump’s measures, like Paula Whitsell, chair of the San Diego County Republican Party, argue the policies aim to dismantle criminal networks and reduce undocumented immigration. Whitsell insists, “We are still a nation of immigrants,” but contends that local systems are overwhelmed by migration pressures.
For migrants, the reality on the ground is harsh. On inauguration day, dozens of asylum seekers gathered at the Chaparral crossing in Tijuana, only to be turned away by Mexican officials and redirected to shelters. The abrupt policy changes leave families in limbo, with little hope of their claims being heard.
Despite the challenges, many hold on to the hope that the U.S. will reassess its stance. For now, migrants like Marco and Oralia face the agonizing decision of risking a dangerous return home or continuing to wait in uncertainty. “It’s all been so unjust,” Oralia laments, packing her few belongings and leaving her tent for the next family.
