Asylum Seekers Face New Hardships in Mexico Amid Trump’s Border Crackdown

Migrants face greater dangers and uncertainty as they navigate Trump's tougher border policies, resorting to perilous routes and desperate measures to reach the U.S.

ATOTONILCO DE TULA, Mexico (AP) — After waiting over a year for an asylum appointment in the U.S., Dayana Castro’s hopes were dashed when she learned her appointment had been canceled without warning. With no other options, the 25-year-old migrant, along with her husband and two young children, had no choice but to continue their dangerous journey north.

Originally from Venezuela, the Castro family had already endured treacherous journeys across the Darien Gap—a perilous jungle between Colombia and Panama—where criminal groups often target migrants. Their decision to push forward came after President Donald Trump’s recent border measures, which have profoundly altered the asylum process.

Prior to Trump's actions, migrants like Castro had scheduled appointments to apply for asylum at U.S. border points as part of a system through the CBP One app. This app, which facilitated legal entries for nearly 1 million migrants, was abruptly ended by the Trump administration’s executive orders aimed at ramping up border security and reducing migration.

“The journey has already cost us so much, we can’t give up now,” said Castro, speaking from a temporary shelter in central Mexico near a freight train line she planned to ride north.

With Trump’s crackdowns, many migrants are now resorting to more dangerous means to enter the U.S., such as riding freight trains, hiring smugglers, and evading authorities. Some have applied for asylum in Mexico, while others face the grim reality of returning home or remaining stuck in limbo.

On Monday, Trump declared a national emergency at the U.S.-Mexico border and called for further restrictions on refugees and asylum seekers, citing a desire to curb illegal immigration and border crime. These measures come after a reported decline in illegal crossings, but critics argue the humanitarian toll will be severe.

Human rights experts like Adam Isacson, from the Washington Office on Latin America, warn that the crackdown will deter migrants in the short term but cause broader consequences, including deaths in home countries and an increase in smuggling networks. Vulnerable populations—particularly families and children—will be pushed into more dangerous routes as they try to avoid detection.

For migrants like Castro, the risk of continuing their journey north is undeniable. “There’s the train, the cartels, the police—all of them demand money,” she explained. “But if we don’t take these risks, we’ll never make it.”

Further south in Tapachula, another group of migrants, including Cuban Rosalí Martínez, has turned to applying for asylum in Mexico. Facing economic hardship, Martínez has no intention of returning to Cuba, and like many, is now weighing the option of permanent settlement in Mexico.

“I’m not going back to Cuba. I’ll become a Mexican citizen if I have to,” Martínez said.

Meanwhile, Venezuelan migrants like Jomaris Figuera, who fled her home country’s political and economic turmoil, face their own form of despair. After years in Colombia and another long wait in Mexico City, the sudden termination of her U.S. asylum appointment has left her and her husband feeling hopeless.

With no passports and limited funds, they fear returning south through the same perilous path they had just crossed.

“We’ve tried everything,” said Figuera. “Now, we’ve given up.”