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A sharp drop in border crossings hides a growing humanitarian crisis as migrants adapt to prolonged displacement inside Mexico
BY FRANCESCA RAPISARDA

Official US data showed a sharp drop in border crossings, following recent asylum policy changes, even as tens of thousands of migrants remain stranded across Mexico.

Nearly a year after the United States halted asylum processing at its southern border, people who had expected to stay in Mexico only briefly found themselves unable to move north or return home. The policy shift pushed hundreds of thousands into legal uncertainty, reshaping migration patterns across the country.

The train passes through the tracks in the Vallejo neighborhood twice a week, forcing people in the camp to gather their belongings and go inside their homes so the train doesn’t hit them (Credits: Yael Martínez/Magnum Photos)

Mexico City, long a transit hub for people on the move, increasingly became a place of prolonged waiting and settlement.

The effects of the border shutdown were felt far beyond the frontier. The migration crisis moved inward, embedding itself in cities like Mexico City, where migrants lived in legal limbo, exposed to exploitation, discrimination, and limited access to basic services.

Ricardo, a Haitian migrant working as a motorcycle taxi driver in the capital, said racism became part of his daily life.
“People see me and wait for a Mexican driver,” he said. Despite this, he stayed. His partner was Mexican, and his life, reshaped by circumstance, continued.

For years, Mexico City has drawn migrants due to its access to jobs, transportation, and humanitarian services, but its role shifted sharply in recent years.

Since 2020, the number of foreign residents in the capital has risen steadily. Between 2024 and 2025 alone, the migrant population surged by more than half, transforming entire neighborhoods, where a short-term transit turned into a long-term presence.

Some migrants remained near central districts, where informal work and aid organisations are easier to reach. Others moved to the city’s outskirts, where rent is cheaper but public services are scarce.

“This is not the realisation of a ‘Mexican dream’,” as some migrants described it, “but the collapse of another one.”

After a restless night, Jorge* (left) and Luis* (right) reconstruct their makeshift tattoo parlor and haircutting business once again. Like many others, they had just been evicted from an informal camp near Mexico City’s city center. They hoped to set up their shop as soon as possible so they wouldn’t lose any clients. *pseudonyms (Credits: Médicos Sin Fronteras)

Rebuilding a life from scratch was not only an economic challenge; it was also emotionally draining.

“The hardest moments are the dates that matter,” said Johnny, a Venezuelan man living in Mexico City.

For many migrants, separation from family was no longer temporary but indefinite, as border closures stretched from months into years, and birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays were often spent alone.

Lucía* (left) and her sister, Eva* (right), had to flee Venezuela with twelve relatives due to political persecution. Their mother received treatment for a chronic skin condition from MSF teams in Mexico City, though she has also required specialised care. “We understand that we are occupying public spaces and are very grateful to the local people, who have mostly been welcoming,” said Lucía. “We hope to stay in Mexico and have applied for asylum here.” *pseudonyms (Credits: Médicos Sin Fronteras)

Public spaces that once offered shelter have been repeatedly cleared by authorities, forcing migrants to relocate with little notice and few alternatives.

For many migrants, violence was not a single event left behind in their country of origin. Some fled extortion, gang threats or political persecution, while others experienced abuse along the migration route or after arriving in Mexico.

Carmen cleans the outside of her “little ranch” in the Vallejo neighborhood, the place that has been her home for the past few months after she could no longer continue her journey to the U.S. in search of a life with more opportunities and safety for herself and her family (Credits: Yael Martínez/Magnum Photos)

Women faced heightened risks, including sexual violence and exploitation. Survivors often carried these experiences in silence, particularly when their legal status was precarious, and trust in institutions was fragile, as seeking help could feel dangerous when visibility itself was perceived as a threat.

Medical and humanitarian organisations have been reporting the rising of mental health needs, driven not only by past trauma but also by prolonged immobility and uncertainty.

An MSF staff sees a patient in a consultation during a mobile clinic in Ciudad Juárez, in northern Mexico (Credits: Médicos Sin Fronteras)

Doctors Without Borders has been operating across multiple locations in Mexico City and the surrounding areas, providing medical, psychological, and social support.

“Before, people expected to stay a short time, just long enough to get an appointment and move north,” explained Jorge Martín, MSF project coordinator for Mexico City and Mexico state. “Now, people are trying to work and settle, that changes everything,” he added.

A group of women prepare food in a shelter for migrants (albergue, in Spanish) in the city of Tapachula, in southern Mexico (Credits: Médicos Sin Fronteras)

Affordable housing increasingly lay far from the city centre, often in areas with limited access to healthcare and social services. MSF teams adjusted mobile clinics, coordinated with refugee authorities and followed communities as they relocated.

Between January and October 2025, MSF provided tens of thousands of consultations in Mexico City, ranging from primary healthcare to mental health support and social services. Cultural mediation became increasingly important as English- and French-speaking communities from the Caribbean and Africa grew more visible.

(Credits: Médicos Sin Fronteras)

“Many people wanted to settle and regularise their status,” said Joaquim Guinart, coordinator of one specialised care centre. “But displacement was not the only trauma they carried; long-term treatment required stability, and that was exactly what many lacked.”

Specialised centres have been supporting survivors of extreme violence through integrated medical, psychological, and social care, though access remained uneven.

Related coverage:

Tapachula Becomes Epicentre Of A Growing Migration Crisis In Southern Mexico

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