Early Wednesday morning, more than a thousand migrants gathered in the southern Mexican city of Tapachula, their sights set not on the United States, but on Mexico City. This mass movement, which began on October 1, 2025, marks a striking shift in the migration patterns that have defined the region for years. Instead of braving the perilous journey north to the U.S. border, these migrants—primarily from Cuba, Honduras, Ecuador, Brazil, Haiti, Guatemala, El Salvador, and Venezuela—are seeking a future within Mexico’s borders, hoping to regularize their status and find meaningful work.
The motivations behind this journey are as complex as the route itself. The 1,100-kilometer trek to Mexico City is no small feat. Migrants face punishing heat, torrential rain, and a near-constant threat of hunger and dehydration. Worse still, the road is fraught with dangers: abuse, extortion, and violence lurk at every turn. Yet for many, lingering in Chiapas—the southernmost state of Mexico, where Tapachula sits—is simply not an option. The region offers scant job opportunities, and the prospects for those without legal documents are even bleaker.
According to Mexico News Daily, the group’s primary aim is to expedite their asylum claims and regularize their legal status in Mexico, not to cross into the United States. This marks a significant departure from the caravans of years past, which typically set out from Chiapas with the northern U.S. border as their final destination. “Why would I want to go to the United States?” asked Esther López, a 37-year-old Cuban migrant, in an interview with El País. “They hate us there! All I want is to get to Mexico City where my friend is waiting for me so I can make a life for myself there.”
Others echoed her sentiments. Vladimir Ortiz Cassola, also from Cuba, told CNN en Español, “The United States isn’t on my mind. We want to regularize our status here … nothing more than that, so we can work and contribute to this nation.” In these words, a new narrative emerges—one where Mexico, not the U.S., is seen as the land of opportunity, or at least a place to start over.
But if the journey is daunting, the bureaucratic hurdles awaiting migrants in Tapachula are equally formidable. Many have spent months—sometimes up to ten—waiting for their paperwork to move through Mexico’s Commission for Refugee Assistance (COMAR). Progress is slow, and without legal documentation, work is nearly impossible to find. The obstacles don’t end there. Some migrants report being approached by people posing as lawyers who promise to help with the process—for a steep price. “We’re leaving Tapachula because we’re trapped here. They won’t give us papers to live formally, and to obtain them we have to pay up to 20,000 pesos (US $1,080),” a spokesman for the caravan told Mexico News Daily before their departure.
Yovani de Jesus, a Venezuelan migrant, shared her frustration with Agencia EFE: “I have been in Mexico for more than seven months and am still in an illegal status.” She explained that without the necessary documents, she cannot work in factories or shops and is ineligible for social security benefits. The lack of legal status leaves migrants open to exploitation by employers, exposure to violence, and limited access to healthcare. “The refugee agency in Mexico, known by the acronym COMAR, has not taken any steps to grant my request for refugee status in Mexico,” Yovani said. It’s a sentiment echoed by many in the caravan, who see the journey to Mexico City as their best hope for a more dignified life.
The decision to head for Mexico City, rather than the U.S. border, is also a reflection of changing realities in North American immigration policy. Since President Donald Trump took office in January 2017, the U.S. has implemented a raft of strict immigration policies. According to El País, the migratory flow from Chiapas to the U.S. has decreased by up to 80%. Camps that once teemed with hopeful migrants on the Guatemalan side of the Suchiate River now stand empty, and those who do cross often do so in secret, wary of detection and deportation.
As reported by Breitbart Texas, President Trump’s administration discontinued programs like CBP-One, which had previously allowed 1,400 migrants to enter the U.S. each day at land border ports to make asylum claims. Another parole program, known as the Cuban, Haitian, Nicaraguan, and Venezuelan (CHNV) program—introduced under President Biden and allowing 1,000 migrants daily from those countries to enter through U.S. airports—was also canceled. These changes have led to a dramatic drop in illegal border crossings, with numbers not seen since 1970. Historical Border Patrol records cited by Breitbart Texas show that in 1970, 201,780 illegal aliens were arrested along the southwest border, and this year’s apprehensions are set to fall well below the 1971 total of 263,991.
Customs and Border Protection (CBP) reported that, for the four months ending in September 2025, no illegal aliens were released into the United States to pursue asylum claims—a stark contrast to the previous administration, which saw thousands released daily. As long as this strict border posture persists, migrant caravans appear increasingly likely to avoid the U.S. border altogether.
For those who remain in Mexico, however, the challenges are far from over. Without legal status, migrants are vulnerable to exploitation, violence, and fraud. Access to medical services is limited, and the constant uncertainty takes a psychological toll. Still, for many, the hope of regularizing their status in Mexico outweighs the risks. The caravan’s journey is as much a protest against a broken system as it is a search for safety and opportunity. “We want to regularize our status here … nothing more than that, so we can work and contribute to this nation,” Vladimir Ortiz Cassola reiterated to CNN en Español.
Mexican authorities have at times responded to such caravans by allowing them to proceed for a few days before offering assistance with documents or transportation. Whether this group will receive similar support remains to be seen. For now, the migrants press on, united by the hope that their long walk to Mexico City will finally open the door to a better life.
The shifting migration landscape in North America has forced thousands to reconsider their dreams and destinations. For this caravan, the journey is less about reaching a distant promised land and more about carving out a place of dignity and security in a country that, for now, is their best hope.
