Some immigrants chose to leave the US. But is ‘self-deportation' really becoming a thing?

The Guardian

5 hours ago

Their stories have emerged in new reports and on social media feeds: individuals and families, sometimes of mixed immigration status, who have lived in the United States for years and are now choosing to leave. Or, as it's sometimes called, 'self-deport'.
There was Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez's former deputy communications director Diego de la Vega, who lived as an undocumented New Yorker for 23 years before he and his wife left for Colombia in December, shortly after Donald Trump's election. Or the decorated army veteran, a permanent resident in the US for nearly 50 years, who left for South Korea this week after being targeted by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice). Or newlyweds Alfredo Linares, an undocumented chef, and his wife, Raegan Klein, a US citizen, who recently moved their lives from Los Angeles to Mexico.
But experts warn that just because we see stories of so-called 'self-deportation', we should be careful about believing there's any real trend. Not only does taking this route create potentially serious legal and financial issues for those leaving, convincing the public that a lot of people are self-deporting is also part of Trump's larger strategy to create an illusion of higher deportation numbers than he can truly deliver.
The emphasis on self-deportation is clearly a recognition by the administration that they can't really accomplish what they've promised, says Alexandra Filindra, professor of political science and psychology at the University of Illinois in Chicago. 'It's way too costly to identify, arrest, process and deport large numbers of immigrants, especially when there are so many court fights and so many organizations that are willing to support the rights of immigrants.'
Filindra says Trump is trying to take the cheap route, hoping his performative politics – everything from the widespread Ice raids across the US to sending the national guard to Los Angeles – will get people to pack up their own accord.
It's impossible to put a precise number on how many immigrants have decided to leave the country since Trump took power. But for those who have, the decision is deeply personal.
Linares, who was born in Mexico, still thinks of California as home because it was where he came as a teen and lived undocumented for decades. Klein was born in Canada and became a naturalized US citizen nearly two decades ago. They married last year in Los Angeles.
'We received a small amount of money for our wedding,' Klein said. 'We planned to use it to start Alfredo's immigration process.' After Trump won, though, Klein was the first to have second thoughts.
'I didn't like Trump in his first term, and then when he got away with 34 felonies and was elected again as the president, I just was like, well, come on! I mean, he's going to do any and everything he wants to do. No one's holding him accountable for anything, so I'm not sitting around.'
Linares – as well as most of their family and friends – thought Klein was overreacting. The couple met with three immigration attorneys. Though he married a legal US citizen, Linares crossed the border as a teen illegally. Attempting to rectify his status would be expensive and take untold years of waiting – with no guarantee of a path to legal residency or citizenship. Furthermore, beginning the legal process to adjust his status would put him on the government's radar and may have even increased his risk of deportation.
In fact, immigration court has become a dragnet of sorts. People lawfully going through the process of becoming a citizen have been showing up for mandatory court dates and getting arrested by Ice officers outside the courtrooms.
Klein was eventually able to persuade Linares that they should take their small nest egg and leave while they still could.
They created a video about their departure to Mexico that was equal parts love story and epic adventure. 'Apparently our video went really, really viral,' said Klein, who kept busy as a freelance television producer until a big industry slowdown a couple of years ago. Friends started contacting them and saying influencers were reposting their video. Major media outlets soon amplified the newlyweds' saga.
Klein and Linares now dream of opening a restaurant together in Mexico. They say they don't think of their situation as self-deportation but rather 'voluntary departure' – the government didn't force them out or pay them to leave, they made the decision themselves.
Filindra also takes issue with the phrase 'self-deportation', and warns against the rebranding of an old phenomenon known as return migration.
'Return migration has always been a phenomenon,' she says. Filindra points out that migration levels between the US and Mexico are 'practically zero' because so many people eventually go back home to Mexico, so the numbers of those arriving and those going back all but even out. According to the Pew Research Center, an estimated 870,000 Mexican migrants came to the US between 2013 and 2018, while an estimated 710,000 left the US for Mexico during that period. During the decade prior, however, more migrants left the US for Mexico than came here.
'The same was true in the 20th century with European migrants who often spent 20 or 30 years here, made enough money to retire and then went back home,' says Filindra.
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But this isn't exactly self-deportation, and the phrase itself has a problematic history. Though now being used in serious policy discussions, it was created as a joke by comedians Lalo Alcaraz and Esteban Zul in the early 90s. The duo posed as conservative Latinos supporting Hispanics Against a Liberal Takeover (Halto). They even invented a militant self-deportationist and sent fake press releases to media outlets promoting satirical self-deportation centers. In 2012 Mitt Romney, seemingly unaware of – or perhaps unbothered by – the comedic roots of the term, started using 'self-deportation' during his unsuccessful bid for the presidency.
Now the US Department of Homeland Security has latched on to the term. In May, the DHS claimed that 64 people took a government-funded flight to Colombia and Honduras as part of its new program encouraging undocumented immigrants to 'self-deport'.
The International Organization for Migration (IOM) is overseeing the program, which it calls 'assisted voluntary return' (AVR). Undocumented people can apply for AVR using the CBP Home app. Though the details remain murky, applicants supposedly receive a $1,000 stipend and travel assistance home.
However, according to a source familiar with the program who requested anonymity, approximately 1,000 individuals have been referred by the US government to the IOM through the AVR program, but to date the agency has facilitated the departure of 'only a few' people.
Immigration experts say this also squares with what they are seeing.
'A thousand dollars is chump change when it comes to giving up a life in the United States,' said Aaron Reichlin-Melnick, senior fellow at American Immigration Council. 'The majority of undocumented immigrants have been here for more than 15 years. They have a job. Many have family here, some own property. Some run their own businesses.'
Furthermore, many immigrants are here because of dire situations and life-threatening conditions in their home countries. They have nowhere to return to. Immigration attorneys also warn that because the Trump administration hasn't been transparent, too little is known about the program to trust it. In fact, an additional directive from the administration on 9 June announced that the DHS would 'forgive failure to depart fines for illegal aliens who self-deport through the CBP Home app' – though most people would have no idea that fines are levied or how much those fines are.
Even with the administration's recent Ice raids and the supposed sweetening of the self-deportation deal, Filindra says most migrants will still not just leave. 'What is more likely is that people who have a non-permanent status and need to visit immigration offices to extend their status, or those who have hearings, will not go out of fear of being arrested and deported.'
And she says we should all hope that the administration's obsession with all types of deportation is a flop. If too many immigrants are forced, threatened or incentivized to leave, industries from agriculture to healthcare will take a huge hit.
'Economically, this could be devastating for the US,' said Filindra.
Linares and Klein also warn that while they believe they made the right decision, leaving home is rough.
Linares describes it as a rollercoaster. 'The people have embraced us in Mexico, but it's also been a challenge to figure out how things work here.' He's still trying to get his Mexican driver's license and passport. And he misses his LA friends, co-workers and even Griffith Park, his favorite place to hike with his dog. 'It was 20 years of my life there that I dedicated to building something. It's gone.'
After going public with her story, Klein expected to hear from many undocumented people or mixed-status families choosing, or at least considering, leaving the US on their own terms – but so far, she hasn't.
'I don't think a lot of undocumented people are leaving right now,' she says. 'But if something doesn't change – like if Trump isn't put into check very soon – I think you will see a lot more people abandoning the US in 2026.'