Deportation threats give people pause, but not for long, Mexican workers say

Yahoo

26-02-2025

José Tlaxcala worked framing houses in Salem, Oregon, until he sustained a spinal injury and moved back to San Juan Texhuácan. People will continue crossing the border to work in the U.S., regardless of what politicians say, because of 'economic necessity' he says. | Photo by Ruth Conniff/Wisconsin Examiner
VERACRUZ, MEXICO — President Donald Trump's threats to deport millions of Mexicans who are working in the U.S. without authorization does not have a large number fleeing the U.S. in fear, nor will it stop Mexican citizens from crossing the border to find work, according to many residents who shared their stories with the Wisconsin Examiner.
'Yes, it has put the brakes on things a bit, I know people who were thinking of going and now they're waiting,' said Fatima Tepole, who worked on a dairy farm in Minnesota for four years, earning money to build her house and start a school supply store in San Juan Texhuácan. 'Of course it caused people to pause. It now costs $15,000 to cross the border. If they send you back? Of course you are going to stop and think about that.'
But, she added. 'They are going to try again when things calm down. It's inevitable.'
Tepole's friend Blanca Hernández, a teacher at a bilingual Spanish/Nahuatl school, agreed. She crossed the border to work in the U.S. three times, smuggling herself in the trunk of a car and nearly suffocating on her way to take a factory job in North Carolina and returning two more times to milk cows in Wisconsin and Minnesota. She saved enough money to build her house and buy a car before returning home. 'Yes, there are people who are afraid now,' she said. 'But Mexicans are stubborn. They are going to keep immigrating.'
José Tlaxcala says no politician in either country has changed the underlying drivers of immigration. 'People in Mexico continue to think about going to the U.S. to work because of economic necessity,' he said.
In his opinion, that's the Mexican government's fault. 'The Mexican government isn't doing enough. There's not enough good work for the people,' Tlaxcala said. In the area where he lives, around San Juan Texhuácan, most people work in agriculture, growing coffee and corn, partly for subsistence and partly to sell. But the prices for agricultural products are very low. 'It's not enough to support a family,' Tlaxcala explained
A Stateline analysis of U.S. Census community survey data in 2018 found a sudden drop in the Mexican immigrant population in the U.S. between 2016 and 2017. More than 300,000 people went home that year, which experts attributed to deportation threats in the first Trump administration as well as improving job prospects in Mexico. Mexicans still represent the largest group of immigrants living in the U.S., but their numbers have been declining for more than a decade, from a peak of 11.7 million in 2010 to 10.91 million in 2023.
It's too soon to tell if the second Trump administration, with its even more aggressive focus on rooting out immigrants, pushes down those numbers more.
But anecdotally, at least among dairy workers in the Midwest, that doesn't seem to be the case — at least for now.
'The concern was significantly more in the last Trump administration,' says Wisconsin dairy farmer John Rosenow, who has 13 employees from Mexico. 'Especially people with families were afraid of being deported and separated from their children. Farmers were typically running three or four people short … I haven't seen that this time.'
High-profile immigration raids in the second Trump administration have so far focused on major cities, including Chicago, New York, Denver and Los Angeles. Some people who worked in restaurants have been deported, and have been able to return to the villages Rosenow recently visited in rural Veracruz.
'I have a friend who was deported,' said Tepole. 'He went to get food one day and they grabbed him and sent him back, just like that, after eight years. Luckily, he had already built his house.'
As Rosenow traveled among mountain villages, meeting family members of his dairy workers, he stopped to see a large cement house one of his current employees was building. Guadelupe Maxtle Salas was plastering a wall inside. He showed us the attached garage where Rosenow's employee intends to set up shop as an auto mechanic when he finally returns.
Maxtle Salas worked in the U.S. from the age of 14 until he was 19, he said. He milked cows on a dairy farm not far from Rosenow's. He is thinking about going back to the U.S. after he finishes helping to build the house. He had applied for a work visa and then, when Trump took office, the app that allowed him to get the visa was abruptly cancelled. 'I lost my chance,' he said. Now he thinks he might go illegally. 'If I get there, I'll look for you,' he told Rosenow.
Tlaxcala, 30, won't be going back because of an injury that prevents him from resuming the heavy labor he did when he was in the U.S. He came back home one year ago. He was working in construction in Salem, Oregon, framing houses, when a beam fell on his back, fracturing two disks in his spine.
He had been working abroad for five years, sending home money to support his family in San Juan Texhuácan. After the accident, he decided it was time to come home. =
He doesn't blame his employer for what happened.
'After I hurt my back I couldn't work. That's the risk I took,' he said. 'Unfortunately, I was working without insurance – illegally. My employer was not going to be responsible if I was hurt. I knew that.'
His employer paid the hospital bill. But Tlaxcala wasn't eligible for unemployment benefits. Since returning home, he hasn't been able to afford medical attention to deal with continuing problems with his spine.
Immigrant workers who don't have authorization in the U.S. are barred from receiving unemployment benefits even though they pay into the system through tax withholdings. According to the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy, workers without authorization paid $1.8 billion into unemployment insurance, a joint federal and state program, in 2024. During the COVID-19 pandemic, 12 states created programs to temporarily provide unemployment benefits to excluded workers. Only Colorado has made its program permanent.
Asked if the risk he took to work without protection in the U.S. was worth it, Tlaxcala laughed. 'Maybe yes, maybe no,' he said.
'It depends on your situation. If you're lucky nothing happens to you.'
It cost Tlaxcala $11,000 to cross the border, he said. 'Obviously it was a big risk. You have to deal with organized crime in the north of the country to go through the desert. The cartels are still in control. Every person who crosses the border puts his life in the hands of the organized crime syndicates. It seems necessary to us. I know a lot of people who have died trying to cross.'
Like Tepole and Hernández, he doubts the deportation threats will have a big impact on Mexican workers.
'It's just politics,' he said. 'It's the same as in Mexico. Politicians say lots of things they don't follow through with. Mexicans understand that.' For example, he said, for generations, Mexican politicians have said they are going to end poverty. 'They don't,' Tlaxcala said.
'When I was growing up I felt that I didn't have things that I needed.' he added. 'I had to go to school in broken down shoes. Sometimes I didn't have shoes. I didn't have a backpack, and I wore old, worn out clothing – for lack of money. I was determined to do something about that.'
Before he went to the U.S., Tlaxcala worked as a truck driver in Mexico. But the only way to get ahead, he said, is to start a business and it was all he could do to come up with the initial investment to get his store going. 'I had to use all of the money I earned to pay off the bank. By working in the United States, little by little I could get ahead.'
After working abroad for five years, he was able to afford to pay off his debts, buy a house and finance his business, a small store. 'Bank loans, credit — you can't cover those things with a regular salary here,' he said.
Another reason Tlaxcala doesn't believe millions of Mexicans will be deported, he said, is the sheer number of immigrants he saw when he was living in the U.S. 'In Salem 30-40% of the population is Latino. I'd go to Walmart and see people from my village,' he said. 'Plus, it's very heavy work — construction, roofing — and it doesn't pay well. They need people.'
In the U.S., 1 in 4 construction workers is an immigrant, according to a National Association of Home Builders report that emphasizes the industry's reliance on immigrant labor as well as a significant labor shortage. 'The concentration of immigrants is particularly high in construction trades essential for home building,' the report found, including plasterers and stucco masons (64%) drywall/ceiling tile installers (52%), painters, (48%) and roofers (47%).
By building houses in the U.S. so they can send home money to build houses in Mexico, Mexican workers are fueling the economies of both countries.
'I understand that there are people who do bad things and those people should be sent back,' said Tepole. 'But the manual labor force that is strengthening the country? Most of them are Mexicans.'
This story is Part Three in a series. Read Part One: Amid Trump's threats to deport workers, Wisconsin dairy farmers travel to Mexico and Part Two: A deceased farmworker's son finally returns to Mexico to meet his father's family
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