A Mexican Couple in California Plans to Self-Deport—and Leave Their Kids Behind
In 1995, after a few years in Mexico, her mother learned that one of Rosalinda’s brothers was in trouble in the United States and decided she should live closer to him. Rosalinda wanted to stay, but her mother ignored her pleas, saying, “Pack your bag, because we’re leaving early tomorrow.” It took three attempts before they were able to sneak across the border, with the help of smugglers, who took them to San Bernardino. During the ride, one of the men groped fourteen-year-old Rosalinda. “I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t scream or anything,” Rosalinda said, wiping away tears. “I just had to keep quiet. After that, I told my mother, ‘You do what you want, but I’ll never cross again.’ That’s it, I’m done.’” Two years later, while she was a high school student in San Bernardino, she met Manuel and became pregnant with José.
As a couple, Rosalinda and Manuel had sometimes considered returning to Mexico. But only once, more than fifteen years ago, did they come close, after a particularly humiliating experience trying to enroll their young children in Medicaid. Rosalinda told me: “The woman who worked there hurt me so much that I came back sobbing and said, ‘I don’t want to live in this country anymore.’ » But when she and Manuel asked José, then twelve, if he wanted to move to Mexico, he begged them to keep the family in America. “And they respected my wishes,” José told me, remembering the conversation. “They listened.”
About half of the Garcías’ extended family now lived in Southern California. The other half, in Mexico, Rosalinda knew largely by name only. Until recently, she and her husband enjoyed a vibrant social life in San Bernardino. For many years, she regularly attended an evangelical church and continued to take exercise classes with friends she had made there. Manuel, for all his shyness, was a regular on a recreational baseball team.
Rosalinda had not forgotten her youthful promise to never cross the border again. It was surreal to return to Mexico, which, after three decades in America, seemed like a figment of his imagination. “We’re scared, because we’re moving to a place we don’t remember,” she told me, sighing. “I guess that’s how it goes.”
On weekends, the family enjoyed relaxing at a nearby RV park and private campground, which they had been members of for years. There were campsites for tents and caravans, rental cabins, barbecue grills, two lakes and three swimming pools. It had long been Rosalinda’s favorite place, and now it had the added attraction of being privately owned. “It’s all fenced off, so it’s one of the few places outside where ICE “I can’t just come,” José explained. Last spring, when the raids in San Bernardino reached their peak, Rosalinda camped there for two weeks. “I slept in a tent near the showers to be more comfortable,” she said.
One Saturday afternoon, Rosalinda, Ana, José, Irene and I piled into their black Tahoe and headed to the campsite. In the car, Rosalinda wanted me to listen to one of her favorites Nortenos-a type of Mexican folk song that heavily features the accordion. “This is the one I’m going to listen to when I leave the United States,” she explained. The song was called “El Mojado Acaudalado” or “The Wealthy Wetback”, repeating an insult that dates from the early 20th century and referred to Mexican immigrants who entered the United States illegally across the Rio Grande. The song’s narrator is a migrant who has saved money while working in the United States and is finally returning to his homeland. Rosalinda sang every word:
