Esther Morales lived in the United States for roughly 20 years. Despite being deported several times, she repeatedly returned illegally for a chance at the American Dream.
Her ninth deportation, in 2009, would be her last. Unable to return to the United States because of tougher enforcement, she ended up in Tijuana and decided to stay.
“It was very sad because my daughter is back in the US … So, the family separation obviously affected me a lot,” she told CNN.
As difficult as it was, Morales had to accept that Tijuana would be her new home, and that the only way to make the best of it was to press forward.
Roughly 16 years later, Morales, originally from the Mexican state of Oaxaca, has established herself in the border city of 2 million people as one of the region’s most prominent activists, now running a nongovernmental organization that supports migrants like her. The dream she once pursued over the border Morales has found here, on Mexican soil.
Jean Bernaud Gelin learned a similar lesson after leaving his home in Haiti and traveling 5,000 miles across 10 countries – though he found his dream without even reaching the US.
After initially trying to settle in Chile, Gelin set off for the United States, hoping the immigration policies of President Barack Obama would open new doors to him. By the time he reached the US-Mexico border, Donald Trump had become president, and one of Gelin’s cousins had been deported.
Fearing he would suffer the same fate, Gelin abandoned his ambition to reach America and decided to stay in the Mexican border city of Mexicali, where he’s become an entrepreneur, Math tutor and all-around Renaissance man.
“There are opportunities everywhere,” he said, adding that finding them was a matter of perseverance and adapting to new situations.
Daniel Ruiz, on the other hand, felt American for all practical purposes. Ruiz, who was born in Mexico, was taken to the United States without documents by his mother when he was just a baby. He was raised in the United States, where he went to school and learned the life lessons that turned him into the person he is today.
“I watched American TV. I grew up in American culture. Basically, I felt like an American citizen,” Ruiz said in English, speaking with a Southern California dialect.
That happy picture shattered about 24 years ago due to a life mistake Ruiz regrets to this day.
He was caught on a boat with a large amount of marijuana that he says he intended to sell to friends, a crime that got him detained and later deported.
“I did something that broke the law. I understood that. (But) I didn’t realize the consequences of me being deported. It never crossed my mind,” he told CNN.
He served three years in prison and was subsequently sent to Tijuana, a city he briefly stayed in as a baby but one that he was never truly connected with.
It wasn’t an easy transition, but he had little choice. After working different jobs to make a living, he was hired at a call center, climbed his way to management and then started his own business.
Like millions of deported and rejected migrants over the years, including the thousands removed since Trump returned to the White House, Morales, Gelin and Ruiz were all forced to give up their American Dreams. But – also like many others – they have found new dreams to pursue, in a place they least expected.
‘On this side there are also dreams’
For Morales, that dream was in Tijuana.
“What happened to me hurt a lot, but I wasn’t going to remain crying, crying and crying,” she said. “I started to work. To work, work and work.”
She knew she was a good cook, so that’s what she focused on.
She launched a restaurant in the heart of the city, serving the food of her home state, from traditional tamales to the drink champurrado. She also began providing meals for migrants at shelters.
“I was in a shelter when I was deported. So, I know all the needs of a migrant. I was in a shelter that didn’t have food, freshwater – nothing. So, I decided that when I was able, I would help migrants – and I have,” she said.
She created an organization called Proyecto Comida Calientita (Warm Food Project), which provides freshly made meals to migrants.
“People bring in sacks of rice, sacks of beans, second-hand clothing, and I distribute all that to one or two shelters a week,” she said.
Her venture has fed thousands of people over the years and received global recognition. From Mexico to Russia, newspapers around the world have told her story, she said, showing off a mural at her organization with newspaper clippings and awards.
She recalled that when Trump effectively closed off the US to asylum seekers waiting at the border, many of them turned to her for inspiration and rallied behind a mantra she has coined:
“On this side there are also dreams,” she often says, reminding migrants that Mexico can also be a land of opportunities.
Adapting to new situations
Gelin decided to leave Haiti nearly 10 years ago after high school due to the country’s political and economic instability. Initially, he settled in Chile, a place with a completely different language to his native creole, and unfamiliar lifestyles and traditions.
“I had never seen monthly rent. In Haiti, rent is for a year or a minimum of six months. So, in Chile, I started to live a new lifestyle that I had never seen before,” he told CNN.
He eventually found a job but his prospects for a better life were limited; he had to work 12 hours a day just to make ends meet. So, he decided to migrate to the United States.
When that plan didn’t work out, he decided to stay in Mexicali instead.
He realized that the border city, an economic and cultural hub of Baja California, also had a lot to offer, from education to job prospects.
So he learned the local language – something he struggled with at first but eventually mastered by reading Spanish literature and befriending local Spanish speakers.
After a couple of attempts, he passed the exam with high marks and became the first Haitian to enroll at the university, he told CNN, speaking in fluent Spanish.
By his second semester, he was also working as a tutor, helping other pupils with admission exams and mathematics.
He soon gained recognition as a reliable instructor and launched his own tutoring business. He also started other entrepreneurial ventures, from buying a local beer-vending franchise to becoming a stock market trader on his days off.
There were personal victories, too. “I found a girl, we became a couple, and now we have a daughter,” he said.
Now Gelin wants to repay the community for what he sees as his good fortune, by inspiring others.
“If someone has the mentality to grow and reach their goals, it doesn’t matter where it’s at, you’ll do it,” he said.
Starting over in an unfamiliar ‘home’
When Ruiz was sent back to Tijuana, he also faced culture shock.
“When I got to Mexico, it was so different because I never knew this culture … They way they celebrate, the way they act, the way they are — it’s a different culture,” he said.
He said his Spanish at the time was “terrible,” and he experienced a hint of disdain from some Tijuana residents who had unfavorable views of deportees, especially those who had gotten in trouble with the law.
It wasn’t an easy transition and Ruiz had to work multiple jobs just to make ends meet.
But he had a breakthrough when he was hired at a call center. There, he earned a steady income and worked his way up to management.
After his stint there, he and a coworker launched their own call center that hired fellow deportees, many of whom were also English speakers struggling to fit in. The company, Ruiz said, not only helped them acclimate, but also provided them with a sense of community.
“I was able to talk to people and relate with them and get their stories … Everybody felt good around each other. It was a really nice environment,” he said.
Ruiz later established a new call center where he continued to hire deportees and give them opportunities to rebuild their lives.
In 2018, when Tijuana saw a major influx of immigrants from Haiti, Ruiz led grass-roots efforts to provide shelter and legal support to dozens of asylum seekers.
From there, he established a nonprofit called Border Line Crisis Center. The organization now provides shelter, food and resources to women and children who’ve been deported or fled from other countries and cities for a fresh start.
Currently, he’s organizing what he said is the city’s first large-scale concert for deportees, which will bring together different call centers, artists and community members this December.
“What I’m trying to do is unite the deportee community,” he said. “What’s so special about us is our stories. Our stories are pretty much the same.”
