The following essay was originally compiled for the Mixed Migration Review 2024 and has been reproduced here for wider access through this website’s readership.
The essay’s author, Sebastián Rodríguez, originally from Tijuana, Baja California, studied international relations at ITAM. He currently serves as senior research assistant under the direction of Dr. Sergio Aguayo at the Seminario sobre Violencia y Paz at El Colegio de México.
In a small, busy taquería in Monterrey, Haitian migrants are seen dressed in green and red uniforms, diligently preparing food and washing dishes as part of a news report. The bright orange walls and simple setup of the place serve as a backdrop for the daily grind of these migrants, who have relocated to Mexico in the hope of finding employment, mostly in informal sectors. Despite their aspirations for a better life, they are often relegated to menial, low-wage jobs.
An interviewer captures this scene and remarks, “It is a great suffering that thousands of [Haitian] migrants who have arrived here have gone through, but some have had much better luck today”. On the surface, this statement appears neutral and even empathetic, seemingly applauding the hardworking nature of Haitian migrants. However, this stark contradiction is one of many examples revealing a pattern of exploitation masquerading as integration, a system of inequality that pretends to be multicultural and inclusive.
The reality for Haitian migrants in Mexico is far from the ‘better luck’ suggested in the news report. Instead, they face entrenched racial discrimination and systemic economic disparities that trap them in a cycle of poverty and marginalisation. This essay will explore these underlying issues, examining how Mexican society’s structures and attitudes have exacerbated conditions of entrapment for many migrants.
The Haitian exodus
The number of Haitian migrants in Mexico has reached unprecedented levels. Between January and December 2023, Mexico received 140,982 asylum requests from nationals of 20 countries, with Haiti having the highest number of applications at 44,239, according to the Mexican Commission for Refugee Assistance. Experts attribute this influx to the economic, social, political and climatic conditions affecting the country. Chronic institutional weakness, continuous political crises, increasing violence and crime, high unemployment and vulnerability to natural disasters have made life increasingly untenable.
Facing dire conditions in their homeland, many decide to migrate without a clear understanding of the challenges of the journey or how to ensure their safety. This sets in motion a series of migratory flows that span vast distances and even decades of displacement. Many migrants begin their journey not just from Haiti, but from countries like Brazil and Chile – where they initially sought refuge – only to face renewed pressures to migrate. The route often takes them through the Darién Gap, a treacherous stretch of jungle between Panama and Colombia, fraught with danger – particularly for women and girls, who are exposed to heightened risks of sexual and gender-based violence.
Upon reaching Mexico, Haitian migrants encounter racial discrimination from migration and law enforcement officials, arbitrary detentions and brutal conditions in detention centres, where they are often deprived of basic sanitation and medical care. And yet, despite risking everything and making multiple attempts to reach their ultimate destination, many Haitian migrants find themselves trapped in Mexico. How can it be that after enduring such extreme risks and traversing multiple countries, these migrants find themselves in a state of limbo, devoid of the necessary support and resources to move forward?
To explain this, Dr Olga Odgers-Ortiz has introduced a compelling concept known as ‘the era of migratory entrapment’, which argues that many migrants find themselves involuntarily confined within host countries due to a complex interplay of international migration policies and geopolitical shifts. Entrapment in this context occurs primarily because of US policies, which include tightening border controls and frequent changes to asylum laws and procedures, coupled with the Mexican government’s increasing efforts to halt the northward movement of migrants.
In this perverse logic, US migration policies provide the groundwork for a racial order that is enforced even beyond its borders, outsourced for enforcement by Mexican authorities long before refugees and migrants even approach their destination. But while Dr Odgers-Ortiz offers a compelling framework for understanding the plight of Haitian migrants, it’s essential to consider the local realities on the ground. Entrapment may indeed be triggered by geopolitical shifts and policies, but it is continually reinforced by racial hierarchies.
An inescapable reality
Haitians are among the most precarious migrants in Mexico. Most arrive with little more than the clothes on their backs, desperate for basic necessities such as food, clothing and medical attention. While the Mexican government pats itself on the back for providing work permits, this remains an insufficient policy that leaves many without meaningful access to protection or employment. Language barriers further exacerbate their conditions, with many not speaking Spanish. Haitian women, in particular, tend to speak less Spanish than men due to their limited work experiences in transit countries, often because they were forced to stay at home to care for children or family, making them dependent on male partners.
As a result, Haitian migrants’ high vulnerability forces them into jobs primarily within the informal sector, such as street vending or construction labour, where they work 10-14 hours a day and under deplorable conditions for jobs that few others are willing to do. Because of the dangerous journeys they undertake, many begin their new lives in Mexico already at a disadvantage, burdened by financial debt to both formal and informal actors. Viewed as transient by the local authorities, they are also often deprived of labour protections, making exploitation and abuse a routine part of their daily lives. Additionally, the devaluation of their educational credentials and professional qualifications further relegates them to the most marginalised positions within the labour market. Each of these conditions has not merely worked to hinder their journey but has served practically to dominate and constrain the lives of these migrants, reinforcing their entrapment within a system that denies them basic human dignity.
In addition to their economic exploitation, Haitian migrants also endure pervasive racism that deepens their marginalisation. This discrimination manifests itself not only through physical policing and control by Mexican authorities, but also through institutional practices and the everyday rhetoric of Mexican society. What we see is an insidious ordering of Haitian migrants that operates through both force and persuasion, coercion and consent. They are pursued, handcuffed and subjected to beatings by authorities, all supported by an underlying discourse that justifies and sustains this oppression.
Mexican society likes to tell its version of the story, where Haitian migrants are seen as tireless and resilient workers, and are therefore ‘welcomed’ and ‘integrated’ because they eagerly take on menial jobs. In southern Mexico, in particular, Haitians are more likely to be hired for agricultural work, driven by the misconception that they can endure more physical labour. Newspapers tout headlines such as “In Mexico’s border city, Haitian people hailed as success story” and “Tijuana’s Haitian immigrants seen as a model for other newcomers.” They often highlight stories of maquila (low-cost factories) employers approaching shelters to solicit Haitian workers, praising their productivity and willingness to work. Families are depicted as incorporating Haitians into their barbershops, beauty salons, internet cafés and restaurants, motivated by a spirit of help. All this sensationalises an ‘unlikely’ harmony between Mexican and Haitian people, even going so far as to talk about the emergence of a ‘Mexican dream’ for those entrapped.
The power of these narratives has a particular salience. They exceptionalise Haitian migrants by attributing to them characteristics such as an inherent willingness to endure harsh working conditions. On the one hand, this process serves to separate them from society as ‘others’. They become abstractions, distinct and apart. The daily narratives, like those previously mentioned in newspapers and community stories, weaponise this distinction into a hard-and-fast separation and an organising principle.
On the other hand, and more critically, these narratives define Haitian migrants within specific categories, casting them as an exploitable and excludable out-group. This systematic process of racial formation serves as a means of control because to define is to dominate. By assigning them specific duties and privileges, such as those seen in maquila factories or agricultural work, Mexican society manages their lives within a hierarchy that presents itself as neutral and benign. It’s a subtle, yet very powerful, mechanism because it upholds a racialised hierarchy while obscuring the ongoing racism, effectively ensuring Haitian migrants remain trapped within a system designed to exploit and marginalise them.
