It's not just a bed and some food. We have to create a space to help people psychologically and spiritually.
On the eve of a new American administration's promised mass deportations, Tijuana has declared a state of emergency — not in panic, but in preparation. The border city, long a threshold between aspiration and reality for migrants, now readies its thirty-plus shelters for a wave whose size no one can predict. What shelter directors understand, and what policy language often obscures, is that human displacement is never merely a logistics problem: it is a crisis of dignity, mental health, and belonging that beds and food alone cannot resolve.
- Donald Trump's inaugural promise to deport 'millions and millions' of migrants has sent a tremor through Tijuana's humanitarian network, where shelter directors describe a collective nervousness that is difficult to plan around.
- With over 30 shelters already strained, the city's greatest vulnerability is not a lack of goodwill but a shortage of mental health professionals, legal staff, and job training programs capable of meeting a potential surge.
- Tijuana's mayor declared a state of emergency the week before Trump took office, unlocking emergency funds for additional space, medical equipment, and legal personnel — a preventive measure framed as readiness, not alarm.
- Mexico's federal government is constructing new border shelters and organizing voluntary return caravans, while President Sheinbaum notes many migrants are already turning back before reaching the border.
- The human scale is already vast — more than 30,000 migrants passed through Tijuana in just the first eight months of 2024 — and the true current number remains unknown, leaving shelters to prepare for a crisis whose dimensions are still unwritten.
Tijuana has long been a city of thresholds — a place where journeys pause, reverse, or transform. As Donald Trump took office with explicit promises of mass deportations, the border city's more than thirty migrant shelters began bracing for what could be an unprecedented surge of arrivals and returnees. The uncertainty, shelter workers say, is the hardest burden to carry.
Jamie Marín of the Jardín de las Mariposas shelter warned of a real risk of humanitarian crisis, while Pat Murphy, who has led Casa del Migrante since 2013, described his preparation as mental as much as logistical: 'The biggest challenge is not knowing what will happen.' Trump's inaugural address — invoking 'millions and millions of criminal aliens' — gave those fears a concrete shape.
In response, Mayor Ismael Burgueño Ruíz declared a state of emergency the prior week, framing it as preventive rather than panicked. The measure unlocks funds for renting space, hiring legal staff, and purchasing medical supplies. But humanitarian workers are insistent that infrastructure alone is insufficient. Murphy, Marín, and Albertina Pauletti of Madre Assunta all emphasized the same truth: people arriving in crisis need psychological care, spiritual support, legal guidance, job training, and specialized services for vulnerable groups — none of which exist at the scale that mass deportations would demand.
Government data recorded more than 30,000 migrants passing through Tijuana between January and August of 2024 alone. Mexico's federal government is responding with new border shelters and coordinated voluntary return programs, and President Claudia Sheinbaum has noted that many migrants are already choosing to turn back. Still, the shelters wait — preparing as best they can for a question that only Washington's actions will answer.
Tijuana sits just across the border from San Diego, a city that has long absorbed waves of migration. Now, as Donald Trump takes office with promises of mass deportations, the shelters that line Tijuana's streets are bracing for what could come next. More than thirty of these facilities operate in the northwestern Mexican border city, each one preparing for a possible surge of people—some heading north, others being sent back.
The uncertainty is the hardest part. Jamie Marín, who directs the Jardín de las Mariposas shelter, told reporters that the prospect of large-scale deportations carries real risk of triggering a humanitarian crisis. The worry isn't abstract. It's about whether the city's shelters will have enough beds, enough food, enough staff, enough of anything. "There is collective nervousness," Marín said, "about the decisions the Trump administration will make." Pat Murphy, who has run Casa del Migrante since 2013, put it more plainly: "The biggest challenge is not knowing what will happen. I'm preparing myself mentally."
Trump made his intentions clear during his inaugural address on Monday. "We will begin the process of returning millions and millions of criminal aliens to the places from which they came," he said from the Capitol. That language—millions—is what keeps shelter directors awake. In response, Tijuana's government declared a state of emergency the previous week, a measure that opens access to emergency funds for renting additional space, hiring legal staff, purchasing medical equipment, and buying supplies. Mayor Ismael Burgueño Ruíz framed it as preventive, not panicked. "Tijuana is not alarmed," he said, but the city has prepared spaces just in case Trump follows through.
Yet space alone solves nothing. Murphy and other humanitarian workers are clear on this point. "It's not just about providing a bed," Murphy explained. "We have to care for them. Who will organize programs and training for migrants?" Albertina Pauletti, who works at the Madre Assunta shelter, went further: "It's not just a bed and some food. We have to create a space to help people psychologically and spiritually." Marín outlined what the shelters actually need—more money for food and comprehensive medical care, programs for voluntary return to migrants' home countries, job training that restores dignity, specialized attention for LGBTQ individuals, and mental health services that don't currently exist at the scale required.
The numbers are staggering. Government data shows that between January and August of 2024 alone, more than thirty thousand migrants passed through Tijuana at some point. No one knows exactly how many are there right now. Mexico's federal government is responding by announcing new shelters in border cities and organizing what it calls "caravans"—coordinated movements of people. President Claudia Sheinbaum noted in early January that many migrants have already decided to return home on their own, turning back before they reach the border.
The shelters continue their work anyway, knowing that whatever comes, they will be the first to meet it. Pauletti spoke of projects underway to support people not just with beds but with psychological and spiritual care, and for those who decide Tijuana itself might be home, with pathways to stay. The city waits. The shelters prepare. And the question of what Trump will actually do—and how many people it will affect—remains unanswered.
Citações Notáveis
There is collective nervousness about the decisions the Trump administration will make.— Jamie Marín, director of Jardín de las Mariposas shelter
The biggest challenge is not knowing what will happen. I'm preparing myself mentally.— Pat Murphy, director of Casa del Migrante shelter
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did Tijuana declare a state of emergency if the mayor says the city isn't alarmed?
The emergency declaration is a legal tool, not a statement of panic. It unlocks funding and administrative flexibility. You declare it now so you have the money and authority to act if the surge happens. It's preparation dressed in bureaucratic language.
What's the gap between what the shelters have and what they actually need?
The gap is everything beyond a cot. They need therapists, doctors, lawyers, job counselors. They need to help people process trauma and rebuild. Right now they're running on goodwill and stretched budgets. A bed is the easiest thing to provide.
How many people are we actually talking about?
Thirty thousand passed through Tijuana in just eight months last year. No one knows the current number. Trump said millions. That's the terror of it—the scale is unknowable.
Is Mexico doing anything on its side?
Yes. The federal government is creating new shelters in border cities and talking about voluntary return programs. But that assumes people want to go back, and it assumes the infrastructure exists to help them do it safely.
What happens to someone who gets deported to Tijuana with nothing?
They show up at a shelter. If there's space. If there's staff. If there's someone who speaks their language and understands what they've been through. If not, they're on the street. That's what the shelter directors are trying to prevent.