Forced return

As defined previously in Chapter 2, this return is involuntary and it is performed by either the initiative of either the ‘home’ or (usually) the host state. For the purpose of this research, when I refer to deportation I will include ‘voluntary departure’ and ‘administrative removal’ of a migrant from the USA due to the lack of possession of a residency permit, working in breach of their conditions of residence or as a consequence of being charged with criminal offences. This return includes either an administrative or judicial procedure prior to leaving the host country which, in many cases, signifies spending time in detention.

Reasons for deportation included crossing the border without documents, or committing a minor or an aggravated crime. Out of the total number of participants (60), 11 were removed. All but one were males and the majority were from Mexico City, which echoes Golash-Boza and Hondagneu-Sotelo’s (2013) gendered removal finding introduced earlier in this chapter. As for the reasons for removal, only four of these 11 participants were deported as a consequence of committing a criminal offence. Therefore, the generalised perception that return migrants are “criminals who have been deported”, or ‘bad hombres (men)’ in Trump’s terminology, is likely to be overstated. As we will see later in this thesis, this misconception is extremely harmful for people who have been removed from the USA and contributes to rendering many other returnees, who have not been deported, as either stigmatised or invisible. The following excerpt will introduce us to the experience of Roberto (H, 40), who lived in the USA for 17 years:

One day, I went out with my family to an amusement park, while paying for something I handed over a false banknote … I was not aware that I had that bill [...] but they

called the police. When the police arrived, they asked many questions, I told them I was not aware that the money was fake, they checked my wallet looking for more false money but they did not find any. In the end, I guess they believed I was not responsible for that note and they let me go, but not before asking for my social security number and taking some photos of me. I always think I was in the wrong place, at the wrong time… Soon after that, ICE76 _{[officers] showed up at my home,} they came after me, they had my photo […] when you have ‘that problem’77 _{they do} not ask anything, they do not even give you the chance to see a judge, they just take you and vas pa’fuera (take you out). That is how it happened, very fast. I spent eight days in prison, in the end they gave me a paper to sign [voluntary departure] and told me I would not be allowed to come back for 10 years […] I was caught in New York, then I was moved to New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Texas and finally I was deported to Ciudad Juarez [border city with the USA]. I am not sure why they take you from place to place, I think it is for you to feel it [the deportation process] ‘harder’. You call your family and say ‘I am here’, and suddenly they take you somewhere else, you do not even have time to tell anyone, you do not know where you are, you feel lost… afraid. When you enter that prison [immigration detention centre], your entire world crumbles, all you want is to leave and put everything behind you. Roberto’s (H, 40) narrative helps us to understand how the current immigration enforcement system is implemented in the USA and how people experience it. While Roberto understood that, due to his ‘voluntary departure’ order, eventually he would have to leave the USA, and at certain points during his interview he mentioned being ready for it, the detention and removal process was quite shocking for him and his family. Similarly, Hector (MC, 25) and Nadia (MC, 35) experienced their deportation as a violent removal from what, at one point or another, all participants described as their ‘home’ country.

As previously mentioned in the introduction to this thesis, the IIRIRA allowed crimes which were not defined as aggravated felonies to become cause for deportation, even if the people convicted had completed their prison sentences. Charlie (MC, 22), Diego (MC, 38), Edgar (H, 37) and Paco (H, 37) also experienced deportation but, in their cases, they were removed from the USA as a consequence of charges for minor crimes related to alcohol consumption, such as drinking on the street or driving under the influence of alcohol. Other authors have identified that there is increased alcohol and drug use among Mexican migrants, especially men, in the USA as a (gendered) way to self-medicate distress; however, in the case of undocumented youth, especially young men, this behaviour has also been related to life choices that reflect less self-care, increased impulsiveness and risk-

76 _{US Immigration and Customs Enforcement.}

77 _{Roberto had been detained 16 years earlier and been given a ‘voluntary departure’ order that he}

taking tendencies (Gonzales et al. 2013). These gendered practices are considered vulnerabilities that undermine men’s wellbeing and health status, making them more likely to enter into crimimal practices and becoming deported. When Charlie finished high-school, he realised that due to his undocumented status he would be unable to go to university unless he managed to raise the money to pay for the tuition fees78_{. As a result, he decided} to stop studying and went through a difficult period during which he had issues with the law, which in turn jeopardised his life in the USA:

I just went wild and I did a lot of everything…2011 was my worst year. I would go to the [night] club, I would get drunk, do coke, crazy stuff! Once, I was coming back from the club with some friends, I was drunk and driving at a high speed. I was stopped [by police] and that was when I knew I had a VIP pass to Mexico [...] I was locked up [in jail] for a week. Surprisingly, after my release, I was treated as a regular American. I was sent to court and the judge waived all the charges except for the DWI (driving while impaired). I was banned from driving for a year and sent to do community service, but they said nothing about my immigration status […] After two years I got a letter from immigration, that is when I got hit… I had to go to immigration court. I thought they had forgotten me! At that point I was already in college, I was paying the full fees all by myself, I had a stable job, I had a girlfriend… I felt I was doing good! I thought about applying for DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) but I knew I was going to be rejected because of the DWI. My girlfriend even proposed [marriage] to me so I could stay but the lawyer said it would not be of any help at that point. So I had to sign a ‘voluntary departure’ and leave the country, they gave me three months… three whole months of torture. I was worried, I had no idea about life in Mexico, I only knew my grandma and my auntie…I did not know how it [life] would be.

Furthermore, the IIRIRA introduced the mandatory detention and deportation of immigrants with temporary or permanent residency who had committed any criminal offence. This measure was applied retroactively to all migrants who were convicted of felonies in the years prior to the implementation of the law (Ellerman 2009:81). Therefore, Armando (MC, 45), Moises (MC, 30), Ricardo (MC, 36) and Tony (H, 37), despite their documented status (as green card holders), were all removed from the USA due to this policy. In their interviews, they all mentioned their awareness that penal incarceration was an expected outcome of the crimes committed: in the words of Tony (H, 37) “laws are harsher over there [the USA], it is hard to find a policeman who is corrupted…you commit a crime, you pay for it.” Nonetheless, immigration detention and deportation were considered unfair punishments

78 _{Instead of being able to apply for scholarships or access loans from private institutions, such as}

banks, like other students. Additionally, access to public colleges depends on the state of residency. In the case that undocumented migrants manage to access university education, they can be requested to pay out-state tuition fees which increases the cost by more than double.

and to this day these participants carry the “sense that wrong was done to them” (Hasselberg 2014:6). As an example, Ricardo (MC, 36) mentioned that, five years after his return to Mexico, he still struggles to cope with his deportation. “I cry because they changed my life without my consent…I am away from my family, my children, my wife. I would do anything to go back home with my children.” It is clear from this quote that ‘home’ for Ricardo is not Mexico, where he was born and spent his early life, but the USA, where his wife and, especially, his children are.

Moises and Tony, due to the length of time spent in the USA, having started families there and given their attachment to the culture and the country, felt tempted to fight for the opportunity to stay but were unable to pay for legal representation and/or were not willing to remain in detention any longer. Armando and Ricardo did fight to stay: both of them stood trial to obtain a pardon for the crimes committed and therefore be able to stay in the USA, yet both their petitions were denied. All four were removed from the USA, leaving all that they knew behind. Hasselberg (2014) suggests that the deportation of foreign-national offenders operates as a type of ‘social death’, as they are no longer given the opportunity to reintegrate into their ‘new’ (for them, ‘home’) society, communities and families. This was a perception reflected throughout the narratives presented above.

Whether deportation was a result of crossing the border without documents, or committing a minor or an aggravated crime, all participants experienced their deportation as unclear, unfair and, in most cases, traumatic. To differing degrees, people experienced detention and deportation - including how they were treated (e.g. being isolated, not being informed of what was happening, being treated inhumanely) as violent and a type of punishment, which haunted them even after their return to Mexico. Hall (2012) argues that detention is not operationalised solely as a border control tool. Rather, using detention and deportation, governments have established mechanisms through which migrants (who majority are men) become criminalised, while being portrayed as ‘illegal’, undesirable and/or a threat. Furthermore, authors have documented how these deterrence strategies affect human dignity79_{, the overall human wellbeing of migrants (including loosing their patrimony,} sense of self, family and social relations) and alters perceptions of the present and future

79 _{For the purpose of this research, I will use the definition of human dignity used by Sensen}

(2011:73): “An inherent value property on the basis of which one can claim rights from others: one has rights because of one’s intrinsic and objective preciousness. In justifying human rights, the good (dignity) is prior to a principle stating what is right; and human rights as entitlements – which are justified by the good – are prior to the duties of the agent.”

for those who experience it, which in turn may affect their (re)integration process negatively (DeBono 2013, 2017; Hasselberg 2014; Sager 2011).