(San Bernardino, 2025-12-30) — A family who built a life in Southern California is preparing to return to Mexico, driven by fears of increased immigration enforcement and a sense of displacement after decades in the United States.
The García family’s decision reflects a growing anxiety among some long-term undocumented residents as political rhetoric and enforcement efforts intensify.
- Rosalinda García, who entered the U.S. with her mother in 1995, is returning to Mexico after living in the country for three decades.
- The family’s decision was influenced by a traumatic border crossing and recent increased immigration raids in San Bernardino.
- Despite establishing a life and community in California, the family ultimately prioritized safety and a sense of belonging.
Rosalinda García’s journey to the U.S. began in 1995, after her mother learned one of her brothers was in trouble in the States and decided the family needed to be closer to him. Despite Rosalinda’s desire to remain in Mexico, her mother insisted they leave, ultimately crossing the border with the help of smugglers after three attempts. During the journey to San Bernardino, Rosalinda, then fourteen years old, was groped by one of the men, an experience she recounted with visible distress, saying, “There was nothing I could do—I couldn’t scream or anything,” and vowed, “I am _never_crossing again. That’s it, I’m finished.”
A Life Built in California
Table of Contents
Two years later, Rosalinda met Manuel and they had a son, José. Over the years, the couple considered returning to Mexico, but ultimately remained in the U.S., particularly after José, at age twelve, pleaded with them to stay, according to José. “They respected my wishes,” José said. About half of the García family now resides in Southern California, while the other half remains in Mexico, with whom Rosalinda maintains contact primarily by name.
The family had established a vibrant life in San Bernardino, with Rosalinda regularly attending church and exercise classes, and Manuel participating in a recreational baseball league. However, the shadow of their undocumented status loomed large. Rosalinda recalled a particularly disheartening experience attempting to sign her children up for Medicaid, which left her “sobbing” and questioning her desire to remain in the country.
Fears and a Return to the Unknown
Rosalinda had long held to her promise to never cross the border again, but now finds herself returning to a Mexico that feels unfamiliar after three decades away. “We are afraid, because we’re moving to a place that we don’t remember,” she said, sighing. “I guess that’s just how it goes.” The decision to leave was prompted by increased immigration enforcement, with Rosalinda finding a temporary sense of security at a local R.V. park and campground, which she described as one of the few outdoor spaces where “ICE can’t just show up,” due to its fenced perimeter.
In the days leading up to their departure, Rosalinda sought solace in music, listening to “northerners”—a type of Mexican folk song featuring the accordion—specifically “El Mojado Acaudalado,” or “The Wealthy Wetback.” The song, she explained, reclaims a historical slur for Mexican immigrants who crossed the Rio Grande, and tells the story of a migrant returning home after years of work in the U.S.
Why It Matters
The García family’s story highlights the complex realities faced by long-term undocumented residents in the U.S. While often portrayed as recent arrivals, many have deep roots in American communities, having built lives, families, and contributed to the economy for decades. Increased immigration enforcement and a shifting political climate are forcing some to make the difficult decision to return to their countries of origin, even if it means leaving behind everything they’ve worked for and facing an uncertain future. This trend underscores the human cost of immigration policy and the profound impact it has on individuals and families.
