Mexican migrant recounts her painful self-deportation process after 12 years in the US: "They didn't give me the chance to talk to my husband."

At just 23 years old, Yokari Villagómez was forced to make one of the most difficult decisions of her life: to voluntarily leave the United States, the country where she grew up, studied, married, and considered her true home. Her story, told with raw intensity, reflects the anguish of thousands of migrants trapped in legal and emotional limbo, victims of a complex, overcrowded, and often indifferent immigration system.

A life built since childhood

Yokari arrived in the United States when she was just 11 years old, crossing the border from Mexico with her family. Like many other migrant children, she quickly adapted to her new reality: she learned English, graduated from high school, and then studied fashion design. Years later, she married a U.S. citizen and settled in California, where she lived a peaceful and stable life.

Despite being fully integrated into American life, her immigration status remained irregular. Instead of being channeled toward a legal status through her marriage, her legal process was hampered by multiple errors made by her lawyer, who failed to submit the necessary documentation in a timely manner. This omission would seal her fate.

Detained without explanation, treated as a criminal

One day, without warning, immigration agents detained her and took her to a detention center. They didn't allow her to communicate with her husband and handcuffed her as if she were a criminal. "They didn't give me the opportunity to speak to my husband. I was handcuffed without explanation and taken to a detention center," said the young woman, who had no criminal record and had committed no infractions, except for having been in the country without papers during her childhood and youth.

During her confinement, Yokari reported suffering inhumane conditions. A facial fracture caused by a fall went untreated, and her nutrition was poor. The isolation, uncertainty, and fear rapidly deteriorated her mental health. “In there, time stops, you lose track of who you are, and you feel discarded,” she recounted with anguish.

The extreme decision: self-deportation

After weeks of detention and a lack of clear answers from immigration authorities, Yokari opted for the only option that offered him some control over his fate: requesting self-deportation. Although this alternative has been presented by ICE and CBP as a "voluntary" option to forced deportation, in practice it is often the only possible solution when migrants lack the resources to face long, uncertain, and costly processes.

Her departure from the country was finalized on June 25, 2025. Her husband, her budding professional career, and more than a decade of life were left behind. Returning to Mexico, a country she barely remembers from her childhood, was a profound emotional blow. “It was invaluable help, since immigration authorities were making it difficult for me to leave. The Mexican consulate was instrumental in getting my application processed,” she said.

After her deportation to Rosario, Baja California, the young woman was grateful for medical attention, but she can't get over the bitter experience. "It's hard to accept that everything I dreamed of in the U.S. is over there. I lost the opportunity to complete my studies, and now I have to start over," she said.

A reality that repeats itself

Yokari's case is not unique. According to recent figures, more than 13.000 migrants have self-deported so far in 2025, most after long periods of detention or after facing unsuccessful legal proceedings. Although authorities claim this mechanism is a humanitarian option, migrant rights advocates point out that in many cases it is a form of coercion under conditions of confinement and desperation.

Furthermore, reports about the treatment of detainees in immigration centers, especially those without criminal records, have been the subject of increasing complaints. Cases of medical neglect, overcrowding, communication restrictions, and institutional violence have been documented by organizations such as the ACLU and Human Rights Watch.

A system in crisis

Villagómez's experience reveals not only the individual flaws in his legal case, but also the deep flaws in the U.S. immigration system, which fails to provide effective solutions to people who have lived peacefully and productively in the country for years. "What's the point of integrating, studying, getting married, following the rules, if one bureaucratic error condemns you to lose everything?" he asked.

Meanwhile, pressure on the U.S. government is mounting. Deportations have increased, as have detentions of migrants with documents like the I-220A, generating fear even among those who have been cooperating with authorities. In this context, self-deportations have become a way out for many, but at a very high emotional cost.

“I didn’t leave by choice, I left because the system pushed me to.”

Today, Yokari Villagómez is trying to rebuild her life in Mexico. Far from her husband, her friends, and everything she knew, she faces the challenge of starting over. Even so, she remains hopeful that one day she will be able to legally return to the country she feels is her own. Her story is a powerful reminder of the human cost of current immigration policies and the urgency of comprehensive immigration reform in the United States.