Cubans Seeking the American Dream Are Now in Limbo
Thousands are now stuck in Mexico
The end of the CPB One app leaves Cuban and other migrants seeking legal entry to the USA facing a crossroads.
By Yenys Laura Prieto (El Toque)
HAVANA TIMES – On March 25, 2024, Yasmani Aguilera left his home in Cuba. The decision to emigrate wasn’t a choice but a necessity. Just as he was about to enter the United States, his dream of crossing the border legally was shattered. His appointment through the CPB One app was canceled. [The CPB One app was a measure established by the Biden Administration allowing asylum seekers in Mexico to make appointments to plead their case at the US border.] Now on Mexican soil, he’s trying to regroup. Like him, hundreds of Cubans are looking for a way forward in the new immigration context and to normalize their status in a country saturated by migration from numerous countries. Returning to the island isn’t an option for the Cubans.
Yasmani is a barber, but his skill with the scissors wasn’t enough to get him out of poverty. A direct flight to Nicaragua, one of the few routes open to Cubans seeking to escape, would put him on Central American soil where, a coyote, contracted previously from Havana, would meet him. The agreement was clear: from Nicaragua, on through Honduras, Guatemala, and finally Mexico. Every step had its price.
The nights he spent in clandestine migrant shelters became a reminder of the fragility of his situation. “The most difficult part is when you enter southern Mexico and head towards the center,” he recalls. There’s the threat of cartel violence, immigration police raids on migrants, kidnappings. Crossing Mexico isn’t just one more step in the journey, but a test of survival.
Despite the dangers of the route, Yasmani says he was lucky. “We didn’t have any scares, but other people did,” he recalls, aware that every migrant’s story is different. For some, the journey is hellish; for others, just a series of long waits. For more than a month, he slept in improvised houses, cheap hotels when he could afford them, and in bus terminals when the fatigue was more powerful than the fear. Finally, he arrived in Mexico City, where he was to begin a new chapter in his history of resistance.
Building a life while waiting
After reaching the Mexican capital, Yasmani had the good luck of being able to rent a room. He told El Toque that he found work one day later, thanks to the recommendation of his new landlady. A chicken processing plant offered him a salary of 2,500 Mexican pesos [US $121.50] a week, enough to survive, save a little and send money to his family in Cuba. “All that money was enough to send some to Cuba, eat, settle in and buy razors,” he recounts.
After six months in the slaughterhouse, he decided to change course. With his savings, he rented a small locale with the intention of setting up his own barbershop and living there as well. A curtain would mark off his home from his business. But the idea never materialized: “I never put it into practice,” he admits. A personal problem involving a dispute with a jealous man forced him to change his address. It was one of many forced moves to come.
Stability is a luxury for a migrant. Without a fixed residence, without papers, without any protective system, Yasmani had to reinvent himself yet again. While awaiting his appointment with CBP One, he kept moving, alternating between temporary jobs and short-term rented rooms. Despite all this, the dream of establishing his barbershop never died. “My goal has always been to open my own business, but it’s hard when you don’t have any stability,” he confesses. His hopes lay on the border, with Laredo, Texas his final destination. On January 30, 2025, after nearly a year in Mexico, his moment had come. He had his appointment. But the dream quickly crumbled.
The closing of CPB One: a blow to thousands of Cuban migrants
Upon returning to the White House in 2025, one of Donald Trump’s first executive actions was to cancel CPB One. For Yasmani, as for thousands of Cubans and Central Americans, the measure was devasting. “Just as I was close to getting the opportunity to enter, Trump comes in and cancels all the appointments,” Yasmani laments. Mexican authorities confirmed that the closure of the phone application left 30,000 migrants stranded in Mexico.
According to the Mexican Commission for Refugee Aid (Comar), over 17,800 Cubans applied for asylum in Mexico in 2024, making Cubans one of the largest immigrant groups in the country. The cancellation of CPB One left thousands with no clear alternatives. Those who had an appointment scheduled had their files frozen; those waiting their turn lost the possibility of accessing legal entry into the United States.
The Trump Administration justified the measure as part of a greater effort to put the brakes on illegal immigration. But the reality on the ground was otherwise: thousands of migrants were left trapped in Mexico, vulnerable to violence, exploitation, and uncertainty. Some have decided to seek alternatives through the Mexican asylum system; others to try the clandestine routes across the border, risking the desert and the human traffickers.
Meanwhile in Mexico, delays in asylum processing
Migrants in Mexico City who wish to obtain refugee status must first visit the site of the Mexican Commission for Refugee Aid in Naucalpan, just northwest of the city in an adjoining state. The area has registered a significant increase in the number of applicants, according to the Mexican newspaper La Jornada. The Comar website offers detailed information on the process of obtaining legal status in Mexico.
During the first weeks of 2025, the number of people seen daily, in Naucalpan alone, went from 200 to 500. This has also served to lengthen the wait time. Given this situation, office hours for attention were extended to 9 am to 5 pm. Due to the difficulties in Comar, several witnesses told a local reporter, some migrants have implemented a system of lists and lines.
How is the initial process carried out? First, applicants must fill out a form detailing their reasons for requesting asylum in Mexico. Afterwards, they must report to the site every ten days to sign a proof of permanence, a requirement for maintaining an active case. Later, there’s an eligibility interview, during which they must explain the motives that led them to leave their place of origin, adding any evidence that supports their case.
According to the law, a resolution to an asylum request should be issued within 45 business days from the date of application. However, due to the large number of applications, this process often takes longer than the established time.
The proceeding can be realized in different Comar offices in the country, including one in Tapachula (Cbiapas); one in Tenosique (Tabasco); one in Acayucan ( VeraCruz); and another in Palenque (Chiapas). All of these offices have reported an increase in the number of applications for asylum.
While they wait for resolution of their cases, some migrants have found work in local businesses, while others remain in refugee shelters such as Casa Tochan, located in the Cuauhtemoc municipality, or the Cafemin shelter in the Gustavo A. Madero borough of Mexico City.
“Every shelter has its own characteristics. For example, we only serve single men; in Cafemin, they take families, and Casa Fuentes is a women’s shelter. Given that, it’s extremely important that we coordinate adequately so no one is left without a roof during this emergency,” stated Gabriela Hernandez, director of Casa Tochan as well as the newspaper La Razon.
Between resignation and hope
“My current plan is to go to the Comar and become a Mexican,” Yasmani says. It’s not what he wanted, but it’s what there is. The possibility of obtaining residency in Mexico and eventually bringing his family seems his best option at this time. “Despite everything, you live better here than in my country,” he points out.
But nostalgia persists. “I’m not a materialistic person. Obviously, I feel better in my own country, but I know what I have to do,” he says. For many Cuban migrants, leaving the island isn’t only a physical journey, but an emotional rupture. The decision to leave means accepting that returning isn’t an immediate possibility.
Yasmani’s future is up in the air, like that of thousands of Cuban migrants in Mexico. While the US immigration policies harden and the crisis in Cuba deepens, the roads are becoming narrower. Some pin their hopes on waiting; others on the battle for a legal status.
First published in Spanish by El Toque and translated and posted in English by Havana Times.