In a State of Anticipation: Laughter and Seeking Asylum in Central Mexico

Families seeking asylum in Mexico are facing unprecedented backlogs and barriers under current US immigration policies. The result is a deep emotional and psychological toll, as they remain stuck in long-term states of waiting and anticipation.

From August 28 to September 9, 2024, Clowns Without Borders (CWB) returned to central Mexico, bringing laughter, relief, and connection to families experiencing displacement. Through 13 shows, we reached 1,771 people.

Read on to discover how a few well-timed giggles — and a unicycle or two — can shift the atmosphere of anxiety and anticipation, even if they can’t fix the system.

How Long Can a Child Wait?

While last year’s Mexico blog post focused on La Bestia and the physical dangers faced by migrants, this year we turn our attention to a different, more insidious threat: prolonged uncertainty.

When children are kept in states of prolonged uncertainty, it is a type of toxic stress that impacts their health and development.

According to The Center on the Developing Child at Harvard University, “When a toxic stress response occurs continually, or is triggered by multiple sources, it can take a cumulative toll on a young child’s health and well-being, with lifelong implications…including heart disease, diabetes, substance abuse, and depression.”

Research from Guatemala shows that children and adolescents living in vulnerable conditions, such as extreme poverty or exposure to violence, consistently underperform in attention, language, and executive functioning tasks compared to their non-vulnerable peers (Ibáñez-Alfonso et al., 2021). These difficulties don’t just appear in the classroom — they ripple into every part of a child’s life, affecting their ability to connect with others and imagine a safe future.

That’s why performances like ours aren’t just entertaining — they’re necessary. They remind children that laughing, playing, and taking up space is their birthright.

Even Especially while they wait.

One Performance Stood Out

One CWB performance took place at the Center for the Care of Children in the Context of Migration in Tlaxcala. The center had just opened six months prior, as part of the Mexican government’s effort to respond to the growing crisis of children in migration contexts.

In Centers Like This One, the Future Is a Question Mark

Center for the Care of Children is the first of its kind in the nation, and the families inside come from as far as Haiti, Venezuela, and Honduras. Loss, violence, and long waits shaped their journeys — often made on foot.

Many families at the center feel that the government has interrupted their plans to migrate to the US. 

While the government provides some assistance, including paperwork support, people aren’t free to come and go as they please. Their movements are tracked. Their futures remain uncertain.

On the Day of Our Visit, They Could Count On One Thing

A clown show.

No documents required. No waiting in line. Just laughter — immediate and shared.

We met Alexander, 8 years old, just hours after he arrived at the center with his parents and younger sister. They had walked all the way from Honduras. He didn’t know what would happen next, or how long they’d stay in Tlaxcala.

Laughter doesn’t solve displacement, but it gives children a break from it — a reminder of what it feels like to play, to be seen, and to belong.

Check Your Head. Does Play Matter?

CWB artist Lars Uribe asked a boy named Alexis, 8 years old, what he liked most about his trip from Honduras. Alexis didn’t mention a border crossing or a place. He said, “The show.”

That answer, simple as it is, reveals how deeply the children need levity. It also highlights how few moments of joy are woven into their long journeys. 

These performances don’t erase the trauma or fill in the gaps of policy. But they give children and adults alike something to hold on to: proof that they matter, that they are seen, and that joy is still for them.

From Guarded to Grinning

At the end of the performance, Brachito — the clown name used by Vanessa Nieto Terrazas — turned her attention to the security guards who are both protectors and enforcers at the center.

Their stern expressions contrasted with the laughter around them, but that didn’t last long. 

Brachito slowly approached, asking each guard for permission to give them a kiss on the cheek. Despite their serious postures, the guards couldn’t resist the charm of the moment. They smiled and said yes, sparking a burst of laughter and camera flashes from the audience as the kiss was delivered.

In that fleeting exchange, the guards weren’t just part of the backdrop; they became part of the collective experience, softening the divide between authority and those they were guarding.

In a space where many felt powerless, this act of shared laughter became both a balm and a form of resistance — a reminder that joy can connect us, heal us, and affirm our humanity.

These moments ripple out. We often hear from staff that, after our shows, children sleep better. They’re calmer. Parents talk more freely. Laughter breaks the tension, even if the situation hasn’t changed.

A 2025 Update on Seeking Asylum in Mexico

Our central Mexico tour took place in August-September 2024. Since then, the situation for people experiencing displacement has worsened.

In February 2025, Amnesty International released a damning report with a title that says it all: The Right to Seek Asylum Does Not Exist at the US-Mexico Border. The report found that the US is violating both national and international human rights obligations — violations that stem from the Trump administration’s executive actions and the increased militarization of the border by the Mexican government.

Who Is Seeking Asylum in Mexico?

The Danish Refugee Council reported on interviews with people on the move in Mexico between October and December 2024. More than a quarter (26%) said they were fleeing threats, violence, or intimidation — often from gangs or other armed groups. Another 21% described escaping generalized insecurity and violence, and 12.7% reported fear of persecution. 

Though “generalized violence” does not meet the legal threshold, it often intersects with protected categories, including a well-founded fear of persecution based on race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a particular social group. Even those who fall outside that definition are often fleeing danger that is real, immediate, and life-altering.

What Aid Workers are Saying

In February 2025, The New Humanitarian conducted interviews with aid workers to document the current experiences of people seeking safety.

Reinaldo Ortuño, the Mexico and Central America medical coordinator at Médecins Sans Frontières (also known as MSF and Doctors Without Borders), put it simply:

In Tapachula, a key entry point on Mexico’s southern border, Enrique López of Doctors of the World described why many asylum seekers feel forced to request asylum from the Mexican government or return to their home countries:

Without safe alternatives, people are left in dangerous and unstable situations while they wait:

• Families are camping in public parks and plazas, with no access to sanitation.
• Reports of sexual violence are rising. MSF assisted over 700 survivors in Mexico in 2024 alone.
• Immigrants may be detained or extorted — by gangs, traffickers, or corrupt officials — and sometimes deported back to the very violence they fled.

A Stage for Empathy, A Moment for Dignity

So yes — we send in the clowns.

CWB artists embody a full spectrum of emotion as they perform scenes that echo the realities of migration.

Through humor and vulnerability, they create moments of connection, allowing audiences to feel seen and understood. And they deliver dignity through shared laughter, reminding everyone present of their inherent worth, even in the most uncertain of circumstances.

Conclusion

This is what anticipation looks like at the US-Mexico border: families waiting in plazas, children waiting in shelters, illness and violence persistently too close.

In this state of anticipation, we must still have joy.

Thank you to our incredible partners at Llaven Nü, and to the CWB artists — Lars Uribe (Mexico), Andrea Barello (Italy), Darina Robles (Mexico), and Vanessa Nieto Terrazas (Mexico) — for bringing heart, courage, and laughter to every moment.