The privilege of the passport: The difference between an expat and a migrant

In a five-part series this week on CTVNews.ca and CTV National News at 11, W5 Investigative Unit Managing Editor and Senior Correspondent Avery Haines follows the harrowing journeys of migrants who risk their lives crossing the Darien Gap and ride atop Mexico’s notorious ‘Train of Death’. In this fifth and final instalment, Haines reunites with a family she first met while  making the dangerous crossing through the Gap six months ago.
Like many in Canada, I am an immigrant. My parents moved our family here, by way of the U.S. and India, as economic migrants.
They saw Canada as a place where they could build a better life for us. Our journey wasn’t marked by desperation or risk. It was a choice, a privilege afforded to us. There was no sacrifice.
We were called “expats” (expatriates) when we settled in the small northern Ontario community of Smooth Rock Falls. It’s a loaded term. The word expat implies choice and a sense of adventure for those who move because they want to, not because they must.
In my work documenting migration, I’ve met people whose journeys are driven by the same hope my parents had: to secure a better future for their children. But unlike my family, they don’t have the privilege of the “right” passport. They didn’t choose to be born in countries like Venezuela, now ravaged by economic and political collapse.
Imagine if it happened here. Where would you go? What would you take? How much would you risk? Those are the questions every migrant I’ve met had to ask themselves before leaving everything behind; their country, their culture, their language. None of them ever thought they would be traversing a jungle, jumping on moving trains, hiding from immigration, or being preyed on by cartels.
In January, I trekked the Darien Gap, documenting the plight of families fleeing Venezuela, including two cousins, 12-year-old Kendra, and 13-year-old Frensible, who became separated from their families in the jungle linking Colombia to Panama.
Twelve-year-old Kendra and 13-year-old Frensible, Venezuelan cousins who were separated from their families crossing the Darien Gap (CTV W5)
After we guided them through the final stretch of the perilous journey, they were taken to a safe house for missing children where they waited an agonizing five days to reunite with their family. They eventually continued their journey north and I met them, six months later in the border city of Reynosa, Mexico.
Their story was harrowing. After crossing into Mexico from Guatemala they were kidnapped by cartels, and thrown into a chicken coop filled with other migrants. Only those who could pay the “cartel tax” were released.
Fortunately, the family was able to pay and they were released, physically unharmed but mentally traumatized.
In June 2024, new U.S. border rules took effect, resulting in migrants being stuck in the notoriously dangerous Mexico longer.
Previously anyone who stepped foot on U.S. soil, even if they snuck across the border, could claim asylum. Now they must first secure an appointment through an online app called CBP One.
With fewer than 1,500 appointments daily, the asylum process has devolved into an online lottery.
Venezuelan migrants arrive at Canaan Membrillo village, the first border control of the Darien Province in Panama, on Oct. 13, 2022 (Luis Acosta / AFP via Getty Images)
Many of these families have been on a treacherous journey that lasts for months. They have been exploited at every step of their journey, all to face a shattered American dream.
The reality is that the country they are risking their lives for doesn’t want them. And the country they fled from is— to them— a place of no return.
Avery Haines Investigates airs Saturday at 7 p.m. with a one-hour documentary called “Narco Jungle: The Death Train,” an immersive journey into the life of a migrant, filled with both heartbreaking moments and heartwarming reunions.