From Burnout to Soft Life in CDMX: Mexico City Draws Black American Women
Black American women are building new versions of home far from where they grew up.
Drawn by safety, affordability, and a deep sense of belonging that feels out of reach in many U.S. cities, many Black women are choosing Mexico City, USA Today reports.
“Here I feel like a Black person instead of a Black person under suspicion,” said Sara Wright, a 69-year-old retiree from the Bay Area, to USA Today. “No one is tripping on me or making assumptions about me because I’m Black.” Wright is a former paralegal who also worked in the homicide unit of the San Francisco district attorney’s office.
Many describe leaving behind burnout, racism, and constant vigilance in the States, trading it for mornings in neighborhood cafés, afternoons in leafy parks, and nights where they feel less watched and policed in their own skin.
“It wasn't just about me being some digital nomad wanting to live elsewhere. I came here with residency. I came here to create a home and create a life for my family,” Zakiya Harris, a life and wellness coach, shared with USA Today.
Both women join the estimated 22 million residents in the city. And while immigrants from the U.S. only make up a small fraction of the overall population, the heightened interest in Mexico City is undeniable. Residency visas spiked by 70% from 2019 to 2022, according to the Migration Policy Unit.
Lower living costs are another powerful pull, allowing some to work fewer hours, pursue creative projects, or launch remote businesses while still covering rent, health care, and everyday expenses.
That financial breathing room feeds into what many call a “soft life” — not about luxury, but about being able to rest, heal, and actually enjoy the lives they are building.
At the same time, some are wary of the term “expat,” preferring to see themselves as immigrants and grappling with how their presence intersects with rising rents, tourism, and gentrification in popular neighborhoods.
“I think it's really important to see ourselves as global citizens, to understand that I'm a visitor here, that I do not use the word ‘expat.’ I am an immigrant,” Harris said.
This echoes a familiar discussion around the privilege that many gringos have when moving to Mexico: what's affordable to us is often not for locals. No matter how well-intentioned, our presence isn't always for the best. However, Harris is cognizant of this.
“I am immigrating into another country. I have permanent residency," she said. "I'm a green card holder in Mexico, just as many people are green card holders in America. So I'm always aware of my privilege and also my positionality as a Black woman.”