For most people, citizenship is something that they never really have to put much thought into. A concept that exists in the background of everyday lives. Never needed until you start a new job, fill out forms for college, or get a driver’s license or passport. For most, citizenship is assumed or expected, and often taken for granted. For me, on the other hand, citizenship is something that I consciously thought about every day since the fourth grade. I often tried to push the thoughts away and just tried to be a normal kid, but it seemed that my lack of citizenship followed me in everything I did. I believe that being undocumented until my senior year of high school significantly shaped me into who I am today.
When I was very young, I didn’t fully understand what it meant to be undocumented. All I knew was that my parents were afraid and therefore so was I. Fourth grade is when it really started making sense to me that I wasn’t like my friends. There were limits to what I could do, where I could go, and especially what I could say. I lived in constant fear that I would be separated from my parents. Although I was only a child and in the same situation as my parents; I felt as though it was my responsibility to take care of my siblings. I kept my head down, didn’t draw any extra attention to myself, and got good grades. I often wonder, if I had a different upbringing, would I be as reserved and quiet as I am now?
The transition into middle school seemed especially difficult. Middle school is already a confusing time for most teenagers, but for me it carried an extra layer of pressure. While trying to navigate typical teenage insecurities; I was also trying to hide my legal status, and distancing myself from my cultural identity to blend in. One way I did this was that I refused to speak Spanish unless it was to my parents. Another thing I did was change my hair color to a lighter shade hoping that I would look less “Mexican.” I also belonged to a small group of students that was expected to take a yearly state exam for those whose first language wasn’t English. I remember hating being part of this group so much that I did everything in my power to test out of what we all called the “Mexican test”. Fortunately for me, sixth grade was my final year having to take that test.
However, my personal milestone felt small in comparison to the bigger picture of my family’s legal status. My family would watch the news daily in hopes that something would come up about a pathway to citizenship. Instead, all that would play was news about how “illegal aliens” were bad for the United States. The more I heard how hated we were, the more I started to hate myself. My hatred became overwhelming, and though my mental health was suffering, I never reached out for help.
Anger seemed to be the only emotion that I felt for quite some time. I was angry with the government because undocumented immigrants were not able to call this country home, due to a simple lack of paperwork. Mad at the world for perceiving us as less than and criminals. Most of all I was mad at my father, who had remarried and acquired his permanent residency. He was never particularly involved in my life growing up. Other than the occasional birthday or holiday shopping spree, I thought for sure he would care about my future and not want me to struggle as I got older. Unfortunately, this was not the case and he was not the least bit worried about my legal status.
Then, in 2008 President Obama took office and this gave me hope of a better life. Many people were hopeful that he would find a pathway to citizenship for those of us who were undocumented. This was not going to be easy; there were many politicians against his proposal, but all I heard was that there was hope. In “‘I Can’t Go to College Because I Don’t Have Papers’: Incorporation Patterns of Latino Undocumented Youth,” Leisy discusses how learning of the limitations of being undocumented can have on students’ futures can often bring disillusion. Leisy also discusses how many of these students have already embraced the U.S. belief that doing well in school equates to success (Abrega). Towards the end of middle school I was feeling that disillusion. I spent too much time wondering how my life would play out during high school and thereafter.
In 2009, I started my freshman year of high school. There was a glimmer of hope with the new administration in office. This bit of hope caused me to begin to open up. Having a group of friends who were in similar positions as me, made it easier for me to open up about my struggles. Little by little, I began to bring back my roots and my native tongue. Letting go of the shame in my roots I was then able to embrace it.
Certain things like drivers training, a part time job, and college still felt out of reach. As any fifteen-year-old I was longing for more freedom. Finally, in 2012 President Obama signed an executive order called the DREAM Act, which would protect children brought here by their parents from deportation. Seeing this my parents wasted no time and filed an application for me. We completed all the requirements and in a few months I got my visa card. I was so happy I almost cried. Suddenly, the impossible felt possible. The first thing that I did was sign up for driver’s training and then I got a part time job in a flower nursery. I felt like nothing could get better than this.
Then one day, my mom told me that my father had agreed to petition for me to become a permanent resident if my mom and stepdad paid all the fees. Without hesitation my parents agreed and the new process began. I already felt a sense of safety with my DACA, but it wasn’t a permanent fix. This step was the final process to finally change my life and give me a real future here in the United States. Since I was still a minor, the process was fairly quick. Before I knew it, I had received my letter with my appointment date in Ciudad Juarez. Suddenly, a new fear grew that I would be leaving the country, uncertain of if I would come back, or if I would be trapped in a country I knew nothing about. Going with my father felt as if I was going with a stranger. Thankfully the process only took a few days, and before I knew it I was back on a plane to my family. Finally free of limitations, I was free to travel, work, attend college, and apply for financial aid. Those dark days of hiding and changing myself became a distant memory.
Although I may have struggled for several years because of my legal status, if I could go back I wouldn’t change a single thing. I am the person I am today because of my hardships. This experience gave me a great sense of empathy for others who feel underrepresented or overlooked. My journey through the immigration process has given me a strong desire to support individuals in my community, and to advocate for those in similar situations, as I wish someone would have for me. Having to work harder than most in life, got me to where I am now and because of it I am resilient. My life may not have gone exactly as I had planned but I am a dreamer and I’ll never give up on what I want.
Works Cited
Leisy, Janet A. “‘I Can’t Go to College Because I Don’t Have Papers’: Incorporation Patterns of Latino Undocumented Youth.” Latino Studies, vol. 4, no. 3, 2006, pp. 212-231. ProQuest.