Undocutale: A Young Girl's Plea for Change
With the recent presidential election, the country has flashed a light on the undocumented community. Our current president built his campaign around the promise of deporting all undocumented immigrants. With this platform many hoped to see his promise fulfilled, and others used it as a motivation to protect the undocumented community. The support that the undocumented community has received as an effect from his xenophobic campaign has been wonderful. However, how can you possibly advocate a cause that you don’t fully understand? Which is why it is only right to spend the next words trying to explain what it’s really like to live as an undocumented immigrant.
Let's begin with some numbers, there is an approximate of eleven million undocumented immigrants in the United States (Gomez, 2017). As of September 4, 2017, there are 689,800 immigrants who have DACA: Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (Robertson, 2018). Meaning there are 10,310,200 people who live in the United States without any sort of documental protection. The main reason for immigration is to flee the problems of one's country in reach of the “American Dream.” Nonetheless, coming to the United States without documents comes with its own set of problems where the kids are often the ones who are most affected.
Many undocumented immigrants arrived to the U.S involuntarily by the choice of their parents, which may cause a variation of internal and external problems. What is most difficult to understand is that these kids were forced to grow up in a country that eventually made them feel as if they didn’t belong. This is where the debate lies: are undocumented children to blame for being obedient to their parents? When families first move to the United States, the children are learning English faster than their parents. Meaning that children are easily more adapted to this whole new culture. Undocumented children grow up in the U.S school system fed by the belief that they can grow to be anything they want to be. Only to be disappointed once they reach high school, where getting into college seems a whole lot further than expected. If you thought paying for college was hard enough, imagine not being able to apply for FAFSA and having a limited reach to the number of scholarships you are eligible for. Here is where the beginning of their problems come from.
Texas is one of the few states that financially helps undocumented students pay for tuition under TASFA (Texas Application for State Financial Aid). With TASFA, undocumented students can get up to $10,000 a year to attend a Texas school of higher education. Depending on what college you decide to attend, these ten thousand a year (if you’re fortunate to get that much) might not even be enough to cover tuition. The University of Texas at Austin has an approximate overall cost of attendance of $25,000 a year (Austin, 2018). If that's the case for most universities, where are these students supposed to get the missing $15,000? Scholarships would be the right answer but finding scholarships you are eligible for is a whole journey of its own. Many scholarships require that you be at least a legal resident of Texas to apply; something these children are not.
With scholarships and federal grants out of the way, the only other option would be to work for the money. And that’s where the last financial struggle is at: without a social security number, undocumented students are not able to work. There is the exception for those who are protected under DACA, where they can work, but what happens to the rest?
While living with crucial financial problems, there is also this immortal fear of deportation. With the restriction on working also comes the restriction of driving. This is insane because we live in a world where driving is essential to surviving. Also, getting sick or seeking
legal services is not an option for an undocumented immigrant because filling out paper work is running the risk of getting deported.
Along with being afraid to seek help when needed, there is also the greater fear of disappointing. When people talk about undocumented students, they talk about how hardworking and dedicated they are for pursuing a college degree. Sometimes this expectation of excellence is overwhelming because one wrong move and you suddenly become the undocumented student who takes education for granted. It’s this perfect life that undocumented students must lead to persuade others that they have as much right to live in this country as anyone else, but there are still more struggles from the people around them.
The last struggle is related to how well the people around you understand your situation. Even though it may not be their intention to forget the fears and complications that come for being undocumented, it still occurs occasionally and it can be uncomfortable. The thing is, that a whole list of struggles will not change someone’s mindset on the undocumented community, but it can help to understand the situation more. Comprehending what is at stake, it is easier to support a movement that fights for the freedom of immigrants. Following, I am going to tell you part of my story to demonstrate a few of the problems I have faced as an undocumented student in the Rio Grande Valley.
My Story
Born in Reynosa, Tamaulipas, Mexico, I was eight years old when I spent the last night in Mexico at my Tia Abuela’s home. My brother and I slept in this home without really knowing the future that was ahead of us. To me, moving to the United States was just another move we had to make. I never knew the complications that came with, and my parents were extremely careful at making sure my brother and I didn’t get so involved with the move.
When I once lived in a place where all my friends and family were close, I now had to accustomed myself to this 1,100 square feet apartment in McAllen, Texas. This was my new life. It wasn’t until I was enrolled in school where I became of aware of the immensity of this change. You would expect an eight-year-old to not think much of the situation, but to my eight-year-old self, it was a huge deal. Adjusting to this whole new environment and school, where I was a foreign to every aspect of it, was terrifying.
Going to an all English school already put me behind my other peers whose native language was English. Luckily, I lived in an apartment three minutes from a public library where I spent countless of hours improving my English. I had to do this for my future because I would either be left behind or move forward with the rest of my classmates. Soon, I was speaking, writing, and comprehending English at the same level as my peers.
The language and customs were not what I had trouble with. It was the other aspects that come with being undocumented that made it more troubling. All my life I’ve been deprived of the opportunity to celebrate important dates with most of my loved ones, including birthdays and holidays. As I grew older, the adversities grew. At sixteen, my hopes of working, driving, and of attending my dream college seemed further than expected. This is just an overview of how I got here, but following you'll see how my status affected specific aspects of my life.
How did this affect my education?
My status never haunted me and it rarely crossed my mind. Not until my Senior year in high school, where my mirror gave a reflection of who I wish I could be versus the person I had to be. That year I applied to eight different universities. I was able to get into six of those schools: The University of Texas at Austin, The University of Texas- RGV, Texas Tech University, St. Mary’s University, Texas Woman’s University, and Texas Christian University. As soon as my acceptances came in, I started looking for scholarships that would allow me to leave the Rio Grande Valley. Every free time I had was spent looking for scholarships, and after countless hours, I couldn’t find one that satisfied my status. Many of these scholarships were made for U.S. Citizens or Texas Residents: neither of which I was, so I could not even attend the school I had dreamt of going to.
Texas Christian University was my dream college for having the greatest college of Journalism, but its annual tuition was twice my parent’s income. Also, decision day was May 01, 2017, and with TASFA, you don’t know how much you are awarded until a week before school starts. Meaning I couldn’t take the chance of giving up school all together to see the award letter I was going to get from TCU. Not being able to pay for my dream college was one of the most devastating realities yet, but I did not let that hinder me.
Getting a degree has never been questioned. I had to do pursue a higher education, and I am. I am extremely blessed to live thirty minutes from a university: UTRGV. Even if it wasn’t my dream college, I will continue to study in search of my dreams. However, keep in mind that not all undocumented students have the same opportunity to attend college because their closest one could be hundreds of miles away, or worse, past a checkpoint.
How has it affected my family interaction?
The greatest difficulty in being undocumented comes with the separation you have from your family. In the Latino culture, there is the ideology that family unity is stronger than anything; that is the truth. Having my family on the other side of the border, only ten minutes away, and not being able to spend any time with them has been tough. Due to this separation, my relationship with them has weaken. I know I love them and that love is given back in return, but the tightness is not there. Yes, I could talk with them on the phone or Skype, but the reality in it is that it is not the same connection. This aspect of being Latino has been taken away from me because of my status.
When I was in eighth grade, I was denied closure with the death of my grandfather. I couldn’t be there for him through his chemotherapy and much less attend his funeral. That day I had to put on my big girl pants and keep from crying. As soon as my parents left to Mexico for the funeral, it was my brother and I at home. Even though I am the youngest, I am the responsible one and I had to make sure my brother and I got to school and back. Instead of being with my mom in her time of grief, I was at home making sure everything was under control. This has been my life for nine years. Whenever there’s a family tragedy or festivity, I can only sit back and miss on time I could spent with my family.
How did this affect my emotional health?
Depression has its way of making space in the life of an undocumented immigrant. Whenever I miss out on opportunities because of my legal status, I fall into depressive moods. If it were up to me, I would learn to drive, have a license, work at a retail store, vacation outside the valley, visit my family often, study abroad. I would do so many things that I am deprived from doing. All these limitations eventually get to you and your mental health. There are times when I completely want to give up because I don’t see the point in working so hard for a degree if I will not be able to have a career in it.
There was one time where all my hope rested on this new DREAM Act that would help me live easier. When I found that I wasn’t eligible for DACA, (deferred action for children arrival) I said, “okay, maybe the next legislation will include me.” It has been four years, and I am still waiting for our government to recognize us. Decision after decision, after every failed legislation for us, that is when depression hits the most. My life is filled with unfulfilled hope of a future where society accepts me and where I live the life I have always dreamt of living.
How have I struggled with identifying?
There was one class I took in Mexican American Studies where we had a project on who we were. With this project, I realized I couldn’t find a way to identify with either culture: Mexican or American. I feel obliged to identify as American because it’s the country I’ve lived most of my life in, but my Mexican culture runs much deeper in my blood.
In high school, I was first violin in the school’s Mariachi. During these few years in Mariachi, my love for Mexico was reborn; everything about the colors, food, music, and festivities reminded me of the country I came from. Being part of this music ensemble allowed me to see Mariachi Vargas live, and it was beautiful, glorious even. The moment they began playing, you could feel the passion, heard the cleanness, and absorb the culture. With Mariachi I can be identified as Mexican; there is no border between me and my native country when I enjoy their culture.
Even then, I feel some sort of disconnect with Mexico for living in the United States. I feel as if I’m betraying my own people for following this “American Dream” I am in search for. You might be thinking, “well why doesn’t she follow her dreams in Mexico since here there are so many limitations?” The answer is simple, my dream career is to be a social activist reporter for THIS nation. I have a gut feeling that I need to make change here, in the United States. I owe it to the people of this country to live out my purpose here.
Maybe it’s hard to understand, but I will try to make it simple: my heart is torn between two places. There’s a part of me that identifies with the culture and customs of Mexico, and there’s also a part of me that identifies with the troubles and needs of the people in the United States. My desire to help others overcome their struggles surpasses any passion I may have over food or music. Being a reporter will allow me to provide a medium for minority groups who have lived their life oppressed. I want to give them a voice. I want them to be heard.
Why does my story matter?
My story is not like everyone else’s and comparing my struggle to others like me seems unfair. Even then, we have all probably shared the same experiences. The reason why my parents chose to bring us to this new land is still unknown to me. Asking why after so many years seems pointless now because it shouldn’t matter why. Knowing the reason should not determine my right to want to stay in the country that I have grown up on. But sadly, we live in a world where a child who was brought at a young age must prove to others why they deserve to live the “American Dream” as much as the next kid.
When I was asked, “What do you want people to take away from your story?” I couldn’t understand the impact that my story alone could have on others. I could have gather friends to tell their stories but in doing that, I felt as if I was taking away their voice. Everyone has their own story to tell, and their voice shouldn’t be shaped into the perception of someone else.
I hold on to the hope that our reader could get a glimpse of the adversities that haunt us daily with my own testimony. My story is one out of the eleven million other ones, but it matters just as much. I am not a label. I am not a drag. I am not illegal. I am not an alien. I am not a criminal. I am not all those words that have been said about me for the status of my birth.
I want you to see how my problems can probably be the same as the problems of a U.S citizen. This is because just like you, my undocumented community and I are humans too. We are more alike than you might recognize. We are your neighbors, friends, classmates, teachers, doctors, lawyers… We are your family. We are part of your community, and we matter just as equally as you.
I should not be prohibited from closure with family because a border separates us. I should not have to live in fear as I walk past an officer. I should not fall into depression for being prohibited from the simple joys of life. What makes us so different that I am not allowed to drive for the sake of living, or work to help my parents. Why can’t I fulfill my dream of traveling, or living. Our nationality should not prohibit us from reaching the same level of greatness that you want to reach. This is why my story matters.
What am I asking of you?
When I found out Donald Trump was getting far in his campaign for presidency, I felt so useless. Aside from being seventeen at the time, I still would have not been able to vote in this election because of my citizenship. But I can only imagine the bountiful of others, just like me, who would have loved to vote for someone other than Trump. Imagine how much better we would have been had more people understood or paid attention to people like us and voted with the thought of other people in mind.
Voting is such a simple act to do, yet it’s the most valuable right a human could have. Without voting, there would be no democracy and the people would not have a say in who gets to represent them. Being undocumented prohibits you from the greatest act a human could do to contribute to the betterment of the world. I am urging you, a U.S. citizen, to go out to the voting booths and exercise your right as citizens of this country to choose who will represent you. And while you’re out there, please think of my story and the millions of others who are living the same reality. I am not asking you to donate money or to feel sorry for us. I simply ask that you empathize with our struggles, enough to make you want to stand by us. Do it for the next generations, so that they won’t know first-hand of what it is to live caged in the place you love.
Thank you.
Sincerely, the girl who’s ready for change
Work Cited
Austin, U. (2018 ). Cost of Attendance . Retrieved from Texas Admissions : https://admissions.utexas.edu/tuition/cost-of-attendance
Gomez, A. (2017, April 25). Undocumented Immigrant Population in U.S. stays flat for eight year straight . Retrieved from USA Today : https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2017/04/25/undocumented-immigrant-population-united-states/100877164/
Robertson, L. (2018, January 12). The DACA Poupulation Numbers . Retrieved from Fact Check : https://www.factcheck.org/2018/01/daca-population-numbers/
