Maria Duarte
I still remember the day I discovered that I was not in the United States legally. I was in high school, talking with my counselor about going to college. As we discussed the application fees, tuition costs and scholarships, he suggested that I apply for federal student aid.
I said "yes" without realizing that I wouldn’t qualify because I was not a legal resident. I asked my parents for my Social Security number for the aid application and that is when I found out — they had not realized they hadn’t told us our legal status here.
I had never really considered the possibility of not going to college until then. Since I was a child, the only dream I could remember having was getting a master’s degree, and I did not want this news to deter me. I had always wanted to be a writer, and getting my master’s was a way to prove to myself that I could be one. That dream took me 15 years to achieve, working countless jobs, often 40 to 50 hours a week and without health insurance.
I applied for and received relief through the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program in 2012 when I was 27, on my way to achieving this goal. But I still live with the fear that I could lose so many dreams — that regardless of my DACA status, I could be deported at any time.
At the U.S.-Mexico border, huge change is in the air.The Biden administration is planning to phase out a pandemic-related asylum restriction, a move that could dramatically increase what is already historic levels of migration to the U.S. "There will be an influx of people to the border. And so, we are doing a lot of work to plan for that contingency," said White House Communications Director Kate Bedingfield. Named Title 42, the Trump-era policy turns away most asylum seekers ostensibly to curb COVID-19.But with vaccinations deployed and the country transitioning to living with the virus, skeptics say the rule is no longer justified by science. For many, it never was. "There were no grounds to suggest that immigrants arriving at the southern border represented any threat whatsoever in terms of COVID 19," said Oscar Chacn, the Executive Director at Alianza Americas, a Chicago-based advocacy group for Latino immigrants.Under the policy, U.S. border agents have carried out 1.7 million expulsions often dropping migrants right back on the Mexican side of the border. Advocates say that puts them in harm's way by forcing them to wait in cartel-infested towns, far away from home. "This year, I've interviewed hundreds and hundreds of families. All of them have been kidnapped, raped, attacked at gun point. At least once, if not two or three times. It's insane," said Human Rights Lawyer Jennifer Harbury.The Biden administration is ending the controversial policy in late May. The White House says it's bracing for as many as 18,000 migrant arrivals a day in the ensuing weeks. "The core of their plan is to surge resources to the border, whether that's staffing, whether that's the ability to stand up temporary shelters," said Jessica Bolter, an Associate Policy Analyst at the Migration Policy Institute.The goal is to avoid a repeat of border humanitarian crises that occurred in the past year, like the surge of unaccompanied migrant children in government shelters or the influx of Haitian migrants in a small Texas border town. "It's not clear, though, that even this level of preparation will be sufficient," said Bolter.The expected influx could bring serious political headaches for democrats ahead of the midterm elections in November. Republican Senator John Cornyn of Texas is urging the white house to extend Title 42 to keep our border secure and COVID at bay. "We're still wearing masks on buses and airplanes and buses and public transportation, but people are continuing to pour across our border and put the rest of this country at risk," said Sen. Cornyn.The administration has been under immense pressure from its own base and from ongoing litigation to stop using the public health emergency order. But for Brandon Judd, the head of the Border Patrol Union, May is too soon. "There's just no way that we're going to be able to deal with the influx that is expected. The only thing that the government's going to be able to do is just release people on an even larger scale than what they're doing right now," said Judd.Once the policy is lifted, border agents will go back to processing migrants under traditional protocols.Officials say that means two scenarios: Swiftly deporting those who don't make an asylum claim and allowing others to pursue their case either from detention or from inside the U.S. most likely with a monitoring device.
Fear is the sentiment that I feel most in my life. Even though the Biden administration has announced it is making DACA a federal regulation to try to help protect "Dreamers" like me, others still want to end the program. Meanwhile, despite its benefits, DACA leaves Dreamers in a state of limbo, with no path to citizenship.
I don’t live in fear because I am doing something wrong or illegal, but because I see racism and discrimination happen to people like me. Sometimes it feels like even saying the wrong thing could mean having immigration authorities called on me.
I don’t think my parents ever imagined a life where I would live in constant fear because I wasn’t brought into this country legally. They were driven to bring us here from Mexico by the possibility of escaping poverty and their belief in the promise of a better life. I was 15 years old. Of their three children, I am the only one with DACA status. My siblings, one born here and the other a resident through marriage, have not had to worry about this.
I am also the only one of my parent’s kids with an MFA. My siblings — one with a bachelor’s degree and the other with a high school diploma — have focused their lives on their families. I have chosen not to get married or have children. When I was younger, I was questioned by my family about this decision. I finally explained that marriage and children were not priorities for me, even though in Mexico, where I was born, having “traditional” families is seen as important. Those traditions are harder for me to follow — I have seen what education and being independent can do.
We’re led to believe that achieving our dreams depends on hard work and dedication, not external circumstances. But even imagining affording and attending college, having a driver’s license, traveling, getting a decent job or owning a house was hard to do before I received DACA status. Things like this shouldn’t feel so far away that they can only be dreamed about.
Though my situation has improved greatly, because of things I’ve accomplished in part due to DACA, it is still hard to see myself as someone who has civil rights or belongs in this country.
The limbo I live in today as a Dreamer doesn’t feel as cruel as it did when I was in my teens. Back then I had hoped that those with power, the ones who can do something to improve our situations, would see that immigrants like me are as American as those who were born here. After 21 years in this country, with no path to citizenship, it’s easier to be an adult in a state of uncertainty than to retain that hope, even with small steps like DACA becoming a federal regulation.
I do not know Mexico. I know California. I have formed a life here. I have assimilated into the culture, following its traditions and adjusting to the nuances of this melting pot. What else can I do to be considered worthy of citizenship, to be given a piece of paper that will allow me to live without fear?
