A Call for Stories - My Name is _______ and I am Undocumented

by DREAM Activist

Published March 05, 2009 @ 01:44AM PT

As undocumented students, it is critical that we use every venue at our disposal to share our stories, to not live with the stigma of being undocumented, and to not lead our lives in fear of the unknown. Every year 65,000 undocumented students are estimated to graduate from high school only to face barriers to higher education. There are an estimated 1.5-2.6 million undocumented youth who would benefit from the DREAM Act but live in limbo. When society fails to acknowledge our existence, let alone write our stories, we must take it upon ourselves to chart and navigate our own course. To know that many students exist in this country who are leading a mirror of our lives is sad but also exciting at the same time. It is an opportunity to get together, use our collective imaginations and build community in the waiting rooms of history. Imagine if all our stories were told?

Below are some stories of undocumented immigrant youth that Change.org Immigration blog has published and runs every Friday.

To send us a story and get involved in this project, drop an email to (verve@dreamactivist.org) or contact him via his profile here.

Index of past stories

• Maria

(Country of Origin - Peru; Nationality - American)

I have decided that a tiny little piece of paper and a 9-digit number are not going to decide what I am or what I am not. I don't define myself by my undocumented status. Yes, I am undocumented, but I am an American first.

• Nancy

(Country of Origin - Mexico; Nationality - American)

"I decided to attend California State University, Los Angeles. I applied for AB-540 so that I could pay in-state tuition. Still, it was very difficult for me to pay off the tuition. I was forced to take two jobs and baby-sit on the weekends as a third job. There were nights when I wouldn't sleep because after a long day at work I had to come home and write papers for my classes. I cried myself to sleep many nights when my friends traveled and I couldn't go because of my status. I hated being treated like I was a criminal, like I had no rights, like I was a slave in my own life. Today I am proud to say that I have graduated with a bachelors of arts in television and film studies, with an option in broadcast journalism. Unfortunately, I have not been able to do much with it because I am still undocumented. But like Gandhi said: "The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. He frees himself and shows the way to others. Freedom and slavery are mental states"

• Jae

(Country of Origin - South Korea; Nationality - American)

"So I attended Emory University for three years and studied there for a double major in Biology and Chemistry. As a matter of fact, I have completed my degrees but I am short in a few requirements here and there to graduate. This year all my friends will graduate. I on the other hand will remain reticent and probably feel jealous but that’s all I can do for now since I am a man and men do not cry."

• Blanka

(Country of Origin - Croatia; Nationality - American)

“My fellow peers and I have been living here most of our lives.  We are American in every sense of the word.  We have accomplished great things even with the difficult obstacles we face everyday.  Imagine what we could do if granted legal residency.  We could become doctors, nurses, engineers, scientists, teachers, etc.  Many of us have the degrees, but do not have a way of using them.  And many want to serve this country but are not able to join the military.”

• Yohanna

(Country of Origin - Phillipines; Nationality - American)

“I went to UC San Diego for a while, but could not keep up with the payments without financial aid, without access to most scholarships, without being able to legally work, and without being able to take out my own loans. Appallingly, the category of being “undocumented” is all too true and existent, and I actually meet every one of its qualifications. Alas, a category has finally succeeded in capturing me. Being “undocumented” means I cannot work, I cannot drive, I am not given enough resources to further my education, and I fear people will judge me on a status I could not control rather than my character. For the first time in my life, I cannot freely speak out about the injustice I am experiencing out of fear when I desperately want people to know about the struggles of an “undocumented”, and the future to me is full of unfulfilled dreams that have no way of being fulfilled. This is what it means to be in the category of being “undocumented” and I wish to end this labeling.”

• Isabel

(Country of Origin - Mexico; Nationality - American)

“I worked so hard that in 8th grade I was among a select few that took the SAT as part of a gifted program in my middle school. I did well enough to qualify to attend Cranbrook, a private prep school with a sticker price of nearly $35,000 a year. I researched the school and fell in love with its buildings and the promise of a challenging education. This was one of the very first times when I realized that my undocumented status proved to be a scarlet letter of sorts when it came to my education. There was no way my family could afford the costs up front and there was no way I could apply for any financial aid from the school without a SSN. I was incredibly disappointed because I knew I had the merit to attend a school of that caliber and I had the work ethic necessary to succeed. The only thing that was holding me back was my lack of papers.”

• Sayuri

(Country of Origin - Senegal; Nationality - American)

“My story, that of brilliant young minds who, after high school, find the gates of higher education, the workforce and the basic American dream shut in their faces because they either crossed a border or overstayed a visa, has already been lived and told by thousands before me. There isn’t a day when my undocumented status doesn’t interfere with my daily life. And, although I can’t take my 3 year old daughter to her ballet classes or my one year old son to his doctors appointments, without my husband in the driver’s seat, I still choose to see the cup as half empty…My parents have been in the USA for 20 years. Since then, they have gone from selling shirts on the streets, working in factories to starting businesses both here and abroad, giving Americans and others jobs, bettering their communities, homeownership, raising four proud Americans and passing down their love, their dedication and undying support of this country to us.”

• Piash

(Country of Origin - Bangladesh; Nationality - American)

“I was depressed. I felt betrayed. I worked hard in school. I graduated in the top 10% of my class with a 3.8 GPA. Should I be angry at my dad for not hiring a more competent lawyer or at the broken immigration system that is ridiculously slow and ridden with loopholes? I was an American in every way except where it really mattered: documents. I never told my friends because I didn’t know how they would react. After all, it was high school.”

• Mo

(Country of Origin - Iran; Nationality - American)

“I can’t see myself living anywhere else other than America. All of my childhood memories are from America and it is the only home I have known. Apart from that, I also happen to be gay and if one is at all up to date on their current events, then I am sure you know how unfriendly of a place Iran is for anyone who happens to be LGBTQ. Iran is one of the countries that not only punishes people for being gay but also kills them. Going back to Iran is not even an option for me, and honestly the only difference I see between myself and the next American is $20, two strong cases of legal malpractice and a piece of paper.”

• Kay

(Country of Origin - Nigeria; Nationality - American)

“This battle is not simply over just a piece of paper, but the things that piece of paper represents. You see, without that piece of paper, living life is simply hard to do. You are suddenly not 100% human, as if humanity is something that can be rationed. Suddenly, your voice is harder to hear, as if expression is something to be looked down on. Your face is ripped of its defining features, as if your identity is something to be erased and forgotten. Slowly but surely, faced with rejection day by day, pieces of your being are torn away, until nothing is left but your body, now an empty shell.

Tell me how do you love when love has been denied to you? How do you live when your fate rests in someone else’s hands? How do you laugh when your voice has been silenced? How do you hope when your future seems bleak at best? How do you jump, shout, play, or dance? How do you be when your very being is on trial?”

• Prerna

(Country of Origin - Fiji; Nationality - American)

“With multitudes of identities in this world of constructed binaries and boundaries, I have multitudes of questions. What precisely is my home country? Where do I belong? Why am I being punished for something that was out of my control? Why does this country not consider me equal to the rest of my family? Why can’t I use my postgraduate education to help my family, community and country in these tough economic times? Why can’t I get married to adjust my status? How does deporting me help legal residents and U.S. citizens whom I help every single day?”

Feel free to share them on your networks.