My name is Rosario and Im Undocumented
I do not remember at what age I realized that I was undocumented, but it must have been from very early on. I remember sitting with my mom and my two younger brothers on the back porch of our apartment and the topic of immigration came up- my brothers started asking questions rather loudly and my mom told them that she did not want to talk about it then. I already knew to discuss this topic in a whisper or behind closed doors. I also remember my neighbor telling me her story about coming to the United States and being undocumented, and being slightly jealous that my best friend was a citizen who could return to visit Mexico and her family whenever she wanted, while I was stuck. I was stuck in this country with only my mom and my two younger brothers. My parents separated shortly after we arrived in the United States, when I was in the third grade; from that point, my dad was never reliably there for us, financially or emotionally. There were long stretches of time when we would not have any contact with him and did not even know how to reach him. By the fifth grade, I was well aware of my family’s and my differential status in the United States, and that there was no way for us to change it because we did not have any family here to petition for us and my mom was unwilling to compromise her morals by marrying someone solely for the purpose of being granted that magic number.
Even though I was aware, I was able to go about my life in a normal manner. In elementary and middle school, I did well in school, which set me on an advanced trajectory in high school. I learned about the DREAM Act my freshman year in high school. My mom was very involved with the immigrant community and did a ton of work in the capital of the state, so she would always take my brothers and me to whatever conferences she was participating in. This was the first time that I became aware of the obstacles that were to come, but I was a freshman in high school and hopeful that by the time I needed to apply to college, I would have a path towards citizenship. The first time that my immigration status came up as a personal obstacle was soon after that conference, when I was offered a job by an organization with whom I had been volunteering since the seventh grade. I remember lying to the man who offered me the job about being a citizen, going home with the paperwork, and breaking down when I told my mom what had happened. She went to the organization and spoke to the executive director who gave me the job regardless. My spirits remained high. Then in the tenth grade, I received the honor of being named the local Boys and Girls Club “Youth of the Year”. This meant that I would need to fly to the coast of the state to participate in a state-wide competition for the same title, which meant I needed a state-issued ID. I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles with my mom, armed with my tourist visa, my tax identification number, and a letter from the executive director saying why I needed the ID. The man at the office looked at tourist visa, laughed at me, turned to one of his co-workers and pointed out how it said that I was not allowed further than sixty miles of the Mexico-US border and how he was so glad that they had just had their training to let them know of this, turned back to me and told me that he was going to report me, wrote down my ITIN number, and then returned my documents to me. As soon as I got into the car, I went hysterical- I was terrified that I would get deported. My mom did not really know what to do with me. She put on a tough façade and told me that it would be okay. I continued to cry. I was able to participate in the competition regardless- I used my high school ID to fly.
There were a few other times when my lack of a social security number came up as an impediment keeping me from my goals, but I had toughened up a bit, and nothing had been quite as scary as the DMV man. Then in my senior year, I was constantly reminded of my immigration status. Here I was in my final year, and the DREAM Act had not passed. I again received the title of “Youth of the Year” and prepared for the process of going to the state-wide competition. But I realized that there was a real possibility that this time I could potentially win the state award which meant a large scholarship, so I approached the director and shared my anxieties of not being a citizen and being barred from receiving the money. He asked around to find out if I would receive the money in the event that I won. A week later he found out that I was not eligible. I did not know what to do. Here was the organization that had always been there for me turning its back on me.
After that, I fell into a depression and silent resignation that my dreams may not happen the way that I wanted them to but continued going about the process of applying to private scholarships; by this time I had finished applying to universities, but I began looking at community college as a potential alternative. My hope was renewed when the University of Miami called me to inquire about my status. I told him that I was undocumented and that there was no way to change my status. He told me not to worry and that he would advocate for me to get a private academic scholarship that the school had for international students. I was going to go to the University of Miami! I still needed to raise about $16,000 a year to fund my education, but I saw that as doable- I was going to college and not just any college- my first choice! Then, about a month later, I found out that I had gotten into my original first choice, a school that I had written off after an emotional interview with an alum from the school. Going to this school meant a full scholarship, or at least, enough grant money so that my mom did not need to contribute anything to the school and I did not need to go into debt.
I am now in my third year of college, majoring in sociology and sustainable development. I have to work through the summer and rely on a scholarship that my high school guidance counselor helped me find to cover an expected student contribution and the expenses associated with living in NY and being a student. I have had amazing people in my life who have helped me forward in the process- my mother who has always been an incredible source of strength and the epitome of an independent woman; a guidance counselor who did not know exactly how to get me through the process, but was willing to work with me through it, often speaking on my behalf and asking questions I was afraid to; the Boys and Girls Club and an executive director who looks at my obstacles with an understanding demeanor, yet pushes me forward by continuously reminding me of my potential and how I am an example for the many kids I have worked with. Getting into college granted me four years of peace-of-mind, but I am again heading out to a world full of uncertainty. When I graduate, I will not be able to legally work in the United States unless the DREAM Act passes before then.
I am in a continuous paradox with the United States, a country that has given me so much yet repeatedly rejects me. It was this country that equipped me with a world-class education and this country that may not benefit from it. I would be lying if I said that my dreams still involve the United States. I want to go to graduate school and become an expert in equipping women and children with the resources needed to escape poverty, and the pertinence that has to sustainable development. I would love to go the University for Peace in Costa Rica and eventually help Mexico. I know that it would be much easier to do this if I were an American citizen because of the opportunities available to them, the most privileged individuals in the world. And the United States is such a key player in the world that I am sure whatever organization I want to work may require travelling to the United States- the ten-year ban would pose serious restrictions. But I am confident that my education will help me help the world. I personally continue to fight for the DREAM Act because of my two younger brothers, one who is the hardest worker I have ever met; he has been in and out of community college because he cannot afford it. The other is a junior in high school- he is an incredibly smart individual but does not put in the effort necessary to be successful in school because he thinks his effort will not pay off in the long run due to his undocumented status. There are also countless other individuals I’ve met who have worked just as hard as me or anyone else and I believe that they deserve the right to pursue a higher education, especially because they grew up believing in the American dream and face serious obstacles through no fault of their own. I want to say that I can be tough and leave the United States when I graduate, regardless of what happens with the DREAM Act. The problem is that leaving would mean going into a world unknown, returning to a country that is no longer mine while cutting myself off from the country I have known as home for so long, and leaving behind the only thing truly important to me- my family.
Mi nombre es Lupe y Soy Indocumentada
Tan solo tenia 14 años cuando mi vida cambio en un instante. Mis padres me dijeron que teníamos que irnos a los Estados Unidos. Yo tenia que dejar todo lo que habia sido mi vida hasta ese momento, Mexico, mis amigos y familia atras para seguir un sueño que no me pertenecia. Salimos una madrugada. Mis padres y yo nos despedimos de nuestra familia, lloramos como nunca, deseando regresar muy pronto para volverlos a ver. No me imaginaba todo lo que la vida me tenia guardado. El camino fue muy difícil, tuvimos que viajar por casi un mes entre el desierto, las piedras y la arena. Lo primero que recuerdo es que nos asaltaron cuando estabamos caminando, eso fue horrible, hombres asquerosos revisandote de pies a cabeza solo para buscar dinero. Caminamos dias y noches para poder llegar al punto donde nos iban a recoger y el encierro en casas donde no habia agua y habiamos mas de 30 personas no podiamos bañarnos, ni asomarnos a las ventanas por temor a ser descubiertos. Cansados y muy adoloridos despues de unos dias de camino recorriendo muchos estados para dejar a otras personas, incomodos en una van porque eramos muchos que poco a poco disminuia porque ibamos llegando a nuestro destino. Llegamos a Nueva York a salvo. Me sentia muy extrana, me imaginaba que los Estados Unidos seria bonito como en las peliculas, colorido con muchas casas grandes y bonitas pero sin embargo todo era lo contrario todo era sucio, feo, y viejo. Habia ratas y tenia que vivir con mi tio que jamas habia visto hasta ese dia.
Mis padres siempre han querido una buena vida para mi, que tubiera la educación que ellos nunca pudieron tener. Mis padres son mi inspiración, ellos me dan la fuerza para continuar luchando por el acta del sueño. Yo puedo asistir a la escuela secundaria sin ningún problema pero se que no va ha ser igual cuando me gradúe, todas las puertas de mi vida se cerraran pero la esperanza en mi nunca morirá. Tendre que luchar para poder estar en la universidad y convertir mi sueño y el de mis padres en una realidad. El sueño de mis padres es que alguno de sus hijos vaya a la universidad y sea alguien de provecho.
No tengo los recursos para pagar una universidad, tampoco el estado migratorio para aplicar para la ayuda financiera que ofrece este país. Pero, no me voy a dar por vencida antes de tiempo. Aplicare a la universidad que yo quiera, hare todo lo que este en mis manos para que el sueño americano de mis padres se vuelva realidad en mi vida.
Mi mas grande deseo para el futuro es ser psicologa especialmente para jovenes como yo y ayudarlos un poco en sus vidas diarias, tambien quiero ser maestra de historia Latinoamericana porque me parece muy importante que nunca olvidemos de donde venimos. Quiero ir hasta donde mis alas, mi corazon y mis ganas me lleven quiero conocer nuevos paises, nueva gente, nuevas culturas y se que todas esas oportunidades me las dara el DREAM act.
Lo que me impulsa a pelear por los derechos de los inmigrantes es ver a mis padres trabajar como locos: que los humillen como si no fueran personas y no tuvieran sentimientos. Mi madre trabaja limpiando casas pero cuando acabábamos de llegar ella no tenia un trabajo estable. Ella se iba a una parada donde hay muchas mujeres de todas las nacionalidades esperando que alguien llegara y necesitara a una de ellas para limpiar su casa. La gente se pasea y ven a todas las mujeres para ver cual les conviene mas. Quien va a trabajar duro sin una buena paga. Esto a mi mama la hacia sentir como una sexo servidora y la enojaba pero tenia que aguantarse por necesidad. Una noche la cara de mi madre mostraba enojo, humillacion pero también mucho dolor lo unico que ella queria era sacar todo lo que le había pasado en su trabajo. La habían puesto a limpiar el piso incada y hicieron que se pusiera un vestido de ellas, mientras mi madre me contaba esto sus ojos se llenaron de lágrimas y un enojo y fustracion en mi despertaron. Cuando mi madre termino de limpiar se quito el vestido y lo tiraron a la basura como si mi madre tuviera bichos raros o germenes. Este hecho me hizo valorar todo lo que mis padres hacen para darme una vida sin sufrimiento. Yo no podía hacer nada para parar el sufrimiento de mi madre, fue por eso que empecé a interesarme mas en la reforma migratoria y el acta del sueño. Alli ese sueño que yo no veia propio se convirtio en mi mas anelado sueño, por que mis padres me trajeron para que yo tuviera una vida mejor y hasta ese momento lo comprendi.
Cada vez que yo hago algo mis padres se llenan de orgullo y todas sus penas se van por un momento. Mis padres me apoyan en todo lo que quiera y siempre me empujan a hacer nuevas cosas. Yo he hablado públicamente y la mayoria de las veces a sido hacerca del DREAM act, tambien he hablado de un seguro medico para todos los residentes de Nueva York y como nos beneficiaria. He facilitado muchos talleres para informale a mis companeros de la existencia del DREAM act. Mis compañeros de la clase de justicia social y yo escribimos un libro acerca de los jóvenes indocumentados que acaban de llegar a los Estados Unidos y relatamos nuestra travesía. Salí en el periódico "el diario la prensa" en un articulo del acta del sueño, he ido muchas veces a Washington a luchar por el acta del sueño. Estuve en frente de Nydia Velasquez y con lágrimas en mis ojos le pedí que apoyara el acta del sueño que si ella apoyaba seria muy bueno no solamente para mi, si no para muchos mas como yo. Atravez del tiempo he ido aprendiendo muchas cosas, me siento muy feliz y orgullosa de todo lo que he hecho por mi y por mi comunidad. Jamas olvidare todos estos bonitos recuerdos que le demuestran a la gente que una joven immigrante puede hacer muchas cosas para un futuro mejor. Que los immigrantes no somos ninguna carga para los Estados Unidos que deberian de agradesernos por darle un sabor diferente a este pais. Un pais donde todos aprendemos de todos, un pais rico en culturas. Todos somos Americanos en el fondo de nuestros corazones. Cada una de las cosa que yo he hecho me acerca a mi sueño de poder asistir a la universidad, yo seguiré peleando por el acta del sueno hasta que no sea mas un sueno si no una realidad. Mis padres esperan que yo sea alguien en la vida y no los defraudare.
Todas las injusticias hacia nosotros los inmigrantes me dan mucho coraje. Como es posible que nos traten mal si somos las baterias de los Estados Unidos? Por todo esto y mas, ahora soy miembro de organizaciones comunitarias como el YLC que pelea por el acta del sueño, ellos me han enseñado muchas cosas. Me siento muy contenta trabajando con el YLC, estoy aprendiendo cosas nuevas y mejorando algunas de mis habilidades. Descubri que traducir es muy dificilque, salir a dar peticiones puede ser frustrante pero lo mas importante que el YLC me ha enseñado es que no hay nada igual como el calor de una familia por que eso es lo que somos. Somos una familia unida por un mismo sueño y que jamas dejaremos que nada ni nadie nos derrote.
Yo soy especial por todas las experiencias que me ha dado la vida de alguna manera este problema de no poder ir a la universidad me ha hecho una persona mas fuerte, he madurado y me ha ayudado a ver la realidad de todas las cosas que suceden, me a hecho apasionarme por la justicia social y nuestros derechos. Yo puedo tener un futuro brillante si se me da la oportunidad como a cualquiera. Yo soy la diferencia porque se lo que quiero, tengo - una meta, luchare hasta el final y nadie me quitara mis ideas de justicia, peleare mano a mano con mi comunidad y todos los aliados que se presenten para aser de este sueño una realidad, la mas bella del mundo. VIVA EL DREAM ACT!!!!!!!!!!
Coming Out Rally Friday March 19th outside of Federal Plaza!!!
Join us this Friday at our Coming Out Rally outside of 26 Federal Plaza, NY, NY. Bring your "I am undocumented" shirts and come hear some very powerful testimonies of Dreamers unafraid to come out and tell their story.
Will you be there?? Let us know
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Call us at 212-627-2227 ext 248 to let us know your coming
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Email Angy at angy@nysylc.org
My name is Valeria and Im Undocumented
We know that we promised to upload one story everyday for Coming Out Week and apparently you all expected us to do it on weekends too. But we were in New Jersey facilitating a training and didn't have time .... so we're going to make it up to you by posting TWO stories every day! 
Here is Valeria's:
As I walked to subway this morning, I saw a woman in a yellow coat walking in the same direction. She had a coffee in one hand, a paperback book in the other and a purse which seemed to have weighed a bunch since it was making her right shoulder slouch a bit more than the left. Something very familiar about this lady intrigued me, but I simply shrugged my shoulders and continued walking to the 1 downtown train station that I have been taking every day for the past seven months.
Coincidental enough, the lady in the yellow coat was sitting directly in front of me as the train had come to the station. I put my drink down, looked inside my heavy purse to find that I had forgotten my current novel at home. I had absolutely nothing to do for the next 45 minutes of my life than to wander my eyes aimlessly around in hope of something interesting to catch my sight.
I closed my eyes and memories filled my head as fast as the speed of the train.
…
I thought of my dad the day before we came to the United States from Colombia trying to ease my tears away by telling me about all the new amazing opportunities my upcoming life had in store for me. That’s something he’s always been good at- making the hardest situations never portray in his face by only displaying pure confidence through his eyes. As we landed in New York in January of 1998, my small seven year old body could barely stand the cold, but as always, my parents were there giving me protection to stay warm.
Scholastically, I was the same as my peers .Within two years in the country, I was put into a regular speaking English classroom. By 5th grade, I was president of the student council. I really started to believe all those stories my dad had told me. I had friends, a supporting family and an un-denying successful future ahead- or so I believed.
Never did I pay close attention to the fact that my family and I were undocumented. My dad worked with my uncle at a shoe store and my mom was a housewife, so to me, I was like the other kids. When my family decided to move to Miami, Florida after 6th grade, I knew that it had to do a lot with my dad’s job. We moved to make ends meet as he began to work for himself, always coming home with a smile on his face; quickly turned upside down once he and my mom would close the door and talk about money and immigration while my older sister and I just listened.
High School was the peak for me, as it is for many undocumented students. By senior year, even though I had been accepted into the school of my choice with 75% of paid tuition, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to attend. I wasn’t an eligible resident and all my trophies, awards, recognitions, being class president and speaking at my graduation became no more than just a faded memory.
All my friends thought I had my whole future ahead of me where I had no clue where my college career fell in place and instead I was the one feeling jealous of them and I blamed my parents for it. I saw my only choice was to move back to New York because I read of the in-state tuition within one year and I simply saw no other choice.
I thought of the past seven months and how they have been a completely mind and life changing experience. I am now enrolled in a community college taking day by day as it comes. I began to write to numerous organizations and miraculously got a response from the New York State Youth Leadership Council who is engaged in raising awareness for immigrant youth by promoting the DREAM act. This organization has brought back the confidence I lost the day I got my high school diploma.
I remember watching an All-Stars production (another organization I volunteer in) called The Task and hearing someone say “if we always hide who we are, do we become what we’re not?” That line has stuck to me since that day and one thing that I would never want to do is become a different person than who I am today, which is why I am showing my true personality. The stubbornness I once had has faded, the struggles my family has faced have only made me stronger and I want nothing more than to change the perspective of those who think that us undocumented students don’t deserve to further our education.
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The train came to a halt, making me blink my eyes to reassure my present reality. It was my stop and I suddenly got up to walk out as the lady in the yellow coat shot me a quick glance which made me realize that in her, I saw me. I saw the hope and the confidence that encourages me that someday, I’ll be able to fulfill all my dreams because in the end, when we are on one train wanting to go to a particular destination, it is very difficult to derail. You take your own train in the path of life, and no one could take that away from you- not even the barriers that stand against us.
My name is Serge and Im Undocumented
National Coming Out week continues! Here is Serge's story:
Growing up I never viewed myself as being different from anybody, I always knew I was undocumented from a very young age but never payed attention to it. Being undocumented never bothered me, I lived in a neighborhood filled with immigrants therefore no one questioned me or judged me on my status. I felt I was the same as everyone else. It was in my senior year of high school when I started applying to colleges that I realized what it meant to be undocumented. All of my friends were applying to colleges out of state and getting scholarships and driver license's and I felt left out because I couldn't do the same.
My parents never told me how being undocumented would affect me, I had to learn as time went by. I saw the struggles my older cousins faced: not being able to go to college before in-state tuition was passed and then returning back to Mexico to get an education, it scared me. Education is something we value a lot in my family. Therefore I knew I had to go to college. My parents had sacrificed a lot to be here; therefore, any opportunity I had to better myself, I would take, and going to college is another way to improve myself.
As I filled out applications, I didn't know what to put in the social security number box. I asked my parents but they told me that they didn't know either- to leave it blank. I was scared to ask my guidance counselor because I feared she might treat me differently ; therefore, I did nothing. I didn't know who to go to.
I submitted my college application without a social security number. Very soon I started getting letters back asking me what my status was and I was confused on how to classify myself. I didn't view myself as being an 'illegal alien' as they put it. I feel like I am a citizen of this country, I grew up here, I've gone to school here since kindergarten. I wasn't born here but I don't know how my home town looks, New York is all I know.
Once I got my acceptance letter saying, "congratulations you have been accepted to college," I was very happy that my hard work in High School had payed off. I felt very excited that I was going to register for my first semester. I looked forward to having some very interesting courses that would challenged me. I thought I could get financial aid to pay for college, as my guidance counselor had told me. But she was wrong; I am not eligible for financial aid, and I am limited to very few scholarships.
My tuition bill came in the mail and I didnt want to open it. I still wondered how I was going to pay it. As I unfolded the bill I read $5,000 for one semester and I thought they had made a mistake. They were charging me twice as much as my friends, I was being charged as an out of state student. I showed the bill to my parents, and a heated argument broke out. "How are we going to pay for this?" they shouted to each other. My parents told me to ask around and see what I could do to get the bill reduced and they assured me not to worry - that they were going to pay for it. My cousin had been accepted to a CUNY school two years before and he told me I was being charged the wrong amount. I was being charged the wrong amount because of my status, he gave me hope by telling me that I qualified for in-state tuition which would bring the cost down.
I went to college the next day to talk to an admissions counselor so that I could get in-state tuition. The counselor wasn't very friendly. I did not have the appropriate documents to file for in-state tuition. I needed a passport. The counselor asked me loudly "so what kind of documentation do you have"?. I felt like telling her to shut up, why did she have to be so loud? I was frozen by fear and shame. The counselor gave me an affidavit she said "sign it, bring a passport and come back and then you can have in-state tuition". As I walked out the office I began to read the affidavit and it basically said that when the chance comes to fix my status, I will do it. I didn't feel right about singing the affidavit. It was incriminating because there was a sentence which stated that if an immigration official asked for the affidavit the school had to hand it over. As I read that part I remember stopping in the hall way and felt my heart beating faster. I didn't want to go through the process anymore because it was intimidating, I've never been confronted about my status before.
The following week I went back to the admissions office to hand in my affidavit. As the secretary called my name I walked past a long line, she then pulls out a folder with my name on it and across the front in big big red letters, a stamp read, 'UNDOCUMENTED'. When I saw that folder I wanted to leave the office because of fear and shame that other student's had seen it. I could feel myself becoming red and I felt very nervous. The counselor then told me I had in-state tuition. Walking home I wondered why they had to label me as undocumented as if I were less than everyone else. I didn't find it fair, just because I don't have a social security number doesn't mean I have to be treated differently. After all the hard work my family had put into being here, I think we all deserve a chance to be equal.
In my junior year of high school my father told me about the Dream Act. I figured, by the time I got into college I would obtain my legal status, but that did not happen. Time went by after I heard about it again, this time I was in my second year of college when, Gabriel, a student in my programming class asked me about my status and spoke to me about the DREAM Act. Gabriel told me about the New York State Youth Leadership Council (NYSYLC) an organization he co-founded alongside with other students who are fighting to pass the Dream Act.
I was invited to a meeting in which they discussed what student groups were doing at their campus to push for the Dream Act, it seemed very interesting to me. An event that captivated my attention and showed me that there is urgency was the Mock Graduation on June 23 in DC. Seeing how many students had gathered was amazing, I had never gone to an event like this before. It was very inspiring to see students from all over the country gathering for a cause that would change the lives of undocumented youth. From that day on I knew I had to do something I couldn't sit around and wait for change to magically happen.
That summer I signed up for an internship with the New York State Youth Leadership Council and worked on campus as an organizer. I reached out to student groups so they could get active and raise awareness at their campus as well. Currently I am working on organizing high school students in Manhattan so that they can learn what options they have and advance their education.
Now I am a senior, one semester away from graduating. It feels great, I'm so close from accomplishing a goal that I always wanted but I also have to face reality. I am still undocumented and I don't have many options. I won't be able to work in the career of my choice, my future is uncertain. However, we will make the Dream Act pass!
Don’t Be Afraid!
As most of you know March is Coming Out month. A long with thousands of undocumented youth all over the nation, I too, came out. Coming out can be difficult and very scary. Someone expressed their worry in this email and here’s my response.
Hi,
I've spoken to various people, family and friends who are undocumented or were before. I asked them if they would actually wear a shirt or post the fact that they're Undocumented. Their response was: "Hell no! I wouldn't want to get deported!" I don't think it's a good idea to do this, it could put people's situations at risk, it wouldn't be safe and people would definitely not feel safe to wear this. There are many other ways to raise awareness. Although this exposes a powerful message I don't think it can go very far. Have other people told you this? What can guarantee people that they are safe and nothing will happen to them by exposing the truth? Since I could remember, family and friends have kept their situations in secret.
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Hello,
I know exactly what you mean! I sat down with my mother a few days ago and told her that i would be coming out- she was terrified. She’s against the whole idea of speaking out and telling people. My mom raised me in an environment where speaking out about your status is wrong, and she taught me that same fear.
I started seeing things differently a few weeks ago on a trip to Minnesota where 4 brave students were planning to turn themselves in to ICE. It was then that I realized, there was no need to live in fear. Sure, I'm not going to challenge ICE but there are different ICEs that I DO need to challenge. For example: coming out to my friends, to my teachers, and most importantly coming out to myself. We must accept the fact that we’re undocumented, being quiet about it isn’t going to change it.
Not everyone is ready to tell the whole world they're undocumented but we must take baby steps. Your friends and family need to accept the fact that they're undocumented and that the lack of a social security number doesn't define them. We deserve to live here just as much as anyone else. By coming out you’re taking back your rights and power as a human being. For me, Coming out is such a liberating experience and it's lifting a weight because I no longer have to try to explain why I don't travel back to my home country, why I don't have a license, why I'm not in school this semester and much more. For someone that isn't ready to fully come out they can always change their statuses on facebook to, '’I support the immigrant movement'' or ''Don't just Dream, Act!" and they can wear shirts that say they support undocumented students and the immigrant community.
Coming out is a long process and you can't expect someone to just come out from one day to the next but at some point people need to come out for their own well being. By keeping it in you only cause yourself more damage and you let “the man” win by suppressing your own voice.
Your family and friends can visit the NYSYLC office and come out to us, we provide a safe place and there is a support group that helps each person throughout this process. I know because I personally told them my story for the first time. There were a lot of emotions that I kept to myself and in the NYSYLC I learned how to use those experiences for the better. Listening to the stories of other undocumented students can be a way of preparing yourself to come out. Someone can also come out by sharing their story with the NYSYLC, we’re posting new stories each day.
And yes, when National Coming Out Day was first planned we thought about the pros and cons of this movement. There are lots of campaigns ready to be launched that help stop deportations because we've had cases of students and families being deported (and it wasn't during a coming out event).
Coming out doesn't have to be something extreme like provoking ICE but in this case, I think you should start by coming out to yourself. Putting a face to all the numbers and statistics does go really far and it opens up the ‘’coming out’’ door to others that are going through the same challenges. After you've taken baby steps to coming out, maybe sometime you could send us your story!
Don't Be Afraid,
Angy
P.S. Here's the link to my story CLICK HERE
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For more ideas or to just hear from others who have made the coming out journey, join us tonight on a national call with leaders from the Immigrant Youth Justice League in Chicago and Students Working for Equal Rights. Maybe you are wondering when was the first time they ever came out? What inspired them to get involved in the movement? Why walk to D.C.? Anything goes, RSVP and ask your question.
RSVP for this National Coming Out Call
WHEN: Monday, March 15th (TONIGHT)
8 PM EST / 5 PM PST
WHO:
- Felipe, Gaby, Juan & Carlos - Trail of Dreams, Students Working for Equal Rights (SWER)
- David, Immigrant Youth Justice League (IYJL)
- Host: Renata, Student Immigrant Movement (SIM)
We have made amazing progress this week by coming out as undocumented youth, but we need to keep it up in order to make the changes we want to see and pass the Dream Act this year!
My name is Monica and I am Undocumented
A LIFE WITHOUT DIGITS
Living in the United States as an immigrant has been my biggest challenge. On a hot summer night, along with my mother I crossed the border pursuing a dream. After a long journey, I arrived to New York on September 7, 2005. Back then I thought that the obstacles for me had ended but I didn’t realize that it was just the beginning of a journey where I would encounter many obstacles. Those obstacles have helped me grow up as an individual and they also have taught me that life is not easy.
If I compare the friends of mine who were born in this country to the ones who immigrated to the United States I always see that there is a big difference in lifestyles. The first ones don’t really care a lot about their performance in school because they know that everything will come easily to them, they live legally in this country and have never faced the obstacles that we face. They don’t know how it feels going to a Financial Aid office and being told: “You are wasting your time coming in here, if you don’t have a Social Security number you can’t get any help”. They don’t know how it is like to cross the border in a dark and cold night. But we, the “aliens” have experienced these kind of problems many times, therefore we always work double.
I am currently a senior at an International High School. There I have heard many stories about young immigrants like me. They all have many dreams, just like I do. A lot of them want to succeed; they always tell me that they want to be doctors, lawyers, etc. But it is very sad when they put their heads down and say: “But I am undocumented.” I would like to cheer them up by telling them that everything will be fine but the truth is that, I don’t know what will happen to our future... I don’t know if everything will be fine. The only hope that I have is the Dream Act, this bill that if passed would be the only thing that would help make our dreams and goals come true.
Since I am a senior, this year I started my College application process, and it was very frustrating that I could not apply for the colleges that I wanted to go just because I don’t have citizenship or residency in the United States. I was hoping that by attending a CUNY College I could get some kind of help but unfortunately, a few days ago when I went to Lehman College’s financial aid office I realized that there is no way for me to get financial help. The financial aid officer told me that if I didn’t have a social security number I could not get any help from them. I felt very sad and upset when I heard what she said. Nevertheless it gave me the strength to keep on fighting for my dreams.
Without the nine digits I can only qualify for a very few scholarships, without the nine digits I cannot get a job. I acknowledge that it will be very difficult for my mother and I to afford my college tuition, but I really want to be the first member of my family to go to college. A lot of people might think that the best thing I could do is to go back to “my country” but I would like them to know that the United States is my country now. Therefore I want to get educated in this country, work in this country and live in this country. I want to stay at my new and only home.
I always wonder if all the sacrifices that my mother has made in order to give me a better life would be worth someday. I recognize that my mother is not the only parent working really hard to save money for her child’s college tuition. Like her there are many parents who would do anything to see their children succeed in this country. I wonder if all the nights with no sleep and the tears we all have cried will be worth it someday.
My mother blames herself for what I am experiencing right now but the truth is that it is not her fault. I know that what she was looking for when she decided to come to this country was to create a great future for me, the great future that she could never have because of the lack of economic resources that she suffered back in Mexico. I want my mother to be proud of me because she deserves it.
It is unbelievable how anti-immigrants say that undocumented people are criminals when the First Article from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights declares that, “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights...” However, in this country not all human beings have equal rights. They should know that no human being is illegal. If God gave us the opportunity to live then, why does the absence of a simple paper forbid us from having the opportunity to have the rights that everyone else has?
I don’t know what will happen after I graduate from high school, my dream is to go to college and become a professional but without a legal status in the United States it will be a big challenge for me. However, I will not give up and I have faith that the Dream Act will be passed. This bill is the only hope that I have; having a legal status is the only way I can make my dream come true. My name is Monica and I am Undocumented…an Undocumented immigrant who doesn’t know what will happen to her future, an undocumented who is not afraid anymore. A young immigrant, who is always trying to stand out in her society because she wants to make a difference. A young woman who has knowledge, values, energy and hunger to succeed but I cannot do this entirely if I can’t continue with my education.
Save the Date: Trail of Dreams Walk-a-thon
Inspired by the heroism of the 4 SWER youth from Miami, 5 youth from the NYSYLC, along with community members and other allies have begun plans to kick off a NYC counterpart to the Trail of Dreams. The NYSYLC is a youth led organization that works on improving access to higher education and creating equal opportunity for immigrant youth, regardless of immigration status, through leadership development, organizing and grassroots advocacy.
With over 250 miles separating the NYC harbor from Washington, DC, the group plans to kick off the event on April 10th with a community send off, as a group of brave youth and their supporters walk to DC. They plan to join the walkers on May 1st and make several stops along the way to bring awareness about the issues that undocumented youth and their families face.
Would you like to support the Trail of Dreams and participate in the TOD WALK A THON ON APRIL 10TH
Who: NYSYLC, Friends, Family, Community Members
What: Walk-a-thon, A solidarity kick off walk-a-thon in support of TOD group
When: April 10th. Registration will begin at 9am
Where: Walk-a-thon begins at the Jay Hood Wright Park in Washington Heights and walkers will cross George Washington Bridge
Why: We are Undocumented and Unafraid. Enough is Enough. We need the Dream Act Now and will travel many miles to make that a reality
How: You can support the Trail of Dream NY students by participating in the Walk-a-thon
My name is Brian and I am Undocumented
The YLC will feature the story of undocumented youth as told by them. This is Brian's story
I never thought of myself as different from anyone else. When I came here, I never questioned what got me into the United States. After all I was just seven. I didn’t have a choice on whether to stay in Jamaica with my mother or go to America to live with a man I barely knew, my father. My mother sent me here to live a new, better, and successful life and that’s what I promised her I would do. I never knew keeping that promise would be so hard.
It was in middle school when I was well aware of my father's financial situation. This was why I didn’t tell my father when my shoes were worn out at the bottom, when my jeans were becoming highwaters, and why I never went to the movies with my friends. I was too embarrassed to hear my father tell me we were too broke to afford what I needed or wanted; if I didn’t ask for anything, I didn’t have to hear him say no. My father had trouble keeping a job and his hand disability made it even harder for him to get a job. I did not like seeing my father struggling or worrying how he's going to pay the bills.
I learned about my immigration situation during this time. This was the time when everyone around me was getting their working papers and applying for different jobs. My guidance counselor gave me a list of documents I needed to bring in, including a copy of my birth certificate and social security card. I placed it on my father's dresser where it remained untouched. When I finally asked him for those documents he got so angry. He yelled at me and asked me why I was being ungrateful. He implied that I didn't appreciate what I had. I translated what he said to mean I didn’t have those documents.He never told me why he got mad but now I understand the pain he must have felt knowing what a burden not having those documents would be on me. Ever since then speaking of my status in or out of the house was taboo. Even with this information I never stopped working hard in school, partly because I was young and didn’t know what it would mean for my future.
It was my junior year of high school and I was sick of feeling helpless. I wanted to take control of my life but at the same time I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me or think I was less than them due to my status. I thought if I spoke about my problems, someone might give me the answers. How wrong I was to believe that obtaining citizenship was going to be easy. I spoke to teachers, guidance counselors, and lawyers and they didn’t give me great options. Teachers that were supposed to be a source of knowledge didn't know anything about my situation. The people that were supposed to guide me through my high school ordeals didn't know what path I should take.
This year, I followed my peers' lead. I studied for the SATs, wrote college essays, and applied to as many colleges as I could; in the hopes that one of those colleges would give me a scholarship that would help me pay for the tuition. I have received acceptance letter into many of the colleges I applied to. Now I wonder how I will pay.
Throughout the years I have been told by teachers, family members, and friends that the future holds great things in store for me. I embrace this support, but I can’t help but to be a little pessimistic. “What do I have to look forward to?” is what I ask myself every morning when I prepare for school. Hopping for a better future for myself was what got me to school.
I’m an undocumented Jamaican immigrant that comes from a poor, unloving, and unsympathetic family, what chance do I have? I always believed that my desire to excel would help me to exceed my expectations. I expected more for myself in the future rather than depression and lost ambitions. Why shouldn’t I have that future I always wanted? I didn’t think I had anything after high school to look forward to. That was until I heard about the Dream Act.
I was researching ways of becoming a citizen. An attorney at a well-known organization, called The Door, sat with me in her office and looked at me with compassion. She was going through the eligibility of the Dream Act and a great smile rose across my face when I realized that I qualified. I went through the eligibility over and over in my head and still couldn’t believe it.
I wanted to get involved, to help myself get where I knew I deserved to be. So when I heard about an organization that fought for the Dream Act and allowed youth like myself to get active I joined. Now I call the NYSYLC office home.
My experience as an undocumented youth has taught me that hope is most necessary for us to achieve our dream. As I get ready to explore the next step in my life, I think about students that do qualify for federal aid and other undocumented students that don’t. I look upon those undocumented students that overcame many endeavors and graduated from college as a source of hope. They overcame my challenge. Martin Luther King Jr. once said,” If you lose hope, somehow you lose the vitality that keeps life moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream.” When no one else believed in me I had to believe in myself. When no one else had hope I learned that hope had to be created within.