Tag: human rights

My Name is Gabriel and I am Undocumented

When I was I kid I used to practice holding my breath as a game. I would try to see how long I could last and then try to go even longer. One time I lasted a minute and a half; it felt as though a hammer was beating my lungs. I never imagined that I would be holding my breath for twenty years.

I was always aware of my status; even as a young boy my parents had told me about it. They explained their reasoning for coming here and what our goals and aspirations as a family were. So I grew up always knowing, however it was only until junior year in high school that I really understood the gravity of our situation. And with that understanding came a downward spiral during which I practically gave up all efforts in school; my reasoning was, why bother with all this work if it’s not going to amount to anything.

I managed to better my grades and keep my hopes up somewhat during my last year in school, and even flirted with the idea of applying to some universities; but without status and with no money, it was a difficult journey ahead. So, rather than begin my college studies with the rest of my peers, I proceeded to join the underground economy and with my share of odd jobs, save some money.

During that time I joined my father in community gatherings and forums to promote a bill allowing undocumented students to pay instate tuition. At these gatherings I spoke to families about the potential of our youth and the benefits of this bill; I talked about the difficult choices that an undocumented teen had to make when there was no means to gain access to higher education.

It wasn’t until a year after graduation that hope finally came in the form of AB 540, allowing me to enroll in a local community college.

Sure, I had met my goal and, facing difficult barriers, obtained a degree. But now what?

Being in my mid twenties I see all the time that has passed me by, and how a lot of it has been wasted by this constant worry that not having nine digits entails. I look at all the opportunities missed, the demeaning jobs, anger and despair, and realize that I don’t want undocumented kids just graduating from high school to go through that. I also look towards my future, or lack of, and feel the tugging of time as each year passes. To be a 30-year-old fast food worker is not something that I aspire to. I want to be able to finally breathe.

These are my reasons for fighting for the DREAM Act.

My Name is Ashley and I am Undocumented

The funny thing about my story is that my grandmother and mother were both green-card holders. Yet, here I am in a state of limbo status because the lawyer messed up. In the time it took for my mother to futilely navigate the immigration system, I had already overstayed my tourist visa and forgotten my native tongue. I thought of myself only as an American and was thoroughly disappointed and in a state of shock when I found that I couldn’t get a driver’s license. As I grew older, the barriers grew more formidable. I moved into a studio-size apartment with my family, checked vending machines for forgotten change, and somehow managed to finish my college education.

I graduated from a prestigious university without any form of institutional financial aid. I did, however, qualify for in-state tuition, without which I would not be the person I am today. To save money, I finished two majors in three years and received the highest honors given at my school. Throughout my college days, I was and still am an active member of the community. I led efforts to provide health service for the uninsured, tutored and mentored underserved youth, and volunteered at the free clinic. My status had provided me with unique insight into the struggles of the low income and underserved and with undying strength to help those in greater need.

Finally, I realized that my greatest desire in life was to pursue a career in medicine so that I could dedicate each day to directly helping those in need. I applied and was accepted into MD-PhD programs across the nation, placing me in the top ten percent of the student population. Yet, in a matter of days, my dreams would be destroyed. I am still out of status and unable to pursue dual degrees in medicine and research. Currently, I am still unsure whether or not I will be able to enroll in medical school. My elite pile of acceptances seems to dangle before me as dreams that are so close to reality and yet so far from my reach.

But I don’t deserve this. I had made no excuses on my application and told no lies. I was, instead, reviewed and accepted on my own academic and personal merits. These schools don’t even have a clue of what I’ve had to go through to get this far in my life. They offered me admission because I was well qualified for a spot in their entering class, because I had shown the potential to make great differences in the world of healthcare and scientific innovation. It is entirely their loss that they revoked the acceptances I had gained fair and square.

I hope this nation will not make the same mistake as these schools. We, the Dreamers, represent some of America’s most persevering and brightest youth. We have been tested by the most difficult challenges. Most of us have experienced days when we couldn’t afford to buy food for our family or painful incidents when we couldn’t afford medical help for our loved ones. Yet, with each challenge, we continue to overcome. We face these adversities head on and grow stronger in the process. And each day, we explore the limits of our potential as tested by the restrictions imposed on us because we hold faith that this country we love so dearly will one day recognize us and our efforts. We want nothing more than to contribute to the growth of this nation and, without a doubt, we have the potential to do so. All we need is the chance to grow.

Please pass the DREAM Act. All I ever wanted was to go to medical school, to spend the rest of my life giving back to the community, and to finally be an American.

 

My Name is Liz and I am Undocumented

I’m Rohit and I am American. Even though I’m Indian by decent, and born in Germany, I’m American. I’ve lived in New Jersey since I was 5 (I’m 23 now). I have a Bachelors of Science in Biomedical Engineering from Rutgers University. I like writing stories and poems, and do semi-professional photography. I run a web design firm. I am proud of this country, my country, and what it represents. And while I entered the country legally, I’ve been in the country illegally for 13 years.

I went through the public school system, with regular aspirations to be an astronaut and president. I grew up a science nerd, being picked on through elementary and middle school. I can still remember how mad my parents were the first time I got a bad grade, and the first time I cursed.

In eighth grade, I got a unique opportunity to attend a magnet high school focusing on the sciences and engineering. My class was the first of the school, and got the rare chance to establish the school. I helped found the school paper, serving as the de-facto editor for two years. I was part of the first National Honors Society, and was the soccer team’s statistician for a year. It was also in high school that I got into photography after being volunteered to be the school photographer. In high school, I took a particular interest in programming and web design. I even went as far as to make my first girlfriend a website for Valentine’s Day (in addition to the usual flowers and a teddy bear).

After graduating high school, I applied to a variety of engineering universities. I got waitlisted at Carnegie Mellon, but got accepted into the Rutgers School of Engineering. College was a drastic change. I went from a high school of 120 people to a University where some of my lectures had 120 people in it on an off day. Fortunately, the honors program was small enough to give me a personal feel in a giant university.

Right from the start, my University experience was different. In high school, I was the closed-off, quiet geek. I was a worker, relatively intelligent, but I was never very social. My first day of college was orientation. At Rutgers, New Student Orientation used to be a three day series of events with both information and fun. Being the geek, I went to the informational stuff, but the energy and helpfulness of the orientation volunteers got me enthused and pushed me to volunteer work all though college.

Even until then, I didn’t know I was in the country illegally. Through high school, my parents shooed off my getting a drivers license by saying the insurance rates were too high. I knew we were tight on money, so I went with it. In college, I didn’t have a car, so it didn’t matter. My parents had managed to avoid the topic, with my never having gotten a job and really never having needed ID. So college was pretty normal.

I entered Rutgers intending on going into electrical engineering, but my early experience at college changed my mind, driving me to biomedical engineering. Through BME, I could use electrical and computer engineering and apply it to medicine, to help people. I also joined a number of clubs, and for better or worse, they became my focus in college. I joined a cultural organization, the Association of Indians at Rutgers, to help get in touch with my cultural heritage as well as to get into volunteer work. I also joined the engineering student government, the Engineering Governing Council, to help make a difference at Rutgers. I wound up on the board for AIR, helping revive a cultural aspect of the club, along with pushing more volunteer activities. Through student government, I became an expert on student legislation at Rutgers, and even helped shape the new student government when Rutgers underwent a merger of its campuses. Through the years, these two clubs became my main clubs, though I also started a religious organization, the Anekantavada Jain Association. While I was attentive to my studies, my college life seemed to revolve around my clubs.

Still, I was pretty into the programming aspects of my degree. I did a project on bone fracture recognition and did my senior design project on a therapy device for people who have suffered a stroke. These classes finalized my intentions of wanting to help people by developing devices to make their lives easier. Unfortunately, senior year is when my life took a turn for the worst. In my final semester, as I started to look around for a job, I inquired with my parents about our immigration status. It was the hardest news I’ve ever received, when my dad informed me that our visas expired in the mid nineties. Instantly my hopes of a job vanished, my dreams of a future went up in smoke. In seconds, I went from just another person to being a pariah. Fortunately, I had been seeing a therapist for other depression issues, and managed to make sense of the situation without going insane.

I have now had a degree for nearly two years, with no use for it. I’ve had ambitions and desires placed on the back burner because of a sheet of paper. I can’t contribute to the society I grew up in, or donate back to the clubs and college that gave me so much. I’m also now in removal proceedings. While I wait to see if I get to stay or leave, I’m stuck at home, not having a car or other effective mode of travel, any semblance of a social life limited to when friends are available and can give me a ride. I feel like through this process, I’ve become a mooch on my friends, who’ve given me nothing but support. Along with my mother, father, and younger brother in his third year of college, we face our final hearing in a few months, and will be forced to leave the US by mid summer without some sort of immigration reform. I’ll be sent off to a country I don’t know, to a culture I’m not a part of, to a language I barely speak. It will be, for all intents and purposes, an exile. If I’m sent off, I have no intention of moving back… Why be a part of a country that doesn’t want me because of the mistakes my parents made? I learned that who you are has nothing to do with being American…in the end, it’s what other people think you are.

~Rohit, DREAMer from New Jersey