Undocumented Lives

High school student documenting the rich and varied lives of Mexican immigrants. Social media provides a unique platform to share these stories that bring people together. If you are a Mexican immigrant and are interested in sharing your story, please contact me.

[undocumentedlives]

“I immigrated to the US three weeks before my eighth birthday from the state of Guerrero. One Wednesday afternoon my mom called a taxi to our house and asked my brother and I to get in. We drove for about four or five hours until we reached Acapulco. It was nighttime by that point. I had no idea why we were there, but that night I learned where we were going. We’re going to the US she said. My brother knew this whole time. He was only two years older than me, but she had entrusted him with that information months before this night. We were going to the US, and dad wasn’t coming with us. I cried. I can’t say it wasn’t my choice to migrate. A few moments after I finished crying I was given a choice. Dad would most likely find out where we were, and he would very likely ask us to reconsider. I could stay if I wanted to. I said no. I wanted to go. But even if I had not been asked what I wanted to do, if I had just gone along without knowing what or where or why, I can’t in good conscience play into the narrative of having “come to the US through no fault of my own”. From day one I knew I admired mom for taking the risk she took. Whether I had been given a choice or not, to say I came over through no fault of my own, as the media always says, would be mean faulting my mom and my brother for doing what was best for us. I’ve never really known what to say as to why I migrated. It could be multiple reasons. I could say we were poor, though I never felt it. We had a big house my dad built, but it was for the most part empty of furniture. I could say we had few opportunities available. Neither parents went to college, and the only times we seemed to have money were when mom took jobs selling cosmetics, or when dad would leave for a few weeks to harvest drugs in the mountains with some of his friends. One time I even walked in on him packaging small bags of white powder in his room - with a rifle on the side of the bed and blanket covering the window. When I was younger I never gave these things much thought. But it’s always a combination of factors that spur migration. It wasn’t that he was a bad father, dad did what he had to to provide, and it wasn’t that he and mom didn’t get along. She always told us how much she loved home then. Every now and then for a few years after we were already living in Santa Ana mom would wake up and tell us she’d dreamed about being back in Mexico with dad. As far as I know mom had always asked him to move the family to the US. He always said no. One day she stopped waiting. Disclaimer: I don’t know if this really did happen or not, but it’s the way I remember it, Some time on our way from Acapulco to the border they spoke on the phone. She asked him to come. When I was little I hardly gave my immigration status thought. I knew that in the eyes of the law we weren’t supposed to be here, and I knew what the consequences could be if the wrong person found out. Nonetheless I never hid my status from my friends or teachers. The only moment I felt constrained by my status was toward the end of high school as is often the case among immigrant youth. I couldn’t go to any of the colleges I was accepted to because there was no financial aid available to us yet, but then my brother started pulling me in to Orange County Immigrant Youth United (then Orange County Dream Team), DACA came along, and I became more involved in immigrant youth organizing with the group. I learned so much. New doors opened. I’ve gotten the chance to travel, and build friendships all across the US through organizing. Though I never hid my status, I learned how powerful it was to declare oneself undocumented and unafraid. I even got to sit in front of a Department of Homeland Security bus and stop it in its tracks when it was on its way to deport dozens who didn’t have the privileges I did. It’s tough to guess what life in Mexico would have been had I stayed. Right now I am still trying to finish school. I know how privileged I am to have the opportunity to attend college, but some times I can’t help but feel like I don’t want to be there anymore. I made up my mind that I will finish my undergraduate studies, but beyond that I don’t know what’s ahead for me other than that I know I want to continue community organizing.         If given a choice to describe myself in relation to my status I say I am undocumented. If I’m feeling extra energetic I’ll go all out and say I am undocumented, unafraid, and unapologetic.”      

- Hairo Cortes

[undocumentedlives]

"Well, it all started because of our economic situation in Mexico. My mom’s teaching salary was not enough to cover all the expenses and to sustain a family of three (mom, brother, and I). We never had money, most of the money that my mom received in her check was used to pay of the food from the previous week, my school, and was mostly used to pay back the people who had loaned us money when my mom couldn’t afford to make it that month, anyways, money never lasted for us. The frustration from not having enough money and her vision of a better life for my brother and I, led her to make one of the most important decisions of her life which was migrating to California. My grandfather was already established here in California however, he did not support my mom’s decision at all and refused to help us. My mom was able to obtain money by borrowing from her job, friends, and from one of my aunts, in order to pay for our risky, expensive journey. To be honest, I felt thrilled I saw it as a game, a game in which you completely pretended to be a different person, in which names were changed, and strangers pretended to be your parents, but most of all because I wanted to meet this new place where my grandpa lived. Thankfully, we arrived safely to California around Thanksgiving of 2002. I was five years old and not knowing a word of English I entered Prospect Elementary School and I would cry almost every day because on top of not knowing English, everything was so different and I felt like an outsider. My mom emmidiatly began looking for a job in order to pay off the money that was burrowed to us. She eventually did find a job, the typical “house cleaning job.” With 3 salaries now coming in we were able to rent a room and move out of the garage that my grandpa shared with other men. Now that I look back, I have no idea how we lived in those conditions in which you would have five people sleeping in a very small room. We ended up moving out from that room after a year and I remember our happiness because we were getting our own apartment. My Mom kept working and broke away from the cleaning company and started obtaining her own customers and continues to grow until this day."

[undocumentedlives]

“My name is María Isabel Cruz Peréz. In the U.S. all my documents read 'Maria Isabel Cruz'. Perhaps it's a dumb concept; but it does feel weird "losing" one of your names the moment you move to a different country. I remember feeling like something was taken away from my identity. I go by 'Isabel', but many people call me 'Maria' . Which is also odd. Is it so weird to have two names ? When I was in the 4th grade my mom made the controversial decision of relocating our little family to the U.S. She wanted to make sure my sister and I were not under any risks. It took her about two years to organize everything, eventually, we moved to Orange when I was in the 6th grade. I remember how unfamiliar and green this place looked when we first moved here. It was not on my plans to move to a different country, it was not in my plans to even move schools. But mom did it for the best, something I did not comprehend when it happened. It is very difficult to change environments in such a critical stage of life as is puberty. It is complicated, so complicated. But not impossible. Up to last year I had the intentions of going back to my birthplace after high school. Now multiple factors have changed. I understand why my mother wanted a change. I truly thank her.”

[undocumentedlives]

“Coming to the U.S five years ago was the best thing that my parents could've done for me. Although it was tough learning English, I overcame that challenge. Even though it wasn't my choice to be brought here, I thank my parents for it. My immigration status has affected me a lot because now my parents can't afford a university and my alternative choice is going to a community college. I know I will overcome this challenge and I will graduate from a university.”

[undocumentedlives]

“My name is Jesus, I came to the U.S. at the age of three with my brother. My dad was here first. He came to the U.S. in search of a job to provide food, water, clothes, and shelter for us in Mexico. Later on my parents made the decision to send my brother and I to the U.S. to receive a better education and so we could live better off. We arrived by car during the summer. After we came, my dad told my mom to immigrate to the U.S with us. She came through the desert, where she got caught twice and almost lost her eye. After the third attempt she was able to come around December, which my brother and I consider our Christmas gift. Living here has changed my life. I always wonder, what would I be doing or who would I become if I would have stayed in Mexico. My parents probably could not have afforded school for my brother and I. My life has greatly changed since the moment I arrived to the U.S. and I am grateful for my parents decision.”

[undocumentedlives]

How has being here (in the U.S.) changed your life?

“My life has changed completely here in the United States. I am a better version of myself: an educated woman, an independent woman, and a head of household woman. I was born in a small town in Mexico. I entered the United States illegally as a child. I was fortunate to benefit from the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986. Once I obtained my legalization, the sky was the limit. My journey of transformation has led me to question whether or not I could be who I am today in Mexico. The answer is no. Poverty, gender inequality, and gender roles in the small community where I was born would have prevented me from achieving what is known as the “American Dream”. I am proud of my humble beginnings but I am grateful this country gave me the opportunity and resources to become who I am today.”