University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

No bodies wasted: undocumented community college student experiences of hope and the chameleon phenomenon

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No bodies wasted: undocumented community college student experiences of hope and the chameleon phenomenon

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Content NO BODIES WASTED: UNDOCUMENTED COMMUNITY COLLEGE STUDENT
EXPERIENCES OF HOPE AND THE CHAMELEON PHENOMENON
Dayna J. Meyer
A DISSERTATION
in
Urban Education Policy
Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE USC GRADUATE SCHOOL
in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the
Degree of Doctor of Philosophy
December 2019
Supervisor of Dissertation:
______________________________________
Shaun R. Harper, Professor
Dean, Graduate School of Education:
_________________________________________
Karen Symms Gallagher, Dean
Dissertation Committee:
Shaun R. Harper, Founder and Executive Director of USC Race and Equity Center, Provost
Professor of Education and Business, Clifford and Betty Allen Chair in Urban Leadership
Lanita Jacobs, Associate Professor of American Studies and Ethnicity and Anthropology
Dr. Charles H.F. Davis III, Chief Strategy Officer and Director of Research of USC Race and
Equity Center, Assistant Professor
ii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

In my culture, it is important to recognize those who have helped us on our life journey to this
moment. I want to take this opportunity to express my gratitude. First and foremost, I want to
thank my family. Without you, I would not have had the privilege of pursuing my PhD. I love
you with all of my heart. I want to thank every teacher that inspired and taught me over my
lifetime, particularly my comparative literature professor at UC Davis. She challenged me to go
beyond my social conditioning and to explore the depths of my soul. It is because of her that I
immersed myself in the world of anthropology and have not left it since. To my students that I
taught in South Korea, I thank each and every one of you for introducing me into the world of
teaching and fueling my passion for studying international education that helped me complete
my thesis at the University of Chicago.
During my master‘s program at the University of Chicago, I was also introduced to the world
of community colleges. I always had a fondness for junior colleges given my mother‘s
background. At one time, I considered attending a local community college while I figured out
what path I wanted to pursue, but, alas, my heart wanted to go on the adventure of a lifetime that
has allowed me to arrive here. To my students at the Stanislaus Literacy Center in the Central
Valley of California, thank you. Your hardworking and heartwarming smiles made each morning
a pleasure to be in the classroom. To all of the students I had the honor of counseling in the Bay
Area of California, thank you.
I want to thank the Center for Urban Education for guiding me through my graduate program.
I learned many life lessons along the way that have not only made me a better academic and
teacher but overall human being. It is with utmost gratitude that I thank the USC Race and
Equity Center. Each and every one of you provided me with the warmth and care needed for an
iii
individual to feel safe enough to grow and take intellectual risks. I will cherish the relationships I
have nurtured with these talented and compassionate human beings.
Last but certainly not least, I want to thank my amazing committee members. To Dr. Shaun
Harper, my advisor, dissertation chair, and friend. Your generosity and trust allowed me to
inhabit the researcher and professor I am today. Without you, I would not have been able to
continue with this important work. I admire the career that you have built for yourself and am
inspired to go out into the world and make the difficult but necessary changes we need for our
higher education institutions. To Dr. Charles H.F. Davis III—your intellect, candor, and activism
will continue to be a source of admiration and inspiration for the work that I continue to pursue.
Your insights make me a better researcher and academic; and to Dr. Lanita Jacobs—you have
walked with me on this journey, and I am eternally grateful for you. You are the only person who
has witnessed the myriad states of human emotion on my journey in academe. The way you
articulate life leaves me without words. Your eloquence, compassion, and brilliance is a rare
combination. Thank you for everything.
iv
ABSTRACT
NO BODIES WASTED: UNDOCUMENTED COMMUNITY COLLEGE STUDENT
EXPERIENCES OF HOPE AND THE CHAMELEON PHENOMENON
Dayna J. Meyer
Shaun R. Harper
Studies on undocumented students has expanded over the last two decades, however, there is
little research on the experiences of undocumented community college students. In addition,
there remains an absence of representative stories from myriad racial and ethnic backgrounds
across undocumented communities. Using a combined methodological approach, this qualitative
study employed narrative inquiry and phenomenology to explore the lived experiences of three
undocumented women attending community colleges across California and North Carolina.
From in-depth interviews emerged a canvas of deep storytelling where heartache, pain, beauty,
and divinity emerged. Working primarily off of Hirokazu Miyazaki‘s framework for hope (2003)
and taking a more ethnographic approach to the field, there were seven themes that emerged
across narratives: 1) Abusive and Estranged Fathers; 2) Unbreakable Bonds with Mothers; 3)
Clerical Errors and Asymmetrical Information; 4) Religion, Knowledge, and Self-Care as
Medicine for the Mind; 5) Cultivating Global Citizens; 6) Time Reimagined; and 7) Hope as a
Chameleon. The findings suggest many areas that need to continue to be explored in future
research, but at the heart of this study is an opportunity to center and honor voices that often go
unacknowledged and uncared for. Perhaps if we collectively took more time to understand one
another we could begin to heal ourselves in order to heal our society.
v
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgement………………………………………………………………………….......ii
Abstract…………………………………………………………………………………………iv
Chapter One: Background, Purpose, and Overview of the Study………………………….........1
Chapter Two: Review of Related Literature………………………...………….………….......15
Chapter Three: Research Methods…………………………………………….……………….80
Chapter Four: Aris………………………..………………………………………………......105
Chapter Five: Aaliyah………………...…………………………………………….…...........133
Chapter Six: Esther……………………………………………….…………………………..168
Chapter Seven: Findings……………………………………………………………………...204
Chapter Eight: Summary, Role of Researcher Revisited, Reflections, Conclusions, and
Implications…………………………………………………………………………………...223
Appendix……………………………………………………………………………………...223

Bibliography…………………………………………………………………………….........237
1
CHAPTER ONE:

BACKGROUND, PURPOSE, AND OVERVIEW OF THE STUDY

I am not a bad person, but I did a bad thing.

I immigrated here. Illegally. At least, that‘s the term that keeps being used to describe me
nowadays. My mere existence is illegal although I can‘t understand it. I don‘t even remember my
life outside of living in America. I have never even visited Mexico. All I remember is how many
stars were in the sky. Mom told me to hide in the bushes until she called my name. I had never
seen such an illuminated night sky. The full moon seemed to light up the entire desert. I could
see the mountainous horizon guiding our journey. The night air was cool, but I had my favorite
puffy purple jacket on.
―Mamá, ¿a dónde vamos?‖ (Mama, where are we going?)
―Estamos siguiendo el coyote.‖ (We are following the coyote.)
―¿El coyote? (The coyote?)
―Sí.‖ (Yes.)

I looked for the coyote all night, but it was just mama and me following a man wearing a dark
hat that covered his eyes. The next morning, we arrived at my aunt and uncle‘s house in San
Diego. My cousin was six, a year older than me, and she had so many toys to play with. I wanted
to stay and live with them, but my mom said she found work in Los Angeles, so we got a bus,
and I have lived here ever since. In kindergarten, I learned English really quickly. I have always
loved school, but this past year has been difficult. When I was applying for college, my mom sat
me down at dinner one night and told me I‘m ―undocumented.‖ Then, two weeks later, Trump
gets elected as President and then all of a sudden it was deport Latinos and build a wall. I
couldn‘t even go on my senior school trip because of the random ICE check points that popped
up. One minute my friends and I are talking about being roommates in college, and the next
2
minute I am learning how to exist as an illegal immigrant, can‘t apply for financial aid, and am
not hanging out with my friends as much. I am not a bad person, and my mom isn‘t a bad person.
But why do I feel guilty all of a sudden? I walk around feeling like I have a pit in the bottom of
my stomach. My palms get sweaty every time I see a cop car, and I feel like every unknown
phone number is my mom calling me from an ICE detention center. Will this feeling ever go
away? Will I get to go to college and graduate?
Help me find the meaning for this.

The contemporary sociopolitical climate has reinvigorated the xenophobic and anti-immigrant
values embedded in the fabric of American history. Amidst the political instability,
undocumented students pursuing higher education have been thrust into a national dialogue on
human rights. While many students have high aspirations to attend college and serve their
communities (Rendon, 1994), the tenuous state of immigration policy is often met with false
starts and only temporary relief for undocumented communities. On September 5, 2017, United
States President Donald Trump announced his intention to phase out the DACA (Deferred
Action for Childhood Arrivals) program unless Congress could reach an agreement. This abrupt
decision left hundreds and thousands of people scrambling to find a whopping $495 dollars to
renew their DACA applications by October 5. While the summer of 2018 has officially
announced DACA renewals for those whose status expires by March 2020, excerpt above is a
reminder that being undocumented in the Unities States is likened to living in an inescapable
‗trap‘ both physically and psychologically (Downes, 2007). However, unlike citizens who are
afforded the opportunity to rectify his illegal activities and have peace of mind that he can return
home at the end of each day, undocumented immigrants live in a chronic shadow of illegality
(Gonzales, 2008). Derogatory terms such as ‗illegal‘ reinforce a mythological narrative of
criminality where undocumented immigrants are constructed as subalterns, terrorists, and thieves
3
stealing jobs away from American citizens and draining public services
1
.
As undocumented students face myriad challenges navigating today‘s hostile socioeconomic,
political, and cultural climate, there is a need for a reprieve from the racist stereotyping that is
reproduced in mainstream dominant discourses and a turn toward uplifting the spirit of the
undocumented student community. While unpacking the obstacles that undocumented students
walk through is inextricably linked to the everyday experiences of undocumented students
2
, a
divergence from narratives of suffering can be expanded with glimpses into how, and if, hope is
produced and negotiated in these communities. These moments, or sparks, of hope that Bloch
(1986) and Benjamin (2009) refer to are a way of capturing agentic ways of thinking and being.
―Hope‖ acts ―as a method of self-knowledge‖ against a neocolonial power (Miyazaki, 2008, p. 24).
The neocolonial power, in this case, is constituted as the United States, or more poignantly, those
individuals and groups who hold positions of power and privilege that adhere to racialized
ethnocentric ideals of who is allowed to live and thrive in this country. The particular instances,
both large and small, where hope emerges as fleeting moments of self- knowing in the ever-
renewing present offers an insight into core of the human condition. Unlike colloquial uses of hope
that collapses concepts such as aspirations, wishing, and optimism
3
, the method of hope
grappled with in this study preserves the present moment by reconstructing and remembering the
past. The presumed linearity of time that organizes Western ontological belief systems become
obsolete. This disjuncture from assuming temporality lives within a synchronous pattern frees
one from being constructed in ways that are comfortable for Western ideological schemas.

1
Massey, Durand, and Malone (2002) report that less than one percent of immigrants cite the
availability of social services as a primary reason for immigrating. In addition, the Pew Research
Center state that undocumented immigrants comprise five percent of the total civilian workforce
and are ―overrepresented in farming and construction occupations (26% and 15%, respectively)‖
(Krogstad, Passel, & Cohn, 2017, para. 4).
2
Refer to the List of Terms section to find the definition of Dreamers.
3
Concepts such as aspirations, wishing, and optimism all share similar temporal orientations to the
future.
4
Undocumented students, therefore, become creators of an always shifting yet eternal present
moment. Shifting this perspective away from the linearity of time has real impacts on narratives
of human experience. First, the focus pivots from looking at the outcome of an experience to
meeting one on their journey. When the future becomes vague and indeterminable, there remains
value in understanding an individual‘s present moment of meaning making. Western
methodologies typically capture the experiential and outcome of a particular phenomenon. By
breaking from this preoccupation with the outcome of a human experience, it enables one to
delve deep into the nuances of meaning making happening in the present moment as a way
honoring the present moment. For undocumented students, the future holds endless possibilities
but is also met with a stanch reality that there is no clear path to citizenship at the end of the day.
This reality does not suggest that one should not contend with the fears and aspirations that
undocumented students hold of their futures, but it requires a radical reorientation and
understanding of temporality.
Statement of the Problem

As demographic trends continue to evolve and include a larger number of minoritized
individuals, the overt fear stemming from the nation-state has become excruciatingly palpable.
Over the course of American history, different communities of racial and ethnic peoples have
been constructed as disenfranchised subjects of the nation-state. While some scholars such a
Michele Foucault (1977) would argue that disenfranchisement is the cumulative result of systems
of power that are ever renewing, omniscient, and imbued within myriad processes and structures
across society, others such as Arjun Appadurai (2006) and Walter Nicholls (2013) argue that the
production of a disenfranchised subject stems from a discontinuity between the cultural belief
systems of new communities and the values, practices, and peoples that constitute the social
imaginary of a national identity in the United States. A most recent example was the national
5
drive to reclaim its identity following the collapse of the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center
in 2001. George Bush‘s call for greater security was met with more censorship and surveillance
(PATRIOT Act)
4
, a decade long war in the Middle East, and a rise in racial profiling and
Islamophobia.
A pattern of creating racialized fear is endemic to the creation of a national identity. In
France, West African immigrants have become increasingly vocal about their civil and human
rights over the past two decades. During the mid 1970‘s, the French government allowed migrant
families to re-unify (Sargent & Larchanché-Kim, 2006). As children from migrant families were
born and the West African diaspora in France, particularly Paris, expanded, the government
implemented more regulatory processes and called for a zero-tolerance immigration policy in
1993 (Sargent & Larchanche-Kim, 2006). Similar events have occurred in the Netherlands,
Germany, and now Italy with its most recent call to deport 600,000 sub-Saharan Africa migrants
(Birnbaum, 2018). Olson (2000) argues that our schools are now confronted with educating the
most racially and ethnically diverse student body in our nation‘s history.
In the U.S., the recent presidential election of Donald Trump has revived an overwhelming desire
to reclaim a national identity. Trump‘s campaign slogan to ‗Make America Great Again‘ is both a
symbolic and physical call to action to reclaim a nation that once was. Like France and Italy,
Trump has called for a stronger national border control, the deportation of immigrants— both
documented and undocumented,
5
and has modeled core tenants that America was founded on.
Trump has become the waking and talking personification of a national identity. The overt

4
The Patriot Act was implemented in 2001 following the collapse of the World Trade Center
towers. For more reading, visit https://www.aclu.org/issues/national-security/privacy-and-
surveillance/surveillance-under-patriot-act.
5
I want to be clear that the deportation of immigrants, both documented and undocumented, is
not a new practice under the Trump administration. There is a constant negotiation both
socioeconomically and politically that determine who is allowed to belong and remain in the
United States.
6
racism, sexism, xenophobia, capitalism, and homo and transphobia (amongst many more) is a
bold attempt to gain control of a national white identity in crisis. Undocumented immigrants have
been constructed as enemies of the nation-state, and narratives of danger, criminality, and
thievery dominate the national discourse on immigration (Berezin, 2009; Chavez, 2008).
―Undocumented immigrants are viewed as the most problematic because their very existence
violates national sovereignty, the rule of law, and the value of citizenship‖ (Nicholls, 2013, p.
83). Thus, it is critical that undocumented peoples and UndocuAllys
6
work to challenge, disrupt,
and change the ―neo-colonial white supremacist capitalistic patriarchy‖ (hooks, 2004, p. 79).
Undocumented students have become a barometer for dehumanization in American politics.

As policies such as DACA
7
cycle through periods of being enforced and repealed, undocumented
student lives waiver amidst the highly unstable and contradictory signaling from state and federal
governments. On one hand, the local and state economies are co-dependent on the low wages
paid to undocumented workers while on the other, the federal government is calling for the
deportation of millions of people to be returned to an unfamiliar homeland. As undocumented
student lives have become collapsed into a homogenous experience, a crisis in humanity has
emerged. Thus, storytelling has become one of the greatest sparks of hope for undocumented
communities.
According to the U.S. Department of Education, approximately ―five to 10% of
undocumented students pursue higher education, but far fewer successfully graduate with a
degree‖ (―Undocumented and Immigrant Students,‖ para. 3). Out of approximately 11-12
million undocumented people across the nation (Bacon, 2008), an estimated ―2.2 million youth
arrived long before they were 18 years old (Batalova et al., 2013). Undocumented students are
classified in one of two ways: as an unauthorized immigrant or as children of unauthorized

6
UndocuAlly is a term that denotes someone who is an ally to the undocumented community.
7
Refer to the List of Terms section to find the definition of DACA.
7
immigrants. Unauthorized immigrants are defined as ―all foreign-born non-citizens residing in
the country who are not ‗legal immigrants‘‖ (Passel & Cohn, 2011, p. 5) while children of
unauthorized immigrant parents ―include both foreign-born and U.S.-born children who live
with at least one unauthorized immigrant parent‖ (Passel & Cohn, p. 6, 2011).
8

The open-door policy of community colleges attracts a majority of the undocumented student
population in higher education. ―Nearly half (43 percent) of all U.S. undergraduates attend
community colleges‖ (Kim & Diaz, 2013, p. 91), and a majority of Asian and Pacific Islanders
(API) (54 percent) and Latinx (51 percent) immigrant students begin in two year colleges (Lew,
Chang, & Wang, 2005). Although many undocumented students pursuing college excel
academically, community college offers a more affordable option
9
and more flexible class
schedules to accommodate long work hours and other familial responsibilities (Perez, 2010a).
With community colleges acting as a primarily gatekeeper for undocumented ‗college goers‘
(Gonzalez, 2016),
10
the undocumented student experiences in these institutions need to be given
more consideration in the scholarly literature in response to the needs of the community.
Undocumented students who are coming of age in the America are not only finding themselves
constrained by their citizenship status (despite having spent most of their lives in this country)
(Negrón-Gonzales, 2017) but are also learning how to become unauthorized adults as they
transition out of the K-12 system (Gonzales, 2016).
While a growing body of literature has documented the plights, trials, and tribulations of
undocumented students (Albrecht, 2007; Contreras 2009; Enriquez 2011; Gonzales 2007, 2008,
2009; Perez, 2010; Perez & Cortes 2011; Rincon, 2008), a conceptualization of hope is

8
In this dissertation, the term undocumented student will be used to refer to both categories of
immigration status unless explicitly referenced when needed.
9
While 19 states currently offer some type on in-state tuition option for undocumented students
(for more reading go to https://www.uopeople.edu/), there is currently no access to federal
financial aid.
10
A term Gonzales (2016) designated for undocumented students persisting in college.
8
undertheorized in the higher education literature, especially in relation to community college
Dreamers. Not only does a deeply nuanced look into hope compliment counter stories of
academic success, strength, and resilience found in the works of (Cortes, 2008; Jauregui, 2007;
Muñoz, 2008; Oliverez, 2006; Perez and others, 2009), but it creates a space in opposition to
white supremacist discourses that are often taken as normative in our society. In the spirit of
Malcolm X who prophetically stated, ―You can never get civil rights until you have human
rights‖ (1964), using hope as a method to interpret and share undocumented community college
stories is one avenue for respecting the humanity of these communities.
The mainstream and academic literature on undocumented college experiences are also
heavily focused on Latinx students. While Chavez et al. (2007) and Jauregui et al. (2008)
illustrate compelling reasons for solely fixating on undocumented Latinx students, there needs to
be more representation of student narratives from a vast array of racial and ethnic backgrounds in
order to integrate a more holistic understanding of the undocumented Dreamer experience. Ton
(2013) states:
A majority of the studies have focused on the Latino experience. However, the dilemma
extends beyond the Latino student subpopulation. Rates of immigration from Asian
countries such as China, Korea, and the Philippines are on the rise and the increase is
evident at the postsecondary level (Chan, 2010). Unfortunately, there are very few
research studies that have explored the collective experience of undocumented students
from diverse populations.‖ (pp. 9-10)

Not only is it problematic that more inclusivity amongst undocumented student voices needs to
be accounted for, but generalizing Latinx students‘ experiences also runs the risk of
homogenizing what is means to be undocumented. Tienda and Haskins (2011) argue, ―Although
9
Mexicans are the nation‘s largest immigrant group and the subject of many studies, their
experiences cannot be generalized to all recent immigrant groups, even those from Latin
America‖ (p. 5). While there may be overlapping similarities amongst immigrant experiences,
the histories of different ethnic groups and cultural nuances produce a unique migrant experience
for each individual. Thus, some undocumented students are more challenging to connect with
hear their stories. Issues of trust, mobility, and cultural norms and expectations create challenges
when locating students in underrepresented undocumented communities. At times, students do
not even feel safe to disclose themselves as a non-citizen in fear of familial retaliation. The
sensitive dynamics of being outed and disclosing oneself as undocumented was crucial to take
into consideration for this study, and I will discuss more about this in the methods chapter.
Purpose of Study

The purpose of this study is to explore the lived experiences of three undocumented women
attending community colleges across California and North Carolina. In addition, this study aims
to expand the conversation to include an undocumented Black student voice as well. This work
seeks to understand if undocumented community college students grapple with of a life
philosophy surrounding hope and what that looks like on a daily basis.
The current literature on undocumented students lies at two polar ends of a spectrum. On one
end, undocumented student experiences are seen through the eyes of the structural and
psychological barriers that stem from being non-citizens in pursuit of their higher education
degree. On the other end, undocumented students are constructed with agency where their
hopes, dreams, and aspirations are met with an unwavering determination and gratitude for
family sacrifices. However, I argue that using hope as a frame for understanding the lived
experiences for undocumented community college students transcends the spectrum altogether.
Researchers are often tasked with understanding the cause and effect of a particular
10
phenomenon. Academia was borne from positivist traditions where rational thinking and
laboratory experimentation took precedent in the production of knowledge. The reliability of
data was communicated through controlled experimentation that could be replicated and
accounted for, and if a cause could not be entirely discerned, hypotheses and working paradigms
continued to be constituted as scientific evidence that developed as a synonym for societal
progress. However, as social science disciplines such as anthropology and sociology began
questioning the ontological and epistemological views of academic knowledge, the world
became a living laboratory. This study is influenced and informed by scholars such as Ernst
Bloch (1986) and Hirokazu Miyazaki (2008) who offer an alternative lens for comprehending
cultural behaviors and practices. As opposed to focusing on the outcome of a particular behavior
or ritualized activity, Miyazaki (2008) endeavors to apprehend the suspended moments of hope
as a powerful mechanism for producing self-knowledge.
For undocumented community college students, capturing moments of hope is critical
because they are essentially suspended in time. Making plans for the future is never met without
unknown variables. „Will I or a family member be deported, will there be random check points
when I travel, will I be able to find a job?‘ are all questions lingering in the background of an
imagined future. As Gonzales (2008, 2016) suggests, the background of an undocumented
student‘s life is underscored with a status of illegality that colors every facet of their experience.
Therefore, no matter what one accomplishes, fails, or overcomes, the undocumented student will
still have to contend with a master status of illegality. My hope is to challenge the frames of
11
reference we have for interpreting undocumented community college student experiences in an
attempt to understand the more nuanced activities and behaviors of everyday living.
Therefore, this study is the combination of many small moments of hope—a meta experience in
the essence of the word where the journey of this study became one of hope about hope. This
study was guided by the following research questions:
1. What are the lived experiences of undocumented community college students?;
2. Do undocumented community college student life experiences encompass stories
about hope?; and if so,
3. How do undocumented students define and experience hope in their daily lives?
Significance of Study

While undocumented students are often understood in terms of their ‗tolerated illegality‘
(Negrón-Gonzales, 2017), this study aims to expand the undocumented student literature, but
more importantly, it seeks to humanize the individuals whose stories offer an unwavering
strength and fragile vulnerability. The myriad works scholars have contributed over the past two
decades on undocumented student experiences have and continue to be instrumental in
understanding the obstacles and resilience that Dreamers combat in their everyday lives (Garcia
& Tierney, 2011; Gonzales 2007, 2008, 2009, 2016; Griffin, Cunningham, & Mwangi, 2016;
Muñoz, 2015; Stebleton, Soria, & Huesman, 2014, amongst many others). However, the
academic and mainstream literature on undocumented students need to be more inclusive of a
plethora of diverse voices.
While student movements such as ‗Undocumented and Unafraid‘ and ‗Here to Stay‘ have
encouraged undocumented students to emerge from the shadows, undocumented students from
differing communities have chosen to stay silent. For instance, undocumented Asian students
have learned to keep their status a secret (Ton, 2013). Sudhinaraset et al. (2017) discusses the
12
exploitation of undocumented Chinese families from employers within the diaspora and found
that keeping their status private ensured their safety. Thus, it is less likely for undocumented
Asian students to demonstrate help seeking behaviors on campus with other peers, faculty, and
staff practitioners (Sudhinaraset et al., 2017).
In addition to expanding the representation of undocumented community college student
experiences, it is also crucial to reconceptualize and develop a lens around hope for Dreamers.
The academic tradition of higher education research typically involves listing a set of
recommendations that practitioners and policymakers can use to improve structures, processes,
and practices for student educational experiences. For the higher education literature, the
recommendations have become a sort of triage assessment for undocumented students in colleges
and universities. More access to resources (particularly financial aid), undocumented ally
practitioners and staff who are both knowledgeable and sensitive to the needs of Dreamers, and
intentionally promoting an overall sense of belonging have been identified as key factors in
improving the academic experiences of undocumented students (Gonzales, 2007, 2009; Huber,
2009; Murillo, 2017; Pérez et al., 2010; Rendon, 1994; Rincón, 2008; Stebleton 2012)
These lists are incredibly significant in creating a nurturing and intellectually stimulating
environment, yet there is little attention, and time, given to grappling with the human condition
for undocumented students. Although a counter discourse of civil and human rights has
manifested as an antidote to the visceral narratives used to construct undocumented immigrations
as criminals, a foray into discussions of the human condition have not been considered in the
lives of undocumented students in higher education. A framework surrounding hope can offer
one way of understanding the human condition of Dreamers. Capturing the sparks of hope that
Bloch (1986) discusses is not only a manifestation of self-knowledge but also suggests how
13
undocumented students conceptualize an idea of what constitutes a ‗good life‘ (Robbins, 2013)
in America.
Definition of Key Terms

Below is a list of definitions of key concepts and policies discussed and addressed in
this study.
Undocumented students are classified in one of two ways:

 Unauthorized Immigrant: ―all foreign-born non-citizens residing in the country who are
not ‗legal immigrants‘‖ (Passel & Cohn, p. 5, 2011)

 Children of Unauthorized Immigrants: ―include both foreign-born and U.S.-born children
who live with at least one unauthorized immigrant parent‖ (Passel & Cohn, p. 6, 2011).
11

Dream Act: ―a piece of legislation first introduced to Congress in 2001 that would create a
pathway to citizenship to young people who were brought to the United States as children
without documentation‖ (America‘s voice) that has yet to be passed.

DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals): ―allows applicants to request consideration of
deferred action for a period of two years, subject to renewal‖ (America‘s voice) and
was implemented in 2012 by the Obama administration in response to the Dream Act
failing to pass.

Dreamers/DREAMers (also referred to as DACA recipients): those “who have applied for and
received DACA status (America‘s voice)

AB 540 (Assembly Bill 540): “allows students enrolled in eligible California Colleges,
Universities and Career Education Programs to apply for state financial aid‖ (CSAC.CA.GOV)
and was passed in 2001.

California DREAM Act: ―exempts certain students from paying nonresident tuition (higher than
resident tuition) and allows them to apply for different types of California Dream Act financial
aid‖ (CSAC.CA.GOV) and was passed in 2011.

Undocumented/Undocuimmigrant (undocu [group of people]): an emerging noun to refer to
undocumented peoples in general or in particular depending on what the noun is invoked (e.g.
UndocuBlack, the root ‗undocu‘ was first used as a hashtag (#undocu) on social media to
promote education and awareness of the undocumented experience in America.

11
For the purposes of this study, the term undocumented student or Dreamer will be used
interchangeably to refer to both categories of immigration status unless explicitly referenced when
needed.
14
Organization of Dissertation

The remainder of this dissertation is divided into five chapters. Chapter Two commences with
an overview of the research on undocumented student experiences across the higher education
literature and shares findings from the past two decades. An overview of the silences that exist
within and across undocumented student experiences is also discussed to further contextualize
this study. A more in-depth exploration of the conceptualization of hope is also explored.
Chapter Three offers a more nuanced discussion of the methodological underpinnings that
guide this study. The use of hope as a method is framed in conversation with a narrative inquiry
and phenomenological approach for data collection and analysis. In addition, the use of
photography that is anchored in a visual anthropological tradition is foregrounded as a
complimentary data collection method when working with undocumented students. Chapters
four through six present the narratives of three undocumented community college students from
a first person point of view. Chapter seven reintroduces the researcher‘s voice and discusses the
findings from each story as well as providing a phenomenological account of an overarching
undocumented community college student experience; and the final chapter provides concluding
thoughts and implications for future research and humanity.

15
CHAPTER TWO:

REVIEW OF RELATED LITERATURE

The scholarship of the past two decades has been integral in understanding the undocumented
student experience and ways that students learn to navigate their higher educational journeys.
However, there are assumptions made in the literature that preclude incorporating a multitude of
voices, which result in a skewed representation of Dreamer experiences. Thus, in order to gain a
better understanding of the work that has been done with undocumented students in higher
education, this literature review combines the areas of research from a multitude of disciplines to
highlight what is known about undocumented students and where more work is needed. In
addition, this chapter also provides a more nuanced look at the theoretical underpinnings of hope
and is organized as follows: First, I commence with a historical overview of who undocumented
students are and where families immigrated from followed by an exploration of the
contemporary sociopolitical and cultural landscape that has shaped the mainstream narrative on
immigration. I spend additional time moving outside of the higher education scholarship to better
understand how undocumented immigrants, particularly students, have been constructed as
unauthorized immigrants within an American context. Next, I delve into various challenges and
persistence strategies that shape Dreamers and discuss how being undocumented adds a layer of
complexity to the community college student experience. I conclude by examining the
framework for hope and discuss its potential for understanding undocumented community
college student experiences.
Historical and Contemporary Landscape of the Undocumented Student Experience
16
On the June 25, 2012, TIME magazine cover featured the title We Are Americans*/* Just Not
Legally in red capitalized and bolded lettering atop of a haunting photo that gazes into the eyes of
a sea of undocumented immigrants.
12
Perhaps the most compelling element of the photograph
likes in the double asterisks after each phrase of the title that challenges the ideology that being a
member of a nation is synonymous to holding citizenship rights. The caption reads, ―We‘re some
of the nearly 12 million undocumented immigrants living in the U.S. Why we‘re done hiding‖
(―TIME Magazine Cover,‖ 2012). In the past few years, there has been a movement for
undocumented immigrants, particularly students, to emerge from the shadows (Gonzales, 2016).
Social media campaigns such as Undocumented, Unapologetic, and Unafraid and Here to Stay
showcase undocumented student stories of triumphs, trials, and tribulations. While these social
media platforms have been instrumental in raising awareness, providing a space for community,
and creating avenues for civic engagement and resistance (Zimmerman, 2012), the predominate
number of students coming forward have identified themselves as part of the Latinx community.
As counter narratives of undocumented students continue to be shared, it is important to have a
more well- rounded understanding of the diversity of experiences in undocumented communities.
Echoing the words of Chan Ton, ―…being undocumented is not just a Latino issue‖ (2013, p. 55).
A combination of biased media representation and the U.S. history of immigration policies has
created a provincial perspective of undocumented immigrants.
Immigration Policy Review

Prior to discussing the research associated with undocumented students, it is important to
review how immigration policies have contoured the socio-cultural, economic, and political
landscape for undocumented students. Plyler v. Doe was a seminal Supreme Court ruling for
undocumented students in 1982. The ruling enabled undocumented students to enroll in public

12
Refer to the Appendix to see a photograph of the TIME magazine cover.
17
K-12 education institutions for the first time in the United States. The Court stated, ―By denying
these children a basic education, we deny them the ability to live within the structure of our civic
institutions, and foreclose any realistic possibility that they will contribute in even the smallest
way to the progress of our Nation‖ (―Public Education,‖ 2017). By the mid-1980‘s, ―…twenty-
eight million Mexicans entered the United States as undocumented migrants‖ since 1965
(Gonzales, 2016, p. 47). This ruling dramatically shifted the possibilities for unauthorized
immigrants in tandem with the 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA, also referred
to as Simpson-Mazzoli). IRCA essentially created a pathway to becoming a lawful permanent
resident for unauthorized immigrants (Kantamneni et. al, 2016), However, ―…immigrants
needed to meet certain requirements including possessing minimal knowledge of English, U.S.
history, and government, or providing evidence of pursuit of education or training in these areas
(Kantamneni et. al, 2016 citing Enchautegui, 2013). Prior to the enforcement of this policy,
employers could hire unauthorized workers, but the risk of being fined threatened the livelihood
of businesses, thus, restricting employer‘s desire to hire undocumented workers (Kantamneni
citing Chishti & Kamasaki, 2014).
While a myopic view of IRCA might allow one to romanticize the intended benefits for
unauthorized immigrants, Tianguis Pérez shares his thoughts and conversations when the law
went into effect:
Among my townsmen there is still skepticism. They don‘t believe that the law [IRCA] will
be enforced, either to benefit or to hurt them. ―With a law like that, only a few of us can
qualify,‖ one of them tell me, ―and if the government deports all the wetbacks, who will do
our work? The restaurants hire us, we are the gardeners and the construction workers. The
18
United States has a lot of machines and can do a lot of things, but it can‘t do without us yet
(1991, p. 230).
Although IRCA created new obstacles for procuring employment, the flow of migrants did not
wane (Gonzales, 2016). With public schooling protected under the Constitution and temporary
work visas, solo undocumented migrants turned into entire families immigrating and overstaying
their visas (Gonzales, 2016).
With the shifting demographics in large metropolitan and suburban areas,
13
education has
become a salient issue across states in the nation. As Plyer v. Doe (1982) continues to be upheld,
although constantly challenged,
14
by the Supreme Court, little attention has been paid in the
realm of higher education for undocumented students. In 2012, the Deferred Action for
Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program was initiated by President Barack Obama. The policy
allows undocumented immigrants to apply for work visas as well as abstain from deportation for
a period of two year years (―Consideration of Deferred Action,‖ 2017). In response to the failed
attempts to pass the DREAM (Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors) Act that
was introduced in 2001, Obama created the DACA program to alleviate fears of deportation as
well as providing additional benefits such as acquiring a social security card, driver‘s license,
accessing healthcare, and building credit (―United We Dream,‖ 2017).
While the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) has processed
approximately 800,000 DACA applications, Trump‘s recent repeal of the program has left
undocumented students scrambling to renew their applications for a final time. On October 5,

13
Locating jobs in the cities became competitive, therefore, undocumented peoples settled in areas
offering work on farms and fields (Negrón-Gonzales, 2017)
14
Alabama has been the most recent state to challenge the constitutionality of the ruling. For
more information on the case refer to
https://www.americanimmigrationcouncil.org/research/plyler-v-doe-public-education-
immigrant-students

19
2017, eligible students had a final opportunity to reapply for DACA status. However, Senator
Kamala Harris has pushed for extending the deadline due to approximately 40,000 students
missing the deadline (Foley, 2017). The $495 financial burden alone left undocumented people
struggling to bear the fiscal burden of Trump‘s decision. With more than 200,000 undocumented
students in California, and 100,000 suspected to be in and around the greater Los Angeles area
alone, the political climate has induced a palpable fear for undocumented students and families.
15

Aside from the 1986 IRCA imitative, undocumented peoples have not been given a path to
citizenship in the U.S, yet undocumented students have used the ambiance of despair to fuel
embers of hope to look at the repeal of DACA as an opportunity for legitimate immigration
reform to occur.
California: The Flagship State

The Flagship state of California is home to a majority (42%) of the estimated 11 million
undocumented immigrants in the U.S (Gonzales, 2016). There are only approximately 1,620
undocumented students who matriculate into the California State University (CSU) and
University of California (UC) system each year leaving a much larger number of students
enrolled in community colleges (Pérez & Cortés, 2011). As the leading state for undocumented
student rights, California is one of 18 states extending in-state tuition policies.
16
California
Governor Jerry Brown implemented one of the most influential initiatives in 2001 called
Assembly Bill 540 (AB540). AB540, or the California Dream Act, allows undocumented
students to receive in-state tuition. On October 5, 2017, Governor Brown announced that

15
Collecting statistical data becomes difficult when self-reporting one‘s undocumented status feels
unsafe. This fear has prevented many undocumented peoples from accessing health care and other
resources.
16
California is one of 18 with ―provisions allowing for in-state tuition rates for undocumented
students‖ (NCSL) including California, Colorado, Connecticut, Florida, Illinois, Kansas, Maryland,
Minnesota, Nebraska, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Oregon, Texas, Utah, Washington,
Oklahoma, and Rhode Island
20
California is an official sanctuary state for undocumented immigrants with Senate Bill 54 (Ulloa,
2017). The legislation grants unauthorized immigrants greater rights against racial profiling by
law enforcement and emerges at a time when the fear and anxiety of ICE check-points have
swept across California. The bill has been met with threats from the federal government to
increase ICE agents and suspend state funding programs, however, no overt action has been
taken.
California Policies
California has long been considered the flagship state for undocumented human rights. Out of
approximately 10 million immigrants in California, an estimated 2.6 million are undocumented
(Pastor & Marcelli, 2013), and most of the communities can be found in the Los Angeles region
of Southern California.
In 2001, Latina/o legislators and immigrant advocates helped California become the
second state in the U.S. to allow undocumented immigrants to qualify for in-state tuition
(AB 540). Ten years later, after multiple vetoes, the legislature approved and Governor
Jerry Brown (D-CA) signed AB 130 and AB 131, collectively known as the California
Dream Act. The policies grant undocumented youth who are eligible to receive in-state
tuition access to non-state funded scholarships (AB 130) and state financial aid (AB 131)
(Murillo, 2017, p. 93)
In 2018, Governor Jerry Brown initiated the California Promise grant program intended to
―provide flexible resources for community colleges to create a college going culture by either
waiving enrollment fees for students enrolled full time in their first academic year or other
financial aid priorities‖ (―California College Promise,‖ 2018). While the program‘s mission is
commendable, it is a rebranded initiative that was established in 1985 entitled the Board of
21
Governors (BOG) Fee Waiver.
17
Although it is too early to tell, reports of student‘s inability
to continue their education due to financial hardship despite free tuition continues to emerge
(Guzman-Lopez, 2018).
Demographics & Immigrant Backgrounds

As Ramón Tianguis Pérez embarks on his journey across the border, he carries the imagined
perception of the U.S. with him. He longs to find work that can pay him enough money to live
and save for his family so that he may return to his Zapotec village once more. However, he is
quickly disillusioned by the difficult trek across the border; ―I see that nothing is as simple as I
imagines before coming to the United States‖ (Pérez, 1991, p. 56). The life experiences of a
majority of undocumented immigrant narratives is an everyday struggle. The constant fear of
deportation beckons individuals to live off the grid. Access to healthcare, credit, and everyday
amenities like having a cell phone or library card are enormous obstacles for undocumented
immigrants. In addition, the jobs available for undocumented peoples are physical laborious with
little to no economic mobility. The most one can hope for is to work is to find work in a less
physically taxying position such as an office job (Perez & Cortes, 2011). Pérez comments, ―Here
in the United States, it‘s true that there are more comforts and luxuries, but not for people like
dishwashers and busboys, whose earnings are meager‖ (1991, p. 232). While the American
Dream exists for some, it leaves undocumented students and families outside of its grasp.
The recent presidential election of 2016 has reignited a deep-seated racism endemic to the
country. White supremacists have reemerged with vigor and sightings and purchases of the
Confederate flag have exponentially risen since events like Charlottesville (Chumley, 2017).
Ethnocentric attitudes have been bolstered by Donald Trump‘s anti-immigration fanfare, and the
haunting chant of ‗go back to your country‟ has become an all too familiar phrase. As the nation

17
The BOG fee waiver was used to help lower socioeconomic students apply to have enrollment
fees waived per semester.
22
continues to splinter, undocumented students have been catapulted into the foreground as they
fight for their rights. According to the U.S. Department of Education, approximately ―five to
10% of undocumented students pursue higher education, but far fewer successfully graduate with
a degree‖ (―Educational Resources for Immigrants,‖ 2017). The open-door policy of community
colleges has become a primary entry point for undocumented students (Perez, 2010a, Gonzales,
2008a). However, immigration and economic reform efforts in tandem with the social, cultural,
legal, and psychological obstacles and burdens placed on undocumented students continue to
defer the hopes and dreams of pursuing
Today, there are approximately 1 million undocumented youth under 18 years of age and
4.4. million adults under the age of 30 (Passel et. al, 2014). While the mainstream media has
often depicted undocumented immigrants as any person of Latin origin, Dreamers stem from
myriad countries and regions around the globe. Mexico and Central America-- Guatemala,
Honduras, and El Salvador in particular (71%), a growing number of people from Asia—
specifically from China, Korea, and India? (13%), the Caribbean (2%), South America (6%),
Europe/Canada/Oceania (4%), and sub-Sahara Africa (3%) (―Profile of the Unauthorized
Population,‖ 2018).
18
The literature on Dreamer experiences often note the countries of origin
when student narratives are foregrounded, however, little is discussed about the immigration
demographics of undocumented diasporic communities in America. As philosopher Michele
Foucault states, knowledge is power (1977). Knowing the history not only contextualizes the
lives of undocumented immigrants but also anchors them in the present. More specifically, the
dominant narrative that liken undocuimmigrants to criminals often displaces them from their
cultural histories. Therefore, a brief unpacking of migrant histories is called for to offer
additional insights into the cultural nuances of an undocumented experience.
Undocumented Black (UndocuBlack) Immigrants

23
The Black student immigrant experience has yet to be fully captured in the academic
literature and studies focusing on undocumented students are even more slim (Alfred, 2003; Lee
& Sheared, 2002; Stebleton, 2012). Over 100,000 African refugees arrived in the U.S. between
2004-2007 from Ethiopia, Somalian, and Haitian refugees (Jefferys & Martin, 2008). This was
double the African migrant population that arrived between 1990 and 2005 with a reported
50,000 legal immigrants (Roberts, 2005). A reported one billion dollars is being sent to family
that resides in the homeland each year (Roberts, 2005). Although these numbers do not compare
to the exponential growth in Latinx and Asian undocumented communities, this figure is
significant for two reasons. First, this is the largest influx of African immigrants, both
documented and undocumented, since slavery (Roberts, 2005); and second, the movement of
African migrants ―is already redefining what it means to be Africa-American‖ (Roberts, 2005,
p.1) in the United States. The racialized experience of being Black in America lends itself to
intra- ethnic conflict. When Black immigrants arrive in the U.S., the African American
experience is projected on to them and national identities become secondary, thus, beckoning
questions of racial authenticity and what it means to be Black in the U.S. (NYT) as well as if the
African and Caribbean diaspora will converge with the African American community and
experience.
Undocumented API Immigrants

Asian and Pacific Islander ethnic groups are often collapsed into one racial category, but it is
important to acknowledge the racialized histories of API immigrants. While this section is not an
exhaustive account of each API migrant history, it is a reminder to consider the particularities in
undocumented stories. During the 1850‘s more the 40,000 Chinese immigrants
18
arrived in the

18
Immigrants were primarily men looking for work. Women immigrated later and were often
working as sex workers (Tyner, 2006). For additional insights into the historical relationship
24
U.S. in hopes of fleeing poverty and strife in mainland China working as miners, laundrymen,
cooks, servants, or in agriculture. ―The Chinese, like the earlier indentured servants, African
slaves, and other immigrants, were brought to North America by employees and agents for their
labor‖ (Tyner, 2006, p. 26). By the early 1860‘s, Congress called for the building of the first
transcontinental railroad in California that would connect to the rest of the nation. In addition to
the Chinese immigrants already present in the U.S., the neocolonial values of the government
renewed its enslavement of Chinese laborers under the guise of capitalism (Tyner, 2006).
As an ‗industrial reserve army‘ composed of migrant and caste labor, the Chinese would
be used to service the industrial needs of American capitalism without threatening the
racial homogeneity of American citizenry. They would be drawn into a labor-supply
process which would move between China and the United States in a circular pattern.
Repressive laws, economic exploitation, harsh working conditions, racial hatred, and
violence would assist this process and compel the Chinese to leave the county after a
limited period of employment (pp. 30-31).
During the construction of the railroad, a vehement anti-Chinese attitude was overtly adopted by
the government during the 1860‘s. Much like the rhetoric surrounding undocumented students
with the DACA program, politicians used Chinese immigrants as to further their own political
agendas. An anti-Chinese stance was used in the post-Civil War era to gain clout over voters. At
the peak of racial tensions, the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 was established calling for ―an
absolute 10-year moratorium on Chinese labor immigration‖ (―Chinese Exclusion Act,‖ n.d.).
The legacy of these restrictions lasted until 1943 when the U.S. turned its sights to excluding the
Japanese as a result of World War II (―Repeal of the Chinese Exclusion Act,‖ n.d.). By the mid
1940‘s, the U.S. reconsidered its exclusion of South Asian and Filipino immigrants as well.

between the sex work industry in Asia and the U.S., refer to Rhacel Salazar Parreña‘s ethnography
entitled Illicit Flirtations (2011).
25
South Asian Immigrants and Filipinos

South Asian immigrants first trekked to the U.S. in the 1700‘s but grew more rapidly in the
1800‘s (―An Introduction to South Asian American History,‖ 2015). Because of the wary
relationship between the U.S. and immigrant communities of color, the living and working
conditions were harsh, and the racism against Asian immigrants colored their everyday
experiences. The segregation of Asians and whites resulted in the interracial marriages between
Latinx women from Mexico and South Asian men (―An Introduction to South Asian American
History,‖ 2015). It was not until the 1950‘s when the government attempted to dissolve Asian
exclusion laws.
The Philippines has a long and oppressive history of colonization. After the colonization of
the southern islands by Arabs for a little over two centuries, Spain took control of the
archipelago from 1521-1897 (―Philippine History,‖ n.d.) before succeeding control to the United
States in 1898. During the American occupation, Filipino emigration increased. Filipino students
and recruits for the U.S. Navy were commonplace, but laborers arrived in droves to work in the
plantations in Hawai‘i, fisheries in Alaska, and agricultural regions in Sacramento and the
Central Valley of California (Tyner, 2006). The passage of the Immigration Act of 1924, which
effectively prohibited immigrants from East and South Asian, approximately 24,000 unskilled
laborers continued to arrive or were recruited to the U.S. to work in California (Tyner, 2006).
Similarly to the Chinese immigration phenomenon, the U.S. government questioned the
―Philippine problem‖ that resulted from intended and unintended influx of Filipinos (Tyner, 2006,
p. 77).
This resulted in a fervent attempt to racially segregate Filipinos and whites.

Often violently, whites attempted to maintain a separation of racialized spaces.
Reminiscent of the treatment accorded to African Americans, Filipinos were refused
26
service in hotels and swimming pools. Filipinos were denied access to ‗white‘
barbershops, restaurants, and movie theaters. The spatial practices of racialized
segregation and discriminatory housing were utilized to subjugate Filipino laborers
(Tyner, 2006, p. 78).
In 1946, that the Philippines gained independence (―Philippine History | Filipino History,‖ n.d.),
but the U.S. remained hostile towards Asian diasporas until the Immigration Act of 1965. The
1952 Act that occurred during the interim extended discrimination and racism against Asian
immigrants (―The Immigration and Nationality Act of 1952,‖ n.d.). The 1965 Immigration and
Nationality Act dissolved the previous racial quotas established during the 1920‘s and created
more opportunities to immigrate. The Immigration and Nationality Act continues to be revisited
and amended with each iteration erasing and creating new boundaries that govern how porous
the immigration boundary is. Although statistics indicate that Asian immigrants are the second
fastest growing demographic in the nation, few steps have been taken to rectify the pain and hurt
caused by decades of intentional exclusion (Chishti, Hipsman, & Ball, 2017). Thus, more
research is needed to understand how complex and nuanced cultural histories continue to impact
communities of color.
Undocumented Latinx Immigrants

Despite the ebbs and flows of exclusionary immigration policies, the Latinx population has
continued to grow at an exceedingly fast rate since the 1960‘s. Similar to Chinese laborers
searching for more fruitful economic opportunities, seasonal migration to find agricultural and
factory jobs brought many men from Mexico. The Immigration Act of 1917 enabled immigrants
to move freely between the U.S. and Mexico due to the need for cheap labor, but highly
restrictive regulations were in place other nations (Bernard, 1998). The Bracero Program that
was implemented from 1942–1965. Cockcroft (1986) argues that the program ―provided badly
27
needed labor during the Second World War and hundreds of thousands of Mexican workers
entered legally to the US, while the Border Patrol itself actively recruited undocumented
migrants‖ (as cited in Castro-Salazar & Bagley, 2010, p. 24). Following the dissolution of the
program, undocumented immigrants continued to work as cheap labor for farmers. With a
majority of Bracero workers creating lives and settling in the U.S. in tandem with the constant
flow of undocumented migrants, the Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA) 1986 was
established ―to legalize farm workers and stop illegal immigration‖ (―Braceros,‖ 2006, para. 26).
Although the policy was meant to deter people from illegally crossing the border, the initiative
induced an ephemeral fear factor. Instead of migrating seasonally and returning home during the
growing season (which became the traditional pattern), men brought their families with them to
settle permanently (Massey & Pren, 2012). Farmers were much likelier to overlook citizenship
status in exchange for paying cheaper wages. The continued need for undocumented laborers
attracted more migrants from Central and South America during the 1990‘s. The Illegal
Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act of 1996 (IIRAIRA) under the Clinton
administration catalyzed the major exodus of immigrants across the nation that has continues to
influence the number of deportations that occur today.
The Act was designed to improve border control by imposing criminal penalties for
racketeering, alien smuggling and the use or creation of fraudulent immigration-related
documents and increasing interior enforcement by agencies charged with monitoring visa
applications and visa abusers. (―Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigration
Responsibility Act,‖ n.d., para. 2).
Similar to the IRCA initiative, IIRAIRA also included penalties for employers continuing to hire
unauthorized laborers. While this policy continues to inform the anti-immigration policies,
processes, and structures of the government, there have been incremental steps taken to protect
28
undocumented peoples. However, because of the tenuous relationship between the movement of
human labor across the Mexican-American border following the ending of the Bracero Program,
much of the rationale behind creating strong anti-immigration policies was geared towards
dispelling people of Latinx, particularly Mexican, origin. With the unyielding flow of
unauthorized immigrants across the Mexican-American border in tandem with an exponential
surge in birth rates, the Latinx population has grown from 6.3 million in the 1960‘s to 56.5
million in 2015 (Flores, 2018). The continued aversion and push to deport undocumented
communities heavily, thus, stems from the inability of the U.S. government to regain control of
the unrestricted Latinx flow of migrant labor following the Bracero program.
One significant issue with providing a historical overview of Latinx migrants is the presumed
homogenization of the immigration experience. More specifically, Latinx people do not take into
account national identities. As mentioned previously, a majority of undocumented immigrants
stem from Mexico and countries in Central America. Approximately two-thirds or more of the
Latinx population in the U.S. ―are immigrants or the children of immigrants‖ (Suarez-Orozco &
Suarez-Orozco, 2009, p. 329). Part of aggregating Latinx immigration experience derives from
the intentional erasure of minoritized histories to preserve the neocolonial power relations
between the U.S., Mexico, and Central America, and part emerges from how the narratives of
undocumented immigrants are constructed by those in power.
19
In the higher education
scholarship, undocumented experiences of Latinx students has occupied a majority of studies.
Authors present a compelling rationale for focusing on Latino and Latina students. King and
Punti (2012) argue that because undocumented Latinx people are portrayed as criminals and
racialized as the face of the illegal immigrant, it is important to understand their experiences
more fully. Latinx communities comprise the majority of undocumented students, therefore, it is

19
Refer to section X for a more in-depth discussion on how narratives are perpetuated and
constructed of the immigrant experience in the U.S.
29
vital that a concerted effort is exerted in understanding their experiences to improve their higher
educational journey (King & Punti, 2012).
Factors Shaping Undocumented Student Experiences
Barriers and Challenges
The scholarship on undocumented Latinx students has been profoundly useful for
identifying and unpacking the barriers and challenges to accessing and persisting in
higher educational institutions. I have narrowed down the literature to seven areas that
are considered to be prominent obstacles in the undocumented Latinx student
experience: financial constraints, navigating complex bureaucratic systems, lack of
traditional forms of capital, institutional and systemic racism, lack of belonging,
socioemotional responses surrounding the threat of deportation, and family strain.
Financial Constraints

The lack of financial aid resources for undocumented students is considered a primary barrier
to accessing and persisting in higher education. Across the higher education literature, scholars
have unpacked the fiscal challenges that impede undocumented Latinx students from pursuing a
college degree (Gonzales, 2007, 2009; Rincon, 2008). Perez-Huber and Malagon (2007) worked
with six undocumented Latino college students in California and found that having access to
consistent financial support was the number one challenge in determining their college
attendance semester to semester. Because parents are often working multiple jobs just to make
enough to cover the basic necessities like food and shelter, undocumented students rely on their
jobs and access to financial aid to afford college. In a study looking at college loan perceptions
of high school students and parents using descriptive case studies of 15 high schools, Perna
(2008) found that students, and parents alike, at low-resource schools were more unlikely to take
out loans, and, thus, showed potential for not enrolling in higher education institutions due to the
30
high costs associated with the degree. Because a majority of undocumented students typically
attend low-resource K-12 schools, a similar effect occurs for Dreamers. However, there is an
additive layer of exclusion from college and universities for undocumented students due to their
inability to take out federal financial aid. Zimmerman (2012) agrees with arguments that access
to student loans is crucial for undocumented students in order to close the gap between state
financial aid and the overall cost of attendance.
Valenzuela et al. (2015) created an institutional capacity framework called the Institutional
Undocu-Competence (IUC) to assess how well community colleges are serving undocumented
students. The framework emerged from years of research with undocumented students (list
references). One tenant of the framework involves campuses creating more opportunities to
increase financial aid for undocumented students.
20
―For example, many undocumented
students have been discouraged from applying to college or completing their degrees due to
their status by recruitment or financial aid staff who are not properly trained to answer
undocumented students‘ questions about the support available to them‖ (Valenzuela et al.,
2015, p. 89). A combination of having more access and availability of fiscal resources and
increased knowledge and awareness by institutional practitioners is critical for undocumented
students access and retention in college.
In tandem with the lack of institutional resources and support, there are also familial
expectations with finances. Rumbaut (1995) found that Central American students wanted to
give back to their parents for their sacrifice of coming to America. Stebleton‘s (2012) study on
sub-Saharan African immigrant adult students‘ meanings of work found that in addition to
meeting familial responsibilities in the home (e.g. house cleaning, cooking, etc.), students are
expected to contribute to the financial well-being of the household. The definition of work

20
A more holistic discussion of the IUC framework will occur in subsequent sections.
31
spanned beyond an individualist Western notion and these students were determined to procure
a job that could support their collective families. While it is important to acknowledge that the
students in Stebleton‘s study were not undocumented, there is still value in understanding the
collectivist ideologies in African immigrant diasporic communities because of the potential
cultural implications for the UndocuBlack experience.
A short but powerful article in the 2013 NASPA
21
journal entitled A Minority Amongst
Minorities? finds similar financial stressors for undocumented Asian American and Pacific
Islander (API) students:
The intersection between poverty and lack of legal status also constrains undocumented
API students and families to live in areas with higher rates of policing and potential
threats of deportation. Such stressors, in addition to lack of financial aid, are detrimental
to college access and retention of undocumented API students (Buenavista, Chen, & So,
2013, p.14).
Financial constraints create a multitude of barriers for undocumented students navigating higher
education institutions. Wang‘s dissertation (2016) looked at how front-line student affair
practitioners compromise their care because of their lack of knowledge and time. ―Having the
ability to borrow money is crucial for undocumented students because the loan allows them to
close the gap between state financial aid and overall cost of attendance‖ (Wang, 2016, p. 22).
Wang found three areas that deter undocumented students from accessing financial aid: technical
difficulties, lack of collaboration with other departments, and bad news. Often times, students
seeking financial aid services interact with front-line staff members who have to act as both
technical advisors and undocumented policy interpreters (Wang, 2016). This becomes a serious

21
NASPA - Student Affairs Administrators in Higher is a professional organization for student
affairs practitioners.
32
issue when immigration policy changes rapidly and misinformation impacts undocumented
student perceptions of attending college. Wang found that representatives in financial aid
departments work as policy communication liaisons across departments (2016). With no formal
channel of communication established, this often leads to an inequitable distribution of
information being shared. For instance, information whether students have successfully filed
their financial aid is critical for the admissions department, Dream Resource Center, and for high
school recruiters so that they can have detailed knowledge on the admissions process and
financial aid application for prospective undocumented students. Thus, without collaboration
across departments, undocumented students are left to navigate complex bureaucratic structures
and processes alone. For example, in Chen‘s (2013) study on institutional allies as a form of
resistance for undocumented students, one student shared that an admissions officer stated: ―You
know, we‘re a legal institution, but you‘re not so there‘s nothing we can do (p. 91).‖ More
collaboration across departments would not only lessen the burden for front-line staff members
in financial aid but would also promote more awareness and deter damaging linguistic responses
from student service practitioners. Wang also found that undocumented students are less likely to
approach financial aid advisors in fear that they will be the bearers of bad news because their
applications are rejected (2016).
Navigating Complex Bureaucratic Structures and Processes

A striking feature of undocumented student stories is how convoluted navigating college
bureaucratic structures and processes are. Michael Hertzfeld‘s book The Social Production of
Indifference (1992) is a critical look inward at the symbolic intricacies of Western, particularly
European, bureaucracies. While common conceptions of the word bureaucracy stir up notions of
the nation-state as a rational, logical, and ordered entity, Herzfeld problematizes the phenomenon
by likening it to a concept he refers to as secular theodicy. Secular theodicy is defined as ―the
33
system‖ that both bureaucrats and citizens find themselves in where each action and decision is
deferred to a higher power or authority much like the belief systems endemic to organized
religions (Herzfeld 1992, p. 5). Thus, Herzfeld complicates the seemingly mundane and neutral
presence of the ideological motivation behind how bureaucracies are used and legitimized by
showing how various components are used to justify a culture of indifference. In addition to
financial barriers preventing students from attending college, traversing through higher
educational institutions can be overwhelming for undocumented students. Because Dreamers are
traditionally first generation students, there is less capital accumulated in their lives (Garcia &
Tierney, 2011). Tienda and Haskins (2011) looked at the major barriers that deter undocumented
youth from pursuing upward mobility in the U.S. In addition to competing for ―scarce societal
resources such as education funding, Social Security, and government health benefits‖ (Tienda &
Haskins, pp. 6-7), undocumented students often share stories of emotionally taxying migrant
experiences, mixed status families, and a general fear of deportation that is always looming in the
periphery (Tienda & Haskins).
The Great Divide: Transitioning from K-12 to Higher Education. The transition from
high school to college is a pivotal moment for undocumented students. Garcia and Tierney
state, ―Attending low-performing schools, being a first-generation student, and facing personal
obstacles are three hurdles that many undocumented students have to overcome in order to
continue their education‖ (2011, p. 2743). The fiscal risk of attending college deters
undocumented students. Perna (2005) finds that ―low-income students are particularly
conscious of the human, economic, and social costs involved in the decision to go to college;
these costs include forgone earnings and leisure time as well as direct college costs‖ (p. 2742).
Prior to initiatives such as AB540, undocumented students had to pay international student
tuition, which is commonly three times the cost of tuition for a citizen, thus preventing a
34
majority of undocumented students from attending college.
The barriers to college often produce a disjuncture between the K-12 and higher education
experience for many undocumented students. Tienda and Haskins (2011) refer to this as the
immigrant paradox where ―immigrant youths often outperform their native peers in school‖ but
―[it] would not be predicted by the relatively higher rates of social and economic disadvantages
among immigrant families‖ (p. 8). Stebleton (2017) found that navigating college bureaucracies
becomes overwhelming for undocumented students for a few reasons. First, the myriad
structures, policies, and resources spread across an institution makes it difficult to both
physically and mentally comprehend what is needed for enrollment and beyond (Stebleton,
(2017). Undocumented students also find themselves in cultural resource centers in search of
guidance from other peers (Stebleton, 2017). While this promotes a sense of belongingness on
campus, it also places more responsibilities on students already attending to act as institutional
liaisons for the Dreamer community. Furthermore, undocumented students report a general
sentiment for needing to know ―the game‖ (Stebleton, 2017, p. 363). Being a first-generation
student creates additive layers of complexity while navigating college. In addition to
statistically having lower levels of educational attainment, first generation students often find
themselves overwhelmed by the structures and processes in college. This strains Dreamers help
seeking behaviors because of their distrust of institutional agents and apprehension when
disclosing their legal status, thus, elongating the struggle to navigate college. On average,
community college students spend an average of six to 10 years pursuing an associate‘s degree
(Bailey, T, Jeong, & Cho, 2010; Ishitani, 2006). Future studies should look into how and if
being undocumented impacts longitudinal enrollment rates in community colleges. Lastly,
students shared their need to constantly negotiate how much information to share about
themselves in order to protect their identities (Stebleton, 2017).
35
The risks and stigma associated with disclosing their undocumented status make finding
allies an arduous process for undocumented students. Students may erroneously assume
that professionals or faculty who share their ethnic background will be sympathetic to
their situation only to find the opposite to be true upon disclosing their status.
(Valenzuela, 2015, p. 89)
Wang (2016) used Lipsky‘s concept of the ‗street-level bureaucrat‘ to frame education service
workers who work on the front-line of student services to better understand how and if the needs
of undocumented students on campus are being met. ―Street-level bureaucrats play a key role in
policy implementation and are often portrayed as policymakers rather than policy-takers‖ (Wang,
2016, p. 5). Like Stebleton, Wang‘s study finds that front-line student service workers are not
only responsible for assisting undocumented students through the admissions, orientation, and
financial aid process but become the de facto policy interpreters as well. Gofen (2014) claims:
―The decisions of street-level bureaucrats, the routines they establish, and the devices they invent
to cope with uncertainties and work pressures effectively become the public policies they carry
out‖ Gofen, 2014, p. 473). The constant negotiation between assisting and interpreting results in
front-line professionals compromising their care because of a lack of knowledge and time. This
finding resonates with Oseguera, Flores, and Burciaga‘s (2010) study:
College professionals face difficulties serving undocumented students due to the lack of
training, lack of streamlined methods to target specific population, and a lack of
accessibility to undocumented students who may benefit from services and support.
While these college professionals have every intention of servicing undocumented
students, many face challenges in actually carry out services (as cited in Wang, 2016, p.
5)
Thus, while front-line practitioners may have the desire to help undocumented students, a lack of
36
knowledge and time create more barriers than opportunities for Dreamers.
Bacon (2008) offers a useful perspective for unpacking the complexities that undocumented
students experience on the ground. From a macro view, bureaucracy and limited resources
coalesce to produce an inequity that constitutes a global phenomenon (Bacon, 2008). Keeping
people in a liminal place makes them vulnerable and unable to ascend a fiscal latter. This glass
ceiling, in turn, maintains a constant stream of cheap manual labor that fuels the U.S. economy.
Using people as cheap labor is part of the colonial DNA of America.
Lack of Social and Cultural Capital

UndocuScholars
22
have found that complex bureaucratic structures are compounded by a lack
of social and cultural capital. While scholars often use classic Bordieuan definitions
23
to
understand undocumented students lack of capital, I think it is important to qualify what types of
social and cultural capital are discussed in accordance with a white supremacist system.
Typically, social capital refers to the social networks one has access to that is dependent upon
socioeconomic status; and cultural capital has commonly purported a colorblind rhetoric where
white belief systems and ideologies are assumed to be the norm. In essence, capital has paraded
as colorless frameworks when, in reality, the world is colored from a white middle- and upper-
middle class lens. Although not considered in the post-structural imagination of Bourdieu, to
study capital in an American context requires us to acknowledge that the system of higher
education is embedded in an inescapable system of power that is determined and fueled by white
supremacy. Thus, it becomes more obvious why undocumented students in college are not privy
to the kinds of capital reserved for white students. Garcia and Tierney (2011) found that the
everyday experience of undocumented students prevent them from accessing social and cultural

22
Scholars who are undocumented or allies working with and on behalf of undocumented students.
23
For more reading on Bourdieu‘s conceptualization of capital read his work entitled The Forms
of Capital (1986).
37
capital due to their citizenship status. Similarly, Tienda and Haskins (2011) discuss the
implications for being barren of social and cultural capital. In addition to being first generation
students, a lack of capital exacerbates the barriers inherent to bureaucratic systems. Something
that is assumed to be easily navigational such as filling out an application for admissions can
become more complex. A seemingly benign paperwork mistake can risk getting a student‘s
application rejected. While those with cultural capital may be aware that community colleges are
open access institutions, meaning non-selective, students whose applications were rejected can
deter students from re-applying. Because no detailed response is given for why an application is
rejected, first generation students can misconstrue the reasons for their application being denied
and potentially attribute it to not being academically eligible or intelligent enough to attend
college (McDonough, 1997).
While the above examples have primarily focused on Latinx undocumented students, it is
important that Asian and Pacific Islander students are also considered in a conversation
surrounding capital. In Sudhinaraset et al. (2017), the authors interviewed 32 API students
attending the University of California, San Francisco to understand the reasons for being
undocumented and the role that trust plays in their lives. The authors found myriad reasons for
becoming undocumented:
While many participants and their families found themselves undocumented on
overstayed tourist and work visas, stories of failed petitions and outright labor
exploitation were frequently a part of API immigration experiences. This resulted in
distrust of communities, institutions, and even family members‖ (Sudhinaraset et
al., 2017, p. 146).
Unlike many of the Latinx student stories highlighted, undocumented API students find
themselves undocumented by happenstance. Intra-communal, and at times familiar, threats of
38
deportation create hostile working conditions for families who have overstayed their visas.
Because undocumented API families learn to keep to themselves and to be cautious of others,
there is less visibility in the undocumented community. Rusin (2015) claims:
Intersections of race, culture, and immigration may produce disparities between different
undocumented communities in relation to social capital. For example, APIs are less likely
to apply for DACA compared to other populations--21% application rates of eligible
Asians compared to 77% of Latinos (as cited in Sudhinaraset et al., 2017, p. 145).
By not applying for DACA or self-identifying oneself as undocumented in order to remain safe,
API students are at risk of being lost in the bureaucratic structures and processes in higher
education institutions.
Racism

Racism remains a core value in the United States and germinated its roots in Europe. Edward
Said was instrumental unpacking the dichotomy between the Western ‗Occident‘ and Eastern
‗Orient‘ that emerged during colonialization (1978; 1985). Orientalism was and remains a useful
lens to understand how the power dynamics between the Orient and the Occident has been
constructed and reproduced over time.
Orientalism, therefore, is not an airy European fantasy about the Orient but a created
body of theory and practice in which, for many rations, there has been a considerable
material investment. Continued investment made Orientalism, as a system of knowledge
about the Orient, an accepted grid for filtering through the Orient into Western
consciousness, just as that same investment multiplied-indeed, made truly productive-the
statements proliferating out from Orientalism into the general culture (Said, 1978, p. 14)
Thus, Orientalism became not only an embodied knowledge system through which the West
made sense of peoples and cultures in the East but also a lens through which the Orient both
39
understand themselves and their relationship to the Occident. This is a particularly useful
framework for understanding the racism and ethnocentrism that has informed the cultural roots
in the United States.
In the U.S., cultural hegemony has taken the form of white supremacy, thereby, creating a
system of racism that is constantly renewed and reproduced in societal structures. Higher
education is one cultural phenomena that emerged through white supremacy. As Dane Linn,
Vice President of Business Roundtable shared, ―Education is no longer the sacred cow it used to
be‖ (as cited in Zimmer Hendrick, Hightower, & Gregory, 2006, p. 627). Post-secondary
scholars including Harper and (2007), D‘Augelli and Hershberger (1993), Nora and Cabrera
(1994; 1996), Radloff and Evans (2003) (amongst many others) have extensively researched the
racialized experiences of students of color on college campuses.
Students of color continue to be systematically denied access to higher education degrees as a
result of racism. Hurtado‘s work in The Campus Racial Climate: Contexts of Conflict (1992) that
reported ―one in four survey respondents perceived considerable racial conflict on their
campuses; this proportion was even higher for four-year institutions that were large, public, or
selective‖ (p. 279). Structures and processes that were and continue to be tailored to middle- and
upper-middle class white students continue to prosper today. While there are institutions that
were created to serve students of color, particularly Black students with Historically Black
Colleges and Universities (HBCU), the majority of four-year institutions continue to act as
predominately white colleges (PWI). Due to demographic shifts over the past two decades,
institutions enrolling at least 25 percent of Latinx students are now being designated as Hispanic
Serving Institutions (HSI); and campuses enrolling at least 10 percent of Asian American, Native
American, and Pacific Islander students are now referred to as Asian American and Native
American Pacific Islander-Serving Institutions (AANAPISI) (―Eligibility -- Asian American and
40
Native American Pacific Islander,‖ 2014). Although HSI‟s and AANAPISI‟s can be designated at
two- and four-year colleges and universities, it is important to acknowledge that a majority of
the students of color in higher education attend community college (Perez, 2015). In addition to
the bureaucratic barriers that Stebleton identified in his multi-sited study with 103
undergraduates, he found three forms of explicit and implicit racism that significantly impacted
the everyday experiences for immigrant students on campus (2017). Stebleton classified student
experiences of racism as follows:
(a) lacking knowledge of immigration policy and the resources geared to support
immigrants;
(b) enacting dominant Western norms, assuming students would assimilate to these
norms; and
(c) making stereotypical assumptions about cultural groups.‖ (2017, p. 364)
A student from Liberia shared that a faculty member stated, ―…you got to learn the American
way (p. 365) while another stressed the frustration of never being able to fit in by being
themselves; ―I just came to realize that my whole life, it‘s me trying to feel accepted, like trying to
either be accepted in the U.S. or trying to be accepted at school or even trying to be accepted
by professors.‖ (Stebleton, 2017, p. 365). Fasching-Varner et al. (2015) discuss the severe
consequences that individuals of color experience that lead to a phenomenon called racial battle
fatigue (RBF). Working off of the original concept developed by William Smith that
characterizes RBF as ―the anxiety experienced by racially underrepresented groups as well as
those engaged in race work with a focus on the physical and psychological toll taken due to the
constant and unceasing discrimination, macroaggressions, and stereotype threat‖ (p. xvii),
Fasching-Varner et al. (2015) extend this framework for understanding higher education
institutions. By looking at these ‗racial badlands,‘ Fasching-Varner et al., assert that ―faculty,
41
staff, administration, and students of color, along with their white allies, find themselves used to
promote institutionally articulated commitment to diversity, while at the same time having to be
engaged in unimaginable work spaces‖ (Fasching-Varner & Mitchell, 2013, p. xvii). The
students in Stebleton‘s study often find themselves in similar racial badlands, but in addition to
their racialized experiences, immigrant students also shoulder the burden of unrelenting inquiries
in regards to their documentation status (2017).
Unbelonging

A major consequence for undocumented students experiencing racism is feeling a sense of
exclusion from belonging on college campuses. The concept of belonging has typically focused
on the academic and social integration for students in higher education institutions. Stemming
from Tinto‘s (1975) conception of belonging in relation to student attrition, higher education
scholars today are more focused on student perceptions of belonging in myriad contexts on
college campuses (Hurtado & Carter, 1997). According to Lovell, there a multitude of ways to
define belonging (1998). Anthropologists have long defined belonging in terms of a physical
(territorial) origin, a locality, and as a way of experiencing a shared cultural belief system.
However, Lovell has re-imagined belonging to represent a collective way of remembering.
―Accounts of how such loyalties are created, perpetuated and modified are of relevance to an
understanding of identity often extend beyond individual experiences and nostalgic longing for a
particular place‖ (Lovell, 1998, p. 4). In essence, while ideas of locality and place certainly play
a role in shaping one‘s sense of belonging, the emotions that one associates with place are often
more complex and involve temporal notions of past, present, and future. Thus, belonging as a
way of remembering can aid the creation of a collective identity.
Patricia Sanchez (2007) challenges the idea of the local and belonging with her emphasis on
global citizenry. Over the course of three years, Sanchez followed three, second generation
42
Latina high-school students that consistently traveled roundtrip from urban cities to Mexico.
Sanchez notes that over the course of the past two decades, California public schools have
adapted new school calendars to account for immigrant students traveling between multiple
homelands (2007). Sanchez found that for the three students, belonging has relinquished itself
from one particular place in time and is found neither here nor there. More specifically, there is a
cultural flexibility that the students acquired from local knowledges of multiple contexts. Suarez-
Orozco (2001) gives a useful example for understanding the relationship between the global and
belonging:
What happens to the sense of belonging in a post-national world where both fortunes and
personae are tied to global processes?…A persons work self may belong in a given
locality, but his religious self is often somewhere else. For example, millions of Mexican
immigrants today work in the United States, but their ritual persona—the sense of self
derived by the performance of religious and secular rituals—is achieved in countless little
towns and big cities south of the border when they return ‗‗home‘‘ every December to
make the proper religious offerings. So where do they ‗‗belong‘‘? In such a world, it no
longer makes sense to talk about belonging in the old ‗‗either/or‘‘ binary—either one is
‗‗Mexican‘‘ or ‗‗American.‘‘ For many today, the issue is managing the complexities of
belonging both ‗‗here‘‘ and ‗‗there‘‘ (p. 508).
For undocumented students, feeling a sense of belonging on campus is even more of a
challenge due to their liminal status in society. Padilla and Perez (2003) argue that ―persons who
are more identifiable as outsiders are more likely to be targets of prejudice and discrimination by
the socially dominant in-group‖ (p. 44). Dreamers attending four year institutions are more likely
to participate in social and civil activist groups, thus, finding a way to feel a sense of belonging
43
on campus (Gonzales, 2016).
24
However, students attending community college are less likely to
become involved on campus due to having more time constraints as well as a limited access to
resources.
Pérez and Cortés (2011) conducted eight interviews with community college personnel as
part of a larger national study on undocumented students. ―Sixty-three percent of community
college staff described fear, shame, guilt, feelings of not belonging, loneliness and, hopelessness
as the main concerns for undocumented community college students‖ (Pérez and Cortés, 2011,
p. 87).‖ In another study, Torres and Wicks-Asbun (2014) looked at how liminal citizenship
shapes college aspirations for Latinx high school students in North Carolina. The authors found
that being undocumented produces a kind of ―in-between identity‖ for high school students (p.
195). ―They are trapped between states of belonging and exclusion‖ (Torres & Wicks-Asbun,
2014, p. 195). Due to Plyer v Doe (1982), the Supreme Court ruled that children have a right to a
public school education until they are 18 years old. Thus, it is common for undocumented
children to adopt the traditions, rituals, and culture of American school life while living a
different cultural lifestyle at home. In fact, many undocumented students are not aware of their
citizenship status until applying for college. At times, parents decide that it is best not to tell their
children of their legal status to prevent accidental sharing as well as lessening the stress that
accompanies that reality so they can perform well in school (Perez & Cortes, 2011; Yoshikawa,
2011). This causes a latent response to understanding how to walk through the world as an
undocumented person.
Being undocumented has become a master status for students transitioning into adulthood
(Terriquez, 2015). With no clear path to citizenship, Roberto Gonzales finds that while
undocumented students attempt to navigate the complex terrain of higher education, they are also

24
There will be a more in-depth discussion of student belonging and activism in subsequent
sections.
44
transitioning into ―a state of illegality‖ as an adult (2016, p. 38). While Plyer v Doe (1982)
provides a relatively insular environment for undocumented youth to integrate socially and
culturally into American society, a transition into adulthood is accompanied by learning what it
means to be unauthorized. In addition, the porous boundaries between belonging and exclusion
are constantly under negotiation as undocumented students navigate college. Genevieve Negrón-
Gonzales found that undocumented students in the Central Valley of California live in a state of
―constrained inclusion‖ (2017, p. 107). Constrained inclusion is ―constituted by the assurance of
inclusion with institutions of higher education as a result of the legislative gains of recent years,
while bumping up against the constraints of those gains‖ (2017, p. 112). For example, students
shared with Negrón-Gonzales that institutional practitioners lack adequate knowledge of
undocumented student‘s initiatives and integral role models and mentors are few and far between
in community college contexts (2017). Thus, undocumented students both in high school and in
college are in a state of constant negotiation of belongingness and exclusion.
There is an added layer of exclusion for undocumented API students. Ton‘s (2013)
dissertation argues that the scholarly community needs to be more inclusive of undocumented
student voices outside of the Latinx community.
A majority of the studies have focused on the Latino experience. However, the dilemma
extends beyond the Latino student subpopulation. Rates of immigration from Asian
countries such as China, Korea, and the Philippines are on the rise and the increase is
evident at the postsecondary level (Chan, 2010). Unfortunately, there
are very few research studies that have explored the collective experience of
undocumented students from diverse populations. (Ton, 2013, pp. 9-10)
API students continue to remain on the periphery of the undocumented community. ―…it is not
uncommon for APIs to lack a sense of belonging in undocumented student spaces that highlight
45
or emphasize Latina/o cultural practices, migration stories, and community service
opportunities‖ (NASPA, 2013, p. 15). In addition to creating more space in the academic
literature for API Dreamers, UndocuBlack student narratives are necessary to include as well.
While there is limited knowledge of API Dreamer experiences, there is even less known about
undocumented Black students. Like the vast categories of ethnic and national identities
encompassed within terms such as API and Latinx, the undocumented Black experience also
assumes a homogenous experience. Lee (1993) states that there is an assumption in the literature
that ―leaves readers with the impression that there is an all-encompassing Black reality and that
Americans of African descent, regardless of their immigration status, ethnicity, nationality,
gender, and socioeconomic status, react to racism in a homogenous fashion‖ (as cited in Rong
and Brown, 2001, p. 557). It is critical that the scholarly community acknowledges the different
lived experiences of undocumented API and Black students.
Socioemotional Considerations
As we have seen thus far, difficulties in accessing financial aid in tandem with bureaucratic
obstacles, lack of sociocultural capital, feelings of exclusion, and systemic racism create
insurmountable impediments for undocumented student in higher education. A combination of
the challenges that have been presented and living with a constant fear of one‘s citizenship status
creates socioemotional issues for undocumented students. Cavazos-Rehg, Zayas, and Spitznagel
(2007) ―hypothesized that having undocumented status is a persistent and insidious psycho
environmental stressor that increases Latino immigrants‘ vulnerability to acculturative stress and
other socioemotional problems‖ (p. 18). The unrelenting reality that there remains no clear path
to citizenship is a lifelong struggle. Santrock‘s (1997) socioemotional framework developed in
his work on the lifespan of human development prefaces how one‘s environment is directly
linked to their emotional and psychosocial development. Therefore, an individual‘s
46
socioemotional wellbeing is essentially a dialectical process that is negotiated between
relationships, changing emotions, and changes in personality. Cortés and Pérez (2011) focused
on better understanding the socioemotional lives of Latinx undocumented community college
students. In particular, they were interested in the following research questions:
 What are the particular socioemotional experiences of undocumented Latino
community college students?
 How do students cope with socioemotional challenges that result from their legal
status?
 What is the relationship between students‘ socioemotional experiences and
academic outcomes?‖ (Cortés and Pérez, 2011, p. 2).
Working with 37 community college Dreamers across the U.S. allowed Cortés and Pérez to see
the mixed emotional reactions on being undocumented.
25
Students identified feelings of fear,
anger, and shame in addition to racism, macroaggressions, and discrimination about their
ethnicity, legal, and socioeconomic status as constant challenges to their socioemotional and
academic lives (Cortés and Pérez, 2011). One participant described being undocumented as
―feel[ing] a sense of humiliation and voicelessness‖ (Cortés and Pérez, 2011, p. 50). Another
student in her early 20‘s stated, ―The uncertainty that you have…like the way you look at your
future, you kind of want to stick to looking at things moment-by-moment, because if you look
really far beyond, sometimes it gets you depressed…I don‘t know what‘s going to happen‖ (p.
51). The comments of the young women suggest the mental and emotional strain while
imagining a future life for herself. The constantly shifting immigration policies lies on a
spectrum of limited inclusion and total exclusion. On one end, undocumented students have
conditional protections under policies such as DACA that are state run whereas on the other side

25
For the purposes of this section, the more positive coping strategies shared by participants in the
study will be discussed in subsequent sections.
47
of the spectrum exists the zero-tolerance immigration policy that is being touted by the federal
government. With no clear path to citizenship, the stress associated with an uncertain future can
manifest into mental health conditions.
The mental health of undocumented students is inextricably linked to their legal status.

Pérez et al. (2010) studied the academic and mental health outcomes of undocumented Latinx
students. The authors found the additive layers of complexity and stress while attempting to
navigate college as a lower socioeconomic student of color all whilst being undocumented.
In this context, the socioemotional development of an undocumented, Latina and
Latino immigrant college student not only is affected by typical environmental
factors such as poverty, violence, lack of resources, and discrimination that affect a
large percentage of low-income minority children (Kozol, 1991, 1995, 2005), but
these individuals also are scorned by extra layers of systemic barriers that prevent
them from enjoying all of the social and financial benefits that society has in place for
legalized individuals and American citizens (Pérez et al., 2010, p. 38).
Anger. While some Dreamers internalize their fear so intensely until it becomes
depression, others have used anger as a catalyst to find their voice and fight for undocumented
human rights. David Bacon (2008) followed the lives of undocumented communities for over a
decade as a photo journalist. His immersion in community events, political rallies, and one-on-
one friendships allowed him to understand how different flavors of anger could be used. On one
end of the anger spectrum, the emotion can be used to motivate, instill self-worth, and renew the
pursuit of social justice for undocumented activists, but on the opposite end of the spectrum,
anger can be used as a coping strategy. Anger has the potential to pierce through the suffocating
silence of voicelessness. Thus, undocumented student anger dispels stereotypical motifs
surrounding madness and communities of color and affords Dreamers the right to self-
48
expression. Perez and Cortez (2011) found that undocumented students exhibit anger and
resentment towards peers for academic and career opportunities that are not fully taken
advantage of. In addition, the authors found a mixed reaction to parental decisions to immigrate
to the United States. A portion of the community college students shared their unwavering
determination to give back to their parents for all they have sacrificed while others expressed
resentment toward their parents for their legal status.
Fear and Depression. In addition to feelings of anger, students have commonly shared
their experiences with fear and depression. Dozier‘s (1993) study show fear of deportation,
loneliness, and depression as major emotional issues for undocumented students. Because the
threat of being deported is ever present in the everyday lives of Dreamers, the participants
admitted to being afraid to form close relationships out of fear of being outed as undocumented
(Dozier, 1993). Similarly, students expressed their fears of going to the hospital and having their
address stored in an online database. Undocumented families are less likely take advantage of
public health benefits (Tienda & Haskins, 2011). De Leon (2005) worked with 10 undocumented
Latino college students to understand the relationship institutional agents like counselors and
teachers and Dreamers. While some teachers and counselors acted as supportive mentors
providing guidance and resources, others who the students perceived to treat them negatively
created a more isolative and fear based campus climate. Susana Muñoz (2008) has worked
extensively with undocumented Mexican Latina students and also found a combination of both
positive and negative interactions with school practitioners; however, many students shared that
the majority of their guidance and knowledge about college stems from their communal
networks.
26
―Differences between immigrant and native youth in nonacademic outcomes are
often more mixed. Adolescents from Asian immigrant families often rank higher than their peers

26
More on Muñoz‘s (2008) work will be discussed in subsequent sections.
49
in academic achievement but lower in socioemotional health. And kindergarteners from Mexican
immigrant families often rank lower than their peers on academic skills but higher on classroom
adjustment. Strong family ties help explain the immigrant advantages, but the poor quality of
schools and immigrant neighborhoods may suppress these advantages and place immigrant
children at risk for a host of negative developmental outcomes.‖ (Tienda & Haskins, 2011, p. 8).
Shame. In tandem with fear comes feelings of shame. Shame, like guilt, ―are rich
emotions that serve important functions at both the individual and relationship levels. On the one
hand, as moral emotions, shame and guilt are among our most private, intimate experiences. In
the face of transgression or error, the self turns toward the self-evaluating and rendering
judgment. Thus, the experience of shame or guilt can guide our behavior and influence who we
are in our own eyes. On the hand, shame and guilt are inextricably linked to the self in
relationship with others‖ (Tangney & Dearing, 2003, p. 2). However, unlike guilt, shame has a
greater impact on interpersonal relationships where one blames oneself or others for the negative
events they encounter (Tangney & Dearing, 2003). In the case of undocumented students, a
combination of personal insecurity and societal judgement and discrimination result in feelings
of shame.
Undocumented college students shared of their feelings of shame for having to live in the
shadows of society with a sense of humiliation and helplessness (Pérez et al., 2010). As a result,
many students stay closeted about their undocumented status. Like the coming out process for
individuals identifying within the LGTBQ+ communities, UndocuScholars have recently started
using phrases such as ‗coming out‘ and ‗in the closet‘ to describe undocumented student
experiences (Negrón-Gonzales, 2014). Genevieve Negrón-Gonzales (2014) conducted an 18-
month long ethnography with undocumented Latinx youth activists in California. She argues that
―tension between their juridical identities as undocumented migrants and their subjective
50
identities as US-raised children has served as a catalyst to political action among
undocumented youth activists in California‖ (Negrón-Gonzales, 2014, p. 259). One of the
articulatory practices Negrón-Gonzales observed was undocumented youth‘s ‗code of silence‘.
―As the potential consequences of discovery are so severe, silence is a fundamental
part of the undocumented experience in this country‖ (Negrón-Gonzales, 2014, p. 271). To
challenge the silence bestowed upon them, Negrón-Gonzales documented a youth activist
sponsored a national coming out week event for undocumented communities.
In 2010, youth-led organizations across the nation initiated a week-long

series of events titled ―National Coming Out Week,‖ drawing a connection to

and inspiration from the civil rights struggles of the queer community. National Coming
Out Week has become a yearly tradition and is part of a central political strategy of the
DREAM Act movement – testimonio. Testimonios are a practice of ―documenting
silenced histories‖ (Latina Feminist Working Group, 2001, 3), a dimension of alternative
modes of theory production within marginalized communities‖ (Negrón-Gonzales, 2014,
p. 272).
For a majority of students, it is an incredibly difficult and painful experience to disclose oneself
as undocumented. The undocumented student activists who take on the role of fighting for
human rights in the public eye risk being targeted for deportation. During movements of protest
and demonstrations, undocumented immigrants are actively dispelling the shame that has been
conditioned within and outside of themselves. However, it is also important to acknowledge that
many of the activists documented in the Dreamer literature are predominately Latinx and attend
four year colleges and universities. Less is known about the activism taking place in both
undocumented community college student communities and various racial and ethnic Dreamer
communities. Chan (2010) ―noted that due to their invisibility, Asian undocumented students are
51
less likely to seek help in fear of exposing their status. With fewer support resources, students
are unable to share their feelings of shame, doubt, and frustration‖ (p. 202). There remains a
plethora of human experiences untouched and unknown in the undocumented student
community. To truly understand the role that shame plays in Dreamer lives, more studies with
different undocumented student communities is necessarily to paint a holistic understanding.
Lack of Trust. As we have seen, feelings of shame lead to a lack of trust inside and
outside of undocumented communities. Sudhinaraset (2017) worked with 32 undocumented API
students at UC San Francisco to understand their reasons for being undocumented and the role
that trust plays in their lives. Each participant had a college degree or higher. Results showed low
bonding and bridging social capital, community distrust is high inside and outside, and that the
participant‘s legal status is a barrier to their health (Sudhinaraset, 2017). Unlike many
undocumented Latinx narratives that include recollections of immigrating to the U.S. at an early
age, API students share stories of expired visas and exploitation. Because of the distrust that
formed within their own racial and ethnic familial and extended communities, disclosing one‘s
legal status is even more of a risk. Therefore, social isolation both individually and within the
family is higher in API communities.
In addition to trust issues extending from interpersonal relationships in the community, there
is also a lack of institutional care that prompts student distrust. Gonzales (2016) interviewed
multiple Latinx students over his 10-year ethnographic study in Los Angeles and found that there
are two types of students: college goers and early exiters. While college goers persist through
classes year after year, early exiters leave college due to a lack of trust in the system (quote NBC
article). Institutional agents that display ignorance and microaggressions produce a distressing
impact on students (Pérez et al. (2010). ―For example, a student mentioned in Chen‘s (2013)
study shared that the student was told by an admissions officer: ―You know, we‘re a legal
52
institution, but you‘re not so there‘s nothing we can do‖ (p. 91).‖ Comments such as these can
have detrimental effects on student decisions to attend and persist in college. Murillo (2017) was
interested in which contexts undocumented high school students were more likely to disclose
their legal status to staff. The study took place at an urban public school in California using semi-
structured interviews with undocumented students and educators. In addition to interviews,
Murillo conducted observations in the school‘s college and career center. Murillo‘s findings
consist of:
four social contexts and circumstances where undocumented students revealed their
legal status to adults: within longstanding relationships based on trust, when
seeking support, in the course of formal interactions and querying, as well as in
informal interactions. The data also demonstrates the uncertainty among educators
in the management and protection of students‘ information. The findings
have implications for practice (2010, p. 88).

Institutional practitioners have a large role in undocumented student lives for better or for
worse. When shown support, safety, and guidance, undocumented students are more willing to
share that their undocumented, but when met with ignorance, racism, or an attitude of apathy,
students become more isolative and less vocal about their status. Student support practitioners
and faculty need to ―demonstrate an ethic of care‖ (Perez et al., 2010, p. 90), and I would argue a
certain level of transparency, to gain student trust. Perez and Cortes (2011) state:
College administrators, faculty, and staff members have virtually no understanding of the
psychosocial and legal hardships undocumented students face. In particular, counselors,
teaching faculty, and front-line college personnel need to be informed because they play
a vital role in the academic success of students. (p. 13)
It is crucial that higher education institutions reevaluate the policies, practices, and care taken to
53
support undocumented students.
The rise in the number of deportations across the U.S. has exacerbated the trust issues for
undocumented communities, and as a result, immigration trends over the past decade are now
shifting from large urban areas to more suburban and agricultural geographies. As a result of the
increased border security and the economic recession of 2008, the undocumented population
stabilized in 2009 (Marrow, 2011). Marrow (2011) noticed demographic shifts in her small town
in North Carolina and decided to further investigate nontraditional immigration destinations. She
discovered that a large proportion of undocumented families from Mexico, Central, and South
America are heading towards settling in the suburbs nowadays (Murillo, 2011). Murillo used an
ethnographic approach to conduct a multi-sited qualitative study. 47 percent of Murillo‘s
participants were undocumented Latinx individuals while the majority were Mexican immigrants
(2007). She conducted 129 formal interviews with participants from two counties. Murillo
originally questioned why undocumented peoples would immigrate to a region that has been
traditionally hostile for immigrants and people of color, but her interviews portrayed a more
positive experience. One participant shared her perceptions of the rural south compared to
gateway states like California and Texas.
To her [the participant], not only is eastern North Carolina less crowded and safer than
California, but its public schools are also ―a lot better‖ and its police more ―trustful.‖ She
even said that it feels more like home to migrants like herself who come from small
villages abroad (p. 33).
Although larger cities present more economic opportunities, the trade-off becomes one of feeling
a sense of security and a level of trust that comes with a more rural lifestyle. While the ability to
become upwardly mobile proves difficult in a small town where a poultry processing factory
provides the main source of income for those living there, lower socioeconomic undocumented
54
individuals hold different perceptions of job success. Similarly, undocumented high school
students transitioning to adulthood have to contend with what jobs are available after graduation.
Gonzales‘ (2011) shared the sobering reality of one of his participant‘s coming to terms with his
limited career choices:
After high school, early-exiter Oscar, who at 27 still gives his parents $500 a month,
moved through a string of short stints in the workforce, not staying in any one job more
than six months at a time. He quit jobs because he was dissatisfied with the meager
wages and generally uneasy about the ways in which employers treated him. Each new
job proved no better than the previous one. Over time, Oscar realized he had few job
choices outside of physical labor: ―I wasn‘t prepared to do that kind of work. It‘s tough.
I come home from work tired every day. I don‘t have a life. It‘s not like I can get an
office job. I‘ve tried to get something better, but I‘m limited by my situation (p. 612).
As studies with undocumented students continue to be recognized and pursued, it is important
that we also consider the different types of contexts that undocumented communities are settling
in and the kinds of decisions being made to feel safe and secure.
Persistence Strategies

In the higher education literature, undocumented student stories have emerged in two waves:
the first wave has been integral in identifying the barriers and challenges in Dreamer lives, which
was explored in depth in previous sections, and the second phase strayed from documenting the
limiting landscape of legal status and ventured into asset based research questions concerned
with how students persist and thrive despite being undocumented. I have identified four areas
where UndocuScholars have highlighted the agency and empowerment of undocumented
students: 1) Community cultural wealth; 2) the pursuit of higher education; 3) spiritual capital;
and 4) service, activism, and new media.
55
Community Cultural Wealth

Undocumented students consistently refer to their various forms of communal capital as an
integral motivator and guiding light as they navigate higher education institutions. Solórzano and
Villalpando‘s (1998) critical race theory (CRT) framework for ‗resistant cultural capital was
used to develop their conceptualization of ‗cultural wealth‘. This framework has been used
extensively to understand how students navigate college campuses. Solórzano and Villalpando
(1998) defined cultural wealth as the particular knowledge and resources developed in peripheral
spaces of marginality within educational institutions (Villalpando & Solórzano, 2005). In 2005,
Tara Yosso built upon this framework and developed a framework called community cultural
wealth. Yosso‘s framework includes six types of capital present in communities of color:
Aspirational capital, linguistic capital, familial capital, social capital, navigational capital, and
resistant capital.
Aspirational Capital. Aspirational capital looks at one‘s ability to maintain hopes and
dreams for the future despite real and perceived barriers. In this case, hope refers to more of a
colloquial use of the term whereby there is a future temporal orientation. While studying the
similarities and differences between Mexico-born adolescents and adolescents born in the U.S.,
Suarez Orozco and Suarez-Orozco (1995) found students who immigrated engaged in a positive
reframing of their life trajectory when faced with challenges as opposed to Latinx students born
in the U.S. The authors found that as a way to cope and persist, Latinx immigrant students
compared their possible life futures to those who made poor decisions or those in similar
situations that persevered to find strength and resilience.
Linguistic Capital. Linguistic capital includes intellectual and social skills learned
through communication experiences in more than one language. For a majority of undocumented
students, their native language is spoken in the home and English is spoken at school. While
56
speaking English as a second language presents obstacles for many immigrant students (Portes &
Rumbaut, 1990), hear less about the students doing well as English language learners. Whether a
FEP (Fluent-English-Proficient) or a LEP (Limited-English-Proficient now classified as an
English language learner) (―Glossary of Terms,‖ n.d.), Rumbaut and Ima (1998) note important
language trends in the API student immigrant communities:
The highest GPA‘s were found among immigrant Chinese (exceeding the district average
by a full grade point), Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, and Filipino students. More
remarkable still, even the Hmong, whose parents were largely preliterate peasants from
the Laotian highlands, and the more recently arrived Cambodians, who were mostly
rural-origin survivors of the ―killing fields‖ of the late 1970s, were outperforming all
native-born-American students; and again this pattern applied for both FEP and LEP
students among these refugee groups. (as cited in Rumbaut, 1995, p. 30)
As part of Rumbaut‘s book titled The New Californians: Comparative Research Findings on the
Educational Progress of Immigrant Children (1995), he reports the findings of comparative
research studies on the academic performance of immigrant K-12 youth in San Diego schools.
One of the most striking observations from the data was the language preference comparison
amongst the different student immigrant groups.
27
In contrast to API students both doing
significantly better academically than their native and immigrant peers and preferring to speak
in English, the majority (55 percent) of Latinx students continued to show loyalty to speaking
Spanish first and foremost (Rumbaut, 1995). Although differences persist in different racial and
ethnic immigrant groups on how much linguistic capital can be sacrificed in order to use
English, there are many undocumented communities using their native language to resist and
connect communities. For instance, the Chicana feminist movement Ni Santas, Ni Putas, Sólo

27
The study focused on comparing the largest groups of immigrants in the region: Mexicans,
Filipinos, Vietnamese, Laotians, Cambodians, and East Asian-origin groups.
57
Mujeres (Not Virgins, Not Whores, Just Women)
29
brings together art, activism, and the pursuit
of intellectual endeavors to fight for human rights. The intersection between race, gender, and
citizenship status is constantly challenged through artistic expressions and youth and
community outreach groups.
Familial Capital. Perhaps the largest motivating factor that students have given for
persisting and attaining a higher education degree is due to their parents sacrifices. For many
undocumented students, their parents are identity anchors. More specifically, their parents carry
the past and self-knowledge that reminds them of who they are. Familial capital illuminates the
cultural knowledge cultivated among family and carries a sense of communal history, memory,
and cultural intuition (Yosso, 2005). Paz Maya Olivérez (2006) dissertation is a qualitative look
into the lives of 10 Latinx undocumented students. She found students sharing familial reasons
for pursuing college and admiring their parents work strong ethic and sacrifice by immigrating
to the U.S. A majority of the students expressed the need to give back to their parents for all they
have given them. In a similar vein, various more studies illustrate undocumented students desire
to give back to their parents (Perez & Cortes, 2011; Munoz, 2008; Huber, 2009; Sutherland,
2011). For many students, the family unit provides a stable structure that their legal status does
not. Each person has an assigned role and responsibility within the family unit, and it takes
collaboration and cooperation to make the household run smoothly. Often times when
undocumented students attend school, it takes time away from working at a job and producing
more income for the family. Returning to Stebleton‘s (2012) study with African immigrant
students attending a four-year college, he found that all of the student‘s he interviewed discussed
their familial obligations as they consider future work choices. While these academic identities
surrounding the academic family unit eventually met with tension as their journey in college
progressed, the participants eventually adopted a new student identity that balanced their
58
individual goals and aspirations and family and communal responsibilities (Stebleton, 2012).
Social and Navigational Capital. As we have seen, many scholars working with
undocumented students have focused on the deficits associated with a lack of social and
navigational capital, however, UndocuScholars have begun to reconceptualize what social
capital looks like and can be understood as networks of people and community resources (Yosso,
2005). Navigational capital encompasses the skills needed to maneuver through social
institutions. For undocumented students, social and navigational capital go hand in hand to help
them navigate college campus processes and structures. For instance, Dream Resource Centers
are growing on college campuses and essentially provide a one-stop shop for new and continuing
undocumented students. These spaces are critical for promoting student engagement, mentorship,
and resources for undocumented students. Perez and Cortes (2011) found undocumented women
more apt to reach out for help then men:
Finally, academic outreach programs provided students with more rigorous academic
courses. Despite their initial disappointment at not being able to enroll directly in four-
year universities, once they began attending, students reframed their experience in a
positive way by highlighting the opportunities to meet new and diverse friends, positive
experiences with professors and access to resources specifically for undocumented
students. (pp. 83-84).
Historically, it was the men in the family to go away from home, work in the U.S., and then
return to their family with the earnings from their journey. Thus, men were less likely to display
help seeking behaviors. According to Arbona, et al. (2010), ―…men were more likely than
women to be undocumented, to be separated from their nuclear families, and reported higher
levels of extra familial stress, and greater fear of deportation (as cited in Pérez & Fortuna, 2005,
p. 18). Perez and Fortuna (2005) also reported similar findings that found documented Latinx
59
immigrants to have more of a holistic support system than undocumented Latinx immigrants.
Therefore, having spaces such as Dream centers is crucial for fostering social and navigational
capital for undocumented students. Also, findings more ways for Dream centers or other sacred
spaces on college campuses to be more inclusive of undocumented students not of Latinx origin
needs to be addressed in further studies and brought to the center of awareness.
The Pursuit of Higher Education

The pursuit of higher education in the U.S. has long symbolized a road to the good life. For
many undocumented parents, their desires are similar where many want their children to have
more opportunities for a better life. Education is seen as a key to such an imagined future. Ton‘s
(2013) qualitative dissertation highlighted the voices of 12 community college students. Six were
of Latinx descent and 6 were API students. Often times, family sacrifice and educational
opportunities are intertwined to provide motivation for undocumented students. One of Ton‘s
participant stories illustrates this point. James is from Korea. His family sold all of their
belongings to immigrate to America. Like a good son, James worked hard in school because of
he wanted to make his parents sacrifice meaningful. During his senior year, James received a
Regent scholarship for his academic excellence, but it was revoked due to his undocumented
status. Instead of the setback deterring him from attending college, James attended community
college for a year before attending UCLA. He finished his degree in a short one and a half years
so he could quickly find work to help his family (Ton, 2013). From this narrative, we see that
education is not only a motivating factor for James but for his family as well. Returning to Perez
and Cortez‘s (2011) qualitative study, another primarily theme that emerged in the data was
education as escape from one‘s legal status. More specifically, the authors found that student
compared performing well academically and acquiring a college degree as a way of transcending
―legal marginality‖ (Perez & Cortes, 2011, p. 72). There is a lot at stake for undocumented
60
families, and education continues to be viewed as the great equalizer.
Spiritual, Human, and Digital Capital

While the academic literature favors discussions surrounding social and cultural capital for
undocumented students, I argue that it is time to incorporate different forms of capital as
meaningful components to student experiences, particularly Dreamers. For undocumented
students, spiritual, human, and digital capital can offer additional insights into the human
condition. As noted previously, we have yet to understand UndocuBlack students, therefore,
African immigrant experiences are useful for pointing a barometer to important constructs in
everyday lives. Stebleton‘s (2012) study with African immigrant college students delves into the
intersections between the human, spirit, and the origin of authentic knowledge:
There is less focus on individual achievement and status in most African communities;
there is a holistic aspect of identity. The community takes precedence, and there tends to
be a heavy emphasis on learning from others that occurs primarily in informal settings
but also in formal workplaces (p. 53).
Stebleton (2012) employs the use of a concept referred to as ubuntugogy to further extrapolate
upon student experiences. Bangura (2005) defines ubuntugogy as transcending ―pedagogy (the
art and science of teaching), andragogy (the art and science of helping adults learn), ergonagy
(the art and science of helping people learn to work), and heutagogy (the study of self-
determined learning) (p. 13). In essence, ubuntugogy is ―art and science of teaching and learning
undergirded by humanity to others‘‘ put more simply (p. 13). Ubuntugogy emerged as a counter
to the colonized educational system in Africa. After centuries of a white Western education
system in Africa, leaders and scholars are unsettled by the continued oppression that comes with
how teaching and learning is conceptualized in the West. Ubuntugogy incorporates a holistic
worldview. The reciprocity between teaching and learning are not segmented to a classroom for
61
a specific number of hours for a number of weeks per year. ―The African life concept is
holistic—i.e. it is based on an integrative world view. All life to the African is total; all human
activities are closely interrelated. This has as its underlying principle the sanctity of the person,
his/her spirituality and essentiality‖ (Bangura, 2005, p. 19). In this view, the student, therefore, is
considered in an integrative way. Spiritual beliefs, oral histories that have been passed down
from generations, visions, dreams, folklore, formal and informal educational experiences,
community, family, and personhood (amongst many more) all coalesce to create a more holistic
landscape of the individual. The spiritual development of the student is considered an essential
component for student development from an ontological, epistemological, and pedagogical in
Africa. Kamya (1997) discusses how African immigrants have been largely excluded from
research, and I would argue we have an even more limited understanding of Africa college and
university students narratives. Kamya (1997) reports the findings from a 1993 study of African
immigrants in the United States. from a survey of 52 African immigrants. The survey illustrated
the intricate relationships between stress, self-esteem, and spiritual wellbeing. In essence, the
data suggested that the better people were spiritually, the more in balance their cortisol levels
and self-esteem (Kamya, 1997). Spiritual wellbeing, thus, was seen as a beneficial coping
resource for immigrant students dealing with not only the hardship that accompanies the journey
to a new country but potentially traumatic reasons for fleeing their home country. Building off of
the insights from Stewart (2009) and Essandoh (1995), Stebleton (2012) urges academic and
career counselors to consider the spiritual element of a student‘s development to better
understand their aspirations.
career counselors may want to explore spirituality influences on African student identity
and decision making (Stewart, 2009). Many students will use this spirit core to make
work-related decisions based on purpose and meaning that is closely connected to
62
cultural traditions and ways of thought. This may include making career-related choices
based on expectations and messages from extended family, spiritual leaders, and
community, including the reaching of certain decisions about major and occupation based
on prestige or honor (Essandoh, 1995) (Stebleton, 2012, p. 67).
Our contemporary understanding of undocumented students has yet to consider the spiritual
development of Dreamers. This dissertation will, in part, consider how the spiritual capital
undocumented students can counteract obstacles that undocumented students face daily and
create spaces for healing.
Service, Activism and New Media

Undocumented student activism has emerged over the past decade, but the relationship
between service, activism, and new media has only recently gained traction. Although this study
does not particularly focus on undocumented activist students, it is important to acknowledge the
ways that activism has provided a space for resistance and agency. Morales, Herrera, and
Murry‘s (2009) ethnographic work with 15 Latinx post-secondary students in their first or
second year of found activism amongst Dreamers to be a source of empowerment. With the
incessant policy changes surrounding DACA and the eternal blockage of the Dream Act,
students were expressed constantly feeling angry. Through getting involved with fellow peers
and human rights campaigns and organizations, students were able to channel their frustration
into something meaningful. Torres and Wicks-Asbun (2014) suggest that serving their
undocumented communities through activism is self-empowering on two fronts. First, serving
one‘s community is a validating and legitimating experience (Torres and Wicks-Asbun, 2014).
As we have seen, having undocumented status is exclusionary in myriad ways. Therefore, having
an outlet to both emerge out of the suffocating silence and have a platform for one‘s voice can
provide Dreamers a place to cultivate self-worth and be visible. In essence, activism can be seen
63
as a place of healing. Secondly, undocumented student activism offers Dreamers a humanizing
experience and a way to feel useful. Activism provides a way of participating in a civic process.
Protesting and demonstrating is one way for undocumented students to participate in a civic
process.
Arely Zimmerman (2012) wrote a case study report on how new forms of media have fueled
what she calls ‗DREAM activist‘ endeavors to increase political participation. The earlier part of
the 21
st
century has brought with it a slew of new media platforms such as Facebook, Instagram,
Twitter, and Snapchat. ―In another widely publicized campaign, on January 1, 2010, four
undocumented youth from Miami Dade College began a 4-month, 1500-mile-trek to
Washington, DC to advocate for the DREAM Act. In what they aptly called the ―Trail of
DREAMs,‖ the youth documented their walk with active blogging, Facebook, YouTube, and
Twitter, and gathered 30,000 signatures to bring to President Obama, along the way. Throughout
these mobilizations, undocumented youth became increasingly willing to ‗come out‘ to their
peers, teachers, and friends. Using blogs, podcasts, and user-generated video, undocumented
youth used social media to declare their legal status openly, many for the first time. The
prominence of the ‗Our Stories‘ section in DreamActivist.org‘s blog, for example, is evidence of
how the practice of ‗coming out‘, a repertoire used by the LGBTQ movement decades prior, has
been a fundamental mobilizing strategy and collective identification tool amongst undocumented
youth‖ (pp. 10-11). While there is new emerging research suggesting the detrimental effects of
using social media too much for high school and college students, new forms of media have been
instrumental for undocumented students to build social connections and increase their political
self-efficacy.
One of the arrestees and leader of one of the DREAM advocacy groups in Los Angeles
acknowledges that a mixed media strategy is key for reaching diverse participants: You
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have to be able to use Facebook and Twitter, but you have to be intentional about it, and
strategic. At the same time, you have to also utilize traditional media outlets because our
‗tios‘ and ‗tias‘ are not using social networking. They are still watching Univision and
the nightly news. So you have to engage in both (Zimmerman, 2012, p. 5).
Social media has provided a different kind of brave space for undocumented activists. Blogging,
vlogging, and commenting on injustices has given students a platform not otherwise afforded to
a community that has liminal rights in this society. Social media platforms have created intricate
webs of social networks that house everything from resources and knowledge to intentional
community building and artistic expression for undocumented communities. The challenges that
come with being lower socioeconomic and undocumented can be circumnavigated in an online
space (Zimmerman, 2012). Whereas the concept of anonymity has been more traditionally used
to describe cyber bullying and trolling, the online world presents a certain level of protection
without the threat of being physically detained or arrested, thus, creating a space for agency,
resistance, and hope for undocumented communities. Henry Jenkins has termed the new social
media phenomenon as the digital capital that creates a participatory culture providing imagined
mobility without the need for a geotagged location (2016).
The sophisticated use of new media by undocumented youth has enabled youth to
negotiate, resist, and respond to their political and socioeconomic marginalization.
Through new media, undocumented youth have uplifted the voices, experiences, and
stories of an often-ignored segment of the immigrant population in the United States.
(Zimmerman, 2012, p. 7).
New media has given undocumented communities a way of validating their personhood and feel
like contributing members of a civic society. In particular, undocumented Latinx and Black
students have created a strong social media presence in online spaces that provide a vast array of
65
knowledge, resources, and opportunities to engage in political protests and demonstrations. The
intricacies of how these social networks work on an everyday basis can shed lights on how
digital culture is reshaping the experiences of undocumented communities.
Community Colleges Versus Four Year Universities

There are palpable differences between the undocumented community college and traditional
four-year college student experiences. Abrego and Gonzales (2010) assert:
We caution against the almost exclusive focus on undocumented students at four-year
colleges and universities that we have found in the literature . . . The vast majority of
undocumented youth are either at community colleges or out of school. (p. 155)
While understanding the undocumented student experience at a four-year university is a
worthwhile venture, the stories of undocumented community colleges are prefaced the least both
in the academic literature as well as in the mainstream media. Due to familial responsibilities,
financial constraints, and citizenship status, the open-door policy of community college
combined with state initiatives allowing in-state tuition makes higher education more feasible for
undocumented students. McWhirter, Ramos, and Medina (2013 check if I have reference) found
that undocumented Latinas are more apt to attend community colleges than four year
universities. Although there has been increasing interest in understanding undocumented
community college students in recent years (Abrego & Gonzales, 2010; Gonzales & Ruiz, 2014;
Huber & Malagon, 2007; Espinoza et. al, 2009; Nienhusser, 2014; Oseguera, Flores, & Burciaga,
2010; Perez & Cortes, 2011). It is necessary to balance student voices from different
backgrounds and educational trajectories. Abrego & Gonzales (2010) caution us to consider the
diversity of perspectives from undocumented students:
Portrayals of high-achieving students, star athletes, and civically minded young people
need to be balanced with accounts of impoverished, troubled young people whose daily
66
lives of struggle are constructed by a lack of legal access, resource-poor urban and
rural high schools, a narrow pipeline to postsecondary education, and an adult world
rife with legal barriers to full participation. (p. 155)
Thus, American society is in need of more narratives from undocumented students in community
colleges to have a more holistic understanding of the individuals from this community.
Anti-Immigrant Rhetoric

In tandem with the lack of representation of undocumented community college student
narratives is the blanketed xenophobia found across of the U.S., Arjun Appadurai (2006)
attributes the racialized fear, or ethnic cleaning, that has swept the Western world with the
phenomenon of globalization. In an attempt to preserve a cohesive national identity, the ethnic
majority will struggle to maintain power. Appadurai states:
…the tip-over into ethnonationalism and even ethnocide in democratic politics has much
to do with the strange inner reciprocity of the categories of ―majority‖ and ―minority‖ in
liberal social thought, which produced what I call the anxiety of incompleteness.
Numerical majorities can become predatory and ethnocidal with regard to small numbers
precisely when some minorities (and their small numbers) remind these majorities of the
small gap which lies between their condition as majorities and the horizon of an unsullied
national whole, a pure and untainted national ethnos (1998, p. 8).
Trump‘s call to ‗Make America Great Again‘ is a call for a return to a national whole that dispels
the unauthorized immigrant and refugee. The repeal of DACA has left close to a million students
wondering about the fate of their future. The emerging White nationalism that has resulted in
cases of Black boys being hung up by his neck, the resurgence of the Confederate flag, and
families being broken apart by deportation has left the country in disarray.
White nationalism thrives by its willingness to address…developments that mainstream
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politicians and media sources either ignore or fail to address with any degree of openness
or candor. These developments include the continuing influx into the country of nonwhite
immigrants and the prospect that America in the not-too-distant future will cease to be a
white majority nation‖ (Swain, 2011, pp. xv-xvi).
As undocumented students continue to face an uphill battle to attend college and forge a path
towards citizenship, it is crucial that counter narratives exploring reclaimed agency and self-
preservation move from the periphery to the center of discussion.
Undocumented Community College Students

Community colleges were originally created as the great equalizer between the haves and
have nots; however, the equity gap continues to grow. ―Community colleges began with an open
door policy for a number of reasons, starting with the American ideal of an open society where
every person is given a chance to move between class strata regardless of their conditions of
birth‖ (Hendrick, Hightower, & Gregory, 2006, p. 408). While the open-door policy remains,
white supremacy has manifested an array of intricacies that both intentionally and
unintentionally produce a system of exclusion for students of color in higher education. Entrance
exams that often place students in developmental math and English, a combination of too many
class options with little academic advisement, and strained instructors who are community
college ‗freeway flyers‘ are only some of challenges that community college students encounter
in their everyday lives (Bailey, Jaggars, & Jenkins, 2015).
The profile of a typical community college student has been well documented by higher
education scholars. Unlike four-year college and university students, community college students
are profiled as being from a lower socioeconomic status with more familial and work
responsibilities. A majority are first-generation students being both the first to graduate from
high school and attend college. In addition, many students of color—especially undocumented
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students--attending institutions of higher education find themselves in the community college
system (Lew, Chang, & Wang, 2005). 51 percent of Latinx and 54 percent of API students are
enrolled in community colleges (Lew, Chang, & Wang, 2005). Community colleges also attract
learners from a large age range. For instance, in the Los Angeles community college district (the
largest community college district in the nation), approximately 40 percent of students are 25
years of age or older with 58 percent of Latinx descent (―Fast Facts,‖ n.d.).
Although there has been an increasing representation of undocumented student experiences
over the past decade, we continue to have a limited understanding of Dreamer experiences in
community colleges across the nation. An overwhelming majority of the studies that have
focused on undocumented community college students have prioritized Latinx voices
intentionally. Pérez and Cortes (2011) argue that ―there is a need for research on Latino
undocumented students at the community college given the rising trend of enrollment noted in
both Texas and California by Chavez et al. (2007) and Jauregui et al. (2008). In California,
estimates suggest there are approximately 30,000 undocumented students enrolled in the
community college system compared to less than 5,000 enrolled in the University of California
and California State University systems (Chavez et al., 2007). Undocumented students have
demonstrated a fluctuation in attendance with students alternating between part- or full-time
enrollment each semester (Dozier, 2001). While undocumented Latinx students do comprise a
majority of the Dreamer population, I have touched on multiple reasons for incorporating a
multitude of voices from different racial and ethnic backgrounds. The following section will
discuss how hope has been used as a conceptual method to study to study undocumented
community college students.
Hope as a Conceptual Frame

The contemporary political and social climate has reignited hegemonic narratives of
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undocumented peoples in the United States. The media paints a rather monochromatic image of
undocumented youth and their parents that often changes to meet the needs of the national
dialogue of the moment. While the children of undocumented parents
28
are commonly portrayed
as innocent bystanders, the parents are demonized as immoral criminals--a subaltern
29
at most.
Social media platforms such as YouTube and Facebook have been useful for sharing narratives
of undocumented immigrants that run counter to the stereotypic mythologies projected by the
current administration. However, the voices of undocumented students attending four-year
universities are given preference. Although a greater scholarly focus has emerged in the past
decade, undocumented students in community colleges remain the least understood. Scholars
have done an exemplary job of using more conventional frameworks that look at different forms
of capital (Abrego, 2006; Oliverez, 2006; Huber, 2009; Gonzales, 2010; Perez, 2010; Enriquez,
2011; Garcia & Tierney, 2011; Gonzales, 2016) to discuss the barriers and support systems that
undocumented students navigate during college. Additional studies exploring assimilation
(Coutin, 2007 & 2011; Coutin & Vogel, 2016) and ―illegality‖ (Gonzales, 2008, p. 45) theories
have also provided insight on undocumented student experiences. However, embedded in
discussions of capital and integration lies a more salient question of the human condition. How
do undocumented students find agency within the confines of their legal status? Hope offers one
frame of understanding for undocumented students experiences.
More conventional theories looking at multiple forms of capital, the role that ‗illegality plays,
and assimilation have contributed toward establishing a significant amount of knowledge on
undocumented student experiences. In Garcia and Tierney (2011), a social capital lens is used to

28
Abrego (2006) has termed children of at least one undocumented parent the 1.5 generation
29
The term ‗subaltern‘ is derived as part of Antonio Gramsci Marxist framework. In this context,
subaltern is used to denote inferiority and a lowly class status. For further reading, refer to Gayatri
Chakravorty Spivak in Can the subaltern speak? Reflections on the history of an idea (1988).

70
look at the everyday life experiences of undocumented students. Garcia & Tierney‘s (2011)
study found that undocumented students are prevented from establishing a strong social network
in colleges and universities due to their unauthorized citizenship status. Like Kantanami (2016),
Garcia and Tierney found that ―illegality‖ becomes a master status for undocumented students
and leaves them ―…particularly ‗unnetworked‘ with regard to facilitating transitions to college‖
(2011, p. 2749). Navigating a complex bureaucratic process like college with classes, financial
aid, academic counseling, and cultural and social normative expectations requires a student to be
embedded in a network. Similar to using a social capitalist framework, scholars have also
discussed the nature of belonging and its impact on undocumented students. Negrón-Gonzales
(2017) discusses how undocumented students in community colleges are challenged by
constrained inclusion, which is ―constituted by the assurance of inclusion with institutions of
higher education as a result of the legislative gains of recent years, while bumping up against the
constraints of those gains‖ (p. 155). For instance, the recently disbanded DACA program has
been instrumental in creating greater access for undocumented students to pursue college,
however, the initiative did not include a long-term solution towards establishing citizenship nor
did it adequately address the holistic needs of undocumented students. Negrón-Gonzales (2017)
refers to the fragile boundary between undocumented student inclusion and exclusion using
Oboler‘s concept of ―tolerated illegality‖: ―Despite growing up in this country and being
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educated in U.S. schools, undocumented children are repeatedly faced with the constraints of
their ―tolerated illegality‖ (Oboler, 2006, p. 15 as cited in Negrón-Gonzales, 2017, p. 108). Thus,
the integration of undocumented students becomes relative to the time and place of current
legislation, and the porous boundaries between belonging and exclusion can leave students
feeling isolated and overly stressed (Gonzales, Suárez-Orozco, & Dedios-Sanguineti, 2013).
The current political, social, and economic terrain of contemporary America has produced an
ambiance of despair that needs to be examined. The 2016 election with a divided Democratic
party has left the nation in a state of unrest. As people continue to fight for their rights,
30

undocumented students have also found themselves amidst the struggle to survive. The role that
hope plays offers one approach for understanding undocumented student experiences from an
agentic perspective. While a majority of the scholarship tends to focus on the challenges and
barriers to access and complete college, studies on political activism have illustrated how
undocumented students have reclaimed agency. Being engaged in student activism enables
undocumented students to have a voice within a convoluted justice system and provides one of
the only public arenas where one does not have to hide in the shadows (Gonzales, 2008; Rincón,
2008; Perez, 2009 & 2010; Muñoz, 2016). There has been a dearth of literature on how
undocumented students leverage different elements of their lives to exert agency beyond
discussions around activism. While all of these findings are useful for constructing a more
holistic picture, a deeper look into a theoretical framing of hope can offer a new perspective on
undocumented student experiences.
Hope has been conceptualized by both public intellectuals and scholars alike. Barack
Obama‘s 2008 campaign was founded on a platform of hope. Inspired by his 2006 book, The

30
Contemporary movements such as Black Lives Matter, LGTBQIA (Lesbian, Gay, Transgender,
Bisexual, Queer/Questioning/Intersex, and Asexual/Ally), and Women‘s Rights are a few
examples.
72
Audacity of Hope, Obama‘s goal was to reclaim the American Dream. The American Dream is
imbued with an assumption that all individuals have a right to forge a path to ‗the good life.‘
More specifically, ‗the good life‘ encompasses the cultural values coveted by mainstream
society—economic security and mobility to be specific. Obama‘s platform speaks to the
contemporary philosophies of Mary Zournazi who claims that hope can manifest itself in various
ways through practice but holds a deeper understanding of the human condition at its core: ―It
[hope] is a basic human condition that involves belief and trust in the world. It is the stuff of our
dreams and desires, our ideas of freedom and justice and how we might conceive life‖ (2002, p.
12). Therefore, to understand hope in the context of undocumented community college students
is to humanize their experiences.
The presence of undocumented students in higher education institutions beckons the question-

-is education a fundamental right for individuals? Labaree (1997) states, ―Schools, it seems,
occupy an awkward position at the intersection between what we hope society will become and
what we think it really is, between political ideals and economic realities‖ (p. 41). The case of
undocumented students is exemplary of the polarizing ambiance of how society feels about
undocumented peoples. While states like California are making strides for undocumented student
rights, the current administration‘s conservative immigration legislation has led to non-citizens
feeling ostracized and without hope.
A state of hopelessness has also inspired a genre of how despair has the power to renew hope.
Rebecca Solnit‘s book Hope in the Dark (2004) recounts historical moments in the world when
seeming defeat inspired revolutionary uprisings instilling new waves of hope. There has also
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been a number of autobiographies that have spoken of hope when balancing on the rope between
life and death situations. Elie Wiesel‘s Night (1956) accounts of his firsthand experience in a
Nazi concentration camp. The delicate relationship between life, death, and hope is not only
exemplified by the stories Wiesel shares but also in his poetic style of writing: "It was pitch dark.
I could hear only the violin, and it was as though Juliek's soul were the bow. He was playing his
life. The whole of his life was gliding on the strings--his lost hopes, his charred past, his
extinguished future." (1956, p. 90).
Fiction has also proved to be an avenue for authors to explore narratives of hope. In The
Refugees (2017) by Thanh Viet Nguyen, he uses each chapter to explore the lives of immigrants
from various backgrounds (particularly from Vietnam) as they attempt to negotiate life in a new
diaspora. Nguyen recognizes the power of narratives commenting, ―In a country where
possessions counted for everything, we had no belongings except our stories (2017, p. 7)‖ For
Nguyen, stories are a last vestige of cultural worth and preservation. In times of nostalgia and
despair, narratives that call back to an imagined homeland provide relics of hope for people. As
scholars, we are also attempting to unpack the underpinnings of the human condition, and a
conceptualization of hope has proved to be one way of understanding the intricacies and
complexities of lived experiences of marginalized people.
An Anthropological Conceptualization of Hope

To study hope falls into what Joel Robbins has referred to as the ‗anthropology of the good‘
(2014). The anthropology of the good symbolizes a historic shift in studying what has come to be
known as the suffering subject in anthropology. Whereas the traditional anthropological subject
was represented as a divergence from studying the ‗Other‘ as savages, disenfranchised peoples
were rebranded as the new suffering subject of the West (Robbins, 2013, p. 448). Robbins did his
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dissertation fieldwork with the Urapmin in Papua New Guinea during the early 1990‘s. Upon his
return, there was a palpable disciplinary pressure to depict the Urapmin as those suffering from
Christian imperialism, but Robbins was disquieted by an oppressed portrayal of his informants.
On the contrary, Robbins found that the Urapmin had agency within their lives. From this
experience, Robbins developed what has now been referred to as the anthropology of the good.
The “Good” Life
The anthropology of the good does not dismiss the daily struggles and sufferings of
participant experiences, but, offers a new way of understanding the nuanced negotiations that are
grappled with in pursuit of a good life. Joel Robbins‘ conceptualization of the anthropology of
the good offers both scholars and actors in the world a new way of moving beyond the stagnant
characterizations of the suffering subject. ―Good, in this sense, is not attached to the overly
optimistic belief that there is a particular way that one lives life and ―has in fact achieved the
capital G Good…‖ life (Robbins, 2013, p. 457). Instead, Robbins challenges scholars and
practitioners in the anthropological community to move beyond an assumed universal
understanding of how ‗good‘ is imagined and to ―explore the different ways people organize
their personal and collective lives in order to foster what they think of as good, and to study what
it is like to live at least some of the time in light of such a project‖ (Robbins, 2013, p. 457).
While scholars such as the early workings of Foucault (1977) present a structurally dismal
outlook on power relations in the zenith of post-modernism, academics such as Robbins (2014),
Mattingly (2015), Kuan (2015), Stevenson (2014), and Hirokazu (2004) acknowledge the
historical and structural limitations of participants yet seek to explore how social actors are
engaged in reclaiming agency.
Hope as a Practice and Method of Knowledge

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Although hope has been conceptualized across disciplines, philosophical anthropology offers
a unique combination of methodological practice and theory to gain a deeper understanding of
participant traditions and narratives. Cheryl Mattingly‘s anthropological career has focused on
understanding how theoretical conceptualizations of hope and morality are deployed in clinical
settings. In The Paradox of Hope: Journeys through a Clinical Borderland (2010), Mattingly
defines hope as a practice:
Hope most centrally involves the practice of creating, or trying to create, lives worth
living even in the midst of suffering, even with no happy ending in sight. It also involves
the struggle to forge new communities of care that span clinical and familial worlds. This
is why I have chosen to speak of hope as a practice, rather than simply an emotion or a
cultural attitude (p. 6)
In a similar vein, Mattingly‘s work in Moral Laboratories (2015) explores the narratives of
parents of children with chronic and terminal medical conditions who find themselves confronted
with reimagining what the good life is for their family. The moral work that accompanies the
task of re-defining the boundaries of what the good life looks like intersects with issues of racism
and classism.
The study of hope has also been taken up in Hirokazu Miyazaki‘s book entitled The Method
of Hope: Anthropology, Philosophy, and Fijian Knowledge (2004) where hope acts as a method
of knowledge: ―…hope is not a forlorn wishfulness or Polyanna-ish optimism, but a deeply
grounded method of knowledge that demands of us a ‗radical temporal reorientation of
knowledge‘ (as cited by Ewins, 2005, p. 336). Miyazaki derived this conclusion after doing
ethnographic work in Fiji. Hirokazu noticed the annual tradition of requesting indigenous land be
returned to its rightful owners. After a legacy of British colonization, land was taken away from
76
Fijian landowners in 1872. While the Fijian government claims to have paid enough reparations,
the remaining family members of the lineages who once owned the land gather all of their
documents that show the original rights of ownership and demand that the land be returned. After
decades of being told that the land will never be signed back over, Fijians continue to participate
in the annual tradition, but Hirokazu challenges scholars to look at the construction of time.
Instead of focusing on the inevitable failed outcome of the land request, the very act of hoping is
a mechanism for preserving a shared identity. Thus, the yearly ritual becomes less about the
outcome, and the act of hoping becomes a way of knowing and remembering a collective identity
and history.
The Significance of Context

While Miyazaki‘s conceptual framework provides a lens for understanding students at Trade-
Tech, Sherry Ortner‘s book, The Fate of “Culture”: Geertz and Beyond (1999), offers a new
way to situate actors in their local settings. As opposed to Geertz‘s classical view of culture as a
naturally occurring phenomenon where ―man is an animal suspended in webs of significance he
himself has spun‖ (1979, p. 5), Ortner questions the holism of his argument. In Geertz‘s
conception of culture, he was writing against functionalist definitions of power, but Ortner
argues that actors are embedded within particular structures that need to be addressed in order to
have a more in depth understanding of the phenomenon being studied. Thus, Ortner suggests that
there is value in looking at the negotiation between power and meaning at the moment of
intersection. In her account of Mt. Everest Sherpas and mountaineers, Ortner uses dialogues
surrounding power, politics, and economics as a way to deconstruct the complex relationship that
the Sherpas have with the sahbs (Sherpa guides) (Ortner 1999b: 138). Without a dialogue
concerning the power structures that strengthen or dismantle the social relationships that
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accompany the risky venture of climbing Everest, Ortner‘s analysis could not emerge. To study
undocumented students devoid of the particular structural contexts that they are embedded in and
how students interpret their positionality is integral to understanding the narratives that emerge.
Hope and the Pursuit of Higher Education
In higher education, there has been an increasing shift from a deficit to an asset based
perspective of students. For instance, many community college practitioners hold negative
assumptions about students and characterize them as lazy, unmotivated, or academically
underprepared to attend college. This stereotypical view of students has been rivaled by critical
scholars such as Valencia (2010) who argues that deficit based perspectives contribute to the
inequitable policies and practices housed by higher education institutions. A deeper look into a
conceptualization of hope has the potential to provide an additional layer of textured
understanding to undocumented community college experiences.
Due to the current political climate, undocumented students are suspended in time as
legislation decisions on immigration are in flux. Undocumented students in community colleges
are particularly impacted because in addition to learning to navigate their illegality (Gonzales,
2016), these individuals also face issues commonly associated with two-year institutions. Issues
of poor academic preparation due to under resourced school districts, low socioeconomics, and
systemic racism are amongst a few of barriers facing students of color in community colleges.
Thus, as undocumented students persist in community colleges, hope can be a particularly
illuminating lens.
Miyazaki‘s (2006) conceptualization of hope offers undocumented students in community
colleges to be understood outside of the normative narratives of time. More specifically,
Miyazaki frames hope as a way of capturing the past in the present while the future remains
78
inconsequential. Because the educational trajectories of undocumented students hang in the
balance, a framework like hope that seeks to understand the ability to move forward can rectify
the reality of being suspended in time and place. Roberto Bolaño once said that he wrote a ―book
for the ghosts, who, because they‘re outside of time, are the only ones with time‖ (as cited in
Nguyen, 2017). Undocumented students in community colleges are similar to the ghosts Bolaño
speaks of. Their narratives go unnoticed as they spend four, six, or even ten years working
towards an associate degree or certificate. Therefore, the way that hope is deployed not only
deepens the nuanced understandings we have within the context of undocumented community
college students but offers a space for their narratives to move away from the periphery.
As opposed to looking at undocumented student outcomes in community colleges, my interest
is meeting the individual where he or she exists in the present. Unlike American citizens who are
essentially given a right to dream (however skewed that becomes due to issues of racism,
socioeconomic status, and gender amongst a host of other factors), undocumented students
continue to lead lives in the midst of uncertainty where they are regulated by constrained
immigration laws (Gonzales, 2008). Similar to Stevenson‘s (2014) work with an Inuit
community who studies anonymous practices of care, she states that her work is contingent on
uncertainty. ―It also seems that uncertainty, like pain, requires not resolution but
acknowledgment, and thus implicates me as an anthropologist in a mutual project of describing a
world beset by uncertainty‖ (Stevenson, 2014, p. 2). Undocumented community college students
inhabit a world of uncertainty. Each day, undocumented students make their way to campus, take
classes, study, endure midterms and finals, and repeat the process. While an imagined future
exists for what the end of the academic road intuits, the journey is riddled with uncertainty.
Because of the uncertainty that surrounds the future, delving into a theoretical and
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methodological conceptualization of hope is an entry point for a continued conversation with
undocumented community college students. The following chapter will illuminate the methods
used for this study and concretize how using a lens of hope is implemented.

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CHAPTER THREE:
RESEARCH METHODS
Chapter Overview

In this chapter, I discuss the research methods used to understand the undocumented
experience of community college students. First, I offer a brief insight into the world of
qualitative research and justify its use for working with undocumented community college
students. Next, I review narrative inquiry and phenomenology as the methodological
approaches used in this study. In addition, I consider how using photography as a visual
method is a compelling supplemental medium for framing student stories. I then describe the
participant selection and recruitment procedure followed by the data collection and analysis
processes. I conclude this chapter with ethical considerations of trustworthiness and
researcher positionality while also discussing vital components to consider when working
with undocumented communities.
A Qualitative Approach to Inquiry

At its essence, qualitative research seeks to make sense of social phenomena occurring in the
world. Emerging in opposition to quantitative methods that favor numerical evidence and
reproducible scientific experiments, qualitative research views the everyday world as a living
laboratory where human boundaries are more porous. Although more traditional sciences,
colloquially referred to as the ‗hard sciences,‘ are predicated on the idea that there are factual
truths that exist, qualitative methods are more poetic in theory and in practice. However, unlike
the antiquated divide that continues to drive the cultural divisions of academic disciplines,
qualitative and quantitative data can co-exist peacefully. The global society needs both depth and
breadth of knowledge to be able to holistically understand the human condition. I acknowledge
with gratitude the numerous scholars and research organizations that have given me quantitative
81
data to frame how vague our nuanced understandings of undocumented communities are.
Attempting to capture quantitative data is a challenge in undocumented populations, which rely
on self-disclosure as a primary means of estimating national figures. However, qualitative
research is the great humanizer of statistical figures and challenges our hyper intellectualization
of humans as research subjects. The ivory tower normalizes detachment to the individuals behind
the numbers. Qualitative methods are more apt to grapple with the roles and responsibilities the
researcher has to their participants—especially when working with vulnerable populations like
undocumented students.
Rationale for the Use of Qualitative Methods

Understanding undocumented community college student experiences beckons a more
holistic approach where qualitative methodologies can offer insight. By the time undocumented
students find their way to community college, many have lived in the shadows of their legal
status. Invisibility, silence, and fear often color student reasons for staying in the closet, and
storytelling methods are used to counteract the disquieted stillness that emanates from living in
the periphery of U.S. history. Qualitative methodologies have the power to share the life
experiences of people from various backgrounds, cultures, and belief systems. Peter Reason says,
―The challenge is to develop a human science that can more fully serve this aim. The question,
then, is not ‗Is story telling science?‘ but ‗Can science learn to tell good stories?‘‖ (1979, p. 50 as
cited in Seidman, 2006, pp. 8-9). By using a combination of qualitative methodological
approaches, my goal for this study was simple: to share the stories of four undocumented
students who shift the canvas of hopelessness into one of abundance by merely existing. It is
integral to explore how a combination of narrative inquire, phenomenology, and photography
was used to study undocumented students in community college.

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Methodological Approaches

Narrative Inquiry

Narrative inquiry offers an additional methodological approach for qualitative research with
undocumented community college students. Clandinin (2006) says:
Human beings have lived out and told stories about that living for as long as we could
talk. And then we have talked about the stories we tell for almost as long. These lived and
told stories and the talk about the stories are one of the ways that we fill our world with
meaning and enlist one another's assistance in building lives and communities. (p. 35)
Like phenomenology, narrative inquiry is concerned with understanding the deeper nuances of
the human condition. While both approaches highlight the importance of context, utilize the in-
depth interview process, build rapport with participants, and recognize the power dynamics
between the researcher and participant relationship, narrative inquiry differs from
phenomenology in two ways—the unit of measurement inherent in the methodological approach,
and the role the participant plays in the research process.
Unlike phenomenology‘s concern with describing a lived experience shared by a group of
people, narrative inquiry is interested in sharing the stories of single individuals (Creswell,
2002). Clandinin (2006) states, ―What narrative researchers hold in common is the study of
stories or narratives or descriptions of a series of events‖ (p. 4). A narrative approach views the
story as the unit of measurement. ―Every whole story, Aristotle tells us, has a beginning, a
middle, and an end (Butcher, 1902 as cited in Seidman, 2006, p. 7). It is the stories that people
choose to share and recollect that has profound meaning for narrative inquirers. Critics of this
method often question the participant‘s motivation for sharing his or her story. In addition, the
authenticity and veracity of the stories are question that also emerges from a narrative approach.
However, the goal is not to validate the truthfulness of the stories, but, rather, to understand the
83
deeper meanings of the lived experiences of participants that emerge through the narratives. As
opposed to fact checking each participant story, the narrative inquirer is more interested in what
stories the participants choose to share.
The researcher and participant relationship is crucial for narrative inquiry.

We [researchers] recognize that there are indeed multiple ways of knowing and studying
the world and the interactions of people. However, we become narrative inquirers only
when we recognize and embrace the interactive quality of the researcher-researched
relationship, primarily use stories as data and analysis, and understand the way in which
what we know is embedded in a particular context, and finally that narrative knowing is
essential to our inquiry‖ (Clandinin, 2006, p. 7).
Both Clandinin (2006) and Creswell (2002) highlight the significance of the dialectical exchange
between the researcher and the participant. Unlike alternative methodological approaches, the
rapport formed between the researcher and the participant is key in building the trust needed to
access stories. In order to begin building relationships, the researcher must first unpack one‘s
own life story before requesting the same vulnerability from another. In addition to researcher
reflexivity, building rapport with participants requires a significant amount of time to form a
trusting relationship. Thus, it is the precious spaces in between the researcher-participant
relationship where the stories emerge (2012).
Using a narrative inquiry approach to gain a better understanding of undocumented
community college student experiences is beneficial for various reasons. First, the idea that the
individual is not lost during and after the data collection process is alluring. Unlike a
phenomenological methodological approach where lived experiences of several individuals are
amalgamated into a larger meta picture, narrative inquiry bounds each story individually. In light
of the inaccurate and nonexistent media portrayals, capturing individual stories is a powerful way
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of humanizing undocumented students in community colleges. Each story has the potential to
unpack the seemingly mundane elements of life experiences that often go left unnoticed and
uncared for. Like Clandinin (2006) suggests, we, as a society, should be more particular about
the stories we tell. In this media frenzied world that has colonized the age of technology, there
are a plethora of stories available at any moment. While undocumented student stories thrive on
social media sites such as YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter, there remains a lack of
representation and understanding across institutions and policy contexts. Therefore, sharing in
depth stories from a handful of undocumented students has the potential for resonating in the
imaginaries of those in power responsible for making important decisions in colleges,
universities, and all branches of government. Like phenomenology, narrative inquirers also feel
an ethical responsibility for sharing and validating the truths of participant‘s stories, and, during
this tumultuous time, it is integral that undocumented students have a multitude of platforms to
share their stories on.
In addition to questioning the veracity of participant stories, the rigor of narrative inquiry as a
methodological approach continues to be challenged. Although narrative inquiry is used across
disciplines (education, anthropology, psychology, occupational therapy, and more), the culture of
academia is only beginning to recognize the power of capturing stories as a rigorous method and
analytical approach. The process of the Institutional Review Board (IRB) and publishing in the
discipline of education continues to be dominated by a post-positivist paradigm. Disciplines such
as anthropology and English literature have illustrated how stories can be powerful ways of
communicating research, but both phenomenology and narrative inquiry are still gaining traction
in the academia.
Phenomenology

Phenomenology is the descriptive study of lived experiences. Van Manen states,
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―…phenomenology is the systematic attempt to uncover and describe the structures, the internal
meaning structures, of lived experience.‖ (p. 10). Unlike other methodologies such as a case
study approach that is intended to ―understand complex social phenomena‖ (Yin, 2013, p.4)
within a broader context, phenomenology is concerned with how participants constitute
meaning-making from a lived experience. Semiotics play an integral role in the practice of
phenomenology. Seidman (2006) uses Heron
31
to illustrate the fundamental significance of
language:
The use of language, itself . . . contains within it the paradigm of cooperative inquiry; and
since language is the primary tool whose use enables human construing and intending to
occur, it is difficult to see how there can be any more fundamental mode of inquiry for
human beings into the human condition (p. 26 in Heron as cited in Seidman, p. 8).
More simply put, understanding language has the ability to communicate the complex layers of
meaning embedded within the human condition. This is not to say that context and behavioral
observations are of no importance. On the contrary, Patton (1989) states, ―Without context there
is little possibility of exploring the meaning of an experience‖ (as cited in Seidman, 2006, p. 17).
Thus, language devoid of context proves to be of little use. Having a detailed understanding of
the nuances of a particular context is an entry point into unpacking the lived experiences of
individuals.
The process of phenomenology is linked by time. In order to foreground time as an important
tenant in phenomenological accounts, it is imperative that the interview structure is solidified
prior to entering the field. According to Seidman (2006), the data collection phase should
consist of three interviews, which correlate with a past, present, and future focus. Each interview
lasted three to four hours. The structure is predicated on prompting the participant to relive the

31
John Heron is a British psychologist from the early 1980s
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minutiae of the lived experience of interest where the first interview establishes the context of a
person‘s experience, the second focuses on the details of the lived experience, and the third
interview allows space for participant reflection of the experience. In essence, the structure of
the interviews establishes the conditions for storytelling where the power is neither derived from
the microcosm of the particular nor does it allow an all-encompassing claim that can be applied
universally. Instead, phenomenology ―attempts to explicate the meanings as we live them in our
everyday existence, our lifeworld‖ (Manen, 1990, p. 11).
A phenomenological approach to working with undocumented students in community
colleges is useful for three reasons. The most enticing aspect of this methodological approach is
its ability to articulate a shared experience in a visceral and palpable way. ―Phenomenological
descriptions, if done well, are compelling and insightful. The eloquence of the texts may contrast
sharply with the toil, messiness, and difficulties involved in the research/writing process.‖
(Manen, 1990. p. 8). A story told well, whether it is through writing, film, or radio, has the power
to transcend its audience. For fiction writer Stephen King, good writing has the power to make
the reader forget they are reading (2002). Phenomenology also hinges on its ability to articulate a
shared experience within a targeted group of people. A phenomenological account can be shared
across different groups of practitioners both inside and outside of the academy. My goal is to
reach beyond the walls of academia to reach community college administrators, staff, and faculty
members who have daily contact with undocumented students. Van Manen (1990) states that
―Much of educational research tends to pulverize life into minute abstracted fragments and
particles that are of little use to practitioners,‖ but phenomenology seeks to highlight the
―seemingly trivial dimensions of our everyday educational lives‖ (Manen, 1990, pp. 7-8) in a
way that validates the lived experiences of the participants in a thoughtful way.
Undertaking a phenomenological study raises concerns in two area. First, the in-depth
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interview process inherent in the method has the potential to be exploitative without a
conscientious researcher. The process encompasses a delicate balance between the researcher
and participant‘s goals for the project. Seidman (2006) acknowledges the tension that he feels
conducting phenomenological work:
… at a deeper level, there is a more basic question of research for whom, by whom, and
to what end. Research is often done by people in relative positions of power in the guise
of reform. All too often the only interests served are those of the researcher‘s personal
advancement. It is a constant struggle to make the research process equitable, especially
in the United States where a good deal of our social structure is inequitable (p. 13).
Thus, clear intentionality and constant self-reflection on the researcher‘s behalf (or bracketing as
it is called phenomenological terms) needs to be clearly communicated with participants during
the rapport building process.
In addition to the moral and ethical risks of participant exploitation, researchers engaging in
phenomenological work also need be cognizant of asking participants to recount potentially
painful experiences. The interview protocols run the risk of re-traumatizing the individual
(Walker, 2007). Therefore, it is integral for the researcher to follow a structured approach with
each interview in order to avoid causing the participant additional psychological harm. The
researcher has a moral and ethical responsibility to care for the wellbeing of her participants. One
way to stay accountable to the participants is to remember the practical intentions of the research
project. Van Manen (1990) reminds us of the significance of the dialectical relationship between
the theoretical and practical dimensions of phenomenology: ―…a semiotics inspired dimension is
part of this research approach, while the practical nature of the pedagogic lifeworld demands that
this form of educational inquiry does not convert into armchair philosophizing or abstract
theorizing‖ (p. ix). A clear sense of purpose and intentionality on the part of the researcher can
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reduce the risks in using a phenomenological approach while also presenting an opportunity for
researchers to be more thoughtful whilst conducting research as well.
Photography as a Visual Method

As Pink (2013) states, ―The visual is…inextricably interwoven with our personal identities,
narratives, lifestyles, cultures and societies, as well as with definitions of history, time, space,
place, reality, and truth‖ (p. 1). Using film as a visual research method of collecting and
analyzing data is useful in a variety of ways. First, although case studies are traditionally
bounded to the standard chronological format of collecting data followed by analysis, film allows
more of an ethnographic style to emerge. In particular, it overtly changes the way the data is
collected with participants appearing on film, but before we ask a participant to appear on film
we prefer to meet and observe them as a way to establish a level of comfort between the
researchers and participants. In addition to altering the data collection process, filming also
allows the researchers to engage in an iterative analysis cycle that is endemic to ethnographic
work whereby one interview can inform the questions created for the next interview. While
audio transcriptions and analysis also provide a way to engage in an iterative analysis process,
film offers subtle and nuanced facial and body language cues that sheer voice inflections cannot
capture. As Pink states, ―They [images] are inextricably interwoven with our personal identities,
narratives, lifestyles, cultures and societies, as well as with definitions of history, space and
truth‖ (2007, p. 21). In essence, film as a research method is not wholly celebrated in the social
sciences, and while capturing the visual alone does not represent the entirety of a culture; film
offers a window of self-reflection for a researcher and thoughtful analysis for participants.
Secondly, transcribing filmed interviews can also be an additive way of showing gratitude to
participants for providing their time; and thirdly, the footage taken can be given back to the
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participants for raising awareness for both their club and their mission on campus and in the
community.
Participant Selection

This study features the narratives from three undocumented participants. Because the nature
of this study is more sensitive when identifying possible participants, I engaged in a reverse
snowball sampling strategy and ethnographic approach for recruitment. Having its origin in
sociological qualitative research, Biernacki and Waldorf (1981) state:
The method yields a study sample through referrals made among people who share or
know of others who possess some characteristics that are of research interest‖ and ―…is
well suited for a number of research purposes and is particularly applicable when the focus
of study is on a sensitive issue, possibly concerning a relatively private matter, and thus
requires the knowledge of insiders to locate people for study (p. 141).
In a more traditional deployment of snowball sampling, researchers follow a chain of referrals
made by key knowledge holders in communities of interest. This process is somewhat similar to
anthropologists who immerse themselves in communities where the research is taking place in
order to build rapport whilst learning the intricate rituals, customs, and beliefs systems of the
people.
Taking an anthropological approach over the past three years, I have discovered a vast
network of undocumented scholars, activists, artists, practitioners, and students in California. I
started my endeavor to understand undocumented students quite by accident in the summer of
2015. After spending a majority of my time in a Southern California technical community
college looking at the orientation process for new students, I was connected with a student who
disclosed her AB540 status to me. After having been accepted to multiple four-year state
colleges and University of California (UC) campuses, her decision to be fiscally responsible and
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save money to transfer was the beginning of my UndocuAlly-ship and venture to hear more
stories from Dreamers. Similar to the snowball sampling referral process, an anthropologist
traditionally identifies an informant to work with closely over the course of the study.
Informants are integral to helping the anthropologist learn how to become part of the
community and often help build their trustworthiness with people. While these methods
provided useful strategies for accessing undocumented networks, this study presented a number
of challenges along the way.
While much of the literature on undocumented communities does not discuss access issues in
depth, it is important to acknowledge these challenges in the course of participant selection as
scholars become more intentional about including a plethora of voices from across Dreamer
communities. First, undocumented communities are unbounded and diffused by time and place.
More specifically, undocumented Millennials and youth are finding undocumented community
support through online venues such as Instagram and Facebook, the Internet enables an ensured
way of feeling safe to participate in undocumented rights campaigns. While these online social
communities encourage days of protests and community building, the nebulous electronic ether
also encourages anonymity.
Locating undocumented students in colleges and universities presents a different set of
challenges. I describe my approach as a reverse snowball sampling method. I located key
practitioners through a combined process of ethnographic inquiry, or a deep hanging out, and
building rapport and credibility with them. The practitioners were primarily through student
services at various community colleges throughout California and were activists and advocates
working with undocumented students in community colleges. As time went on, my network of
scholars, practitioners, and students continued into the community. Through vetting myself to
key practitioners, they would then take my recruitment materials (brief introduction

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about the study and a flyer) (see Appendix B) and contact students to give my materials to. If
students were interested, they would reach out to me via email or text. The process of
garnering student interest in working with me would move in waves, and the process moved
incrementally over the course of six to seven months. These are the kinds of considerations a
researcher needs to consider when working within and across different undocumented
communities— especially as an outsider. Although it takes longer to procure participants,
using a reverse snowball sampling method respects student privacy and does not ‗out‘ their
legal status without giving consent.
Data Collection

Following the recruitment phase, I worked with each student to continue building rapport
and in between scheduling each interview. Each student participated in a total of three
interviews that ranged between two to four hour sessions. Each interview was scheduled a
month apart as suggested by both methodological approaches to kind in mind that emotional
wellbeing of the participant. There were myriad conversations during the pre- and post-data
collection period to build rapport, sustain a relationship, and engage in participant member
checks. Because a majority of undocumented students have limited time in their schedule due
to school, work, and family obligations, it was important to schedule meeting times early on.
With the rise of social media, communicating via text or through social media platforms like
Snapchat and Instagram were heavily used to communicate on. For the purposes of this study,
students were not required to sign an informed consent form in order to keep their identities
truly anonymous. In addition, all of the data collected and personal research notes identified
students only by their pseudonyms. Students were given the option to choose their own
pseudonyms to make it meaningful for them. According to Caine et al. (2017), protecting the

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identities of research participants is one of the utmost important elements to consider,
particularly when working with a vulnerable population.
Inspired by Atkinson‘s (1998) life story interview method, Clandinin argues that a
collection of narratives offers a more holistic way of understanding participant stories and
seeks to ―to bring forth the voice and spirit within a life-as-a-whole personal narrative‖ (2006,
p. 224). In many ways, the life story interview method offers a bridge between narrative
inquiry and phenomenology. Both methodologies can utilize the interview method to further
develop the researcher‘s understanding of the research material, and this approach can be
utilized within various disciplines:
The life story interview produces a first-person text, in the words of the storyteller, that
can stand on its own, as any other text, or that can be examined through the lens of any
theory or research question applied to it. This methodology has broad applications
across disciplines: A researcher from any discipline can choose to apply this
methodology to get at the particular research or disciplinary questions in hand, within
the context of a life story, or a researcher from any field can turn to an existing life
story text to examine it for the questions at hand (Clandinin, 2006, pp. 224-225).
Thus, this interview method is malleable and provides infinite avenues for unpacking
student stories.
According to Seidman (2006), participant interviews should take place three to four weeks
apart in order to give students time to recalibrate from the intensive conversations (2006).
Upon our first interview session, each student was given an information sheet, and we went
over each element of the study to ensure students could comprehend their participation. Each
participant engaged in three interviews that lasted approximately two to four hours. Following

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Clandinin‘s conceptualization of a story that traditionally encompasses a beginning, middle
and end, each interview was tailored toward particular timeframe. More specifically, the first
interview focused on the student‘s past and encompassed narratives of their life that
interweaved through their elementary, junior, and high school experiences; the second
interview focused on the student‘s present situation and college experiences; and the third
interview centered on the participant‘s
future. After the first conversation, I prompted students to take pictures of their everyday lives
during our interim between meetings. There was a prompt for each of the three interviews to
take or provide photos from one‘s past, present, and future (depending on which interview it
was):
Prior to our interview, please take 3-5 photos of people, places, and/or things that
remind you of your [insert past/present/future]. Feel free to take pictures of anything
meaningful to you or provide photos you have, but I only ask that you please not take or
use pictures of people's faces for identity protective purposes.
I requested that student‘s take between three to five photos for each interview so we would
ensure plenty of time to discuss each one, and my only request was that the pictures could not
be taken of themselves for identity protective purposes. Each student owned a smart phone and
used their devices to take photos.
Visual methods like photography have been utilized in multiple disciplines employing
qualitative methodologies. Anthropologists have long used photographs for collecting
observational data. While early anthropologists steeped in colonialism used photographs as
further evidence to characterize non-white cultures as savage and backwards, the discipline
underwent a tumultuous time where issues of power between the researcher and participant

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emerged as highly contentious. This shift in thinking inspired future generations of
anthropologists and ethnographers to consider the implicit power dynamics produced
through capturing photos. Thus, prompting the students to be the producers of their own
photos offer snapshots in time of their daily experiences was one way to challenge the
inherent power inequities through conducting research. In addition to taking the photos,
participants were questioned about each photo to elicit more detailed explanations.
Photographs also offer a useful starting point for entering a conversation and often offer
insights that would not typically be shared in a formal interview process.
Clandinin (2006) offers an eloquent perspective on how the visual is complimentary
to a narrative inquiry approach:
Visual narrative inquiry allows another layer of meaning to narrative inquiry.
Experience as a whole includes all that is experienced as well as the experiencer and
the way he or she experiences. Experience differs from person to person; each
undergoes and acts and reacts differently. Each has a different ―angle of vision‖ that
touches on a common world. This angle of vision is an important component of visual
narrative inquiry. There are no static categories of understanding or static forms of
perception—one perception leads to another perception (p. 282).
In essence, Clandinin is referring to the dialectical world between the individual and their
cultural and environmental contexts. Although narrative inquiry seeks to understand the
individual‘s life story, all qualitative methods recognize the idea of overlapping experiences.
For narrative inquirers, individual stories overlap to create a landscape of human experience.
Like stories, Clandinin suggests that photographs are images of shared experience that contour
one‘s life. ―As photographs and stories are shared, resonance across stories becomes

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apparent… Photographs, whether those of common places, of common events, or of unique
events, are a way of sharing experiences—the everydayness of lived experience (Clandinin,
2006, p. 282). Much like humans being are engaged in a dialectical dance between their
individual selves and societal forces (e.g. culture and environment)— a solipsistic paradox—
stories and photographs are both mediums through which to share lived experiences.
Photographs offer a narrative inquirer room for archaeological excavation. Like the
archaeologist uncovering layers of sediment that indicate what era an artifact belonged to,
photographs offer a similar textured analysis. For instance, one photo of an undocumented
student standing in the mirror with a ‗Vote‘ sticker plastered to it suggests far more than its
seemingly innocuous intention. Without context, a viewer might assume that the young woman
in the picture had just voted, placed her sticker on the mirror of a bathroom, and preceded to
creatively take a photograph to encourage others to take civic action and vote, however, DACA
students cannot vote in elections. Thus, using photos within the narrative inquiry style
interviews works to unpack complex meanings that are masked in the everyday. Visual
narrative inquiry, thus, creates an avenue for me to look into the ―intentionality, the negotiated,
and the recursive nature of how visuality enriches the ‗three-dimensional narrative inquiry
space‘‖ (Clandinin & Connelly, 2000, p. 50 as cited in Clandinin, 2006, p. 283).
Data Analysis

Due to the interdisciplinary nature of this study, I engaged in two phases of data analysis
with the first wave of analysis framed through a narrative inquiry process of analysis and the
second using a phenomenological analytic approach. For the first phase of data analysis, I used
Clandinin and Connelly‘s (2000) three-dimensional space approach. Clandinin and Connely
define the three dimensional space in terms of temporality, personal, and place (or context)

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within the stories shared. The interview structure aided the temporal aspect of this data
analysis approach with each conversation centering around a different time period in the
participant‘s life. The personal was geared towards unpacking the cognitive, emotional, and
social world of the individual, and place referred to the context that individuals were
embedded in while having life experiences.
After personally transcribing each interview, I listened to the audio recordings two times to
notate inflections of voice, labored pauses, and other linguistic cues that are lost in translation
to a written text. After the first read of the text where I allowed myself to merely experience
the interview again from a distance, I read each transcript three times to capture a different
element of the three dimensional space framework—temporality (continuity), personal/social
(interaction), and place (situation). A detailed and chronological story of each participant was
produced and offered to each student to engage in a meaningful member check process.
Following the production of individualized stories, I engaged in a phenomenological
analysis strategy to produce a more descriptive account of the undocumented community
college student experience across participant narratives. Unlike narrative inquiry that is not
interested in categorizing the human experience, phenomenology engages in a process of
decontexualization and recontextualization (Starks & Trinidad, 2007, p. 1373). During this
process, description the phenomenon in question (in this case it was being an undocumented
community college student) were taken from across the four accounts, coded both inductively
and deductively, and used to describe the essence of a shared experience. In order to engage in
this analytical process, I read the transcripts an addition three times. The first round of reading
allowed me inductively identify categories of experience across narratives. Following the
reading, I compiled a list of inductive codes, created definitions for each, and used the second

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round of reading to extract meaningful phrases and quotes to make sense of thematic element
identified. The third round used deductive codes identified through he literature as core
features of the undocumented student experience to consider (e.g. first generation,
socioeconomic factors, fear, stress, and capital). Through this analytical approach, a thematic
description of the lived experienced of undocumented community college student experiences
in California was produced.
Credibility & Trustworthiness

Unlike the traditional scientific method that dealt with issues of validity, rigor, and
applicability in laboratory experiments, the natural sciences use concepts such as
trustworthiness and authenticity to establish credibility. Credibility is achieved through an
array of strategies including, but not limited to, prolonged engagement with participants,
member checks, and peer debriefing. For this study, member checks—the process of
consistently checking in with the participant to ensure that their narratives are being
reconstructed accurately—were a critical part of building rapport with undocumented students.
After each interview, I wrote a short memo reviewing all of the elements shared over the
course of the conversation. After writing their complete story, each participant received a copy
of the document where they could point out any errors in my interpretation and elaborate on
any vague areas. According to Lincoln and Guba (1985), ―investigators conscientiously take
note of how their emic and etic perspectives affect
their interpretations of participant experiences in the field‖ (as cited by Yamagata-Lynch, 2010,

p. 65). In addition, the co-construction of participant stories was even more salient upon taking
photographs. The photos included in the appendices were each chosen in dialogue between
each student and myself. Working alongside the participants acknowledges and challenges the

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―power structure between researcher and research‖ and is integral to ensuring quality work
(Stover, 2014, p. 59). Although narrative inquiry and phenomenology is not as time intensive
as producing an ethnography, one participant and I had been talking consistently for a year
prior to the start of the first interview. According to Lincoln and Guba, peer debriefing works
when one discusses the research design and working theories with colleagues in order to gain a
more etic perspective on the study. In addition to my advisor and committee members, I
workshopped my study with numerous colleagues to ensure that each element of the research
design was grounded with the appropriate considerations in mind.
Ethical Considerations & Study Limitations

In preparation for the study, I obtained IRB approval, allowed each participant to choose
their pseudonym, and recruited students through the reverse snowball sampling method, and it
is important to continue the conversation on what kinds of ethical considerations should be
taken when working with undocumented communities. Perhaps the most important element to
consider when collecting data is protecting student privacy. Although IRB accounts for access,
storage, and how long data will be stored for, questions surrounding true anonymity surface
for researchers working with vulnerable populations. Data can be subpoenaed, intellectual
property can be owned by the federal government, and there are myriad circumstances where
participants can be reveled over the course of this study. Thus, I coded transcripts and wrote
research notes only using participant pseudonyms. All names and places were replaced with
pseudonyms and the participants did not have to disclose any information nor sign any consent
form for IRB. During the first interview, each student was given an IRB study information
sheet and we took the time to go through each section.
In addition to privacy protection concerns, working with undocumented communities

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needs to be approached ethnographically. More specifically, building rapport take time.
Working alongside undocumented community college students is not a short-term
commitment where a researcher makes connections with potential interviews, schedules an
interview, conducts the interview, and continues on with life after writing up the results.
Roberto Gonzales discusses how he collected data over the course of 10 years by working in
various community organizations, colleges, and tutoring centers to build trust and talk with
students and families to learn about the undocumented immigrant experience (2016). Thus, it
is critical that researchers understand that an armchair approach to working with
undocumented communities is not effective.
Due to the sensitive nature of working with undocumented communities, this study had a
number of limitations. Firstly, this study heavily relied on in depth accounts of four narratives,
thus, as the academic community looks to expand the Dreamer literature to be more inclusive,
many more students across the state and the nation need to be heard. Similarly, the recruiting
process limited where undocumented community college student communications were sent
out. A majority of recruitment took place in the Central Valley and Southern California regions
leaving northern California and the Bay Area ripe for exploration. Future qualitative endeavors
can continue to understand undocumented four year and community college student
experiences across communities. In addition, the conceptualization of hope presented here is
burgeoning and will need to continue to be developed as more student stories from myriad
undocumented student backgrounds emerge. Due to the nature of qualitative research, the data
collection and analysis process is mediated through the researcher, thus, the biases I hold have
the potential to shape how interpretations of student narratives are construed.
Role of Researcher & Background

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Because the role of the researcher is so intimately linked with the outcome of this study, it
is important to acknowledge and discuss my positionality and engage in a qualitative
methodological process called reflexivity. Similar to the emic (insider) and etic (outsider)
perspective, reflexivity is the process where ―researchers recognize that they are part of the
social world they are studying and cannot avoid having an impact on the phenomena under
investigation‖ (―Analysing,‖ 2013). According to Clandinin (2006), narrative inquiry, in
addition to many other qualitative methodologies, uses the researcher and participant to co-
construct the life stories of individuals. Reflexivity allows the researcher to become more
conscious of and grapple with what and how these stories are produced:
What is sought is a reflexive process that focuses on our too easy use of taken-for-
granted forms and that might lead us towards a science capable of continually
demystifying the realities it serves to create. [I envisage] an altogether different
approach to doing empirical inquiry which advocates the creation of a more hesitant
and partial scholarship capable of helping us to tell a better story in a world marked by
the elusiveness with which it greets our efforts to know it (Clandinin, 2006, p. 65).

Reflexivity is an iterative process that offers the researcher an opportunity to continuously
reassess and question how one‘s positionality impacts not only one‘s relationship with the
participant but the interpretation of data. Unlike the more traditional scientific paradigm that
claims objectivity, no two qualitative researchers will ever produce the exact same study
because they are different human beings with an array of beliefs, values, and biases. Stated
more succinctly, Kennedy (2001) highlights the constant negotiation of power within the
researcher/participant relationship: ―A person is a member of a race, a class, a gender, and
maybe said to have varying degrees of power in any situation. Part of the tension for a

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narrative inquirer is to acknowledge these truths while holding to a different research agenda‖
(as cited in Clandinin, 2006, p. 67).
While phenomenologists engage in a similar method of reflexivity, the process is referred to
as bracketing. Bracketing is defined as a self-reflexive process ―…whereby they [researchers]
recognize and set aside (but do not abandon) their a priori knowledge and assumptions, with
the analytic goal of attending to the participants‘ accounts with an open mind (Gearing, 2004;
Sokolowski, 2000; van Manen, 1990 as cited in Starks & Trinidad, 2007, p. 1376). By using
methods such as writing weekly research memos or keeping a research journal, it allows the
researcher to constantly engage in a cyclical pattern of self-reflection to pinpoint how one‘s
background and biases are potentially impacting participant interviews and data analysis over
the course of the study.
The most common criticisms and questions I received over the course of this study dealt
with my outsider status to undocumented communities, my advocacy as an ally for
undocumented students, and interviewing only in English. As I mentioned earlier, a majority
of the undocumented literature is written by scholars of color who share the same race as the
students being. Race matching has been instrumental in building rapport with undocumented
students thus far. However, as more studies emerge across undocumented communities there
will be a need for researchers from various racial and ethnic backgrounds to learn how to
navigate across multiple cultural groups. The issues surrounding immigration, citizenship, and
community college remain close to my heart. In 1968, my mother immigrated from Gunma
Prefecture in Japan—a region just north of Tokyo. While she held dual citizenship due to her
father‘s American and mother‘s Japanese nationality, the stigma of having mixed blood was a

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symptomof the times. I remember always thinking that if my mamasan
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had been born and
immigrated a short two decades prior, she would have been thrown into a Japanese internment
camp in California during World War II. I also wondered if I would have as well. My sister
surely would as she has more phenotypic features associated with Japanese women, but my
skin and hair color almost always lead onlookers astray and bewildered when discussions of
race and ethnicity arise. ―Show me a picture of your mom and sister‖ is commonly followed
by an elongated stare accompanied with, ―I see it in your eyes‖. My mother did not have many
choices for colleges after high school so she attended the local community college to become
a nurse. Her father left her with financial some financial aid after he passed and was a firm
believer in attending college. Thus, I was raised with the idea that higher education is ―the
way out‖. While my lived experience has not encountered citizenship complications, and I
was fortunate enough to be able to pursue a four-year college, my ancestors and family have
given me narratives to humble me and ever renewing empathy for immigrants and community
college students.
The duality between advocacy and scholarship has been an ongoing concern for the
academy. Rigorous quantitative research continues to be defined by the presumed objectivity
of the scientist conducting an experiment, but qualitative studies acknowledge the researcher
as a human being that holds various beliefs systems, cultural conditioning, and histories that
frame one‘s worldview. My background lends itself to being an UndocyAlly for Dreamers
like a majority of the scholars working with undocumented communities. However, being an
advocate does not indicate one will produce poor scholarship that censors one narrative over
another. This is the beauty of qualitative research where researchers confront their own

32
-san is a formal honorific ending in Japanese to indicate those older than the speaker, however,
I use it less for formality and more for respect with my mother.

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biases while making sense of their participant‘s experiences. It is the unveiling of the
researcher‘s vulnerability throughout the text that allows the reader to draw their own
conclusions and to agree or contest the interpretations drawn from the data that allows
qualitative studies to pursue a different path of what constitutes research.
A final concern that is important to discuss is the role of language in this study. Although I
can speak conversational Hindi, read and speak a decent amount of Spanish, and read Korean, I
was not confident in my language skills outside to conduct an entire interview in any language
but English. With that being said, I highly encouraged participants who were more comfortable
speaking in their native language to express themselves in whichever language came more
natural. I explained to the students that I could translate the sentences later and member check
with them to see if I captured their expressions accurately. The imbued power dynamics by
conducting interviews in English weighed heavily on my mind in the months leading up to the
recruitment phrase; however, I arrived at the decision after considering multiple perspectives.
To use an interpreter would have allowed me to capture more nuanced linguistic features, but
the need to build rapport and provide ultimate confidentiality for students moved me away from
that idea. In addition, using an interpreter might have also implied that I was not confidant that
the students could speak English well despite attending college already. According to Leisy
Abrego, ―undocumented youth are ‗indisputably full-fledged members of US society – even if
only at the lower rungs of the economic ladder. After having been educated in our schools, they
speak English (often with more ease than Spanish), envision their futures here, and powerfully
internalize US values and expectations of merit‘‖ (Zimmerman, 2012, p. 14). Therefore,
conducting interviews in English may seem to work well considering that a majority of
undocumented students have been in the U.S. for most of their lives.

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CHAPTER FOUR: ARIS

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Pasta with Hummus
Steps:

1. Boil water and add the pasta to cook.

2. In a separate pot, add some oil and sauté some onions with garlic, add spinach, and add a cup of
water with a dash of basil and as much hummus as you‟d like (depending on how much pasta
you‟re making).

3. Once the mixture seems soup like and the pasta is cooked, drain the water and add it to the rest of
the veggies.

4. Mix well and wala! Pasta-a-la basil!
Being undocumented and becoming a vegan are strangely similar experiences. At first, you‘re
kind of caught off guard. While everyone around you eats meat, you‘re left trying to put together
different foods that don‘t always make a meal. When you‘re undocumented, you‘re still not
accepted by everybody, some people think you‘re ‗weird‘ or a ‗criminal,‘ and you have to
scramble to find resources in order to live a normal life. There‘s always an extra layer of hurdles
to get over when someone is undocumented or a vegan. Finding scholarships, getting a job,
having access to financial aid, getting a license, going to a four-year college--all of these things
are not easy to come by. As a vegan, having access to healthy fruits and vegetables is pretty
much a necessity, but that‘s a problem when you live in food desert. Sometimes I can go to
Trader Joe‘s, but that is rare because I don‘t have one in my neighborhood and it is pretty
expensive, so I am left having to find things around our local grocery stores, which doesn‘t leave
a lot to the imagination. Being undocumented is like living in a food desert. You might have
family that loves and supports you at home, but they can‘t really do anything for you because
you‘re undocumented because it‘s out of their control. I still come home and there will be a
massive amount of meat on the kitchen table after a large food haul. I can encourage my mom to
eat healthier and make her food, but ultimately, I can only control my own eating habits.

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Eventually I started learning how to be both over time—an undocumented vegan. I have learned
how to be undocumented and am always learning all of the time. It‘s the same with being a
vegan. My recipes started out being basic like the pasta with basil recipe. That one was of the
first recipes I ever attempted.. I continue to evolve as I gain more knowledge.
I believe we are all on a journey here on Earth. Each individual can only control so much in
life. Most of life is left to God I think. I can‘t remember a time I didn‘t go to church. Outside of
school, church is something I do on a daily basis because it makes me feel centered. Being close
to God helps me in my everyday life, and I don‘t mean in a materialistic way. I know some
people who pray only when they need things in life, but for me, being close to God gives me a
sense of peace going through life. Like I‘m not scared of being deported because I know I‘ll still
be able to help people whether I am here in the U.S. or in El Salvador. Of course, I would like to
stay here, not gonna lie, because it is all I know, and from what I hear from my cousin and
family still in El Salvador, it is dangerous for people, but it is dangerous here too. There have
been shootings a few blocks from my house, and most of the time, people who live outside of my
neighborhood are told to be careful. So I grew up having to learn how to deal with fear, and
church has been a real important part of that for me. I know God has a plan for me. It‘s the same
with being undocumented. I can‘t control whether I have legal status or not so I don‘t tend to
focus on it so much. Instead, I give my energy to things I love like cooking, exercising, and
being in nature. I am passionate about the types of food I put into my body, and over the last
couple of years, I have become a vegan. It has been really empowering for me because I never
had control over my food or my life really until now.
My mom came here for me. She always says, ―I want you to do better.‖ She didn‘t even tell
my ―dad‖ she was coming to the U.S. if you can even call him that. I never knew him. I think he

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found out later later that I immigrated. My parents separated when I was one and he left and
never came back. He found out later from my aunts that I left. I heard from my aunts that now
that he knows that I‘m here and that I‘m older he‘s trying to get in contact with and stuff. I don‘t
feel anything for him though, and I don‘t know if I‘ll ever talk to him. He told my mom when
she was pregnant that if she had a girl that she was going to be his princess because all of his
other kids that he had with the other ladies were all boys, and then after me he had another baby
with some girl and it was also a boy. He had little education.
I didn‘t remember my mom when I lived in El Salvador, but I knew my aunt wasn‘t my mom.
They never told me when I would see my mom again but would say that she‘s on vacation or on
a long trip. My mom said that she told them not to tell me that she was living in the U.S. I don‘t
remember missing her, and I know it sounds bad, but I guess it was because I was always with
my other family members like my older cousins and stuff. I did grow up with one boy cousin
who I don‘t talk to everyday, but I do still talk to him.
When we got to the airport before I came to America, my aunt told me to call her mom but I
just couldn‘t do it. I was also told that if I was asked questions that I shouldn‘t answer and to stay
quiet. I remember what I was wearing because I like yellow so I was wearing a bright yellow
dress that my family in the U.S. had mailed to me. It was just a yellow dress with flowers, and I
remember I had to stand next to aunt—or ‗my mom‘ for the meantime-- and the flight attendants
have me a soda and pretzels. That‘s all I remember from the flight.
When my aunt filled out the paperwork for me to come originally, and she got confused
because she has a son, so she put that I was a boy on the paper. This caused a lot of confusion at
the airport so they detained us at the airport for a little while. All of my family was out there
waiting, and then my mom found out and was just panicking so they told her to go out of the

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airport to go get some air so she stepped out. I just remember sitting there with my aunt for the
longest time. When they finally let us go my mom wasn‘t there with the whole family so she was
outside by herself. It was her cane I remembered most and how she looked. That‘s the thing,
when I saw her, I just knew that that was my mom so I remember running to her. I hadn‘t seen
pictures of her while growing up, but I just knew because back when I was small, I was a bad
kid, so I would try mimicking her because she couldn‘t really walk well because she has polio.
My cousins would say ―Don‘t do that!‖ when I dragged my feet and my mom would be like,
―She doesn‘t know what she was doing.‖ I would walk next to my mom like that so I
remembered that it was her immediately. After we reunited, we left the airport and drive home in
a van and all my cousins were staringgg at me. They were sitting in the front like they had a little
puppy in the back, and they were small too and squished to one seat and my mom was in the seat
with me and they would turn around and stare quietly. The freeway was like WOW.
I was just like super amazed when I came here like ―Look at those stoplights! THEY ARE SO
HUGE!‖ That‘s the first thing that I noticed.
When I got home the first day, my family had a welcome party for me. My aunt had a doll for
me when I came in, and I still have it to this day. My close family all gathered in the same house
to welcome me, and the first thing I did when I got inside was hug a man I thought was my
grandpa, but he was actually our pastor, and I didn‘t know hahaha. He died a while ago. I
remember in the first house that my mom and I stayed in, we slept on the same bed so we had the
same room, but it was basically mine. I decorated it with Disney, Tinkerbell, stuffed animals,
things I got from book fairs, and little posters about friendship that I put all over the wall
33
. I was
so into arts, and I did so many projects--paintings, drawings, little random art projects I created

33
Refer to Appendix A, Figure 1.

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or from school. And I learned to speak such good English because of my cousin. Ever since I
was small, my mom asked my cousin Rene to teach me English cuz we used to live right next to
them. I would always go to her house and she would teach me like basic stuff like letters like
stuff like that. It was her. It was always her. Even now, she's like so supportive about everything.
She doesn't have any sisters either, just two younger brothers. Her dad, my uncle, he's always
like, whenever he sees us together he's like, "I have always wanted a daughter." He just looks at
us. I'm like okayyy hahaha. Rene was such a good teacher. She had a little table with two chairs,
one with the sun and one with the moon, and I would sit on it, and tells me now, ―You were one
grumpy and stubborn child.‖ If I didn‘t get a word right, I would get so upset with myself, and I
would leave and stomp back to my house.‖ She was like a real teacher. She had flashcards and
everything and made it so fun with snack time. Now Rene‘s a nurse, and we are still extremely
close.
The transition to living in the U.S. was pretty easy for the most part, but I remember wanting
to be spoiled by my mom and having to adjust to the religious expectations. When we started
going to church here, girls are supposed to wear skirts, and over there, I was used to shorts, mini-
skirts, like stuff like that. One time, I wanted to wear a short skirt and long socks with shorts
under, and I remember I threw a tantrum or whatever ‗cuz I couldn‘t wear that to church and two
big ponytails. She was just like, ―No you can‘t do that because you need to put a veil on top and
it‘s gonna look like crazy.‖ For the most part, though, I just wanted to be with her.
I always did really well in school. I saw my mom cry at an award ceremony when I was in
elementary school. I got the prize of reading 1,000 words in elementary school and there were
only three kids chosen, and I was one of them. We went somewhere downtown and we had to
come out singing ―We are the champion da naan aa…‖ and there was a bunch of kids from a

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bunch of different schools and we had to come out waving a little American flag while waving
and singing that song, and I remember my mom, I didn‘t even know where my mom was
because she was in the crowd, but she was crying afterward when I saw her.
I don't know if you want to know this, but ever since I was in elementary school, I've always
been kind of bossy hahaha like, um, I don't know if I told you, but I when was in fourth grade, I
used to tell the people in my class that if they didn't wear a white shirt they couldn't talk to me! It
was a different color every day. I remember that, and I remember one time, my fourth-grade
teacher called me over to him and was like "Aris, I need to speak to you" and I was like "okay."
When I came in, everybody was whispering ―bossy bossy,” and I think I just played it off cool.
The teacher was like "I need to speak to you. Did you tell all of your classmates that if they didn't
wear a white shirt you wouldn't talk to them or like you wouldn't be their friend?" and I was like
"yes" (laughs), and then he's like "Everybody that's wearing a white shirt because Aris told them
to, stand up," and it was like the whole class! There were only like two students that weren't like
wearing it, and he was like, "Aris, you're going to be a great leader someday." I was scared for a
minute [that I would get in trouble], but I was so confident in myself. I don't think I was being a
bully because I had a lot of people writing in my yearbook (laughs).
So in middle school you had the typical groups: the popular girls, the skaters, the shufflers,
you know. The shufflers listened to that techno music stuff like doom-sik doom-sik, and they
were ones that would go to raves all of the time supposedly. They had like a buuunch of
bracelets. and I guess I was part of the 'sporty' group ‗cuz we would always go to the P.E. field to
play soccer and eat lunch. The skaters were like just people who used to dress all in black and
then they had long hair like. Yeah, they were crazy and used to have like little mosh pits (I think
that‘s what they‘re called) at school. I don't remember anybody white or Caucasian in school,

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but, I used to have one friend that I met in band and she was African American. I was really
close to her too. But my school wasn‘t about what race you hung around. It was more about the
'pretty girls,' the 'cool girls', the one's with the boyfriends, and then the skaters were like the not
so popular kids, the trouble kids. But I hung out with people from all groups.
In middle school I had such bad acne. I remember I hated hated hated! this stage ‗cuz it was
like back when puberty was hitting its peak. I really do think it was because of the foods I ate.
This one boy in middle school made it even worse. He was always punking me about my acne.
My close friend (to this day), she used to sit in back of him, and he was like always making fun
of me and call me ―pimple face.‖ UGH, so unoriginal. Well one day, my friend got mad and she
kicked him in the back, and I guess it really hurt him because he stopped saying stuff. But yeah,
it was just bad, like my acne was bad. And then when we hit eighth grade he got bad acne, but I
didn‘t say anything.
I don't know why for some reason I look older when I was younger. It's weird. Mm, I think
because I didn't know anything about like healthy food. I was just eating whatever. I think I am
aging backwards. And I was so shy. I didn't feel confident in myself and then my cousins,
especially her, like, her name's Annie, she was always like, I used to think she was so pretty back
then and then, it's the three of them, three of them sisters, so, and they were always together, you
know how I don't have brothers or sisters so it was always like whoever would pick me to hang
out with them. I didn't feel confident with myself in elementary and middle school, but once I
hit high school, I felt like more comfortable. I remember, I grew the Tree Huggers Club when I
was president. When I first went, it was just 2-3 members in sophomore/junior year. And then I
wanted to become president, and I remember I still have my speech. I should have brought it. I
have my speech that I made and it sounds so good. It went from like 2 to 3 members to 30, and

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we had sweaters cuz I, my teacher was, her name was Miss Masters, and she was so supportive
of like all of us, and she's like 'I have this lady who could do sweaters in FLORIDA!." But I had
no idea so I was just like okay. I emailed the lady in Florida and I started knowing kinda what to
do and then I used my mom's debit card, and then, we had sweaters that say 'United Tree
Huggers' and the name's in our bad, and we created the logo and everything. We even come out
in the year book and stuff like that. And we have like our own little space on the wall, and, I
kinda, this was actually just my idea. You know how you have the little pins from the soda cans,
the one where you pop it up, so I was thinking maybe we could recycle all of those and create a
tree out of those so we did that so we have a tree with a bunch of those just going around.
After school, my mom‘s friend from church would pick me up from school and take me over
to the dress warehouse where she worked. When I see the owner to this day she says, "You've
grown up so much! Do you still remember when you used to sleep under the dresses?" My mom
used to work downstairs with all of the dresses, and I would be asleep under one of the poofy
dresses with a little jacket as my pillow
34
. Sometimes, the owner would come down looking for a
dress and find me under one, and it would always surprise her. She would say, ―Oh! There you
are!‖ It was sooooo warm under the dresses and it felt so cozy under there. Not to mention they
looked so pretty to see all of the dresses lined up in the store, but the basement was a little
different where we were. It was more like a basement. I don't know if you've ever been into the
downtown basement areas? Under is kinda scary for most people, but not for me. It was really
big, like really big with rows and rows of dresses with unpainted cement walls and you could see
really big tubes going across the ceiling at the top. I used to love exploring the area. One time I
remember we had to learn pi and there was a big big big wall so I would practice writing out pi,

34
Refer to Appendix A, Figure 2.

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3.14... hahaha while my mom would sew. The place where my mom would work was lit, but
since it was such a large space, most of it was pitch black. There were stairs, but you couldn‘t get
to the street from there. I used to like going there cuz that's where I used to take my alto sax and
practice and stuff. It was just me and my mom and some other lady would come and work with
her sometimes. That‘s where I got to learn about walking in the streets of downtown by myself
because my mom would be like "Oh here," like we didn't meal prep or anything so she was like,
"Here, go buy something" so I would go up and then go to McDonalds cuz it was right there or
the pizza place and I got used to kinda walking by myself. After middle school, my mom decided
she didn't want to work for that store anymore ‗cuz she knew I was going to be coming to high
school and she was like, ―No, people are crazy in high school‖ so she decided to start working
from home so she could keep a closer eye on me.
I didn‘t really understand that I was undocumented until the end of high school. My high
school was strict and serious about preparing students to attend four year colleges. I had to go
through an application process to get into my medical magnet school. I worked extremely hard in
all my classes, especially in the math and sciences because I always wanted to be a doctor. My
mom grew up in a lot of pain living with polio. She says she doesn‘t know how she traveled
across the border at that time because she had to pull herself up on large trucks and walk long
distances with the coyotes. She is the strongest woman I know. This sounds bad, but I remember
dragging my foot while I walked when I was little because I wanted to copy my mom‘s walk, but
I wasn‘t making fun of her or anything. It was that childhood innocence that I was living in at
that time. Copying her walk was a way I could show my admiration for her you know. If out
think about it, we can‘t see ourselves while walking. I guess if you have a mirror in front of you
then yeah, but we don‘t usually watch ourselves walk. My mom‘s cane became so ordinary for

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me. Running ahead of her to catch the bus when we were late was the norm. There was one time
that we didn't have money so my mom told me to run ahead to the guy at the bus, and she was
like, "Go ask him to wait for me.‖ I don't even remember telling the guy, but I guess I was
younger telling the guy like oh yeah can you wait for my mom. She's coming, My mom was
telling me that he gave us a month pass and he didn't charge us for it.
I first remember meeting my mom at the airport when I was six. It‘s not like I didn‘t know I
had a mom. She came to the U.S. when I was three so I talked to her on the phone every once in
a while. I lived with aunt in El Salvador. I don‘t remember a whole lot of my life before I came
on a plane here. My house was on a hill, and I remember having to either walk up a little flight of
stairs or run up the dirt hill on the sides. I also remember the buildings. They were really run
down. Nothing like I see here. When I was in school I had a Tweety Bird backpack that I
loveddd. I wish I would have brought it with me. There was a neighbor who gave me pencils
when I was younger He used to smoke and drink a lot and I always knew he was kind of
dangerous, but he was really nice to me. Honestly, if I ever went back I would want to see him
because he gave me a big pencil and it had Tweety Bird on it.
It was right before I came to America when my mom had a vision of me, and I had a vivid
dream. One night, while my mom was doing vigils, which is a set of seven prayers for seven
Friday‘s, she stayed up until really early in the morning like 2 or 3am praying. She was feeling
good and stuff like that and then she saw a little girl. When my mom turned around, there was a
big open space and she saw a little girl with a white veil kneeling beside her praying. She knew it
was me. She called me the next day, which was a Saturday, and it was funny because that same
night, I had had a dream. I dreamt about a guy that looked really orange and that I was in an
airplane. I knew that I was flying to come see my mom, and I told her because when she called

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me and I told her that, she started crying. I was by myself too when I woke up and she called me.
No one was at home because sometimes my aunt would have to go to work at night and there
was no one to watch me. My mom called me on the phone and I told her I was alone. I was like
―Oh mom, I‘m by myself. I did dream this and this and this…‖ and she started crying. She was
like, ―Oh, you know, I‘ve been dreaming. Don‘t worry, we‘re going to see each other soon.‖ I
used to have vivid dreams like that all of the time as a kid. They were no coincidences because I
come from a long line of gifted women in my family. In my church, there are whispers of my
family amongst congregation members.
My whole family, almost everyone, has a different gift. People kind of whisper about our
family because we have a large presence in the church. So three of my aunts, no four of them,
can speak tongues. One of them has received so many messages over the 38 years she has been
in the church. So many hymns. While praying, she often speaks in tongues, and if she‘s receiving
hymns, she‘ll sing it. Obviously the first time it‘ll be shaky because she‘s feeling it but can‘t
fully express it if that makes sense. She was the first one who started going to the church our
whole family goes to. She‘s like the alpha female of our family. Like if we have a family
reunion, and oh no, my aunt wants to speak up, let her speak. I‘m telling you, when they talk
about our family at church, we‘ve been lucky, or blessed I would say, like everybody in our
family with no problems has been able to come here. And we have a big family too. On just my
mom‘s side like 10 siblings so lots of aunts, uncles, cousins. Only two of them are in El
Salvador, but most of family are citizens now ‗cuz they went through the whole immigration
process. Some are permanent residents, but aside from that, I think it‘s just me and my mom
from the family who are undocumented.

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My other aunt is the one who prays more people that are sick, and it‘s weird because, well I
never thought about it that way, but it‘s usually like my mom, what I‘ve noticed is that she has
more visions while she is praying and in dreams. Like the vision that she had when I was smaller
before I came here to the U.S. Even the uncle that I‘m living with right now has a gift. One of
my cousins was gonna leave the church, and, even before that happened, my uncle didn‘t know
anything that was going on, and he had a dream that she was being pulled in by a wolf outside.
We kinda had an idea—like I knew for sure that she was gonna leave the church, but when my
uncle had that dream we knew for sure.
I think my gifts come in the form of visions in dreams. When I was small, I dreamed so
consistently. It was scary. There was one situation when I was smaller where I lost some money
and I searched for it EVERYWHERE. I knew I was gonna be in trouble with my mom if I did
not find that money! And I remember thinking, well, at church they say we should pray so I got
down and started praying, and I prayed so hard. When I was done I opened a book and the
money was there. I had looked everywhere in my room, and then the money was there. There
was another time I was in Salvador and I had stepped out of the bus in the middle of traffic at
night when I was small like 4 or 5. My cousin was supposed to be taking care of me that night,
but we went on the bus, and I don‘t know how I got down off the bus but I was in the middle of
traffic and everyone was honking at me, but I just stayed there ‗cuz I didn‘t know what to do.
The bus kept driving and then this other guy, I think he was a bus driver, got me and picked me
and carried me over to my cousin who was crying. I remember that night perfectly. Later on
when we were going home, I looked up and I saw a face but my cousin didn‘t see anything.
Outside of my dreams, I have only been touched by the Holy Spirit once. Describing the
experiences is akin to describing a dream as you wake upon how you feel right before drifting to

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sleep. I remember feeling ab overwhelming warm sensation all throughout my body. All of the
people in the church faded away and it was just me and God. At the time, I didn‘t know what I
had experienced, but after talking with the pastor, who happens to be my uncle, it was clear I had
been touched by the Holy Spirit Although my faith had never wavered in the past, the experience
reinforced my faith in God and the journey I am on. I think that‘s why I am okay being
undocumented.
I don‘t know if it‘s just my mom‘s personality and kinda like feeling she has to be the mom,
the dad, and everything, but she‘s never been open. She‘s never been like ―Come here lemme
talk to you‖ type of mom. It‘s always been me trying to reach out. Especially now, I‘m the one
trying to reach out to her, but, yeah, and she was always working too and back when I was in
elementary school and she was working in the store making dresses. I would come home and I
would be with my aunt and uncle or like a bunch of little kids there at the house so we didn‘t
really have much time, I thought we would be a little more consistently closer after I moved
here. I knew my mom was here, and it felt good, but I guess I didn‘t have that reassurance like
spoken affirmation. That‘s why I hung out with cousins a lot, especially Rene. I think my mom
feels pressure to be strong and that if she lets her guard down that I‘m not gonna be okay, and
her having polio and her 11 brothers and sisters who always said she couldn‘t do it. So I
understand that she feels she needs to be strong.
My family didn‘t want her to come because they were scared that she‘s fragile and that she
would fall, and I‘m telling you that‘s not my mom. My aunt told me that even though my mom
doesn‘t know, she didn‘t want to receive money from them because she thought she could do it
by herself so when she was coming she was like no. She didn‘t ask for help. It was only 'til the
last minute when she found herself somewhere that she needed more money and she called, and

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my aunt recently told me ―Let me know if you guys need help,‖ because I guess she asked my
mom and my mom said, ―Oh no we‘re fine,‖ so my aunt whispered to me about my mom not
wanting to ask for help.
My mom went to an institution to learn sewing and design. She wasn‘t exactly a student, but
she went there to learn how to draw, and then afterward she started learning how to measure but
with a piece of rope. She would do a knot here and a knot there, which would be a measurement
and from that she learned how to read slowly like one, two, three. She was older when she
started reading. I think she was like 20. My mom had me when she was older at 40, and came
here when she was 43-44. When she looks back she always says, ―I have no idea how I was able
to get up on to the trucks‖ with her disability. She‘s definitely a fighter. I think now she wants
me to do better, and I feel pressure. Like here‘s an example. Today, this morning, I‘m on break
from school so I‘m trying to enjoy it, but not like that much, but that‘s the thing, I always feel
like I need to have some type of agenda like okay I‘m going to do, I‘m gonna do that, and then if
I don‘t, I can already hear her like ―Aris, get up. You need to do this, this, and this.‖ So I was
thinking about it. I feel like it‘s like I have to do something because I have to prove to her that
I‘m doing something. I don‘t know if that makes sense. I feel guilty sometimes, like if I sleep in
because she goes to bed so late and gets up so early.
For me, being undocumented comes in waves. My first thought in the morning and my last
thought at night are not focused on my legal status. My extracurricular and social activities in
school are not surrounded around my immigration status. I really tried joining school clubs and
organizations for immigrant students, but after one or two times going to the meetings and events
I realized it wasn‘t for me. Unless my mom is worried about who I am talking to or showing me
something bad that happened in the news like Trump stopping DACA, I really don‘t think about

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being undocumented that much. My mom gets really worried though. Sometimes she calls our
family friend who is a lawyer to ask advice when new laws and policies are introduced to see
what we should do. She even told me what to say when someone asks how we got here. Most of
the time I say that we came by ground through El Paso. I think this is the first time I will actually
tell my immigration story to others outside of my family. There have definitely been moments in
my life where being undocumented has hurt me in school and made me question the future, but I
think my faith has a lot to do with how I see this whole thing.
Because of my good grades and testing scores in high school, my dream school offered me a
full scholarship for four years during the spring of senior year. I was SO HAPPY. I had been
working on my grades since middle school, probably before, but I really worked hard in middle
and high school to make sure I got into a good college. I knew college would be amazing. I was
still going to close to home so I could help my mom and go to my church. Everything was
perfect until it wasn‘t. While I was getting all of the paperwork together for my new college, I
made one single error. The admissions office told me that I needed to sign up for financial aid so
I could get my scholarship. At the time, Renee was the only person I could really talk with to
guide me through the college application process because she had gone through it so she helped
me fill out the FAFSA. Before I knew it, the college contacted me and said I filled out the wrong
form because I‘m undocumented and that they could no longer offer me the scholarship. I was
devastated. Even thinking about the whole thing brings tears to my eyes four years later. My
dream fell through my fingertips like a low hanging cloud that hugs the mountains in the dew
morning hours. I could see my college experience in the near distance. I could even reach my
hand out and touch the mountain holding up mystical marshmallow in the sky, but as I climbed
the mountain that felt like something akin to that Free Solo dude, there was no victory or

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celebration at the top. Instead, the cloud evaporated before my very eyes when I reached the top
and passed through my hands like a phantom. I had no idea how to get back down the mountain
without feeling like my life was over. Stranded. While my friends at school celebrated their
futures, I couldn‘t really enjoy our final days of high school together because I was miserable.
I would have done it differently back in high school if I could have. I needed more
information. I think it was, like, in high school, the message was you need to go to a four year,
you need to go to a four year, but I think that if I would have known more, I could have made
different choices. You know how they say if you go to a community college you save money.
Well it‘s true, but at the same time, most of my friends are graduating this year. That could have
been me if I had gone to a four year, and I knew that. If I would have known that my DACA
would have covered those four years, even if I wouldn‘t have gotten that much money. I thought
that my scholarship was the only way to make to a four-year college. I feel like going to
community college did teach me differently. It didn‘t really teach me the work ethic part, well
kinda, but more the social aspect of it. Like I learned how to get closer to teachers and being able
to talk to them more. Over there it was easier for me to talk to my professors, and I think it
helped me get out of my shell a little more too with the clubs and stuff like that. I think everyone
has their own time, but I need to better for myself.
I eventually told my guidance counselor, Mr. Tran, what happened with my scholarship and
that I would never be able to afford to go the college without financial help. Mr. Tran was pretty
new to the school so I felt more comfortable confiding in him about my situation. I felt like if I
told anyone else like my teachers they would have looked down on me. After I told Mr. Tran
what happened, I went to go see him more often as graduation neared. He made me feel better.
One day after I came to visit him, he really changed my life forever.

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―Come with me,‖ Mr. Tran said.
―Where are we going?‖ I asked surprised at the impromptu change in location.
―We are going to go check out the college across the street.‖
I followed Mr. Tran walking briskly following him. When we walked off school grounds I was a
little unsure of if we could just leave like that, but I figured Mr. Tran knew what he was doing.
We walked across the street to a building that was lively and filled with people coming in and
out of the doors.
―What is this place?‖ I asked as Mr. Tran walked confidently where he wanted to go. He knew
exactly where he wanted to go.
―This is Southern California Community College or better known as SCCC.‖
A community college? I had never heard of this kind of college before. I quickly found out that
community colleges are two-year schools where you can take classes and then transfer to a four-
year university. By the time I left the student services center, I had filled out and submitted the
admissions application and had an appointment for orientation the next week, and by the end of
June, I was a member of a brand new learning community program called Level Up to help
students transition from high school to college. I even got a ticket on my first day of orientation
because I didn‘t know where to park, but the new student program really helped learn my way
around.
Level Up gave me the confidence to go talk to people. I had no idea that older people went to
college. Later on, my friend got into the job and he‘s African American. His first comments
were, ―Why are there no African Americans in this job?‖ and I was like ―Oh that makes sense,‖
and I guess that‘s why it was easier for me because all of us were Hispanic in the job, and then
my boss was like really understanding because I was part of the Level Up club. I made my first

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friends in college in the program and also met one of my dearest role models and mentors who
happened to be a full-time student at a four-year university and worked full time at my college in
student services. Her work ethic was a constant source of inspiration. On the first day I met her,
she told me and the other Level Up students that she‘s undocumented. I don‘t think I had ever
met someone outside of my mom who willing shared their legal status with others let alone in
front of a whole group of people! But for the rest of my time at SCCC, she showed me resources
and which forms to fill out, helped me apply for scholarships, and even helped me get a great job
with the work study program in student services. It was really a full circle experience for me.
The place I had come to when I was lost was now a place I could help others students in the
same situation. Work felt like a second family. I worked next to a woman who was also from El
Salvador, which made me feel at home, and another student worker. It was such a fun
environment! We celebrated birthdays and holidays and even spent time outside of campus
hanging out and going on hikes or other adventures. I really miss the people and that
environment. It is so different from here.
I remember before I started SCCC, I tried looking at other community colleges in the area. I
had heard about one being a good transfer college, and told my mom ―That‘s where I want to go
because everyone said that college is better‖ bla bla bla, but she wouldn‘t let me drive all the
way by myself so she was like, ―Okay, let‘s go visit it with your cousin.‖ So we drove all the
way out there, which was a bit far and we had to take a lot of highways to get there. When we
got there, we parked on a side street, next to the university and when we got on campus there
were these girls. They were not Hispanic. I think they were like Caucasian, but I was like oh
whatever, I‘m just gonna ask them so I went, ―Hey, do you know where the admissions office is
at. I wanted to ask some questions?‖ They said, ―Oh no, we don‘t know,‖ and I was thinking

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Okay, but you go to school here. I was like whatever. So then I had no idea where I was going,
but I kept walking and asked one more person and they didn‘t know. I went inside a building and
there was a girl coming out with a skateboard, she was also Caucasian, and I was like, you know
what, I‘m gonna ask her too. She ended being super nice and super friendly and she was like,
―Yeah you just go here and go here.‖ That whole time my mom and my cousin were following
me ‗cuz obviously they had no idea where to go either so we just kept walking until we finally
found the admissions office, and then they told me what I had to do to apply and all that, but we
came to the conclusion that it was just too far from the house.
I would say going to SCCC helped me learn non-academic things in college. I mean I learned
in classes, but I would say looking at my classes now, SCCC doesn‘t push students academically.
I remember taking an English class, and I had done all this work, but some other students hadn‘t.
The professor was like, ―Oh don‘t worry, you can turn it in tomorrow,‖ she told them. I was like,
―But you said we had to turn it in today? I stayed up ‗til late trying to do this work,‖ but she let
it slide. It was the same grade with only like minus five points for turning it in late. I was late
ahhhhh. I told me friend about it, and she was like, ―Yeah, I know!‖ I ultimately started slacking
off because classes felt easier than high school and it just wasn‘t as strict.
Even though I‘ve only been in my new school for a semester, I can say that my community
college experience was 100 percent better. First, the PEOPLE. The students and staff were just
friendlier overall. Don‘t get me wrong, I have made some friends here because I can be social
when I want to, but like at work, no one talks to each other! I work in the admissions office, and
when I walk in, everyone is sitting in their little cubicle in front of a computer with their
headphones in. I end up getting the person next to me talk, but it‘s just so different. I actually
dread going to work sometimes because of it. One of the guys said, ―You‘re probably like the

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first person I have gotten to know as a person. Everybody else I don‘t really know about.‖ I was
―What?!‖ and he‘s been there for six months already. They don‘t talk like the students. The guys
do talk to themselves but it‘s more like joking. I don‘t know if it‘s my school and work hours,
but I don‘t feel connected to here. When I worked at SCCC it really felt like a family. I think
working there played a big part for me. Everyone was united. It wasn‘t like an us vs them divide,
and it really felt like team unlike at my current job at school. I can‘t help myself. I have to talk. I
can‘t just work in a cubicle listening to music. Not to mention my job at SCCC paid way more
than this job! That has actually really been stressful and hard on me and my mom.
With me making less money, it has been hard on us. My mom‘s seamstress work is good
because her talent and skills get her a lot of work, but the problem is her bosses. There are many
times when they don‘t pay her on time OR don‘t pay her all of the money they owe her. It makes
me SO ANGRY. I cannot even tell you. I say, ―Mom! You can‘t let them treat you like that! It is
sooooo WRONG!‖, but she says ―It‘s okay, it‘s okay.‖ I don‘t think she wants to say anything
because they pay her under the table and she is scared to lose her job. In one way I understand
because as undocumented people, we don‘t have a lot of job options. I have a little more freedom
because of DACA. But it‘s not just the pay though, it is the last minute deadlines and change
requests, which means more time that I have to drive around and get her fabrics from different
places and her staying up all night finishing the orders. I really want to start an Instagram page
for her because she‘s really talented. Then maybe people will order directly from her and she can
quit working for people who take advantage of her.
I guess that‘s why I‘m having a hard time here because I work, but it‘s in a job that I don‘t
like, and something that just demotivates me. Like I told my mom, I don‘t look forward to it

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every day. I just feel like if you‘re gonna live your life, you could die the next day, but I mean at
least you did something that you liked doing that day.
If I had to choose what college I would want on my car bumper sticker, it would probably be
SCCC and not SCSU (Southern California State University) even though most people would say
this is a 4 year and that‘s a 2 year. Maybe, yeah, they have more resources here, but everything
here is so independent. I don‘t know if it‘s because I didn‘t come straight out of high school
maybe. There‘s a lot of younger traditional students here. Traditional is, I would say, students
who came here straight out of high school. It feels different. Even with the people I work with,
even though they‘re my age, at SCCC I was talking to students who were incarcerated and older
students returning to college, and here, they feel like kids who are on their phones and eating
chips at the library. It just feels really different. I feel like I‘m not that much of a grown up here.
I grew up surrounded by family. Being an only child could get a bit lonely so I‘m so happy I
had so many cousins around. Except for my cousin in elementary and middle school. He was
crazy. In sixth grade, we had the same class and for some reason, the teacher sat us right across
from each other. All day long he would shoot spit balls at me while I was trying to concentrate.
He would laugh and LAUGH, and my teacher would never say anything. No one believed we
were related because we were so different. But other than him, my cousins have been a big part
of my life. My older cousin Rene was the reason I didn‘t fall behind in school. When I first came
to the U.S., I didn‘t know any English. Rene used to teach me the alphabet after school and on
weekends to learn English with her. Honestly, if it wasn‘t for her, I wouldn‘t be on the college
path I am today.
Being undocumented is difficult. It really is a struggle between two identities--being
American and the culture that you came from. A lot of people from church had to make the trip

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over to America not knowing when they would be able to go back to visit family while they are
in the process of getting their citizenship. This one guy, his father was dying in El Salvador, and
he couldn‘t go, but then a week later he got his citizenship. The family was trying to wait for him
to come to the funeral. That‘s what happened to most of my aunts and uncles here. You have to
decide either/or, you can‘t have both.
I remember when you were surprised that I listen to country music. My cousins used to listen
to it when I was little, but now that I‘m adult and you watch the music videos, you‘re like why
are their only white people? Where are the Hispanic people? And they have lyrics like, ‗my blue
eyed girl,‘ and of course you kinda grow up thinking that‘s what you want to be. I tried being a
part of immigrant student clubs in my community college and here, but it isn‘t the place for me
to be honest. I used to go to a club for undocumented students on campus, and I attended for the
first few days, but there wasn‘t really an agenda. It was more about coming there and talk about
our lives, and I was thinking, this is a club. What are we doing here? There weren‘t many people
either. Maybe like 5 to 8 in that group. So I stopped going. I want to be able to do things if I‘m in
a club. Most of my energy goes to work, school, and church.
I just don‘t feel I need to center everything around being undocumented. I hope people don‘t
say, ―She‘s just a Millennial who doesn‘t watch the news‖ and assume that I don‘t care. It‘s just,
that isn‘t what helps me. I think being around undocumented talk actually causes me anxiety.
Most of the undocumented students I see are out there on the streets telling people that they‘re
undocumented, but that‘s just not me. When they say oh let‟s help the undocumented students,
I‘m not saying I don‘t need help, but I‘m just saying maybe the help is different. One thing that I
really think would be good for us undocumented students might also be like a leadership
workshop instead of just a ‗How to do your AB540 application.‘ Okay you‘re telling me that I

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should be improving, that I should be doing good as an undocumented student, but what
resources are your providing me aside from showing me how to fill out a DACA application?
That would have been good to know in high school. What about articles or something that show
me the steps of how to get through college and into a career. The Dream Act only covers you for
four years, of financial aid so that‘s another reason why I don‘t know about graduate school
because I would have to take out a lot of loans. I‘ve realized that I want to start writing or doing
a blog or something ‗cuz I feel like I have a lot of experiences to share. Like if I just keep it all
bottled up inside, it‘s bad, but the clubs don‘t help me either so I think writing can help.
It‘s lucky we live with family, like my uncle, ‗cuz he waits on us to pay the rent and stuff, but
sometimes it has been a challenge. He has only got angry a couple of times about the rent and
that‘s when I wasn‘t working. I remember one time he was sitting there, and I was like ―Oh, you
know, uncle this, this, and this‖ because I was excited about something, but he was like ―Pfft, I
don‘t understand why you‘re taking so long or why you‘re doing this when I‘ve seen other
people who haven‘t gone to school and they‘re getting good money and stuff like that,‖ and I
was just like ―okay…‖. Here I was expressing my joy, but now he sees me staying up late after
church until really early in the morning trying to get work done and he‘s a little remorseful for
saying those things.
Church for me is not like an act ‗cuz that‘s where I feel like I find myself. It‘s like a root or a
rock for me, somewhere to lean on. I see my cousins when I go to church, and I like going. It
doesn‘t feel like a burden to me., and it‘s something stable for me. I was listening yesterday to a
podcast where the guy was talking about quantum physics and there are levels of energies, and
there‘s people that do yoga and meditation to visualize their future and that‘s how they‘re able to
go ahead and do it. And then he was talking about how people have been cured from stuff, and I

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was thinking, that‘s kind of like how prayer works too because in a way you‘re saying okay I
want to be, I want to be cured or stuff like that, and I was telling my mom about it so I know
there‘s something there, and also because we believe in the Holy Spirit so if you pray and you
look for him consistently, and you pray for the spirit, you could get it. I remember when I was
still at SCCC and didn‘t have Internet so I decided to read the Bible. I actually started singing
hymns and started reading the Bible, and then I just felt like praying so I started praying, and that
night I had felt like I had gotten the Holy Spirit. I spoke to the minister afterward because when I
was praying I wasn‘t speaking. I don‘t know what was coming out of my mouth. I was trying to
speak. In my head I was speaking normally, but the words that were coming out of my mouth
were different, and it was whole different type of feeling. It is the language between you and
God. It feels like you are burning on the outside and the words coming out of your mouth is
nonsensical.
I go to church every day and about 15 hours a week in church, not including when people
come over to my house after. Sometimes I‘m not as believable as my mom is. She has soooo
much faith. She thinks if you believe it‘s gonna happen, it‘s gonna happen. I‘m like give me time
to have that kind of belief. I think what I really really want is just a place for my mom and I.
Even if it‘s small, and it‘s just a place where she can have her own flowers. She loves flowers.
As long as it‘s just me and her. She‘s like ―I cannot wait until the day we have a little house.‖
‗Cuz that was our thing. That‘s been our thing. Before it was a car because we would always take
the bus to go to church. So that‘s why now we are thinking about a house, but we‘ve always
talked about wanting a place just for me and her. I always think of maybe having kids in the
future, but I can‘t see myself getting marries and having a husband but adopting instead. Because
I didn‘t grow up with a dad, I think that would be difficult for me. I don‘t know how to how to

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trust a guy. In Salvador when I was living with my aunt, I would get home from school, and she
would send me up to the apartments, and there was a guy who pulled me in to his place so he
could touch me. He did touch me, but somehow, I got away when I was five. I don‘t remember if
I told my aunt, but I remember being scared, and then when I got here to the U.S., in the first
house I lived in, one of my uncles, cuz my mom was always working, was there at home, and I
tried getting something from the refrigerator. I tried telling him to see if he could get it for me,
but he be picked me up by the boobs! I don‘t remember if I told my mom at the time, and when
we were driving he would reach back and touch my leg so I just don‘t see myself with a man. I
dunno. And even my dad, that type of guy, I just don‘t know, and then I see my mom has done
everything on her own, and I don‘t see why not. But if I adopt, I will have more than one kid
because I hate being an only child. My mom doesn‘t put pressure on me to get married at all.
I don‘t know, it‘s just weird and hard. What if I want to be independent like my mom and
raise kids my way? I think I want kids, but I don‘t want to get married, just like my mom. In my
religion, if a guy is interested in someone, they have to ask the pastor for permission to get
engaged before asking the person. I remember this guy from our same church in Texas came up
to visit and asked our pastor for my hand in marriage, and I said no. I feel like a lot of freedom
has to go away when you get married. I means it‘s getting better and I see changes, but I don‘t
want to be beholden to a man. Luckily, my mom supports my independence because she has
been so independent as well. I don‘t have a lot of people trying to control me.
In a year, I will hopefully be graduating. Everyone from my class of 2015 is graduating
already. I have been a little undecided recently about whether I want to do PT or something else.
I‘m kind of like mmm PT, but maybe OT. In my spinal cord injury class, we worked with the
patients‘ person to person every other day, and I really like working consistently with them. I

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told my mom that if I find a really good job that pays well with my major that I‘ll just do that and
not go on, but I googled ‗what can you do with an exercise science job?‘ and it said like
rehabilitation, but where are those jobs you know? I think I have reconsidering becoming a PT
because of the money thing. Like yes, I can take out loans but I can‘t work while doing a PT
program like that. Because I want to work while I‘m going to a physical therapy or occupational
therapy program, it will make it hard to work and balance school, and I need to help my mom. I
want to support her. I think when I was 18, I thought, you know, I have financial aid. That‘s
gonna help me cover it, but then, now, the classes make me feel a lot of pressure, and I need to
do better. It has been different for me going from a community college to here. So now I have
doubts like what if my GPA isn‟t good enough? Back then when I was in high school, I was like
yeah, I got this because I was taking AP Bio, AP Literature. They were literally all about being
college ready for a four year so when I came into the community college, it was really easy so I
started slacking off and now I have to get back into it.
I‘ve also always wanted to start my own business related to the health field. Maybe something
to do with nutrition because in my area a lot of people don‘t know the effects of the food they put
into their bodies, and I would want to educate people about that. I never want to stop learning
and want to be able to grow intellectually while also helping people in the community. I like it
here in the city because I get to see some many different people from different backgrounds
together in one area, but maybe one thing I am missing here is time. Time to do the things I like.
Being a vegan has been empowering and a bit hard for my family because it‘s seen as being so
White. There‘s a lot of pushback from the family, but when I stop to talk to them about it, they
start understanding. Being a vegan means having to learn a lot more about looking at who you

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are as a person. Lots of introspection and learning about compassion. For me, it opens my eyes to
not only myself but the social injustices that exist in the world as well.
In this Bible it says that the times are coming. His time is near, and it says, ―Cuando digan
paz, es porque el tiempo está cerca, which means, When there‘s peace, it‘s because the time is
near.‖ So right now I think we, as a society, still aren‘t there ‗cuz there‘s a lot of wars going on
and everything like that, but I think eventually, global warning and other things so there‘s gonna
be a time when we‘re gonna get there, and yeah, there‘s gonna be peace. So I think it will
improve, but religiously, it‘s not gonna be the ideal. So basically when the government says we
have peace and everyone agrees, that‘s when He will come when people least expect it, and I
hope I am not here to see it because it‘s scary. That comes from chapter from the Apocalypse,
which I know all in Spanish.
I don‘t feel the pressure as much being undocumented. My mom gets really worried though,
but we haven‘t made plans to leave or a what if plan because if something happens here and I
can‘t get my papers, at least I can get all the training here and get certified here and then go over
there and practice. That‘s part of the reason I considered PT initially. I mean, I want to stay here.
Some areas are really poor so I want to help, but if I can‘t help here then I‘ll help there so that
wouldn‘t change. My mom told me that I am too trusting of people and that it‘s bad because I‘m
not scared of a lot of things. I don‘t think I would be scared to go back because I really like to
see the good in people. I mean yeah there‘s dangers like gangs and everything like that, but I
really feel like if you believe in something, if I really believe in God and I really feel like I can
do something, then I should be fine. I don‘t think it‘s about a place for me. I think it is more
about a group of people I feel comfortable with that‘s matters to me. What I really really really
want is to go to a country place where there‘s water and there‘s grass and there‘s animals. If I

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have my mom, a little piece of green land, and the ability to continue learning throughout life,
that‘s all I want.

CHAPTER FIVE: AALIYAH
Sometimes I still feel like I‘m behind, but it‘s getting better. I see all of my friends going to
college, driving, working, and getting ahead in life, but I‘m still stuck in the middle. I mean, I do
go to community college, but I can‘t drive because I‘m undocumented. I work though. Right
now, I make $0.18 a minute working for Victoria‘s Secret customer service. It takes me about

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two hours to make $11. It was originally my ex-boyfriend‘s mom‘s job, but I took over when she
offered it to me. I recently found out that I should be getting paid $0.36 a minute, and I think I
have been, but my ex‘s mom has been taking the other half of the paycheck. It‘s not ideal, but
I‘m just happy I have a job I guess.
I feel like I have lived between two parallel lives since I left Trinidad when I was 10. I don‘t
say Trinidad and Tobago because I‘m not from Tobago, and even though it is close, I never
visited. The memories and dreams I have allow me to imagine a world where I never left my
mom in Trinidad. It is the ‗what ifs‘ of it all that keep me anchored to an island past and forever
waiting in agony for an uncertain future in America. Sometimes, I feel like both of my possible
lives are happening simultaneously where a different version of myself is living out her life back
in the Edinburgh Village in Trinidad. Each version of my life offers its pros and cons, but I am
used to it since I have had to sacrifice the greatest thing of all by being here in America--my
mom and the love of my family. Being in the U.S. hasn‘t been easy, and my life plans are in
constant flux given the happenings of any day, but it is comforting to know that I options. Like
the Idina Menzel musical If/Then, I often imagine what my life would have been or might be like
through my dreams and daydreams that accompany me every day as a figure out who I am and
where I belong.
America
I officially immigrated to the U.S. when I was 10, but I visited once before after my dad
came here to live with my grandparents, his parents. When my mom and I came out to
Connecticut, we hadn‘t seen my dad in years, but I remember having a fun time. We went
shopping, we ate at different places, we fed ducks. I really liked it, but I wanted to go home after
a huge argument over me happened between my dad and my mom. It was also freezing cold

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because it was winter so I wanted to go back home. I was happy to see my dad at the time. When
we returned home, I continued going to school for a year and half without seeing my dad until he
asked me to come visit him for the summer alone. My mom wasn‘t sure what to believe. She
wanted me to spend time with my dad and have a relationship, but she also thought he would try
to keep me from her.
I was just happy to go to America and spend time with my dad because I was young and
innocent. My mom ended up letting me go, and when she took me to the airport, we hugged for a
really long time. She wasn‘t sure if that was going to be her last time seeing me or not and had a
bad feeling about sending me to this crazy man who‘s also my father. So this time, I had to go on
this plane by myself, but they had people helping me, another child, and an elderly man in a
wheelchair traveling as well. That trip was very stressful. I felt alone, even though I wasn‘t,
because they were strangers to me. I felt like the workers on the plane were looking out for me
though, and they made sure I had enough food, that I used the bathroom, and just guiding me
along the process. We had to go from Trinidad to Miami airport for the first part of the trip.
Miami airport is really huge and confusing and everyone‘s rushing and trying to get where they
had to go so the other child, elderly man, and I just held hands and stuck together. From there I
was switched over to someone else who could watch me from the plane ride from Miami to
Baltimore. I was 10 years old at the time. When I got to my grandparents it was the same thing as
when I visited before. We went to malls, took little trips around, and I was enjoying myself, but
there were some things that I noticed that were different my second time around like the food
portions are a little bigger, clothes are a lot cheaper, everything was cheaper really.
I was never supposed to stay here for good and was only coming to visit because I was on a
travel visa, but my dad convinced me to stay. Between my dad making a lot of promises to me

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and my grandmother telling me that my life would be better here, I thought they knew what was
best for me so I agreed to stay here. I was a child so I really thought I could trust my dad of
course, but when I called my mom to tell her I was going to stay here, she was devastated and
didn‘t know what to do. She knew that me wanting to stay here didn‘t come from just me and
that my dad had convinced me to stay in order to hurt her. It was even more of a hard year for
my mom because her longtime boyfriend was unfaithful and she was getting sick from painful
cysts. I really liked her boyfriend because we had got close. We even went on a camping trip
together. So it was really hard for her because first she lost a boyfriend and then she lost me. She
always said she tried to get me back and even called the embassy telling them that her child is
kidnapped because my dad never asked her for her permission to keep me here, but they couldn‘t
help her because she didn‘t have the money for a lawyer. By then my dad already had my
documents like I.D. and passport and all that and must have had enough documents to put me in
school so she couldn‘t do anything about it. I was caught in the middle trying to follow what they
were saying, and I wasn‘t thinking about how it would affect me in the future or anything. I
didn‘t even understand the idea that I wouldn‘t be seeing my mom. I remember asking mom to
keep a favorite top of mine for when I got back, and she said, ―It‘s not going to fit you by the
time I see you again.‖ At the time, I didn‘t understand what that meant.
I started middle school in Baltimore, Maryland and that was a whole other chapter of my life.
I started in 6
th
grade, and since it was another school with big changes, I started having anxiety
again. The same thing happened in primary school, and I started getting sick. Visiting here is
different from trying to socialize myself into the society and trying to assimilate. I didn‘t think
about any of that when I decided to stay. I remember the first time in school. People made fun of
my accent. It was hard making friends, and I was confused about race because it‘s so different

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here because everyone in the class was Black, and I thought it was the same thing as in Trinidad,
but it‘s not. There‘s a big difference between African American and Black people around the
world. I knew I was different from the first day. I usually fit in with the people that don‘t fit in or
Hispanics. I always fit in with Hispanics. ‗Cuz we have such a similar culture. Similar foods with
different names. The Spanish influence in Trinidad you know. I had a group of friends there
eventually--four girls. One was Hispanic and they made fun of her because she had hairy arms.
Another friend got made fun of because she was a bigger girl with natural hair, which was
different at the time because girls in the class were relaxing their hair. Straight hair was the
norm, and she was the total opposite of the norm, and for me, my hair was braided because that‘s
how I wore my hair in Trinidad. My school still had uniforms here. Jo was also a weird Black
girl who liked K-pop, and then my Asian friend. I had a diverse friend group.
So sixth grade was okay, but seventh grade was the worst because my dad was barely home. I
wasn‘t feeling it. My dad was always gone, and I was basically living with my grandparents. My
dad would be working in different states. He‘d be working in North Carolina, so I would barely
see him and my grandparents and I didn‘t have a close emotional relationship so it was like I had
everything here except for a close family to talk to me, which I do have in Trinidad with my
mom. It was the total opposite. In Trinidad, I had nothing material wise, but I had love and
family and friends. Then everything turned upside down in Maryland.
My dad started being really emotionally and mentally abusive towards me. I would talk to my
mom on the phone, but it was hard because my dad would try to purposefully isolate me from
her. He didn‘t want me to make a Facebook probably because of that. I was starting to reconnect
from people from my past, and he also didn‘t give me money for me to call her. Back then there
wasn‘t really, well before I had a phone I used to use the house phone, and I had to buy phone

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cards from the gas station in order to call her. It‘s a card with a pin that you call and after you
enter the pin you type in the international phone number you want to call, but in order to get the
card I would need money, and he didn‘t want me to talk to her. There was this one time where I
was completely cut off from her, and he had taken away my phone. We didn‘t have Internet in
the house, and I went a long time without talking to my mom, and when I was finally able to talk
to her she was asking me why I didn‘t ask him, ―Why can‘t I talk to her.‖ I didn‘t know what to
tell her. I was afraid to stand up to him about it, that‘s why, but I didn‘t know how to process
that. He was never physical with me but the way he would talk was very military like. It felt like
I was living with strangers. Like at home in Trinidad, everyone has an accent and eat the same
foods so it felt very familiar compared to when I went to school, and when I went to school I had
to deal with all different types of people. It felt a little comfortable because the principle was
from Jamaica and one of the teachers was from another Caribbean nation so I related more to the
adults. When I first got here in 6
th
grade, they actually wanted me to skip a grade because I was
ahead because the work in Trinidad was ahead. In Trinidad I was about to head to high school.
After Standard 5 you take all these tests and pick out your first, second, and third school, kinda
like college applications, and then depending on how you do on your tests places you at a certain
school. I got my first choice of school, bought the books, and was all ready to go and then I
ended up not going. I was ahead but I didn‘t want to skip grades because I still had things to
learn like spelling stuff from the British English to American English and the grammar so I really
needed that year to get used to all the changes. I went to church during that time and most of the
people were from the Caribbean, but I still didn‘t make friends with people. I was starting to
question the religion at that time, and didn‘t feel like I could be myself around them.

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As I continued living with my dad and grandparents, I started wondering why I had to follow
such regimented rules and questioned why I was there. My grandparents are Seventh-day
Adventist, but unlike my mom who also practices the religion, they lived a really strict life and
expected me to do the same. They followed all of the eating rules. I wasn‘t allowed to eat pork or
shrimp, lobster, shell fish. Well it was the same for me in Trinidad because my mom was allergic
to all those things, and she didn‘t eat port either, but there was a worship session every Friday
night in the living room. I wasn‘t used to that in the home in Trinidad, and they were just really
judgmental about everything I did. They weren‘t understanding of me at all.
At one point in sixth grade, I think, I joined this after school math program at Johns Hopkins
University. There was a math teacher at my middle school who told me that I‘m really smart and
I should join this program so I started doing the work and stayed after school. He would teach
me college math, but I ended up quitting. I think I was just really overwhelmed from the
transition from school in Trinidad to school in America. When my grandparents and my dad
found out, and they were really mad at me for quitting and blamed it on my teacher. They asked
me, ―Did he touch you?!‖ I was like, ―I don‘t know, I don‘t feel like doing it anymore.‖ I think I
felt pressured and that everyone was trying to get something out of me, and I didn‘t want to have
to conform to the American way of learning while I was still struggling to figure out things like
the metric system. Math was ooof so difficult the first year. They felt like random measurements
that made no sense to me.
I continued trying to break free from my grandparents throughout middle school. One day, I
announced that I wasn‘t going to go to church, and that caused a whole bunch of arguments and
my grandparents tried to kick me out of the house. They forced me to go to church every
Saturday. That wasn‘t a choice. Sometimes I wish that I did run away. I would think and wonder

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what would have happened if I did run away. Maybe I would have felt better without them, but I
didn‘t know where I would go, maybe a friend‘s house. I think I was depressed. I tried killing
myself one time in 7
th
grade. I had swallowed a bunch of pills, but before I did that I told my
dad, ―Dad, I‘m going to kill myself,‖ and he said, ―Okay, go kill yourself.‖ So I though okay
there‘s nothing here for me and no one here cares for me. I think I wanted them to find me. I
didn‘t want to die actually, I just wanted them to care more I guess. I swallowed a bunch of pills
and I got knocked out and was unconscious for a few hours, and then when I woke up, it was
nighttime, and I was still wearing home clothes but I thought it was early morning so hurried up
and tried putting on my uniform, but I put it on backwards, and then I ran downstairs and I was
freaking out because I thought I was late for school, but my grandma or whoever said, ―What are
you doing? It‘s nighttime.‖ No one noticed. They thought I was just sleeping. I took a whole
bottle of pills. It made my stomach cramp and burn and made me very drowsy. I just went back
to my normal life after that. I think I had told my friends about it though. I could be myself
around my group of friends. I went to one of their houses one time and talked to her about it.
Another one of my friends was also very suicidal at the time so we just talked about it and
supported each other. I never told my mom though because I didn‘t want to make her feel worse
about not being able to help me.
My mom never had a chance to get me back. How would she find money for a plane ticket?
How would she fight my dad for me? Everyone was against her and supporting my dad because
of my patriarchal culture. I was really struggling those first two years. I always felt like living
there was pointless and that it would get better if I just waited, but it didn‘t. After the whole
rebellion against going to church thing in eighth grade and some other arguments, I turned to the
Internet to talk to people and downloaded an app on my phone. I was 12 and I used to talk to

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guys on there. I guess because I was really lonely and I had no one to talk to so I had online
friends at the time, and one time my dad found out about it and took away my phone and yelled
at me. After that, he decided to move me to North Carolina. We were planning to move anyways
because we wanted to get our own place and the houses in Maryland were way too expensive. I
had to start eighth grade at another school. This school didn‘t have uniforms, and I had been
wearing uniforms my whole life! So on the first day of school, I wore short shorts because I was
like okay, it‟s hot outside so I guess this acceptable but NO! They had a dress code that I didn‘t
know about. Everyone just kind of looking at me weird because I was wearing shorts. I didn‘t get
in trouble for it, but there was one teacher who told me that it wasn‘t acceptable to wear shorts
that are really short and that there‘s a dress code. She took me aside to tell me, which I
appreciate looking back, because she didn‘t publicly shame me. The teachers were nice to me. I
loved my 6
th
grade teacher--Ms. Golden. She was awesome. I did talk to her about being from
Trinidad and she really helped me try to adjust to American culture.
In eighth grade, I didn‘t have the same anxiety I used to have in the past when starting school
because I felt more adjusted in the U.S. like I could blend in now. I knew what to do and what
not to do. I still didn‘t know what to wear so my dad would go to Walmart and get me these ugly
polo shirts because he didn‘t let me have a choice of what to wear. It took a while before I would
be able to pick out clothes for myself.
When my dad and I moved to the Southeast, we had a larger house with a backyard. I had a
best friend named Tiffany, and I told her about everything that had happened in middle school
like how I tried to kill myself, and she suggested journaling. I started journaling and had like four
composition notebooks full of writing. That was my way of expressing myself because I had no
one to talk to. I did get in contact with my mom, I don‘t remember how. I think I got a new

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phone, and I would call her on the cards or I would talk to her on his phone, but I didn‘t like
doing that. I had to hide talking to her. I had to go off on my own to be able to talk to her alone. I
enjoyed talking to her and in 2013 I believe, she told me she‘s coming to work in America. So
she joined a caretaking/ babysitting abroad program where they give you a work visa to go
abroad to live in and work for a family so she did that job in South Carolina and then came and
stayed at our house for a few days. We went to the mall with my dad. I loved being with her. It
was weird. When she saw me, she hugged me and she couldn‘t believe how grown I was. We
cried and hugged each other and she slept in my bed and we slept next to each other. She wanted
to know everything about what my life was like and who my friends are. I didn‘t want to tell her
anything bad. One time my dad read one of the journals, and I got really angry and threw away
all of the journals. I had no privacy. One time he read my journal, a nice journal he gave me, not
a composition book, and wrote comments in it, and when I came home I saw the journal sitting
on my bed, which is not where I left it. I opened it and saw the comments. I talked to him when
he got home, and he said, ―I just wanted to see what you were doing with the journal‖ and he was
angry about what I wrote in it. I ripped it all up and threw it away in the dumpster and stopped
writing in a journal after that. I even throw away my mail and stuff because I can‘t trust him.
I don‘t have a lot of friends who are undocumented. Most of my friends are either immigrants
that have their green card or their parents are immigrants and they are American citizens who go
back and forth to their countries. None of them can really relate to being undocumented. Even
though I don‘t tell everyone I‘m undocumented, I do end up telling some of my close friends
because it will come up multiple times in certain situations. For instance, they‘ll ask, ―When are
you getting your license?‖ and I‘ll tell them, ―I don‘t know.‖ It‘s kinda hard to make friends
because you don‘t know who you can trust. At first, I didn‘t understand the whole

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‗Undocumented and Unafraid‘ thing because I‘m like why are your proud? Being undocumented
is not something to be proud of, but now I understand that it isn‘t easy to become a citizen, and I
have reached out a bit more to my undocumented peer community. I have only found one other
undocumented person I can talk with, and I found her through the help of an UndocuBlack
program. They get undocumented young people together pair you up with someone around
America. Even though they try to make it someone closer, my pen pal is in another state.
Being undocumented also impacts my romantic relationships and the people I‘m dating. My
last relationship ended because of my status. My status makes me more dependent on the person
I‘m in a relationship with. Even with friends too because I can‘t drive and I can‘t get a job
legally so it makes me very dependent. I guess he just got tired of it. There was one time he had
to drive me to court, and I guess that was the breaking point for him. My dad was supposed to
come and take me, but something was wrong with his van and he didn‘t want to risk driving a
long distance. I was freaking out because if you don‘t show up, that is…I guess they deport you,
I don‘t know. It gives them a reason to deport me. They will take any reason to deport me so I
was asking around for a ride, and I didn‘t want to ask my boyfriend, but I ended up needing to
and it became a big thing. He had to skip class, come and sleepover, and it just spiraled into a
hassle. I felt bad for putting all of that on him. And to make it worse, there was a storm rolling in
and the weather was going crazy! So when we were coming back we drove through flood water
and it messed up his car. It was a whole thing. Closer to the end of the relationship we talked
about the court date and the possibility of me getting deported. That was also very stressful. We
were just so unsure about the future of the relationship. I feel like this whole undocumented thing
is keeping me back in life and even in my relationships. It makes me feel unsure of my future
and what the purpose of being here is.

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I realized in high school that I was undocumented. I eventually had permanent residency for a
year, but I never knew that I had it, and I didn‘t know the benefits of what having a green card
meant. If I did, I would have known that I could travel, but my dad didn‘t talk to me about it. I
don‘t think he wanted me to know that I could travel because that would have given me some
freedom. He married someone here in our new state. I only met her a few times. They applied for
a green card for me and my dad, and I remember having to go immigration for interviews,
fingerprints, and stuff but my dad never talked to me about the process so I didn‘t know what
any of this stuff meant. I didn‘t even know that I qualified for DACA and that we could have
gone that route for me instead of the green card route.
High school was really good. Even though I go through all these problems at home, my
schoolwork never changed because it grounds me and gives me a purpose. If I didn‘t have
school what would I do? I can‘t drive. I can‘t work legally. I would just be lost. School is the
only way for me to get out of this abusive situation and relationship with my dad and be on my
own. I had some extracurriculars. I was in book club all four years of high school and had some
close friends. I felt more stable at that time. I found out in 2015 that my mom was pregnant with
twins! She told me that she had a boyfriend, and that she really liked him. They going to be five
years old. Two boys. I was happy for her because everything was working out for her and she
always wanted more kids. I didn‘t want to tell my dad about it because then he would say she
doesn‘t want to send money for me because she has other kids. I see them on video calls, but
because they were really young, they didn‘t understand who I was, but as they get older, they
know I‘m their sister in America. They call me ―sister Aaliyah.‖ Sometimes they say, ―I want to
go to America and see sister Aaliyah‖ to my mom, and we don‘t know how to explain to them

144
that America is not that great. The American dream has changed over the years. A lot of stress
and emotional stress. I had about a year I was enjoying life in America before reality set in.
My mom wants me to stay here so I can go to school and get a good job. For years I thought she
wanted me to come back until recently. My mom has dreams of coming to the U.S. and has
called me crying because she feels like she is stuck in a cycle of stress. She wants the same thing
I want. We‘re all stuck in the same cycle no matter where we are.
It was only when I started to do research on my own when I got older that I learned the story
on how I gained and lost my status. When my dad had the first lawyer, I didn‘t really know what
was going on because I was so young, and they were in contact from 2011 to 2016. I wasn‘t
involved because I was a minor, and I don‘t know exactly what happened but whatever
application it was got approved for us to start getting our green card so we got a temporary green
card together in 2015 and expired in August 2016. I had a summer job, but I had to quit because
it expired, and when we tried to get it renewed, it said that I had been denied due to:
marriage fraud and having evidence of specific things my father said in interviews and how the
documents don‘t match up, and it showed some pictures were taken right before being turned in
to immigration. I really didn‘t understand what was going on until two years later. I emailed the
lawyer asking to get access to those old documents so I could see what‘s going on. There wasn‘t
anything that had to do with me but mainly my dad and his first wife, so I got to see exactly what
happened and why the lawyer stopped representing us. He felt like it was a conflict of interest,
and I think he believed it was a fake marriage so he didn‘t want to represent us. He sent my dad a
professional letter removing himself from our case. I saw those documents in 2017, but I never
talked to my dad about it though because that would cause conflict, and he wants me to stay in
the dark. I did know I was able to work when I had my green card, and I was able to get a

145
learner‘s permit for driving. I was 15 when I got a summer job, and I was trying to get my
license, or learner‘s permit, at the time, my dad didn‘t want to teach me how to drive so I only
drove for a few hours, which mostly consisted of him yelling at me. I took driver‘s ed
(education) for three days, but it took a few tries for me to get my learner‘s permit. Every time I
went to the DMV, they kept saying they needed to have more and more documents, but I
eventually got it, and I was so happy. I never smiled so big for my picture. I finally had some
form of I.D. in America.
After I got my learner‘s permit, I found out that I wasn‘t able to get my license, and I didn‘t
know why. That was around the time everyone started driving, and I started feeling behind for
the first time. I had a part-time job for a few months, and on my learner‘s permit it said the
expiration date was August 16
th
. I found out that the green card expired on that date as well so I
ended up having to quit my job because I couldn‘t renew it. I remember my job asking me why I
had to leave, and I couldn‘t even tell them. My dad tried renewing the green card, but they kept
denying him because they suspected that his first marriage was a fraud, and then they got
divorced and it kind of messed everything up. On one of the rare occasions I met that woman, we
were in the car she was angry and holding pictures of her and my dad and on the back of the
pictures she wrote FAKE FAKE FAKE in red ink.
I don‘t know exactly what happened with that marriage, but my dad used to work a lot and
didn‘t pay attention to her so she ended up running away from him without a trace. Immigration
got suspicious, and I think he was trying to do whatever he could to get the legal paperwork for
me. I don‘t know the real story. Maybe they had a real relationship, but I don‘t think so. So my
dad started dating other people and met my current stepmom right now, and they really love each
other because it has lasted this long. They got married and have been together since I was 16.

146
She started living with us, and it was great because my dad started being nicer to me. I was able
to talk to my stepmom about things. Now it‘s different. Anytime a problem comes up between
my dad and me, my stepmom always takes his side so I don‘t feel like I can trust her anymore.
There was one day when I had a boy over the house after school. Someone has died in his family
so I lent him my history book, and he was returning it to me so I invited him in. My stepmom
came home and she saw him leaving and made conclusions on her own about why he was there.
She never talked to me about it and then ended up telling me my dad. It was that day that I
thought to myself I can‟t tell her anything „cuz she‟ll just tell my dad. It feels like this marriage is
also fake because my dad is hardly here, and he flirts all of the time with women. I don‘t know
what he thinks a marriage is. Maybe he thinks this is okay. Family trips are bittersweet because I
love traveling, but it‘s weird to spend time with people who don‘t otherwise talk to you or seem
to care. We moved again to a city closer to where my stepmom works and her family is because
we were about to lose our house and didn‘t have anywhere to stay. It was the worst year for me
to move. I was one semester away from graduating so I spent my last semester in another high
school. I graduated with strangers. I wasn‘t affected much by the transition anymore because I
had gotten so used to it.
I thought about going back to Trinidad for college after high school. Once I knew I was
undocumented, I didn‘t really think much of it in high school until junior year. That‘s when it
really started to affect me when people were getting ready to start applying to colleges. The
problem was paying for college. How was I going to pay for college? I can‘t do the FAFSA,
can‘t work, and my dad expected me to go to college but never bothered to talk to me about how
to make that a reality. I didn‘t have the money to visit any of the colleges I applied for, and I felt
rushed to apply. I got into all of the four-year schools I applied to and received scholarships for

147
all of them, but during my last semester in high school when I was trying to figure out how to
pay for college I realized that I should go somewhere closer to home. My English teacher at the
time was very familiar with undocumented students and printed out a package of scholarships for
immigrants. She passed it around to everyone because there were other undocumented students
in class too. As we were going through the list and crossing out which one‘s we didn‘t qualify
for, I realized how specific the scholarships were. Like so specific that is required you to be part
of a particular ethnic group or honor‘s society or you did something really amazing. I didn‘t fit in
any of the immigration boxes the government tried to put us in. I wasn‘t a DACA student, I
wasn‘t a permanent resident, but I was and am undocumented. I just felt very average applying to
those scholarships. The one‘s I actually got were paper scholarships for $1,500 total. I decided to
apply to the same community college my stepmom went to just in case. It was cheaper, close by,
and it was familiar. All the other schools I hadn‘t visited and I had no idea if I would like them or
not. I didn‘t want to go to a four-year school because I knew it would be another huge change
from the life that I‘m used to, and I would probably hate living with a roommate because I am so
used to being by myself. Also, I would have to be more independent, and I‘m not used to that at
all. My mom said it might have been better for me to go to a four-year college to gain some
independence, but I can‘t take out a student loan anyways so it would have to be my stepmom
taking it out for me, and I didn‘t know if that was a possibility. I didn‘t want to be in debt my
whole life.
I‘m not sure on how to describe my life right now. I lost my passport from Trinidad. I had it
for court, and it was in a purple folder I was carrying and after that I was in the car. My dad and I
went to the lawyer‘s office to drop off some documents, and I had the folder with me, but when I
got home and checked it, my passport wasn‘t in there. That‘s my only I.D. that could get me

148
home if I need to so I have been freaking out. It‘s always something making life here harder. I
asked my mom, ―When is the storm going to be over for me. When will I be at peace and
happy?‖ She said, ―Well, there‘s ups and downs and sometimes you have a good time and
something bad will happen,‖ and I asked her, ―But why?‖ Her reply is always, ―We‘re all
sinners. Because we‘re born into sin.‖ I don‘t understand. That‘s the Christian point of view, but
I didn‘t choose to be in this life so why should I have to suffer? I‘m not happy. I have good
times, and I have bad times, but so far, it has been mostly bad times, and I‘m waiting for it to
stop and for everything to be over with. The immigration stuff, getting a job. Then I can be
normal. I don‘t feel like an American because I don‘t have the same privileges as a citizen. I still
feel like a foreigner, and I say I‘m Trinidadian and probably always will say that even though I
do American things like microwaving my food, participating in capitalism, having an American
accent, and having an American family. Even with all those things I still don‘t feel like I belong.
The academic counselors at school have been really important in helping me get resources for
my abusive situation I live in even though I have attempted more than once to go seek out mental
health services. According to the depression scale, I was at a seven I would say this past spring.
Having a pain of seven says, ―You‘re avoiding things that make you more distressed. You should
definitely seek help. This is serious.
35
‖ My dad‘s controlling behavior gave me even more
anxiety when I tried to get my documents back from him in February. It got so bad that when he
would leave to travel to work, which is pretty much all the time, he would take my documents
with him. I would try to avoid the problem, but each day I avoided it, it made it worse.
I tried going to a therapist one time at this place called Monarch, but I hated it. It smelled like
pee. I was supposed to go to a group therapy session with my friend, and Ii was really for people

35
Refer to Appendix B, Figure 2.

149
with borderline personality disorder and his therapist recommended him to go since he‘s bipolar
so I decided I would go to support him and maybe get some help for myself. I figured maybe I‘d
learn something, but even then, I was really reluctant. My friend picked me up and we went.
When we walked in, it was like a scene straight out of a movie where it looked like a fishbowl
lens with me looking around terrified. First of all, the first thing I noticed was a woman talking
about the Bible, like straight up mumbling verses to herself looking all disheveled. I felt like a
doctor‘s office right out of a horror film. There was a waiting room, a desk with a secretary, and
then we walked in to a separate room after we checked in to wait for my friend to be called by
the counselor. Then, oh my god, there was a little boy just doing the wildest things in front of us
like talking to himself and spinning in circles, bouncing off the walls. His mom was saying, ―Sit
down, be quiet!‖ but none of that was working. He had siblings too. I think there were three kids,
two older boys and then him. He looked six years old or so. It was crazy. I was sitting next to my
friend and we were texting back and forth and I said, ―What is that boy doing?‖ The kid made
this really deep voice that sounded like he was possessed. I was so creeped out by him so I told
my friend that I felt really uncomfortable and didn‘t know what to do. I felt so weird, and he said
―It‘s okay, you can go sit in the car,‖ but I didn‘t want to do that because the purpose was to
come and support him, but I got up and got the car keys and when I did that, the little boy came
running up and hugged me. I froze and was like what do I do?! Do I hug him back? Do I get him
off of me?! So, I just stood there HAHA. I guess I ended up kind of hugging him, and then his
mom yelled, ―No! Don‘t hug strangers!‖ My friend was just staring because he didn‘t know what
to do, and the boy eventually got off me. I sat in the car watching people come out for what felt
like hours, and waiting felt like torture. That scenario pretty much sums up how I feel about
therapy. I don‘t know what it‘s going to take to get me to see a therapist. I‘ll have to be forced I

150
think. I wanted to go to therapy to make sure I wasn‘t crazy for feeling the way I was feeling
about my situation with my dad and everything I have dealt with. The school counselor gave me
some resources like a ‗To Do‘ list to ask them [the abuser] for the documents and if they say no
then to go look for them. If that doesn‘t work out then I could call the passport embassy. I called
the domestic violence hotline and asked them what to do one time. They gave me some
nonprofits to talk to like Catholic Charities since they help immigrants, but the one in my city
don‘t deal with immigrants and focus more on things like pregnant teens. The one that helps
refugees and immigrants is two hours away from, which is pretty hard for me to get to.
The second time I attempted to find a mental health provider that could offer cheaper therapy.
When I called an intake specialist, they said they offered sliding scale for between $5-$15 a
session BUT in order to qualify I would have to provide a bank statement showing proof that I
have no income. They wanted my insurance information, and I‘m like why do you need my
insurance information if you do sliding scale. I have health insurance through my stepmom, but
the problem is having notices come to the house and her finding out about it because she will
definitely tell my dad. Then on top of that they asked about the reason I want to do therapy, and
I‘m like ugh I‟m a stressed college student and I‟m undocumented. So I asked, ―Do you have
anyone there who‘s experienced with immigrants?‖ With a big sigh, the woman responded, ―No,
but we can find someone to talk to you about stress. Usually you have to have some type of
mental issue.‖ I‘m like well how would I know if I have a mental issue unless I start therapy? I
even asked if the sessions would be confidential, but I don‘t trust them. They want way too much
information. I think I‘m better with the counselors at school because they know me and they
know my situation. No, they aren‘t therapists, but they are better than who I meet and help me a
lot more.

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Right now, I am working on being able to transfer in the fall of 2020. So far, I have been
majoring in journalism but I have been thinking about getting into social work, psychology, or
even law. I took a personality test at the career center, and it said I‘m a social realist:
Popular persons full of energy. They are reliable, well organized, and helpful. They are
ready to listen to the worries and problems of others, and spare no effort when they‘re
asked for help. With empathy and understanding, they can sense what other people need.
It‘s important to choose a profession where you can deal with as many people as possible.
You recharge your batteries with the help of people contact and the personal exchanges
needed for your very special talent to unfold.
I think that is super accurate, and that‘s why I was thinking that becoming a lawyer isn‘t really
helpful though because there‘s people who don‘t even have the knowledge about any of these
legal processes. I guess being a pro-bono lawyer would help, but I think I want to do something
that helps educate people before they step into the courtroom.
It has been really hard to communicate with the lawyers about court dates and the entire
process. I called them and asked them about the next payment that we have to make because my
dad was unsure, and I was confused because I didn‘t understand how he was unsure when he‘s
supposed to be paying for it. He told me to call and find out, and the person on the phone asked
who our paralegal is, and I said ―I dunno, you tell me.‖ ―Oh okay, Sarah is your paralegal,‖ and I
was like oh okay, that is the person I have been emailing, but I didn‟t know who she was. They
transferred me to her line and then it went to voicemail and then cut off so I emailed her after I
left a voicemail and she replied the next day. In the email, I said, ―I called today to see what the
next payment will be for my dad‘s and my case, and then she replied but put my stepmom on the
email but not my dad. She was asking us about my father‘s adjustment of status being denied,

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but I didn‘t understand how she was the paralegal representing us but asking us all the legal
questions! Why are you asking us and not the attorney?! I have only talked to the actual lawyer
representing us a couple times. When I saw him in court, he didn‘t even know we had court that
day. I don‘t know if he was joking, but I hope it‘s not a joke. He has some dark humor though,
but I am not sure about him. No one‘s on the same page! The lawyer on the paper isn‘t even the
guy that represents us in court so I have no idea how they do it. On top of it all, I recently paid
$400 to the lawyers out of our $750 bill because my dad decided he randomly wasn‘t going help
with it so I used my scholarship money to pay some of it down. My mom told me to call the
lawyers and tell them that the money is coming from me and not my father, but I don‘t know
what my she expected that their response would be because they don‘t care. They just want their
money.
My customer service job doesn‘t give me enough money for everyday living, and since my
dad doesn‘t give me money, I have done a bunch of random jobs. I‘ve sold shoes on Poshmark
and other sites. I would take pictures of them and post them, print out a shipping label, and ship
it out to them, but people liked buying stuff really cheap so I couldn‘t make a lot of money on it.
I recently signed up for Seeking Arrangements
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and was waiting for my profile to get approved.
I also signed up for ‗What‘s Your Price‘ where men can pay you to go on dates with them. I
don‘t think I‘m actually going to go through with it though because it‘s scary thinking about
meeting random men. I might can change my bio on dating apps to say, ―Looking for a sugar
daddy‖ since I‘ve seen that kind of thing on Tinder. I don‘t want to have sex with them, and I
worry about my safety because I don‘t want to get murdered or raped. Even just dating is kinda
risky. I‘ve never even taken an Uber. I don‘t trust that. I tried selling panties but my Instagram

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Seeking Arrangements is a reputable site for pairing up ‗sugar daddies‘ and ‗sugar babies.‘

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got deactivated for being ―too sexually suggestive.‖ I think someone reported me. I made $50
though from selling four pairs. Maybe I‘ll try to create another page, but I don‘t know why I got
deactivated when there are other pages of the women actually wearing the panties they are
selling and they don‘t get deactivated. There‘s also foot pages on Instagram with feet fetish
pictures. There‘s a whole fetish community on there so I‘m going to look into that. I have tried
posting for babysitting services on Craigslist, but that didn‘t go well. Someone replied saying,
―Can you watch me and my girlfriend have sex for $150.‖ I was like ―uhhh, that‘s not
babysitting… What do want me to do just sit there and watch?‖ but I found one thing on there
that got me some money. There was an artist looking for participants to get their heads molded.
It was pretty cool. The artist was actually looking for immigrants because the project was called
Shadow Citizens and he was making the heads of different people who can‘t vote including
people who‘ve been to prison. He was a professor at a local college, and he paid me $60. He also
donated to my fundraiser I created to help pay for legal fees. I looked into donating plasma and it
said, ―Please provide a valid form of identification, proof of residency, and proof of your social
security number.‖ That‘s just a lot of information. I gave blood one time, but I passed out
because my hemoglobin levels weren‘t where they were supposed to be.
Even though my home life is difficult and making money does not come easy, school
continues to be a place that I love. I got an award for being the best member of women‘s
leadership club I am part of. I got involved last year, and we do a lot of advocacy work for things
like domestic violence, breast cancer awareness, and sexual assault awareness. We even hosted a
pledge for sexual assault awareness, and we did a T-shirt making activity for domestic violence
awareness that was part of a national event. I really care about getting feminine products to girls
around the world, and I want to start a pantry at school for that. The first time I got my period, I

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didn‘t have anyone to talk to about it, and I didn‘t have any pads or tampons so I asked my
grandma, but she didn‘t explain anything about it. There was one time at school, maybe on the
same day that I learned about my period, and I had a stain on my pants. That experience really
stayed with me. It was around the same time where I had trouble accessing my mom on the
phone, and I just wish I would have had someone to talk about it with. I‘m running for president
for the club as well so I think we will do a lot of great things for the upcoming year.
Outside of school activities, I have been trying to find ways to help my mental health and do
things that make me feel less stressed, especially this summer since I have to spend so much
more time at home. Even if I feel stuck or trapped because I am undocumented, I still live a
semi-normal 20-year-old life. I can‘t be depressed even if I am, and I can‘t lay in bed all day
every day and be sad because I don‘t want to end up missing bills and losing grades. Sleeping,
leaving the house, or focusing on my studying has helped me focus and cope with everything,
but I am trying to be more intentional with deal with life. I‘ve been trying to eat less meat and
trying to find organic products to use because it is supposed to be healthier for your body. I
bought a biodegradable toothbrush with charcoal and coconut water toothpaste. I‘ve also been
trying to do Pilates and yoga and exercise, but even that has been something!
In my apartment building, to get access into the pool and the gym you need a gate card. In
order to get a gate card, you have to be on the lease, and in order to get on the lease, you have to
pay $25 to do a background check. Ahhhhhhhh. So I asked a manager there first, and he said to
go ask someone else, and she was a little bit stricter. She was the big boss you know. The other
guy was the chill, laid back manager. He told me I could walk through the office door to get to
the gym or the pool, but when I asked the big boss manager, she said, ―No, you have to be a legal
resident to get into the pool or gym.‖ I had to be a legal resident of the apartment complex! Just

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to use a gym and a pool! It‘s really secure because they have an outer and inside scanner to get in
and out so you can literally get trapped in. Aside from that, I have an active dating life, and enjoy
getting to know people. It has been less than a year where I have started accepting my sexuality
more. It was during that time I was breaking up with my boyfriend. I also knew I was attracted to
girls, but I never labeled myself as bisexual, but even my boyfriend knew that I was bi before I
did.
I feel like I‘m at a crossroads for the future, and I don‘t know if I‘m going to live in the
Caribbean or live in America. I don‘t know what my future holds for me at all. I imagine two
possibilities. If I get deported, then I have to live in Trinidad, and I would probably go to the
university there and get my degree, move to another island, and then move to Canada or Europe.
Either way, I‘m going to succeed. If I stay here, I will become a U.S. citizen by either getting
granted a green card, having a pathway to citizenship that will be created in the near future, or by
getting married to an American citizen. I will be to do whatever I want with U.S. citizenship. I
can go to any school I want and live anywhere I want. If I end up having to go to court dates over
and over again to have nothing happen is too much. If there‘s no change by the time I‘m 30 and
nothing has changed with my status, maybe even before that because I can‘t wait forever for a
piece of paper, I will just go home. So much can happen to my family in 10 years. Someone
could die! And I‘m supposed to miss that for a piece of paper? No, I can‘t do that.
I feel like I‘m living in the past when it comes to Trinidad because I don‘t know what it‘s like
to live there now, but time is passing by even though in my mind it hasn‘t been. It‘s always a
shock to me when I hear of someone passing away there. Time is not passing in my head. I‘ve
thought about what if the image I have had of Trinidad in the past doesn‘t live up to the reality of

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it when I‘m there? But then I think, what‘s the worst that could happen--I have my family that I
love?
Trinidad
I was born in St. Lucia, a tiny island in the Eastern Caribbean. Both of my parents were
working on the island at the time with my dad doing construction and my mom cleaning houses.
I remember being really close to the beach, and it the island was really small so you can pretty
much walk to where you need to go. It was relaxing and peaceful. All I remember is going to
school and going to the beach and that‘s it. My life was innocent at that time, and I didn‘t really
know anything bad was happening. I would just play on my own or with friends and just be a
kid. There was one time when I was younger, I was playing around to a gutter drain where you
could jump from side to the other. It was late at night, and my parents were hanging around
outside so I was bored and started playing with this drain, and I fell in! I remember my leg was
covered with black liquidy sludge, and when I saw that I started crying. My mom said, ―That‘s
why I told you to stop playing!‖
It was hard being an only child growing up, but I always had friends. I remember one friend
in St. Lucia when I was young and used to go over to his house. His mom was really nice to my
mom and would help her out because she didn‘t have a lot of freedom in her relationship with
my dad. His name was Emmanuel, and he was dark skinned. There weren‘t a lot of dark skinned
people in my class. I guess because a lot of St. Lucian‘s are mixed with British, White, and
French, and a little dash of African in there. There are a lot of older Creole people there.
I didn‘t really know a lot about the culture there because I didn‘t go anywhere. I was
culturally and ethnically from Trinidad, and I didn‘t grow up there long enough to learn their
customs and beliefs. I remember having a good relationship when my parents while I growing up

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there. My dad had a truck, and we would go to these big hills and drive really fast for fun, and
I‘d be in the back of the seat like ―AHHHHHHHHH.‖ I felt close to both of my parents, but I felt
like I could talk to my mom more because she was more understanding.
I‘m sure I saw some things that I didn‘t want to remember, and it‘s way in the back of my
mind, but at the time, I didn‘t understand the abusive dynamics in my parents‘ relationship.
I just remember something not feeling right because we started moving from place to place on
the islands, and I never had any pictures of me when I was in St. Lucia. I don‘t know the entire
story with that, but my mom told me that someone had burned all of our pictures. It was
something like my dad had pissed someone off and they came and destroyed stuff in the house. I
wasn‘t there, but I lost a lot of memories. There were some explosive fights where I heard
yelling and arguing with something crashing and falling, but I never saw anything.
I don‘t know how my mom got help or got money to get off the island and return to Trinidad
because I only remember her cleaning houses. She only went to St. Lucia expecting to get work
and have this nice relationship with my dad and get married, but none of that happened. Instead,
my dad would leave her home and not give her any money, and then he would owe people
money. Instead of facing the consequences, he would move away, and that‘s why we had to
move around to different cities. Sometimes because of the abuse, my mom and I would move out
and live in different places on the island so my dad couldn‘t find us. I know he also cheated on
my mom her multiple times, and her friend from St. Lucia told her about it. It was after she
found out about the cheating when she wanted go back to Trinidad so my mom and I left my dad
after that. She couldn‘t take the abuse anymore even though no one in the family believed her.
Trinidad was colonized by the British and recolonized by Spain. A lot of the names of
locations are in Spanish, but instead of saying the Spanish name, a lot of people change the

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pronunciation to take back the land and rebel against the colonizers. For instance, there‘s this
town that we call ―Sandy Grandy,‖ but it‘s not spelled like that. It‘s spelled S-a-n-g-r-e--
‗Sangre,‘ meaning blood, and then ‗Grande,‘ meaning large, but no one spells it the Spanish way.
Like the U.S., Trinidad is also having to figure out what to do about undocumented
immigrants from Venezuelans. None of the countries want to help them, so they are all coming
to Trinidad, and the government doesn‘t know what to do. I talked to cross cultural exchange
students from Argentina, and they said that their country is having an immigration issue too, but
that they would prefer immigrants from certain countries and not countries like Venezuela
because of criminals. It‘s literally the same stereotype! I think all of the Caribbean islands should
open their gates to let some immigrants in but limit it and spread people across all of the island
countries so it‘s even. I think in America the government should give us a better path to
citizenship and not have us waiting in uncertainty forever.
Everything changed when I went to Trinidad. I went from living on this nice little beach to
the fast-paced city life. There were cars everywhere and the gutter drains were really dirty. It was
really crowded. Vendors lined the streets selling stuff while wild dogs ran around. It was just a
totally different pace of life compared to St. Lucia. The name of the neighborhood was
Edinburgh Village because of British colonization, but our actual street did not have a name. My
mother called it ‗Shit Street‘ because the dogs would poop everywhere. We also didn‘t have a
mail box.
When my mom and I moved back, we went to live with my great aunt Tanty, who I
considered to be more like a grandmother. We called it the ‗Refuge House‘ because all types of
extended family and friends passed through there. I was close to my grandparents. My mom
came to live with Tanty when she was young. My mom considered Tanty to be her mom. The

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word Tanty means ‗older mother.‘ My grandfather passed away when I was really young so I
don‘t remember a lot about him, but I know we were close. I also had a great uncle who lived in
the house too when he was in his 90‘s, but I hung out more with my grandma. I remember she
got sick when she was younger and needed to get her leg amputated, but that never stopped her.
She was always cooking or cleaning the house and taking care of everyone and wouldn‘t have it
any other way. Tanty passed away when I was eight or nine. I remember singing a song at her
funeral. I missed her a lot. Everyone missed her. Even to this day I miss her. She had kidney
failure and would get sick and have to go to the doctor. I used to put powder on her boobs
hahaha. My mom would take care of her and when Tanty had to depend on us because she was
getting sicker, she did not like that. I at least had the change to say goodbye to her in the hospital
before she died. That was the first experience I had with death and loss.
The transition from St. Lucia to Trinidad was hard on me because of my school anxiety. I
remember my mom, aunt, and cousin trying to get me into a Catholic school. Back then, when a
student would act up in school, they never tried to figure it out and would say, ―You‘re a bad
student‖ and punish them. Well, all of the ―bad kids‖ were sent to Catholic school, but my mom
didn‘t know that so I was the smartest student in the class. I was put with the slower students and
would be made fun of constantly for some reason. There was this boy, and he had a crush on me
so he would blow kisses to me all of the time. I just felt really uncomfortable so I would go off
on my own to do my own thing while trying to avoid everyone. I had to wait after school for my
mom‘s friend to pick me up, but I didn‘t like her because she always had an attitude and was so
mean. One time she saw me dancing after school with some other kids and scolded me for
―dancing inappropriately.‖ She even told my mom about it. I tried to make friends, but there
were some really weird interactions at that school. There was a girl who did voodoo, and

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everyone knew that she did voodoo. One time after school, it was just me and her waiting for our
ride, and she was talking about all this stuff and her religion. I just didn‘t like it.
Going to a Catholic school meant having to follow the religion, which I had never done since
my mom was raising me as a Seventh-day Adventist. We used to have to do Hail Mary‘s in
school. I really hated that school and wasn‘t adjusting well so I started not wanting to go to
school. Every morning before school I would get physically sick and throw up. My mom used to
try to force me to eat because I wouldn‘t swallow my food, and it would go down and come right
back up. She didn‘t know what was going on with me and thought I was watching too much of
America‟s Next Top Model and trying to starve myself. She really didn‘t know how to deal with
it so she would try to punish me and force me to eat, but none of that was working so she took
me to the doctor. He diagnosed me with school anxiety and said I needed to move away from
that school or find a way to get education because it wasn‘t working. I would make up lies and
get sick and do whatever I had to do not to go. It was also really far away. My mom listened to
the doctor and moved me from that school to the school right across from my house, which was
so much better. It was a Presbyterian primary school and had a 50 percent Indian and 50 percent
African student population for the most part. My mom is actually half Indian because of my
grandfather, and my grandmother is Black. The Indians came over as indentured servants as well
as the Chinese and then we also had African slaves in Trinidad. My dad is Black, African, and
his family is mostly dark skinned and then my mom‘s side is light skinned.
I was able to walk to school with my mom, and even though I was doing a lot better socially,
I was behind academically after being at the Catholic school not learning anything! This school
was really intense. Every student had multiple copy books for different classes and notebooks
where you wrote down notes. I had this really nice teacher would let my mom come into the

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classroom and help me take notes because it was overwhelming for me. I started learning and
making friends and my anxiety went away.
I loved that school and always wanted to go. I joined a Red Cross class and a marching band,
but it‘s different from here because they don‘t play instruments. We just march. We would go to
competitions with other schools and had these super cute uniforms, which was a change since all
schools required uniforms, no nail polish, and my hair had to be braided or pulled back on an
everyday basis. On a typical day, I‘d get up really early and get ready for school. My mom
would wash my shoes and my uniform while I did my hair. As I got a little bit older, I would
walk to school on my own. My mom got me a phone when I started doing that so I could call
her. The first place I went when I got to school was the morning assembly where we would do
out school song and national anthem and all that, and then I‘d go to class. I actually had a lot of
friends. I was friends with everyone is class. I kind of grew up with them since you stay with the
same group from Standard 1(first grade in the U.S.) to Standard 5 (fifth grade). A lot of my
friends at school were mixed. I had one friend who is what we called a ‗Dougla,‘ which is when
you‘re mixed with Black and Indian. Pretty much everyone in my class was either Indian, mixed,
and maybe one or two Black students. I have some of their Instagram‘s right now, like three of
them. One of them is in college and studying in Barbados and the other two are still in Trinidad
going to college.
After school, I would walk home, but I would have to take a shortcut because our neighbors
had a lot of stray dogs who used to bark at me aggressively. On one occasion, the dogs chased
me all the way home and I felt like I was going to die! I was throwing stones at them and they
kept barking and getting closer to me so I ran and a hid around a wall until they left. That was the
last day I walked home the regular way. To take the short cut, I would walk down the road, turn

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left, and cut across a grassy lot area until it became too unruly and I had to shimmy next to a
drain every day when going to and from school. It was a huge concrete drain that was too wide to
jump from one side to the other on the side of someone‘s house. It was so big that if you fell in
your entire body would be immersed in unknown slush. It was so disgusting with a bunch of dark
colored gunk, and on the sides were prickly vines and grass and all other kinds of ugly stuff.
Because I would have to balance on a narrow ridge on the side of the drain, I used to hold on to
the fence with the vines and leaves so I wouldn‘t fall. And I never fail, not once.
On the weekends, I would go to church and the market with my mom. I honestly don‘t know
much about being a Seventh-day Adventist religion, but my mom would take me on Saturday‘s
and then Sunday‘s would be our ‗Market Day,‘ as we called it. We would go there to get our
groceries every Sunday, and took a taxi there and back. My mom didn‘t have a car or a license,
but most people don‘t. Owning a car was hard to afford so we would take taxis and maxis (*bus)
to get around. It was kind of a rush because we would have to find a taxi that we trusted because
they could be dangerous sometimes. When I was younger, my mom was trying to teach me how
to know if a taxi was safe or not. She told me that you have to look at the license plates, and the
one‘s that start with the letter ‗P‘ meant private so I should not take those because those were for
any random person with a car. I would have to take the other ones that were more official.
Eventually, we had taxi people who we knew and that knew us that we could trust. We would see
the news of people getting kidnapped, robbed, and raped from taking bad taxis all the time. The
weekends were spent going to the market, learning to sew from Tanty, and watching movies with
my mom at home because we couldn‘t afford to go to the movies.
I wasn‘t allowed to go over to friend‘s houses and go out with them on the weekends and had
to spend a lot of time home alone at times. It was scary. Our house never really felt safe because

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we didn‘t have a fence, and our neighbor‘s next door was a drunk and well-known drug lord in
the neighborhood. I used to see cars come by at night, and my uncle used to be out there with his
friends doing some suspicious stuff, but most of the time it was late at night when that happened.
I was usually in bed while my mom stayed up watching the door and the house. One time, my
bedroom was ransacked when we weren‘t home, and they broke in only for that one room. It
looked like they were looking for something. Maybe it was money they were looking for. It was
said because all of this stuff happened after Tanty passed away. Tanty was like the mother of the
house, and my uncle knew that so he stayed away, but after she died, my uncle took advantage of
our house. That‘s why my mom wanted to move away and go to St. Lucia.
I would go visit my biological grandmother on vacations, and have some fond memories of
visiting her every summer even though my mom and my grandmother continue to have a
strained relationship. She had a farm and was had more material means then we did growing up.
Unfortunately, my grandmother judges my mom for choosing partners who aren‘t well off and
uses things like having a bigger house and bigger T.V. to show superiority.
My mom was really against me learning about the Hindu and Indian culture even though my
grandfather was Indian. She never connected with that side of the family and would go over to
eat the food and stuff, but as she got older and became a Christian, their respective religions
became a barrier to merging the two cultures together. My mom would stop me from doing any
Indian stuff. Like one time in school, there was an Indian dress up day and everyone would come
to school in saris and traditional Indian wear, but I wasn‘t allowed to go. I never understood why.
I wanted to go. I don‘t identify myself with that culture to this day, and it‘s because of the way I
was raised. My mom and Tanty would tell me not to wear things that look Indian like the beads
on dresses. There were some Indian holidays at school where all of the Hindu students would

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make food and put them in front of the alters with their gods. I was told not to eat the food the
students prepared because they put their problems into it and send them off to the gods. It was
only before the offerings that I was allowed to eat the food. It was really interesting because I
ended up doing a Christmas concert as part of a Hindu dance group, and I was allowed to
perform and everything
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. I was friends with all of the girls in that group. It really just depended
when I could and could not participate.
I didn‘t see my dad after we left St. Lucia. My mom had to beg my dad to send us money all
those years while he was rich and we were poor. We called each other a few times, but for the
most part, my dad wasn‘t around after my mom and I left. I think he ended up going to a
different island to work before immigrating to the U.S. to live with his parents on the east coast.
If I hadn‘t of visited the second time and stayed in the America, I probably would have never
seen my dad again. I always wonder if that would have been better for me in the long run.
I constantly waiver between my existential dilemma on being ripped away from a homeland
that I have distant memories of and living in the U.S. with deep longingness in my heart for what
was. As I continue to live in America year after year, it becomes more difficult for me to see
myself living in Trinidad full time. My mom constantly shares her struggles with me to provide
for her family because jobs are not easy to come by there, and I don‘t even know what kind of
work I‘d be able to find there.
I ultimately think my life would have been very different if I had stayed in Trinidad but also a
little bit better. Me and my friend who‘s from Barbados talk about this because his parents are
thinking about sending him back because he isn‘t doing well in school. He was thinking what his
life would be like, and there aren‘t many jobs he could get so he would probably just have to sell

37
Refer to Appendix B, Figure 1.

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stuff on the street or do construction. He would be called spoiled because he will ask for the
things that he‘s used to over here like McDonalds. I would miss all the material things because it
is so much cheaper here, but it‘s not just that. I would miss the individualism of America. If I go
back home, I ‗d have to conform to what everyone feels like I‘m supposed to be like. My culture
is collective so standing out is not good. It is all about discipline and blending in. They‘re very
old-fashioned. Over here, I can be whoever I want to be. I can be bisexual if I want to. I can get a
tattoo or go on dates and have sex with as many guys and girls as I want to, but over there, I
would have to keep that really secretive because my family would definitely judge me for all of
that, especially my sexuality.
It is dangerous to be gay in Trinidad and was illegal up until last year. They decriminalized
sodomy, which is pretty old colonial law from Britain, and there was a huge protest last year
about it. All of the old and religious people are against it. My mom was against it, and she‘s pro-
life. I feel like she wouldn‘t recognize me if I went back and lived with her. She would have to
get to know me again because I‘m not who she thinks I am. She thinks I am this angel who‘s a
virgin, but she missed out on a lot of my life growing up. Everything really. From puberty to
periods to birth control. I didn‘t tell her exactly why I was going on birth control and just said I
had heavy periods. I feel like she missed out on all of the motherly stuff.
I am left at an impasse. On one hand, I live with my complex and abusive father that I care for
while going to college to make something of myself, and on the other, I could just leave the U.S.
and go back to be with my mom and my brothers. It‘s hard because I have known two sides to
my father. One that is kind and generous and the other that is controlling and dismissive. I have
yet to learn how to reconcile these two feelings, and while I know my goal is to go to school, get
a degree, move out, and support myself and my family in Trinidad, I do not see how that will be

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possible in the current political and policy climate. I live between the lines of extended court
dates.
My ultimate goal is to live here in America and visit back home for at least a month a year
while supporting my mom and my whole family, really, when I get older. One thing that I really
want is to be able to travel, and that‘s what a U.S. passport represents to me. I mean don‘t get me
wrong, I do want to be a U.S. citizen, but I just want the benefits of traveling and being able to
go back to Trinidad to see my mother and meet my brothers for the first time. Then I‘ll come
back here, work, and go shopping. That‘s truly what a lot of immigrants do, well in my family
anyways. They get their citizenship just so they can have the money. Then they go back home
and share the money with their family by bringing back barrels full of clothing and everything
that they need back home. There was one immigrant friend of my dads who was visiting from
Guyana who stayed us. He used to walk to Walmart and stay there for hours! He‘d just walk
around comparing prices and taking pictures of the prices and trying things, but then be would
buy stuff for his children and take it back with him. If only I could have the best of both worlds,
then I would be whole again.

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CHAPTER SIX: ESTHER
Being undocumented is saving me from myself.
I got sober the only way I was going to. It took jail and fear of deportation to make me
realize, okay we need to stop now. I definitely think had I not been undocumented, I would still
be drinking. As scary as that is, that‘s what it took, and I don‘t think anything else would have
helped me or encouraged me to change and also to accept who I am. For years you‘re ashamed
from having to tell someone that you don‘t have legal status and not everyone can accept that
with friendly eye, you know, but there is freedom in accepting who you are. I am just a person
who is undocumented, but I am as legal as they come. I am from this planet. I‘m part of

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humanity. But I think I got a bit ahead of myself so let‘s go back to the beginning so you can
understand me better.
Before
We lived in a city in El Salvador, not a pretty city because everyone you look it was poverty.
The roads were dirt with no pavement, but I was a happy kid. I think a reason why I can‘t stay in
one place for a long time was because my parents moved around all of the time when I was
younger. I don‘t remember having childhood friendships because we moved so much. They
would follow the church and wherever the church took them, we would go. I was always a
tomboy because I grew up with a bunch of brothers and cousins who were staying with my
family. It was my three brothers plus my sister and my mother‘s sister—my aunt and her three
boys and one girl—and then my dad‘s sister who also had kids. I would watch the boys play
soccer and play marbles, board games, or play some made up game where someone would hold
on to a pole and then we would all hold on to each other and try to pull the person holding the
pole off. They were happy memories.
I don‘t remember the actual moving from place to place. In my head and in my memories, I
remember two houses. We were very poor. We had rooms in our house, but they didn‘t have a
nice bed. It was dirt floors and some tile and metal bunkbeds, but one of the houses had a big
room, and my mom was and is a really great cook so she had a Puperseria where she sold
pupusas all day long. She had an area in the house where people would come and eat. My mom
always found a way to provide. My dad would work driving a cab all day long and my would
cook and sell frescos (different flavor drinks). There were times she would buy TONS of
watermelon for the summer and sell that. Even though we were poor, I don‘t remember lacking
or being hungry. We had everything we needed, and my parents did what they could to provide

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to the best of their abilities. I think I missed out on watching T.V. and stuff because as
Christians, you‘re not supposed to be watching T.V. anyways, but eventually, our dad got a T.V.
set and were able to watch cartoons. It was fun.
I moved out here with my dad from El Salvador to Southern California when I was 11. We
crossed the border, which back then in 1989, that‘s just the way it was. Everyone came over like
that with a coyote. I thought we were on vacation or something because we left super early from
my house and then we traveled on a bus and made it into Guatemala. I don‘t remember all of the
trip, but I do recall a forest, or maybe it was a jungle, and hiding and walking with people in a
group. The coyotes had contacts in each country so I remember staying in a house where I didn‘t
know anyone, but they were nice to us, obviously, because they knew the people who were
bringing us. There was a lady who was part of the coyotes and she really liked me so she
basically treated me like I was her daughter. She even gave me a haircut! My dad was furious
because growing up in a Christian household, women and girls did not cut their hair, and she cut
my hair and my dad was really upset but there was nothing he could do. That was the first time
that I cut my hair where I remember getting a short haircut. I remember that was in Vera Cruz.
My mother was already out her after coming in ‘86. It‘s funny because it‘s usually the other way
around where the father is always the one to move out here and never the mother who is bold
enough to leave the family behind, but my parents had their own marital issues, and the reason
my mother left was because I think there was trouble, well now that I‘m older I know that there
was trouble, but at the time, I was a kid so I had no clue. I didn‘t understand why she left because
I was young, but I don‘t remember asking those questions to anybody. I think those are
memories that I have suppressed for a very long time, and it was really hard. My dad was a taxi
driver so he was never home. Fortunately, we had my grandmother when my mom left who was

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living with us at the time, and my mom‘s sister-- my aunt. So we had people to look after us, but
not my dad. It was years later that I realized what was going on. My dad was having an affair
when my mom was here, and I think back, and he would take me with him and sit me on a couch
while he was with someone else, and I was just a kid obeying and sitting there and being quiet. I
didn‘t realize that was traumatic until years later when I was like oh so that‟s what was
happening. So my mom left because she gave my dad an ultimatum: either change or I‘m
leaving. I guess he decided not to change so mom decided to leave, and she wasn‘t abandoning
us because she thought I have to do better for my children, and three years later, I immigrated to
be with her.
Before we crossed the river, we were waiting in TJ (Tijuana), and it was really cold and
raining so my dad bought me a cup of black coffee. He didn‘t add sugar to it or anything. When
we finally crossed, they tied a rope around my waist and my dad was in front or behind me and
we had to cross a deep river. The current was strong enough to take me so if I didn‘t have the
rope around me, I would have been gone. After that, the coyotes put us in the back of a van with
no windows so I didn‘t see anything driving into the U.S. until we got dropped off at my mom‘s
while still soaking wet. We were cramped, and I was hurting because we were on top of each
other, literally like sardines, and it was wet and cold. When I stepped out of the van and saw my
mom, I was really overwhelmed because I didn‘t really know we were going to see her, and all
of my hurt emotions came running back to me. I was mad, shocked, and confused. I felt like she
had left me and not been there to protect me when I really needed it. I was molested by a cousin
when she wasn‘t there during those three years, and I couldn‘t talk to anyone about that. It took
years for me to be able to talk about that and move on. All I could think of when I saw her is why
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The first person I told about my molestation was my middle school P.E. teacher. A bond came
out of that because he was the first person to tell me about a program in middle school where you
are excused from one period of class, and my P.E. teacher, whom for whatever reason, I ended
up having every year as my P.E. teacher for three years in middle school. It was funny because I
would be like him again! He would push my buttons so bad, but I really loved him, and he
became like a father figure in my life because he was the coordinator of that program. He would
give me the support and comfort that I needed and told me that what happened with my cousin
wasn‘t my fault. I had no idea what had happened, and he had to break it down to me and that‘s
how I began to understand that this was abuse. I could trust him, and I could open up with him. I
didn‘t tell anyone else. I think the second person I told was my brother‘s girlfriend at the time,
but I didn‘t tell my mom and dad. I found out years later that the same guy tried to do the same
thing to my sister. It was awful but also comforting to know it wasn‘t my fault and that he was
the sick person and not me. I didn‘t tell my mom until I was like 21 or 22 and she cried because
she felt like she left and this happened to me. I never told my dad because he was close with this
person because it was his nephew. My cousin always said that if I told my dad, he‘d believe him
over me so I never told him, and to this day I still haven‘t told him because it has been too many
years and I don‘t see the point anymore. It took me many years of alcoholism to deal with the
pain of that trauma.
Life continued to be confusing when I was finally with my mom because she was gone all the
time at work working as a housekeeper and nanny for a rich family, and then on top of that, my
dad decided to go back to our country. By the end of middle school, I had no parents at all I felt.
It wasn‘t until decades later that I would see my dad, and we became really estranged. A close
friend to the family named Lucas couldn‘t erase the painful actions of my dad, but he gave me

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my love for road trips and some good memories over the years. He took us on our very first trip
outside of California to Las Vegas. I remember driving in a car for hours, and I was like when
are we going to get anywhere? And then night started to fall, and I would be so excited to see the
lights from a distance on the freeway. They would be really dim from afar and then get brighter
and Brighter and BRIGHTER as we got closer. Those moments on a road trip always take me
back to the first time and remind me of Lucas, He has since passed on. Now, I try to go on a road
trip with my niece every year when we can. It has been harder lately because she‘s finishing her
degree at a state college. I really love road trips, though, because it brings me peace and a time to
reflect while you‘re driving. It just reminds me of a more innocent time in my life. I saw snow
for the first time on one of my childhood road trips, which was a big deal because my country is
rainy and tropical, making it horribly sticky and humid. It reminded me of those post cards that
have a little pine tree covered with snow next to a cabin. Yeah, it‘s very nostalgic for me I guess.
It makes me think of Lucas so fondly. He was a really amazing person. I remember learning to
drive from him, and it was so funny because when he was teaching me I burst out laughing at
one point. I have no idea why! He was like, ―No! You need to stop that and focus! Why are you
laughing?‖ and I said, ―I don‘t know, I just feel hysterical.‖ It was so funny.
My sister is older than me by almost two years, and because mom was gone a lot, she kinda
felt like a mother figure to us--my three brothers and myself—and she didn‘t like being told what
to do by other adults who weren‘t our parents. We are total opposites. I‘m super talkative,
sweet—so people say hahaha—friendly. My sister is very stern, she‘s more serious, more
focused, and I think that came with the reality that we didn‘t have a mom for a while so she felt
like she had to be more careful and rigid with us. Since she was the first girl born in the family,
she was daddy‘s little girl and she was brokenhearted when he decided to bring me. The reason

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behind his decision to bring me had to do with my health. I used to get these pains in my heart
and my family would take me to the doctors and they would say, ―Well maybe she‘s just missing
her mom.‖ I don‘t really remember the diagnosis, but for health reasons, my dad decided to bring
me instead of my sister. She took it really hard, and she built up this really close bond with one
of my brother‘s. He passed away when she moved out here, and my sister felt like it was
everybody‘s fault that they were separated. Unfortunately, due to our legal status, she couldn‘t
travel back to El Salvador to go to his funeral so mom went and my sister basically hated my
mother for not being able to take her. All of that is in the past now, but that‘s how it was back
then. Then when my oldest brother was 17, he got someone pregnant so he was a young father
and so right after my mom came in ‘86, he followed. He was actually the first one from my
siblings to come. I don‘t know if you know this about immigrant life, but back in those days,
anybody who would cross the border would reunite with their family and live in a studio or a
single, and they would be crammed like sardines in one place. That‘s the way it was for us to so
that‘s the reason why, after living like that for a few years, I was determined to move out when I
was 18. When I told my mom I was moving out she was obviously she was broken hearted. I was
a girl, and I was 18, and she would ask me, ―What are you going to do in the world. Please don‘t
go,‖ but I broker her heart and still went. I did not want to live like that. So my brother came
with my mom, and they lived with a family friend who had lived here for a while and that‘s how
it goes you know. One comes, the other one, the next one, and that‘s just the way it was. Now
it‘s my second brother who is just waiting on his residency and is still in El Salvador. He didn‘t
come earlier because he had a family, you know typical Latino culture. They wanna have kids
early. It‘s either that or ignorance, but he wasn‘t planning on leaving his family, and then my
third brother who passed was actually a really good soccer player. He was playing with the semi-

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pros in El Salvador and was doing really well. That was his whole world, and he was happy. He
ended up being killed. I think it had something to do with a girl. I don‘t have all the details and
we never found out which guy killed him. We know that he was at home and then left to come
outside of the house, maybe to see this girl who lured him outside, and he ended up being killed.
My mom went back to bury him because she had a work permit under an asylum program that
allowed her to travel back home on an emergency leave, but my sister didn‘t have legal status
yet. They usually wouldn‘t grant more than one person in the family to leave the country at one
time. My sister was really resentful for not being able to go and hated me for being able to come
first and for being young and stupid. I think she was just overwhelmed with pain and grief. I
didn‘t understand that for a long time, and we weren‘t close for a while.
I am sure you know this, but if you don‘t know, families who lived the way my way family
didn‘t get to see their mom‘s too much growing up. My mom was a housekeeper in a white and
wealthy neighborhood. I didn‘t get to see her but one time a week on Sunday‘s. She would have
her day off on Sunday and come home early. We would have to go grocery shopping and do the
laundry and do whatever we had to do that day. She had basically half a day to do everything a
mother was supposed to do for her children on a daily basis, and we had to take care of ourselves
the rest of the time. It wasn‘t good because my sister didn‘t like me, you know, but luckily when
we first got here it was my brother, his girlfriend, my mother‘s friend, her son, my dad, and
myself all living in a single apartment, probably as big as this conference room we are talking in.
We were cramped, but after my sister came, we were actually able to get an extra room that
connected to the one we used to stay in before. My brother and his girlfriend would stay in that
room and then my sister and I would stay in one next to it. He would kind of keep an eye on us

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like in the middle of night when she wanted to pick a fight, but otherwise it was just the two of
us all day long.
I always knew how to make friends growing up, and I adjusted quickly to life in the U.S.
because I adapted, and the way I adapted was learning how to speak English within six months.
That was the only way I could survive really. You know when you are an immigrant, they sign
you up for ESL classes. You have a class where you have English and Spanish, but I was able to
pick up the language very quickly. I remember when I was in middle school, my mom was a
housekeeper for a different family than she had been working for previously because she didn‘t
like only getting one day to spend with us, so she went and worked for this family in another area
of the city, and she would bring me when I was on vacation to their home. I think the first time I
went out there, they asked me, ―How come you speak English so well?‖ I was like, ―I don‘t
know. I just speak English. I don‘t know what to tell you.‖ Thinking about it now, they would
show me off to their friends. I didn‘t know what that meant at first, but it felt like they were
looking at a monkey talking for the first time. It didn‘t mean a lot to me then since I was just a
kid, but now with everything going on in the country, I have to wonder you know. I don‘t think
that they meant to disrespect me or anything, but I think they just couldn‘t believe that an
immigrant would speak such good English. They were really nice people otherwise I have to say.
I got to know the whole family with their kids and Suzanne‘s mother, my mom‘s employer‘s,
mom named Carol. It was funny because one time Carol, I don‘t know if she was joking or what,
but she asked my mom if she would let her adopt me. Now I joke with my mom and say, ―I
would be filthy rich now if you had let her adopt me because they own properties downtown, and
Carol was really nice,‖ and my mom goes, ―Would you have really gone with them?‖ and I tease
her and say ―Yes!‖ but no, I would not have. My mom worked for them for a longgg time.

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So I graduated from middle school in ‘92 and started high school that fall. I went to high
school kind of far from home, and I had to get up super early every morning for four years so I
could walk to the bus stop to get to school. It would take more than an hour to get there and
sometimes right when the bell would ring. I have no idea why my school was that far to be
honest with you. I think that‘s why I‘m really involved in informing myself now because I had
no parents to guide me, and no counselors to guide me in high school either. I had no guidance
I was a really good athlete though, so I hung out a lot with my team members. I had decent
grades just so I could play sports—volleyball, softball, and basketball. Luckily, some of the same
girls played in multiple sports too so they became my high school girlfriend group. Even after
years of graduating, we still hung out, and obviously, everyone got married and had kids. Two of
them were actually gay and we found out at the end of senior year, and we were like, ―WHAT!‖
you know because back then you didn‘t talk about those things.
Yeah, that was my life, and you know, my friends and I didn‘t really talk about going to
college. We talked about sports and we had a good time together like sisters, but they all ended
up going to college because they were guided by their parents. They all had good families. One
of the girl‘s parents were lawyers, and the other girls all had adults who could guide them. I can‘t
even remember seeing a counselor in high school who would talk about my grades or tell me to
take one class over another saying why don‟t you do this, why don‟t you do that? So I really feel
like I missed out on a lot because I wasn‘t informed. I didn‘t have a lot of encouragement from
anyone. My sister and I didn‘t get along. I feel like she didn‘t start liking me until she got
pregnant, which is crazy because her daughter and I are so close. I remember when she made the
trip from Minnesota to come to my high school graduation. I just felt really special because I

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never really had any support from her. For me, it was like a stepping stone to graduate from high
school, and she was happy to come.
After high school, my sister‘s and my relationship started getting better while she was
pregnant. She told me she was moving to Maryland, which I didn‘t understand because she was
choosing one cold state after another, and said, ―Would you want to help me raise the baby?‖ and
I was like, ―Yeah, of course.‖ I was living with my boyfriend at the time, and I said, ―Guess
what, I‘m moving to Maryland. My sister is really important to me and you are too. I would love
for you to come with me, but I understand if you don‘t want to.‖ He decided to stay in California,
but I needed to go because my sister was going to be a single mother and she needed help. I was
packed and ready to go with a plane ticket and my sister calls me and says, ―I don‘t like this
place!!‖ and I was like, ―WOW! Thanks! I just broke up with my boyfriend!‖ and thought so
what am I supposed to do with this ticket? and I don‟t even have an apartment. Okay, great,
yeah! But in the end, she came back here, and my niece was born here, and my sister hasn‘t
moved out of state again since.
So obliviously when I graduated from high school, I had no desire go to college and continue
my education. I think I did try and to look into a community college close to me, but it didn‘t
interest me because no one had told me about how important it was. Then I did end up enrolling
in a two-year school, but then I dropped out because I got a really good job, and I was like why
do I need an education? I worked in a supervisory position at UPS and really tried to do
community college the first time around. I actually did great in the classes I took and had really
good grades, but I had a bunch of W‘s because if I didn‘t think they were interesting, I‘d drop
them. Back then you could drop as many classes as you wanted to and it didn‘t matter, but now I
have a bunch of W‘s in my transcript. But after I started seeing the checks come in, the green

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started looking better than going to school. It was years later when I thought, oh man, I really
messed up, but I never had information and guidance.
I started drinking when I was 18 when I moved out of the house. I was always a good kid. I
may have had some bad habits, but I listened to my mom. I never got in trouble in school, but
when I moved out of my house, I was finally independent and could do whatever I want. I had
roommates, and we were all young and would party so that‘s how I started to drink. Then it just
got progressively worse because I wanted to just forget all of that shame that I carried with me
from the sexual assault and the resentment I had towards my dad. I resented my mom a little, but
more my dad. My drinking got a lot worse in my 20s when I found out that my dad had actually
left not because he didn‘t like this country, not because he didn‘t like living in an apartment after
owning his own house in our country, but because he had a second family. I found out that I had
other siblings, and I just felt so betrayed because I believed what he had said for all those years. I
even wrote him letters and he never answered me. I was thinking he didn‘t like this country, and
I understood that, but come to find out he left because he had other people he felt were more
important I guess. My mom told me this, and that‘s one of the reasons I came to admire her so
much as I got older because she has a big heart. For years I didn‘t like the fact that she would be
talk to my dad and be civil with him. I would get so mad and say, ―HOW CAN YOU BE SO
NICE TO HIM AFTER EVERYTHING HE DID TO YOU, AFTER HE ABADONED US?!‖
and she would say, ―It‘s not for me to judge him. His time will come, and he will have to answer
to God, and we can‘t do that.‖ I didn‘t understand that until I became a Christian myself.
I ended up moving to Maryland in 2006 when my drinking was getting to be pretty bad, and I
was hanging out with the wrong crowd and getting into drugs—coke and crystal. I knew I had to
get out of California because I never considered myself to be a druggie so I packed up my car,

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and I drove to D.C. first and then moved to Maryland later. Of course, I kept doing drugs a little
bit when I got to D.C. because coke was everywhere, but I eventually stopped. I intended to stop
drinking, but my boyfriend at the time drank heavily, and I was a bartender so I couldn‘t get
away from it.
I lived there for six years and then moved back to Southern California because my boyfriend
ended up being a crazy stalker. I found myself traveling every six months to visit my mom
anyways, so I thought it was better that I come home. My relationship with my sister stayed
strong even from a distance, but my mom and sister were both worried about me and my
drinking. I would call me sister so drunk and just cry. When I got back, my sister suggested that I
live with my mom because she was diagnosed with arthritis and was having a hard time. I was
like, ―No, I don‘t want to do that.‖ It had been about 15 years or so, and I was 33 or 34 when I
moved back. I really didn‘t want to move back in with my mom, but my sister pointed out that I
didn‘t have a place to stay or anything so I was like, ―Okay,‖ and now it has been about 10 years
since I moved back, and I couldn‘t imagine life without my mom now.
The first years of living with my mom was really hard because I was drinking a lot, and my
mom had seen me drunk but she never saw me like that. I mean, I dared not present myself in
front of her drunk, and I wouldn‘t pick up a drink in front of her, but it was so it was hard
because I felt like I was living a double life. I had to pretend I wasn‘t as drunk when I knew I
was. To excuse myself, I would say I have a job, I‘m providing for myself, and I‘m not bothering
anyone. I wouldn‘t ask for money, and I wouldn‘t ask for favors so that would be my legitimate
excuse to maintain my bad habits. That made it okay in my head.
Growing up, my niece knew I would drink, but I never drank around her when she visited,
and I would never take her with me to party or anything. I didn‘t get to do a lot of things with her

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as much when she was growing up, and my sister would never allow it. It really was a double life
where I had to keep my drinking from my mom and my sister. My sister wouldn‘t nag at me
when I was drunk, but she was really disappointed. As deep in the hole as I was, I was able to see
that I wasn‘t just destroying myself but also my family. Alcoholics always say why does it
matter? It‟s my life, why should it concern you? But these are people who care about you and
love you. You don‘t realize how much stress and worry you put them under day and night. I
think the reason my mom was okay with me living with her was because she could at least know
that I came home.
My drinking got so bad I ended up losing my citizenship. My mom had gotten her work
permit through the ABC program for asylum, and because I was minor, I was able to get it. I was
able to get a work permit and a license. When I moved out, I had my apartment, and I had a car
and a driver‘s license. I was able to renew my work permit until I stopped caring about much
except for partying and drinking. I did send in my work permit, and I think because I moved
during the filing process, the work permit got lost in the mail. That is how I lost my work permit
and legal status. Obviously, I didn‘t take the time to correct the issue or fix it, and I just let it
expire. I‘ve always been a good employee no matter how bad my alcoholism was though. I
would always show up to work, and there were times that I was too sick because I was so
hungover to go to work. Most of the time, though, I would go to work hungover and just suffer
through it. That was just the type of person I was. I would work hard, and I would party hard
equally. But then I lost my work permit, and I have been working without one since 2003 when I
was in my mid-20‘s. You know what saved me? That I spoke English well. Employees never
questioned me about my status because of my English. I obviously already had a social security
number, and that doesn‘t ever change so I already had that and they would just run my social

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security number. They wouldn‘t even check my record or anything like that. They would just
assume. I wouldn‘t even tell, and they would just assume. Since they didn‘t question me, I
wouldn‘t tell them, and that‘s how I got to work for a lot of companies.
It was only when I had to start a new job. I don‘t think reality had hit me that I was
undocumented until I was closer to my 30s. I knew that things were starting to change in the U.S.
as far as being able to work legally as an illegal because people were starting to question more
about who was legal and who wasn‘t. I started to become scared because I was wondering how I
was going to be able to get hired, but luckily, they would just hire me and assume I was a citizen.
It was a big relief every time. I would go in there sweaty and come out hired, but now I worry
about it constantly. It‘s like a sticker on your forehead that you can‘t get rid of even if you try
pulling it. It‘s constantly there. It took multiple DUI‘s and being arrested to finally surrender
myself.
Surrendering
Getting my last DUI was my wake up call. I had four DUI‘s, well technically three because
one was a reckless driving charge in 2001. The last DUI I had was in 2014. I told myself I don‟t
want to do this anymore. I surrendered right before Christmas in 2015. My birthday is on the 20
th

so I celebrated my birthday, and I got as drunk as I could before going to jail just like any good
alcoholic would. The first couple of days were hard because I was going to court while I was
hungover, but after that, I don‘t remember wanting a drink because I was really worried about
getting deported. So there I was, in jail, and reality really came crashing down this time because I
felt like okay, you got lucky the first two times, but now you‟re really going to get deported, and I
didn‘t want to be. Before, I would say, ―Oh well, whatever, they can deport me, and I can just go
back to my country,‖ but I now know that I only said that because I was drunk. I really wasn‘t

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thinking about what it would really be to go back to a country you don‘t know, even though
that‘s supposed to be your country, with no one that you know really because I wasn‘t talking to
my dad and I didn‘t communicate with any of my relatives. It would really be strangers so I
really didn‘t know what I was saying, but I was really scared. The only thing I could do was turn
to God, and I said, ―Please Lord, I really don‘t want this life for myself anymore, and I really
need your help.‖ It took all those years for me to realize what I really want to do. It was just
years wasted, and I had no focus. You know, I got out of jail two months later, and I really
started to go on the straight path. I‘m not gonna lie, I had a few drinks when I got out because,
obviously, you go back to the same friends and my nephew‘s wife (at the time) was my drinking
buddy so I had a few drinks in the spring, but it wasn‘t the same. The taste was different, and I
really didn‘t want it. I was mandated to do an alcohol program for 18 months, but I ended up
completing it in less than a year because they had an expedited program.
I never imagined that surrendering could bring so much joy. Usually you think that
surrendering means failure, but in this case, it is the total opposite. I really have to say that this
was all God. I was already in the system from the previous DUI. For the first DUI, I didn‘t care
because I had a work permit, and for the second one I just didn‘t care, but this time around I
knew it was serious because if they asked for proof of legal status, I wouldn‘t have it. I don‘t
know. I have to say, it had to be God because not once did they ask me about that, and they just
let me go. I think I was supposed to do 90 days in jail, and I only did 40- something days. I
remember it was right before Valentine‘s Day, and they released me early because of spacing
and overcrowding in 2015. God was giving me the chance that I begged for. And another reason
why I felt guilty about drinking when I got out was because I felt like I was breaking my promise
to God. I said, ―God, if you get me out of here I will not drink again.‖ After that, I made the

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decision that I didn‘t want to drink ever again, and I made the decision to be sober and have been
ever since. If it wasn‘t the strength that He(footnote) gives me every day, I‘d probably be
miserable feening for alcohol or drugs, but I really can tell you from the bottom of my heart, I
am so blessed because I don‘t have to deal with that struggle. The place where I stay with my
mom I‘ve gotten to know the neighbors, and they drink outside in public. Just yesterday, one of
these guys who lives in the community was passed out drunk in front of my building, and it‘s so
sad you know. I thank God for my own life and the fact that that could have been me, not that
it‘s pleasant to see anyone on the side of the road like that, but I‘m so grateful that it‘s not me.
Maybe that sounds selfish, but I‘m just so thankful to God that I‘m not that person because I
could have been. I really could have been, and I thank God because He let me sink as much as he
wanted to just to allow me to see that it could have been me.
I never thought I would get baptized at this time in my life. The thing is, growing up when
you are Christian, there are rules. Things you have to do and follow as a believer, and when you
break those, you fall out of grace. My dad stopped going to church, and my mom didn‘t go to
church for some time also. So growing up, especially because I was so angry because I was so
lost in my own pain, I didn‘t want to go to church. I didn‘t feel the need. Eventually, my mom
went back to church, and she would always invite me. I knew I was in a bad place, and I felt I
wasn‘t going to be accepted by God in the condition I was in like I had to be righteous in his
eyes, so I would end up going drinking and hanging out with friends. I went once or twice with
my mom because she begged me to go, but I was tipsy! That was the only way she could think to
help me. It was horrible because I went with her, and I would just cry and cry. I couldn‘t stop
crying. I just felt ridiculous being in church like that, and I felt like everyone was looking at me
and judging me. I didn‘t visit an actual church until I got out of jail in 2015.

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I went into jail on a Monday and you go in and wait to get processed, which can take days,
and eventually when the weekend came, I think it was on Friday they would have services, and
by Saturday, I had accepted Christ into my heart for the first time. I was in my late 30s, almost
40. It took that long for me. I knew that at the end of every service, the pastor asks, ―Is there
anyone who wants to accept Jesus Christ?‖ and I instantly said, ―Yes.‖ I had been avoiding that
question for years going with my mom to church, but that day I didn‘t hesitate. I really meant it
you know, and I was really happy. Then I started to go to church with my sister when I got out of
jail on Thursday‘s and Sunday‘s. It got to the point where going to work and being a full-time
student made it hard to keep going to the same church as my sister, so I decided to go to the one
across the street from where I live, and I really liked the service and the pastor and the people
and that‘s where I got baptized recently.
After
I realize that God has never left me because now that I think back on my crazy and disorderly
life and I realize that had He not been by my side, I would have probably been dead. All along
He‘s cared for me. He was basically saying, ―Okay you wanna do it on your own and do it your
way? Go ahead. I‟m just going to let you be until you realize that my way is better.” Being a
Christian is hard, especially when your faith is starting to leave you. Temptation comes knocking
on the door in many ways, but if your faith is not strong enough, you‘ll easily fall into sin. A lot
of people think it‘s demanding, harsh, and limits you from so many things. If you choose to look
at it like that way, it can be like that, but I choose to look at it like I am given an option where I
can either be saved by being obedient to God by choosing to be, not because you‘re being forced.
It‘s a lot easier when you choose to do things because you want to then when you do things
because you‘re forced to. I think people blame God for a lot of the poor decisions that they made

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and taking responsibility for their choices, but I don‘t. I know that everything that went wrong in
my life is because of me and my wrong choices.
I‘m the only one who doesn‘t have legal status. I think that a lot of people don‘t agree with
immigrants getting citizenship because of criminal records, but I made some bad decisions due to
past sexual trauma and abandonment issues with my parents. I became an alcoholic so I had
DUI‘s on my record, and that‘s why I haven‘t petitioned because, especially now that Trump is
in power, I was going to petition a year ago, and I went to get legal advice but they said now is
not the best time because of your last DUI in the past five years. But ultimately, I‘m
undocumented because of my bad decisions, and because I know I messed up, and I‘m scared.
Fear had me down and doubting every decision to file the petition because I was like what is they
say no or worse and they deport you. What are you gonna do? But I decided last year that I AM
DONE being scared because I‘m never going to do anything if I don‘t, and years are going to go
by and I‘m just going to be waiting. My record is not going to change so I have to take a chance
and risk myself and put myself out there and hope that a judge will show me mercy.
I want to be involved not only to help the students right now, but students who will be coming
through. Especially with the reelection coming, and we don‘t know if Trump is going to be
president again. I‘m scared that he will. I didn‘t he would be, and I was shocked because I
thought the American people would be smart, you know. Okay, I don‘t like Hilary. Fine, I don‘t
like Hilary BUT she was experienced. She has been in public service for how long. Choose the
lesser of two evils. I thought she would win, so now I look at the country and it‘s in shambles I
think. I think the country is divided because obviously, racism has been brought back to the
public. I think the past 10-15 years it has been pushed under the rug, and it was just hidden there,
and now the president doesn‘t care and people are thinking well the president is racist, and I am

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racist too so why not! Let‘s do it together, but I think the other half of the people who aren‘t
racist are like wait, that‘s wrong so I think that‘s why the country is divided, and I don‘t know
where we‘re going to end up. These are people‘s lives you‘re talking about. It‘s like heartache
and pain and family separation so that he can get votes really. It‘s very frustrating. I‘m also
grateful it‘s out in the open so that other people can see who he really is, and he manipulates
every situation to his benefit. I‘m really praying and getting as involved as possible to continue
to push for the federal Dream Act to pass.
I have to wonder, how big is my faith, or how is my faith going to show when these policies
are not passed or will it break my faith? So I do think about that. I just have to believe that I‘m
doing what I can, and by being involved by going to these places. I volunteered to go with an
Immigrant Human Rights group to help out in a city that has a detention center at full capacity. A
Catholic church opened its doors to undocumented people, and they needed all of the help they
could get so we went to help. The church was holding a bunch of people from Central America,
and it was so sad to see these people just basically bunched in a tiny little back house that the
church uses as a storage all together. They set up a little station for doctors to volunteer. I played
with the kids and escorted some families to the Greyhound bus because they were being reunited
with their families. There was a father and a daughter who was going to be hopping on a plane to
Chicago so I worked to help them. It was heartbreaking to see that most of the people traveling
were dads and kids because the men are being killed in their countries so the moms are staying
and the dad‘s and kids are migrating.
This country is made up of immigrants. This country was built by immigrants, and we‘re not
going anywhere, and I think the sooner the government realizes that, the better life people will
have, and the better the country will thrive. Everyone will be working legally. You won‘t have to

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hide from the authorities. They need to think of immigration as revenue. They need to think
about all of the millions that are not reported because people work under the table so why not
bring in that money to better the country you know? There‘s plenty of land for immigrants to be
housed legally. As smart as these people are, I don‘t know why they can‘t think that way. Maybe
it‘s because if you set up all the people that you have here with an opportunity, other people will
continue to want to come here thinking well the U.S. did it before so why can‘t they do it again?
And there‘s gotta be a limit as to how many people can come here. I understand that, but the
people that are already here that have been here for so long, this is their home.
I think that people should be given an opportunity who have been here a while and be given a
chance to stay, and the ones who are trying to come, I think what they can do, for my country
especially, is give them back their money. El Salvador is POOR like rotting and people are dying
from poverty because they can‘t afford anything, and the currency is in dollars. We never had
dollars before so we don‘t have our own money. How can the expenses be covered when people
get paid like eight dollars a day? It doesn‘t make sense. Why not help countries that way and
give countries back their own money so they can begin to stabilize? It needs to be fixed.
Latin America is in desperate need. People don‘t leave because they want to. They leave
because they can‘t stand the conditions that they live in because they can‘t feed their children
because gangsters are trying to rape their daughters or trying to murder their brothers and fathers.
No one wants to leave their home. Home sweet home. Who wants to leave? And you realize, the
American Dream isn‘t as sweet as they make it out to be. I think it‘s a lot clearer to people
abroad with the political climate here that the American dream is not handed to you. The
American Dream, you have to want to get it so bad that you endure years of hard work and
exploitation and heartbreak. A lot of families, like my family, came here looking for a better

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future. When my mom moved here, her dream was to bring her family here for a better future,
and she ended up with a divorce, being a single mother with alcoholic children, and, thank God
that none of us ended up dead but that‘s the reality. A lot of the families come here, and their
families deteriorate. That‘s what really happens, and those people who dream of coming here and
living in a three-bedroom apartment or a fancy house right away, they‘re blind
When Trump got elected, and even last year, I felt at any moment someone would come
knocking at my door while I would be taking a shower, and it would be ICE. I would just push
those thoughts out of my mind because I didn‘t want to bring that moment to life if that makes
sense. When I look back, I tell myself, ―Reallyyyy, you want to get serious about going back to
school when Trump is in office and when you don‘t have a work permit, after you don‘t have a
legal status, NOW you want to be serious about life?!‖ I have to laugh about it because I don‘t
know how to deal with it any other way. We don‘t have the rights because we‘re not from here,
but everyone has the right for an education. It‘s a human right. If I got taken away, my biggest
concern would be for my mom because she would have a harder time accepting it than I would,
but I have a bit more hope now. With all the work that has been happening with advocacy and
activist groups and the house of representatives passing the federal dream act, hope is starting to
shine. We‘re getting there so I do feel a little safer, but when Trump first got elected, it was a
nightmare. Having to accept that I was undocumented and having to accept that my wrong
choices made me undocumented and having to live with that guilt, I still have to live with that
guilt every day, but I‘m having to find a way keep pushing and not let it eat my soul. I wouldn‘t
want to go back and do it differently if could because my life would be different from what is it
now, and I like the person I am now. I wouldn‘t be as grateful as I am now and I wouldn‘t be
here right now.

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The Word has really brought me much much closer to my sister and my mom. It‘s hard for
my sister to say ―Sorry.‖ I don‘t want to say she‘s cold-hearted, but she‘s just a lot tougher than I
am. She‘s more overprotective with her emotions and very ambitious. Being a mother made her
push herself to the limit because she wanted to be able to provide my niece and she would NOT
want to depend on anyone even if she was married, which she is now. I‘m sure her husband
pushed her to go to a four-year college, but she made things happen. That‘s why I admire my
sister very much. I have always wanted to be like her in more than one way. She is strong and
determined, but I think everything was because she wanted to be a good mother and a provider
and a good example for my niece, and she has done that. She‘s probably the only other person
outside of my mom that I can‘t live without now. I wish I could see my niece more, but with our
school schedules it has been hard so we always go to movie Tuesday‘s and do summer road trips
when we can. She‘s my little sidekick. We recently had time to go on a quick road trip between
our finals and the start to my summer test preparation classes.
I have a wonderful relationship with my mom. It‘s funny because after moving out at 18 and
now being back in her household, at first I was a failure to go back to her house, but then I
realized I got to know her and realize that we are a lot alike. I don‘t know if that comes with
maturity or if that happens with all children and their parents, but we have similar personalities
and sometimes I tell her something like she‘s very stubborn, and she doesn‘t like me saying that,
but then she will tell me that I‘m stubborn, and I said, ―So you see?! We are alike so don‘t get
mad when I tell you that you‘re stubborn because I‘m stubborn and you made me this way.‖ So
our relationship is so much better. I guess my mom has always had an easier time talking to me
on a personal level as compared to her and my sister‘s relationship since they are two totally
different personalities. My mom is not just my mom though, she‘s my friend. She confides in

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me, and she knows she can. Loyalty is very important to me, and although she‘ll always see me
as a little girl because I‘m short and my face, she says my face has hardly ever changed, but
sometimes she can see me as a friend so I definitely feel we went from being, well me, I went
from wanting to be so far away from her and her rules, and now I‘m back to being inseparable.
When I moved out, I don‘t remember having a personal conversation about stuff ever! And now
it‘s like, I don‘t have many friends I can confide in and talk about what hurts or interests me the
most, and I just think that‘s so special. I love her so much, and I can‘t imagine my life without
her.
My dad lives in Maryland now. I actually just went to visit him for the first time ever. I saw
him at my sister‘s college graduation, but I was not ready for that interaction because I still held
so much anger for him, but after that phone call with him, I really wanted to let the past go. It
was interesting because he lives along in a tiny room, and he‘s getting older. Things have been
forgiven, not forgotten, but I feel sad because he‘s getting older and he‘s living alone. When he
first became a U.S. resident, he came back to Southern California but said he couldn‘t find a job
so moved out East and has been there for the past decade now.

I didn‘t think I would be able to go on a trip with my niece, but we were finally able to. The
road trip was really fun, but some crazy things happened. I was driving on a two-lane highway
and there were no signs posted anywhere, but the law for that area said that the left lane is for
passing so you‘re supposed to drive only in the right lane. I had no idea and so I‘m obviously
paying attention to the road and I read all the signs, but then I get pulled over. The officer says,
―I pulled you because you‘re driving in the left lane,‖ and I was like, ―Okay.‖ For whatever

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reason, my sister didn‘t include a copy of the rental contract in the car because she got it for us.
So the officer gets suspicious because we are in a rental starts interrogating us:
―Where are you going?‖
―Texas.‖
―Where are you headed right now?‖
―Colorado.‖
―Well why are you going through Colorado if you‘re going to Texas?‖
―Well, we‘ve been driving for like 15 hours and so, you know, we‘re stopping by some hot
springs to see some sights.‖
What‘s there?‖
―Umm some dwellings that we want to check out.‖ At that point I was like come on! I was
volunteering all the information because I had nothing to fear, but technically he shouldn‘t be
asking all these questions unless I‘m under arrest, but I didn‘t want to make it a big deal. He
pulled me out of the car.
―Can you come with me to my car, I need to ask you more questions.‖
―Okay.‖
―You can either stand outside or you can sit in the car, it‘s up to you.‖ I was like whatever so I
hopped in the car. Then he started interrogating me AGAIN!
―WHAT‘S YOUR NAME, WHAT‘S YOUR ADDRESS, WHERE ARE YOU GOING, WHO
ARE YOU GONNA GO SEE, WHERE DO THEY LIVE?‖
And I‘m like seriously, whatttt. So he asks for my driver‘s license so I give it to him, and while
he‘s running my record, he goes back to the car and shines a light on my friend and my niece and

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he goes through and proceeds to ask them the same questions. So long story short after an
unnecessary and intrusive interrogation, he says,
“Okay so I‟m just gonna give you a warning.” I was like okay, you‟re gonna give me a warning
that‟s fine, whatever, AND then he goes,
―Do you have any questions for me?‖ Like really?! Now he‟s going to ask if I have any
questions?! I said, ―Are there any other laws I should know about before I go that are not
posted?‖ And he just started laughing.
So the officer let us go. We continue driving for miles and miles and miles, and we had filled
up the tank, but we got to zero in the middle of nowhere! In the middle of the night! We needed
to drive to find a gas station on an empty gas tank, and the worse thing was, I was traveling with
a new friend, and the first time traveling with someone you don‘t really know how they are, you
know, and I was like no this can‟t be! But luckily, she was asleep while my niece and I are like
freaking out. My niece is trying to figure out the reserve on the tank and she‘s like, ―Tia, it
doesn‘t say anything!‖ And she‘s Googling and it says ‗50 miles‘. We finally make it to a gas
station and it was just so funny and memorable because everything worked out.
I have to say that God was really looking out for us on because last time we went on a road
trip, I had a suspended driver‘s license and my niece had forgotten her driver‘s license at home,
and we didn‘t realize this until we‘re in the middle of the trip, so neither one of us had our
license, but THIS time, I had my license. For the whole week I checked the mail to see if my
license came in the mail because my restriction is over from my last DUI. I went to the DMV
and waited for three hours to do paperwork, and every single day I would check if it came.
Every. Single. Day. Nothing. So the day to leave on the road trip finally comes, and the mail
comes and we‘re chatting it up and there‘s my license! I took that as being a blessing that I can

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go. And then I get pulled over. It is truly divine timing. God gave me his blessing. That‘s what
gave me no fear when getting pulled over.
Although being undocumented has saved me, it is a challenging and limiting position to be in.
Limiting because there‘s so much you can‘t do. Because of my status, I can‘t get federal
financial aid so I have to find a way to be able to buy books. Thank God there‘s EOPS because I
have managed to be able to buy all the books I have needed through that or my social network.
Sometimes I even find an older version of a chemistry book that I can use. I think when you are
limited to do things, you end up doing research to find resources. I always tell new students to do
this or do that because I know what it‘s like to feel discouraged and not have Internet at the
house because it‘s ridiculously expensive and things like that. I was there myself so why not help
someone.
I knew I wanted to go back to school once I got sober, but I got a job first and started working
at the restaurant. As I got to know my boss a little bit better, I mentioned to her that I wanted to
go back to school, and she was so supportive. She told me not to worry about the hours and that
she would give me as many hours as she could, and so I really took her word for it. I started
taking basic skills classes because I had been out of school for 15 years. I wanted to go through
basic skills because I knew I wanted to get into nursing so I was thinking I‟m gonna need this
stuff so I took basic skills in English and math, and that‘s how I started. By the spring of 2016 I
was registered for classes.
It can be annoying because going to school with young college and high school students
because the older students try to pay attention, and the younger students are always talking and
on their phone or yelling, ―Shut up!‖ It‘s interesting to see yourself mature as you get older and

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take things more seriously. But it‘s good, because it makes me remember to be patient because
you get to see your younger self as you are now, so it‘s like watching a flash back of myself.
I decided I really want to do nursing at my current community college because I love the
campus, and it feels like home here. I know all of the instructors and how to navigate all of the
resources on campus. I really just want to be there for patients and make them feel like someone
really does care and someone wants the best for them. When you go into a career that you are
passionate about because it will no longer feel like work, and you‘ll feel happy at your job. You
can just feel when people working in a hospital aren‘t in it for the right reasons. You really have
to look at the energy you‘re giving. We live in the technology oriented society, and my mom‘s
generation is so lost. It‘s so sad. I think we need to be more patient with them and more willing
to help. During an internship I did at a hospital, I helped patients sign up to see their patient
records online. The community is mostly Latinos so I went in and I would translate all of the
documents so the patients would be able to read about the program and access their health
records online through an app. I was able to spend a lot of one-on-one time with patients, and I
saw first-hand the technology gap that exists for immigrants of a particular age. Basic things like
lab results are not commonly understood by the patients. I really saw the gap in information.
They actually wanted to hire me before I left, but I was committed to finishing school and
prepping for the TEAS test.
The TEAS
38
test is terrifying. I know I‘m going to have to put a lot of work into, but that‘s
okay. That‘s not what frightens me though. What frightens me is that maybe my nerves are going
to betray me during test time since it is four hours long. I asked one girl who is going to start her
program for any tips for taking the test, and she said, ―Don‘t get nervous,‖ which is almost

38
The nursing program standardized entrance exam.

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impossible for me! But she said I would do good. I think just knowing that the test is an entrance
exam to a career, just that alone, just stresses you out. As nervous and scared I was to return,
maybe not scared, but I wasn‘t confident coming back because I felt old compared to the kids in
school compared to back then but then I realized, kids are going to continue to come no matter
what and kids will continue to come. Everyone gets older, but the older students always
encourage me to keep pushing, especially when I would see older students in the nursing
program. That‘s what I‘m saying, God always gave me enough to encourage me through other
people‘s success. I truly admire those moms who have jobs and who are married, and I‘m single.
All I have is my dog and my mom, and I‘m complaining and thinking I can‘t do it so I can‘t have
that mentality, and sometimes I need to take a step back and say okay stop. You can do this.
About a year and a half ago, a lot of things were going on for me and I was taking a really
hard math and science class together. It was during the time when I was breaking up with my ex-
boyfriend and taking those two classes together was a real challenge so I ended up getting C‘s on
all of the math tests, but I ended up with a B in the class, and I was grateful because I don‘t know
how I pulled it off. I wasn‘t able to focus, and my mind would go blank. I‘m over it now because
I can‘t do anything about it, but I know I could have done better, but it is what it is so I had to
forget about that. I will be done with all of my prerequisites this semester for nursing. I think as a
student, especially because we are so busy, we never take a moment to congratulate yourself and
say, three years ago you were not doing much, and now it‘s three years later and I‘m almost done
with prerequisites.
I think going in and deciding to be a nurse was like an impulse, but maybe I‘m consciously
pushing myself hard to convince myself I want to be a nurse, and especially when people who
don‘t know my say I will make a great nurse. I say, ―Why do you say that?‖ People say, ―When I

196
see you, you‘re always making sure people are cared for and taken care of, and that‘s just you.‖
And you don‘t realize that about yourself until people tell you that. I think that id people have the
right information, they will do better for themselves. Especially in my community. I look
forward to giving back to my community because we don‘t inform ourselves enough with good
information. We lack knowledge so I want to help. It was the summer of 2016, and I don‘t even
know how I heard about the HOC classes for the senior care technician certificate, and it was
four classes during the summer including psychology, CPR, and a couple other courses, and I
had already taken the psychology course so I decided to take all of them in one summer because
I didn‘t have a lot to do. The only thing I had left was CPR, and I finished the certificate in less
than a year, and that felt really good to finish something in a really long time. I hadn‘t been here
like 15 years before, and I hadn‘t known where I was going at that time, so I really wanted to
make something out of myself this time around. The reason I said that choosing nursing was an
impulse was because my instructor for that certificate program is a nurse, and she is amazing.
She always talked about her career and how it was a lot of work, but it is worth it, and she was so
inspiring talking about working in geriatrics. I asked her why she chose that generation because
they have been abandoned after serving their families, and I agree with that. You know for
Latino families, family is very important, especially your parents and grandparents, and I really
agreed with her, and obviously, I know that I‘ve never been such a good daughter for my mom, I
wanted to make sure that in her older days I would be able to take care of her. So I decided I
wanted to be a nurse because when my mom got a knee replacement, I couldn‘t take care of her,
and I realized that she‘s only going to get older, and I decided right there and then that I‘m going
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I got to volunteer in a senior reside home, and it was a really good experience and also made
me understand what it‘s going to take to be a good nurse. These people had their lives, and now
they‘re in this place, and yeah it‘s nice, it‘s beautiful, but you know, you didn‘t really see a lot of
family members come see them. It was basically just a bunch of CNA‘s taking care of these
people who have family, you know, maybe they would come on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon,
but basically just abandoned. Some of these people are filthy rich, and they have their own
personal nurses, but they are in a place where patients that don‘t have a personal nurse so there
are CNA‘s right there. They would have high end haircuts on certain days that we would take
them to or take them out on a tour, but it was sad really because as poor as I am, I could never
imagine not taking care of my mom in my own home. I would never be able to afford someone
to take care of her you know, and unfortunately not everyone has compassion, and not everyone
is going to take care of someone like your family the way you can, and I just think it‘s a shame.
These people have homes, nice homes, where they can still spend time with them. The saddest
part is that while I was there, a couple of the residents died. I ended up going to that facility
because of the background check. Over there they didn‘t really have background checks, and the
other places that were more like clinics has to do a rigorous background check so they suggested
that I go over to the other place.
Being a member of a student club for immigrants called helped me stay in school. I got
involved with the club when Trump got elected. I was ready to call it quits because I knew I
didn‘t have a work permit, and I didn‘t know where my future was going because not having a
green card, and how am I going to afford school? And he‘s trying to kick everyone out, and I
was really ready to quits. The only reason why I remained strong was because I went to an
orientation that was put together by the DRC (Dream Resource Center), which was actually put

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in place by the immigration club. The RISE club has been around for more than 10 years and
very much involved with undocumented students. We advocate for AB540 and also DACA
students. We also have allies who are American citizens who are actually affected by
immigration because their parent or sibling don‘t have legal status. So those students actually
drafted a proposal for the DRC and they put on an orientation. I met a Dreamer and DACA
recipient who went to a private four-year college and works with an immigration rights advocacy
organization, and her story really impacted me to be more vocal about my undocumented status.
I no longer worry about self-disclosing and saying, ―I am undocumented‖ since I joined RISE
because I know I‘m not the only why, and why should I be ashamed of who I am. I was
encouraged to be proud. We are hardworking people, and we aren‘t here to steal jobs from
anyone. I mean obviously, I know that an employer is smart enough to know to hire whoever‘s
qualified you know. If you‘re not qualified, I‘m sorry, if I happen to be Latino and I don‘t have
papers, and I still get hired, I‘m still qualified. I don‘t feel ashamed anymore. In the beginning,
for a lot of years, when I lost my work permit, I didn‘t want to tell anyone, but I no longer felt
ashamed when I joined RISE because I knew that the country knew about undocumented
students, and I wanted to help other students feel proud.
I‘ve actually been able to travel and lobby with them, and that‘s how I got involved. I heard
her story, and I was like wait a minute, she‘s so right. We don‘t have to go anywhere. Growing
up here has made this become my country. I don‘t know anything else. I have memories from my
home country, but this is my home now. I even told my mom, ―Mom, I‘m going back to El
Salvador because I just barely started school and now this guy is coming into power,‖ and she
was like, ―No, you can‘t give up. Just give it time. Things will get better.‖ I was in tears. She was
so supportive though. Had I not gone to that orientation, I think I would have quit.

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I really believe that God leads the way, and He will always shine a light in your life when you
feel you‘re drowning in darkness. I actually became a co-president of the RISE club my first
semester as a member, and I have no clue what a club was! I had no idea how to be a club
member, but I really wanted to help so the president was getting ready to transfer to a four year
and he was pretty busy so he asked for help so I decided to volunteer. I was thrown into the
madness, but I learned quickly and learned about how things work and I had a great club advisor.
It was stressful because RISE has a tradition to put on a big fundraiser in the Spring of each year,
and it was a lot of work trying to get everything organized, but, in the end, it turned out okay and
we raised about $6,000 for that dinner for the semester, and the whole reason we fundraise is so
we can guarantee funds to create a small grant for students who join the club. Unfortunately,
undocumented students can‘t get federal financial aid, and the programs that are in place in the
campus have a lot of restrictions because it‘s through state funding so like if you get a book grant
here, you have to use it at the bookstore. A lot of the times, you can barely afford one book. A
science book alone can cost $300-400 classes and students are taking four or five classes, and
that‘s just one book! But that‘s how I got involved with student clubs and have been ever since. I
will hold my position for one year and I will learn a lot about policy and what clubs can and
can‘t do. Clubs don‘t really know the by-laws so we‘ve been trying to schedule a training for all
of the clubs so they can be educated. It stops them from succeeding so they need to know. I am
also looking forward to changing challenging issues that affect students because the whole point
of community college is for you to transfer, and a lot of students are not transferring in a
reasonable time because there‘s conflicts with classes. In particular, these classes will be
scheduled at 8:05 and be let out at 11:35 and another class starts at 11:30 so you can‘t register for
the second class because there are five minutes of conflict. It‘s little things like that because

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students want to take as many classes as possible to take advantage of the day, but you can‘t
sometimes because of that. Also, not enough sections are created and, unfortunately, some of the
scheduling is done to benefit the professor and not the student. That needs to change also. I think
that being informed is essential to anyone‘s success so I want to advocate for those resources in
school and help new students coming in who don‘t know what they‘re getting themselves into or
have questions and need guidance because they don‘t know exactly what they want yet.
Especially for immigrant students. That‘s why I wanted to join the club. I feel that had I had
guidance in my life, my life would have turned out a lot different than it did.
I try to focus on my well-being for self-care. If I don‘t go to church on Sundays, I feel like my
week doesn‘t start off right. It feels my soul, and sometimes, this might not sound credible, I go
in times when I feel discouraged, and it feels like the sermon is for me. Like last semester when I
felt really down thinking I was wasting time doing all this work when it would eventually get to
the point where I wouldn‘t be able to get an R.N. license because I don‘t have a green card, and
then I go to church and the message was about not giving up because the road right now seems
so bumpy. I went home and told my mom about it, and she said that is God giving you a
message. It‘s that powerful for me. So every semester I‘ve been able to receive a message like
that, and it really quits down my doubts because I know as a person I can only do so much, and I
choose what my limits are. There‘s no stopping God, and I don‘t know where I‘m going so I just
ask every day for God to guide me because you can get lost in your own doubts. So church is
very important for me as well as physical fitness. I have always taken academic courses, but I
always take one class for me to benefit my body to bring me back to my center. Right now it‘s
swimming since I don‘t have time to go to the gym and fitness is really important to me, so
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Living with Uncertainty
Being undocumented is my biggest uncertainty. When I‘m busy, I forget so I think that‘s why
I try to stay so busy. When it gets too quiet in my head, doubts come knocking in my brain. It
comes and goes. The uncertainty of not knowing if I will be able to have a green card and
working so hard to get my R.N. license and still have the potential of not being able to work as a
nurse here when I finish the degree places doubts in my mind, but at the same time, I think I can
work as a travel nurse. I‘m a Sagittarius, and they say Sagittarians can never stay in one place for
a long time, and I think that‘s true, well I don‘t know if it‘s true, but I always find myself
wanting to be somewhere new all the time. I feel like I need to go somewhere where I don‘t
know anyone. I think I‘m comfortable doing that because I‘m pretty good with people. Random
people usually come up to me and start sharing their life story with me, and I think that‘s just the
energy that I give off, and it‘s really great because I can go anywhere and make friends. I am
going to miss being able to travel by air. I was always able to travel with a state issued I.D., but
that won‘t be the case next year because now the government is mandating the real I.D. law.
Your passport will essentially be incorporated into your license so you don‘t have to carry two
types of I.D. starting in October of next year I believe. I‘ve been flying for years, but it‘s not
going to stop me from traveling in the future. You obviously don‘t want to willingly get in
trouble, especially if you don‘t have status in this country, but I learn well enough through my
research what the policies are.
If I don‘t get the chance to obtain legal status, I have back up plans. That‘s why I have a
lifeguard and senior care certification to fall back on and have taken the time to line these up
because I don‘t know what the future holds. I don‘t think I‘d go back to El Salvador if I were to
have to leave. I would actually choose a different country like Canada. Even I just leave with a

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degree, I can make use of that somewhere else. So probably Canada or France. It has been in my
head now for many years to become a missionary. Even before I got baptized, I would talk to my
mom and my sister about it. I don‘t have children, and I‘m not married and my church actually
has a program so that‘s another avenue I can explore. It‘s a little seed that has been growing. I
obviously want to do a career so I can support my mom, that‘s really my goal, but if I can‘t do
that, my mom would have to stay with my sister, only if she‘s okay with that, and then I would
join the program and make use of my nursing skills. I can make it anywhere. Even if I have to
face the reality that I won‘t be able to get a green card, I will be thankful to God if other people
can. At least I would have tried everything I wanted to. Honestly, I can‘t believe I‘m halfway to
finishing the nursing program. I‘m not gonna stop until I really can‘t because of the forces
outside of me whether it‘s passing the background check because you have to do a live scan in
order to do nursing clinical rotations, and I don‘t know if my DUI won‘t be old enough for them
not to care about and because I‘m undocumented. I can always work for the immigrant rights
advocacy organization I volunteer with. They offered me a job. It‘s funny because a friend told
me she can‘t see me as a nurse but more of a politician and activist. I was like, ―A politician!?‖ I
told her I‘ve never thought about it this way. I do those things because it concerns me and my
community, but I‘ve never thought about solely doing it, but why not do both you know. The
good life for me is to be able to obtain a legal status so that I can be a contributing member to
society, not just as an employee and professional but as a human being who is capable to care for
another human being and to extend my hand to provide for my mom so that she can be proud of
me. If I can do that and reach people through my faith, that‘s all I want and need.

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CHAPTER SEVEN: FINDINGS

The previous chapters illustrate three powerful stories of women trying to navigate a life of
being undocumented while attending community college. While each story is significant in its
own right and allows the readers to walk away with an intense and vulnerable rendering of the

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complexities and spirit that each participant voice brings, it is also important to keep in mind the
larger context. As the narratives unfolded, a canvas of human experience across stories was
captured. In this chapter, I commence by highlighting the unique elements from each narrative
and follow up the discussion by sharing thematic findings that further our understanding of the
undocumented community college student experience.
Aris‘ story presents a unique perspective on how self-care, veganism, and religion are
inextricably linked for her. Perhaps one of the most striking elements of Aris‘ narrative is her
vulnerability when sharing her insecurity about being judged as an uniformed and uncaring
undocumented individual and asking me if future readers will think of her as such. Her comment
made me wonder about how guilt and shame operate for undocumented students not involved in
traditional activist roles for the cause. Over the course of the study, I attending community
events aimed at raising awareness of and for immigrants. During one particular event I attended,
I inquired about the undocumented community embedded within a larger Latinx context. I was
surprised to be met with some judgement and told that they should come out and fight for their
own rights. I was taken aback at the lack of sensitivity for the risks that undocumented activists
face when being vocal. We were able to witness her attempt to join undocumented student
groups, but because Aris does not cope by connecting with others with the same legal status, her
interests organically turned toward vegan activism, the environment, physical therapy, and
holistic ways of healing.
As a first generational immigrant student, tales of overcoming hardship against all odds is not
a new phenomenon with financial constraints, familial responsibility, and unwavering
persistence, or ‗grit,‘ as some researchers refer to it (Duckworth, 2007), but Aris‘ story illustrates
a tenor of peace and maturity at only 22 years of age. Being an only child with no father has not

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only brought her closer to her mom but closer to her faith as well. Attending church, praying, and
helping others are all healing spaces and actions for her and have given her a life philosophy of
letting go of what cannot be controlled and focusing on what she can do in the present.
Becoming a vegan is one of the most life altering decisions she has made considering it does not
resonate with her culture and provides a constant challenge to locate the right kinds of foods and
patience while reeducating her family and friends on benefits of having a plant based diet.
Aris likens the journey of becoming vegan to being undocumented. Both identities require
seeking out new resources to survive and thrive. More specifically, there is not a template for
either way of being. There is no manual for how to transition from believing you are documented
to learning how to not only become an adult but learn how to live with temporary rights based on
a tenuous policy that can be dismantled at any moment. It is similar with becoming a vegan
where there are resources that suggest how to do it but not when one is lower socioeconomic and
lives in an area of the inner city that is considered a food desert.
Each identity also requires a level of investment in the self despite the environmental context
one lives in. The sociopolitical climate of the U.S. is toxic for undocumented peoples. There are
organizations that work to foster more emotional intelligence in institutions and public opinion
regarding the living realities of being a noncitizen, but there is also a president who exemplifies
the racism, violence, and intolerance embedded in the DNA of America. Thus, an undocumented
student needs to counter these negative messaging in different ways. For Aris, self-investment
manifests in ways of self-preservation that includes not waking up each morning and focusing on
the news, going to church on a daily basis, and spending the little extra time she has between
school and work focusing on creating and prepping for her vegan meals. Being a vegan requires
an investment of time, money, and constant research. In essence, a shift from the external to an

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intentional focus on the mind, body, and soul has enabled Aris to be well adjusted and forward
moving in her pursuit for a life that she can appreciate and enjoy on a daily basis.
Aaliyah‘s narrative provides an insight into an experience that has long been neglected both
in society and in the undocumented student literature. We meet this 20-year-old young woman in
the midst of an existential crisis of belonging while getting straight A‘s in community college
and living in a tumultuous home environment with a stepmother who she does not trust and an
abusive father. Aaliyah was unknowingly taken away from her homeland in Trinidad when she
came to visit her father on the east coast at 10 years old. This trauma has left her with severe
mental anguish that she is trying to reconcile on her own whilst still navigating a complex cycle
of domestic violence with her father. Despite her home life, Aaliyah is a perfect student in the
classroom and in her college community by leading efforts to promote international feminist
rights and campaigns against sexual abuse and domestic violence.
Like Aris, Aaliyah has come to the realization that self-care is crucial for one‘s mental well-
being. Exercising, yoga, and focusing on what products one puts in their body has been
Aaliyah‘s approach to cultivating the self. Similarly, school has provided the routine, structure,
and validation needed for her to combat socioemotional issues at home. Because she was raised
in a strict Seventh-day Adventist household, religion has not provided her with a safe space like
it has for Aris and Esther, Thus, seeking out mental health services is a recurring desire, but with
the stigma, fear, cost, and bureaucratic indifference, Aaliyah continues to focus on home
remedies to heal her mind and body.
Aaliyah‘s life is suspended between two worlds. One that was not chosen by her and another
that may no longer exist because it has been a decade since she has been back. For Aaliyah, she
does remember and identify with an imagined homeland. In fact, she does not consider herself to

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be an American nor will she ever even if she receives American citizenship. Unlike Aris and
Esther that consider the U.S. to be their home, Aaliyah takes a more practical view of
immigration that stems from her cultural conditioning. America is about working, making
money, and consumerism while Trinidad brings out her values of family, love, and security.
Being Black assumes a particular role in the U.S. the boundaries between of experience and
ethnic difference are collapsed based on skin color. Thus, Aaliyah is constantly subjugated by the
African American experience as her own leaving her with little cultural freedom unless she
asserts her nationality confidently and often.
As Aaliyah continues to live in America, the dualistic boundaries between how she imagines
her life to be in the U.S. and in Trinidad starts to blur as she adopts customs and practices more
aligned with the West. For instance, her sexuality is a huge source of contention for her mother
and family if they knew so she has to keep that part of herself hidden for the time being.
Although she ultimately sees herself settling down with a man in the future, her sexual identity is
an important element of her identity. It is the individualism of American culture that Aaliyah has
been able to grasp as a counter to having to accept the male dominance endemic to her culture in
Trinidad. Thus, it could be a challenge to move back to Trinidad and adopt a more collectivist
lifestyle. In order to find a balance, Aaliyah‘s future is about negotiating and navigating between
two cultures that provide her with differing values and experiences that create a more holistic
sense of self.
Esther‘s narrative of redemption offers an insight into a Latinx experience not often
considered when capturing undocumented college stories. While most of the undocumented
literature focuses on Latinx student experiences, little research has been conducted at community

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colleges and none prefaced the narratives of returning students. Unlike Aaliyah and Aris, Esther
is 42 years older and has lived two lives of a sort: the before and the after.
Her life before, as she calls it, encompasses a time that used maladaptive coping strategies to
mask the pain and trauma from her father‘s abandonment and sexual abuse she experienced
when she was a child in El Salvador. Although Esther was an obedient child while living in her
mother‘s household, she craved more freedom by the time she graduated high school and moved
out. It was during this time that she learned what living independently felt like while also
partying and drinking with friends. Esther tried attending community colleges two times, but her
ability to find good paying jobs outweighed the sacrifice of going to school full time. As Esther
transitioned into young adulthood, her socioemotional issues also peaked and drinking became a
way to numb the pain. After getting three DUI‘s and losing her green card as a consequence of
her drinking and a postal service that thrives off inefficiency, it was her turn toward religion after
being in jail that set her on a redemptive path.
Unlike Aris who is a DACA recipient, Aaliyah and Esther are not protected by a government
program. While Aaliyah is working with lawyers to renew her green card, Esther has yet to file
intent to renew due to the current political climate. In a moment in history when being
undocumented is dangerous, Esther‘s story touches on an important relationship between
learning English and passing as a citizen. Her experience of having to perform speaking English
in front of a White audience is indicative of the deep-seated racism and bias that accompanies
being an immigrant in this country. The assumption that undocumented people are not integrated
into American society culturally and linguistically illustrates a lack of knowledge and
understanding of how immigration navigate the U.S. It is the Achilles heel of America. Esther
has spent almost two decades being undocumented and in that time, she has never once been

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turned away from a job based on legal status. As immigration policies become stricter, Esther
shares her disappointment about not being able to travel by plane going forward and her
apprehension about having to do a formal background check for nursing, but her emotions are
not inhibiting her. She says that she will continue to travel whether she is deported or not and
always finds a way. Esther‘s unyielding and fiery conviction allow other people to see her
potential while still questioning it herself, but regardless of her insecurities, she continues to push
forward.
The experience of being queer has been likened to the experience of being undocumented
since activists recognized its similarity. Queer individuals are said to ‗be in the closet‘ before
undergoing a transformation process to come ‗out of the closet,‘ while the terminology for
undocumented peoples are living in the shadows. With social movements such as
‗Undocumented and Unafraid,‘ many Latinx student activist groups have taken to the streets and
to social media to essentially come out of the shadows and share their experiences with society.
What has not been introduced into the undocumented student sphere of discussion, thus far, is
the concept of passing. The concept of ‗passing‘ stems from the transgender experience. Harold
Garfinkel (2006) defines passing as, ―The work of achieving and making secure their rights to
live in the elected sex status while providing for the possibility of detection and ruin carried out
within the socially structured conditions in which this work occurred‖ (p. 60). More simply put,
passing determines how well transgendered individuals are received as members of their elected
sex by society. Although not based in sex and sexuality, I argue that passing is also a crucial
concept for undocumented students like Esther. Her ability to pass as a citizen kept her from
potentially being deported while in jail and has allowed her to find jobs easily. In a similar vein,
Aaliyah spoke English as a first language while growing up in Trinidad, and she also has the

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ability to pass as a citizen; Aris came to the U.S. at such an early age that she goes unsuspected
daily and learned to speak English as early as first grade.
The following sections account for seven themes that emerged across narratives: Abusive and
Estranged Fathers; Unbreakable Bonds with Mothers; Clerical Errors and Asymmetrical
Information; Religion, Knowledge, and Self-Care as Medicine for the Mind; Cultivating Global
Citizens; Time Reimagined; and Hope as a Chameleon followed by a discussion on using photos
as a method for data collection.
Abusive and Estranged Fathers
The complex relationships with fathers emerged as an integral point of contention for the
participants. While a majority of the literature focuses on parental sacrifice and student goals of
taking care of their family, stories of abandonment and abuse are a source of extreme emotional
pain and trauma for undocumented students. The united family front that is often presented in
undocumented student stories is challenged with an image of familial destruction that
accompanies immigrating to America. The role that the father plays has impacted the life
trajectories of participants and has altered the course of their immigration status for a majority of
the women. While financial constraints combined with a vulnerable legal status continue to be
significant reasons for undocumented students choosing to attend community colleges, these
stories beckon us to look inward at the family unit. According to Paul R. Amato‘s (1994) study
on the psychological well-being of young adults, he found that individuals who reported a better
relationship with their fathers experienced a better quality of life overall. ―Regardless of the
quality of the mother-child relationship, the closer children were to their fathers, the happier,
more satisfied, and less distressed they reported being‘ (Amato, 1994, p. 1039). For the two
women who have experienced long-term abuse and alcoholism, their outlook on life and their

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imagined futures reflected their emotional states. It was only after deciding to embark on a
journey of recovery, which included healing the relationship with her father, did one of the
participants shift her perspective on life. It is similar with the young woman from Trinidad who
continues to be in abusive situation with her father. Her outlook on life is parallel to her
relationship with her father where she is waiting for the ―storm to pass.‖ Although one
participant has not had any relationship with her father, his absenteeism has created a palpable
apprehension for pursuing a romantic relationship in the future.
Unbreakable Bonds with Mothers
On the other end of the parental spectrum lies the unbreakable bonds each participant shares
with their mothers. In the 1980‘s the more traditional way a family would come to be
undocumented in the U.S. was through a series of immigration phases in the family. Typically,
the father and husband of the family would make the trek to find a job, make money, and return
home after work became scarce. If the first trip went well, he would return the next year to find
work, but this time, he would save enough money to find housing so that his family could
immigrate. However, for these women, their moms were the ones to sacrifice themselves for the
family in a series of gender role reversals. In two circumstances with the women from El
Salvador, their moms were the first to come to America and send for them a few years later
while extended family took care of their children in the interim. In the third case, the
participant‘s mother had to learn how to live without being able to rescue her daughter from a
life she feels is better for her in the long run. The level of compassion and love that goes into
making difficult decisions such as these should be recognized and honored. As one participant
states, ―People don‘t leave because they want to. They leave because they have to.‖ Despite the
distance and the pain in between being reunited, each woman has nurtured the bond they have

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with their mothers, and as they continue to age together, their relationships continue to evolve
despite geographic distance.
Clerical Errors and Asymmetrical Information
Although access to critical information has been looked at through the lens of cultural and
social capital, the overall issue of not having the correct forms and have life altering documents
processed quickly and efficiently commands our attention. For two participants, there were
critical moments when paperwork and access to correct information significantly impeded their
life. One student had her entire academic scholarship ripped away from her because she filled out
an incorrect financial aid form while another student failed to fill out a change of address form
through the USPS, which ultimately cost her permanent residency renewal. By revisiting
Hertzfeld‘s concept of secular theodicy as the system ―that both bureaucrats and citizens find
themselves in where each action and decision is deferred to a higher power or authority,‖ it
becomes even more obvious that a noncitizen remains so far removed from the system and
processes that exist, thereby, ensuring a tumultuous relationship with bureaucratic structures and
processes (Herzfeld 1992, p. 5). Whereas a citizen might have the unfortunate experience of
being transferred from one department to the next and waiting an inordinate amount of time to
wade through bureaucratic structures, the burden is on undocumented individuals to navigate
contradictory processes alone. While learning from experience creates well informed and
passionate individuals who can help future undocumented people suffer less, it does not help
those who are in need right now. For instance, when the participant continues to seek mental
health services for the second time and is met with insensitivity, she is inspired to become a
therapist in order to help future immigrants, but she cannot do that without an intervention for

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herself in the present. Thus, the undocumented student does not merely experience a culture of
indifference as Hertzfeld states but more of a culture of apathetic invisibility.
Religion, Knowledge, and Self-Care as Medicine for the Mind
Western society promotes seeking mental health services as a remedy for internal suffering,
but the participants each shared their own perspective on what quiets their minds amidst the fear,
anxiety, and stress that accompanies life while being undocumented. Although we typically think
of fear for undocumented peoples stemming from ICE raids, deportations, border deaths, and
inhumane treatment with thousands of people being kept alive in human kennels, it is the
underlying chronic stress of the everyday that is the silent killer. Figuring out transportation, how
to get an apartment access card, or doing well on a prerequisite exam that can grant on deny you
access into your major are all typical stressors for an individual, but when you are
undocumented, there are more stressful triggers. Religion, exercise, and even Netflix have
become ways of detoxifying the mind and body for undocumented students.
Both participants from El Salvador have immersed themselves in Christianity as a technique
for grounding and letting go. The women have learned how to fully accept what is not in their
control, and being undocumented is not at their discretion. Whether it is one or seven days spent
a week at church, each participant is at peace with not knowing the fate of their futures in
America. Although one‘s faith can be tested, as one participant refers to it, it cannot be stripped
away from one‘s personhood regardless of legal status. Many undocumented friendly pamphlets,
podcasts, and social media campaigns have helped with promoting mindfulness meditation
practices, which stems from Buddhist teachings.
In addition to promoting mindfulness, mental health practitioners in the undocumented
community have also been a proponent for self-care. In a podcast called UndocuTalks, they have

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a reoccurring segment called ‗Treat Yo-Self.‘ The phrase stems from a popular comedy show
where the two main characters of color in the ensemble have a one day a year celebration called
‗Treat Yo-Self.‘ When asked about how each participant treats themselves, the women all agreed
that taking care of one‘s body is essential to living a healthy life. For one participant, veganism
has been a life changing experience that has allowed her to reclaim her personal power. For
another it is staying physical by picking up an activity like swimming to keep the body moving.
Physical fitness and hygiene both personally and in one‘s environment is integral for a better
state of mind. By transitioning one‘s focus from the external circumstances that lie outside of
one‘s control such as legal status to the interior self, these women have taken back their agency.
Global Citizens
Although being undocumented has presented a lifelong series of complications, heartache,
and sobering reality for these three women, the experience has also prepared them to be a global
citizen. According to Suárez-Orozco and Sattin (2007), ―The world needs young people who are
culturally sophisticated and prepared to work in an international environment‖ (p. 58). Having to
navigate between worlds has cultivated cultural experts in a multitude of societies. Each
undocumented participant has learned how to balance the fragile nature of self-disclosing their
status, navigate bureaucratic structures that would otherwise turn them away, and ―blend in‖
when it is necessary. In addition, each person has learned how to work within or under systems o
systemic racism to continue to support themselves. Learning English quickly in tandem with

knowing cultural practices enables one to be creative. For instance, participants are able to
explore nontraditional income streams such as sex work, senior caregiving, and lifeguarding to
accrue extra income. Undocumented students are, thus, the global citizens of American society.

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Time Reimagined
Miyazaki‘s (2006) conception of hope is intertwined with a nonlinear understanding of time.
Because Western culture is founded on an assumed linearity of time, entities that challenge such
fundamental constructs of a belief system are viewed as a threat to the status quo. Undocumented
students challenge this notion of time by their mere existence. For the participants, they are
forever suspended in an ever-present moment because the future is uncertain. This concept of
time can be seen especially with the participant from the Caribbean. She lives between two
temporal strands that wave and saunter in the past, present, and future. ―I feel like I‘m living in
the past when it comes to Trinidad because I don‘t know what it‘s like to live there now, but time
is passing by even though in my mind it hasn‘t been.‖ The relationship between time and
emotion for this participant remains less about adopting a Western perspective of time and more
about the emotional security and comfort derived from remembering a time that has past. Like
the Fijian people who use treasured documents to make an annual case to the government to
restore ancestral land, it is less about the outcome of the decision of the courts and more about
apprehending and accessing a decolonized self. Similarly, for undocumented students who have
a cultural history of being colonized by Western nations, when the participant collapses the past,
present, and future into an unconscious dream or active daydream, it is about recollecting a time
of feeling whole. For the two participants from who consider America to be their home, a
Western conception of time is adopted for the past and present but not for the future.
Hope as a Chameleon
In shamanism, a shaman can journey into different realms to get advice from ancestors,
spirits, and animals in order to bring back healing messages for the self or others. Shamans have
typically been documented as the healers of their communities, and the shamanic practice has

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long been documented by anthropologists since the early 1900‘s and practiced for thousands of
years before then. Roy Willis explains that ―in the shamanic state of consciousness the
'journeyer' gains access to a normally invisible reality which is the common heritage of all
human beings‖ (1994, p. 16). When a journeyer embarks to the ‗lower world,‘ one typically
finds power animals and animal spirits amidst ―magical landscapes: tropical rainforest,
mountains, desert, temperate woodland‖ (Willis, 1994, p. 17). In Ted Andrews‘ famous book
called Animal Speak: The Spiritual & Magical Powers of Creatures Great and Small (1993), he
writes:
A chameleon does not actually blend into its surroundings. It is already the natural color
of its normal habitat. It does change color in degrees according to temperature, humidity,
and even emotions. When frustrated or angry it turns brown. When happy and/or
contented, it turns more of a light green. This reflects a sensitivity to the environment‖ (p.
35).
While Miyazaki conceptualizes hope as a method for self-knowledge during his time in Fiji, my
extensive conversations with undocumented community college students have taken me down a
hope filled rabbit hole akin to Alice‘s tunnel in Wonderland. In particular, the narratives
illustrate a myriad spectrum of how hope operates in a dialectical relationship between the
individual and larger societal context. Simply put, hope is like a chameleon that is sensitive to
its environment. Thus, if undocumented students are engaging in hope as a method for
understanding the self or planning for the future, that will look different from how the nation-
state has imagined and reimagined hope based on different presidential campaigns. While in
one breath hope looks and feels more like spiritual capital, in another it is weaponized as a
mechanism of torture.

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Spiritual capital is a way of redefining capitalism in its current form. According to Danah
Zohar and Ian Marshall (2004), ―Spiritual capital is the amount of spiritual knowledge and
expertise available to an individual or a culture, where spiritual is taken to mean ‗meanings,
values, and fundamental purposes‘ (p. 27). Although the term spiritual is commonly associated
with religion, Zohar and Marshall use its Latin definition meaning life and vitality.‘ In a society
that has been conditioned to place profit and materialism above all else, we have replaced
humanity with money. Even concepts such as social and human capital have reduced human
beings and their ideas to make a profit. For the undocumented community college students in
this study, their humanity is constantly being undermined. However, each narrative illustrates
the hardworking and unrelenting ability to contribute towards society by being productive
members of society despite not having an American citizenship. All three women are full time
college students who work and contribute taxes to society. Absurd beliefs that undocumented
communities steal jobs away from Americans and use tax payer money to have access to free
services should step into the shoes of an undocumented person for a day. Millions of dollars are
paid in tax revenue each year with ITIN numbers. As one participant pointed out, if the
government could only understand that they are still missing out on collecting tax money on
millions of dollars that circulate through the economy each year, creating a path to citizenship
would actually help the nation. While all three women have a similar picture of the good life in
the future as being able to take care of their family and visit them, their method of hope aligns
more closely with Zohar and Marshall while the concept of time lies more closely resembles
Miyazaki‘s philosophical conception of nonlinear synchronicities.
There were times in U.S. history that called for an influx in immigrants to work in the
country (e.g. the bracero program and the building of the Transcontinental railroad). The

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collapsing of immigrant with labor became an all too familiar analogy. One particular statement
made by a participant most clearly illustrates the difference between spiritual capitalism and
capitalism as currently exists:
The good life for me is to be able to obtain a legal status so that I can be a contributing
member to society, not just as an employee and professional but as a human being who is
capable to care for another human being…‖.
Her desire to move beyond a life reduced to making a profit is replaced by a hope to find more
meaning and purpose upon receiving a green card or American citizenship. Like Zohar and
Marshall‘s framework suggest, the participants turn to their interior world to create a better life.
By becoming better human beings, humanity is changed for the better. Essentially, the
participants are ―building‖ themselves in order to set the foundation for a better future (Zohar &
Marshall, 2004, p. 34).
For undocumented community college students, a hope unscathed by racism and xenophobia
can produce the seeds of a budding future, however, the environmental influence of society is
inescapable. Unlike Obama‘s running campaign slogan that used ‗hope‘ as a tool for inspiration
and change, the current sociopolitical climate has weaponized hope as tactic of psychological
warfare.
In a vehement attempt to reclaim a national identity of the past, Trump‘s mantra to ‗Make
America Great Again‘ has discovered how to use hope as a method of destruction and rebirth.
For instance, by constantly changing policies for undocumented peoples, not only does that
create an ambiance of fear across the nation but it creates anxiety for the individual. For
instance, one participant is constantly stuck in limbo waiting between critical court dates that
hold the fate of her future in America in its hands. Each time a court date approaches, her level

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of anxiety heightens and she is left feeling depleted and helpless to find someone who can help.
Hope, thus, becomes a dangling carrot of a permanent resident card or U.S. citizenship that can
be used to control an undocumented person at any time. By creating a bureaucratic structure
that ensures multiple court dates that that lead to nowhere, the masochistic nation-state
effectively creates a culture of self-surveillance much like Michele Foucault‘s panopticon
provokes. The staggering number of court dates and limited information communicated to the
undocumented person is a tactic to psychologically infiltrate a person‘s mind whereby the
nation-state teaches a noncitizen how to constrain oneself. While many pop culture films and
books resonate completely with this governmental tactic, perhaps Aldous Huxley‘s Brave New
World that was originally published in 1932 (1998) is more accurate where children are not
raised in families but are effectively conditioned in a group home to aspire to one particular
kind of life depending on which class one belongs too. For undocumented students, watching a
government have the resources, intelligence, and expertise to reform immigration and create a
pathway to citizenship creates a false hope when actions are not followed by meaningful words.
Instead, impending doom with an increasing number of ICE raids and detention centers are
advertised as a message to an undocumented person.
Elaine Scarry‘s Body in Pain (1987) reveals how the porous boundaries physical pain and
torture translate into the making and unmaking of the human experience. The ritualized process
of torture includes a series of verbal and nonverbal semiotic structures and processes to
ultimately retrieve information from a person. According to Scarry‘s framework, there are three
components used to torture: inflicting intensifying pain on the body, as the pain intensifies in
the body it becomes more objectified, and objectified pain is denied and read as power. For the
nation-state, hope is used to for ambiguity. The Trump administration can choose when and

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how to make an example out undocumented peoples. Trapping children in cages is the most
recent example of ongoing torture against undocumented peoples to send a message; however,
the Trump administration fails to that his antiquated tactics will not work in cultivating fear in
others as is evidence by the continuation of migrants across the border.
Participant Photographs
Part of my methodological tool kit included collecting participant photos to accompany each
student‘s narrative. According to Clandinin (2006), photos elicit additional layers of texture to
narratives and provides a canvas of meaning to unpack for the researcher and the participant. Not
only did asking participants to provide photos challenge the implicit power dynamics between
myself as the researcher and each student by allowing the participants to control the lens for their
own lives but they also worked to preserve their stories. Capturing snap shots of the everyday
experiences of participants over time also challenged Western notions of time that emerged as a
running theme throughout this study.
Prior to each interview, I would prompt each participant with instructions for taking or finding
photos from each time period of their life--past, present, future—which also aligned with the
temporal focus of each interview. What I initially found to be more of a difficult request than I
expected turned into an important finding.
Let me preface this discussion by saying that all three students had access to a smart phone
that has photo taking capability. While each participant did not have any reservations for taking
photos, the numbers of photos I received diminished over time. More specifically, two of the
students were able to provide me photos from their past and present, but when it came to the
future, it was more a challenge for each student because of the inherent uncertainty in it. There
was also a generational difference when asking students to take or provide pictures. While the

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participants in their early 20‘s were excited at this prospect, providing pictures was not on the
forefront of Esther‘s to do list. It was not that she did not want to participate, but her way of
communicating values in-person interaction. Esther‘s story was dynamic. The intonation of her
voice would fluctuate depending on the timbre of the emotional state she was in. Words were her
forte. Aris and Aaliyah have active social media lives and pictures and videos are the currency of
exchange online. Thus, providing photos from their past and present lives was much more
organic for them. For instance, in our first interview together, Aris brought in approximately 20-
30 photos from her past to share with me. Although the prompt called for only three photos, I
found that observing which photos she chose to share was, at times, more important than the
photos themselves. While most of the photos were not viable to include in the Appendix of this
study due to number of individuals that would be identifiable, they were useful for understanding
how significant of a role Aris‘ family plays in her life. Most of the photos contained pictures of
friends or family and her bright and smiling face throughout the years. In fact, her aura of golden
energy that she illuminates has only increased over the years. For Aaliyah, her desire to provide
photos from the past was there but more difficult because she left Trinidad without any photos
with her. In addition, many of her earlier childhood photos were destroyed in St. Lucia. Although
she has retrieved some over the years, her ability to store her own photos was possible with the
invention of smart phones and social media applications such as Snapchat that has a photo
storing feature on it.
Each participant attempted to capture what their future lives will look like, but the lack of
photos bespoke more about their states of mind than providing a picture. While Aaliyah provided
me photos she Googled from the web, they showed her displacement between two worlds. A
picture of an American passport, New York City, a Caribbean beach, and a bird‘s-eye view of a

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person standing in the middle a crossroad. Does she leave the U.S. and return home or
potentially get American citizenship that will enable her to travel anywhere she wants (denoted
by the New York photo)? Aaliyah embodies this existential question on a daily basis. She has
been, remains, and will forever live at a crossroad until the U.S. government makes a decision or
until she can no longer handle the purgatory of a masochistic legal system. The absence of
photos reinforced both the uncertainty of what it means to have a future of unknowns
emotionally and geographically while also illustrating that the participants are truly living in the
present. What does it mean for a photo to capture the future? Is it even possible? Perhaps it was
not realistic to ask participants to apprehend a future because as soon as the lens shutter closes,
that particular moment becomes one the past. The present moment is ever renewing, yet a
camera produces an artifact that is forever in the past. It is only with a human gaze that a photo is
transcended into the present moment again. Thus, undocumented student lives are similar to a
photograph, they are suspended in a present moment that has a visible but not yet developed
future.

CHAPTER EIGHT: SUMMARY, ROLE OF RESEARCHER REVISITED,
REFLECTIONS,
CONCLUSIONS, AND IMPLICATIONS

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This study explored the lived experiences of three undocumented community college
students. The academic literature has predominately focused on undocumented students
attending four-year college and universities and have documented stories of activism, financial
hardship, and persistence over the past two decades. In addition, the undocumented literature has
been centered around Latinx voices due to the majority of the student immigrated from Latin
countries. While these studies have been instrumental in garnering a sense of the undocumented
student experience that has set the foundation for studies such as this one, we, as scholars and
practitioners, must strive to push the boundaries of our knowledge. This means expanding how
we listen and interpret sociocultural phenomena in order to cultivate differing ways of seeing
(quote?). The purpose of this study was to foreground the lived experiences that have remained
on the periphery of the undocumented student community while exploring the nuanced and
metamorphic nature of hope. As first generation students of color, the community college
experience is traditionally characterized as. In this chapter, I commence with a summary of the
study and take an opportunity to revisit the role of the researcher while also reflecting on the
experience. I close with a discussion on the conclusions and implications for future plans to
continue this work.
Summary of the Study
There has been little research on the experiences of undocumented community college
students. While a majority of undocumented students attend two-year colleges (Kim & Diaz,
2013; Lew, Chang, & Wang, 2005), more focus is geared towards capturing the narratives of
those attending four year universities. Community college students have typically been shown to
be first generation students of color choose who decide to attend two-year institutions for an
array of reasons (e.g. academic preparedness, affordability, family, work), but less is known

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about how being undocumented impacts the experience. In addition, the undocumented literature
prefaces the voices of Latinx students. While continuing to work with and honor the voices of
undocumented Latinx students remains critical for our continued understanding and humanity, it
is also important that the literature become more inclusive of experiences from different races
and ethnicities and invite those relegated to the edges of the periphery to speak. In an effort to do
so, this study was guided by the following research questions:
1. What are the lived experiences of undocumented community college students?;
2. Do undocumented community college student life experiences encompass stories about
hope?; and if so,
3. How do undocumented students define and experience hope in their daily lives?
Role of the Researcher Revisited
When doing qualitative research, the role of the researcher is a significant component of the
study. In essence, it is the researcher and participant relationship that mediates and determines
the quality of the stories shared. This is particularly salient with methodological approaches such
as narrative inquiry and phenomenology. Each methodology has its particular ways of imagining
the role of the researcher, and while the particulars differ, building rapport and credibility,
engaging in reflexivity, and taking ethics into account are critical components for both
approaches. Narrative inquiry pays particular attention to the dialectical exchange between the
researcher and participant and its ―interactive quality‖ of using ―stories as data and analysis‖ that
are ―embedded in a particular context‖ (Clandinin, 2006, p. 7). Thus, it is this interactive quality
that is crucial when building trust with participants. Phenomenologists call their reflexivity
process ‗bracketing.‘ This bracketing occurs to keep the researcher in a constant state of self-
reflection in order to prevent participant exploitation and consistent acknowledgment of the

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inherent power dynamics between a research and participant. By combining these two
approaches, it presented a unique opportunity to delve deeper into each woman‘s life story while
also being able to look across narratives and understanding how the larger context impacts the
individual.
My ability to build a strong rapport with participants required me to choose a recruitment
strategy that was both ethical and credible. Thus, I used a reverse snowball sampling method for
two reasons. One, I had to be mindful that as a racially mixed queer woman who is not part of
the undocumented community that my outsider presence could raise suspicions amongst groups
of students; and two, it is highly unethical to out an individual‘s legal status without their
permission. There were many times over this course of this study that I was directed towards
students to talk to because of their undocumented status. Although they meant no ill will, the
unintended consequences of outing someone‘s legal status can cost them their safety and
anonymity if they have not self-disclosed. Using a reverse snowball sampling method allowed
the participants to approach me with their interest in being a part of the study. It also gave me an
opportunity to prove my trustworthiness from our initial interaction, which is a large reason why
I was able to connect with the young woman in North Carolina. By connecting with various
practitioner contacts across higher education institutions in addition to posting a recruitment flyer
on social media platforms, I was able to connect with the three participants in this study from
across the nation. Without this approach, I may have not been able to connect with an
UndocBlack student in North Carolina.
For ethical considerations, this recruitment strategy works especially well for researchers such
as myself who do not have direct access to an undocumented student community, but there are
drawbacks to this recruitment approach as well. For instance, it takes time to both recruit and

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build trust with a reverse snowball sampling strategy. Because my goal was to reach students not
often heard from, it took approximately three months to connect with participants. Whereas
many qualitative studies account for participants to potentially drop out of the study, this
sampling strategy is greatly impacted by the loss of a participant mid-way through the rapport
building process. This happened with the two male participants that would have been part of this
study and because of the sampling strategy, it is not a quick and easy turnaround to recruit more
participants. Thus, I would advise to begin the recruitment process early and leave ample time
for building rapport. I come from an ethnographic approach to data collection so the more time a
researcher can build the bond between themselves and their participants, the better. With that
being said, although there are challenges to using this sampling strategy, it is necessary when
seeking to connect with students that are not in the center of the conversation.
Reflections
I came into this research knowing extremely little about the undocumented student
experience. In the summer of 2015, I connected with an AB 540 student by accident when I was
conducting interviews on how students experienced the new student orientation process at a
community college near and dear to my heart. I would say the walls of that community college
provided me with the experience to learn more in my time there than sitting in a classroom in
graduate school. The interactions with the college leaders, staff, and students inspired my
research to look more deeply into sociocultural phenomena occurring in two-year institutions.
Between that and my predilection for immigration and colonization studies, it emerged
organically to seek to work with undocumented community college students.
I came into this study as the daughter of a mother who immigrated to this country. Although
her immigration was legally acknowledged by the government, it commands a thought exercise

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in empathy. What would my mom have done if she came here illegally? What would my life had
been like? If my mother would have been born and immigrated less than three decades before
she would have been thrown into an internment camp. More human cages defined by its cold
steel and barbed wire. When will the generations of ancestral trauma be given an opportunity to
heal?
All of these questions continued to create a rapturous storm in my mind. Thus, I began my
journey towards working with undocumented community college students. Although a mixed
racial woman, I am often read as being only White. When I decided to embark on this journey, I
did not realize until much later that most of the academic literature on undocumented students
has been produced by prominent Latinx scholars who study students from a similar racial
background. I found this to be an important point of distinction in the literature. Perhaps in
addition to needing to understand the Latinx voice because they comprise a majority of the
undocumented student population, scholars are studying students within their own institutions
and organizations because it is potentially easier to gain access to students when you are part of
the same community and share a similar racial make-up. This would explain why we have little
knowledge of the undocumented Black, Asian, and Pacific Islander narratives in the literature
because gaining access as an outsider can be a long and arduous process. However, having an
anthropological background is useful given this pattern in the literature because as
anthropologists, we spend most of our time hanging around so long in the communities we are
interested in that even if our racial background is different from the participants, we have
embedded ourselves enough in the culture to be nominally accepted. The months following allow
for building rapport and making human connections across the community.

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It is in the anthropological spirit that I approach all of my studies including this one. I came
with the vulnerability and transparency needed to connect with the women in this study. Each
interview was conducted in person except for the ones with Aaliyah who lives in North Carolina.
Instead, we used Facetime to conduct her interviews. This did not diminish the rapport we built,
despite it having to be mediated through technological platforms. Instead, it presented an
opportunity to perhaps create more comfort. For the two participants in California, each
interview took place in a private room on a college or university campus. While this space
provided the necessary confidentiality needed to listen and share stories, Aaliyah Facetimed me
from the comfort of her room. I wonder if the location allows for both more vulnerability and the
ability to build a stronger rapport. While I walked away from each person‘s story with human
connections that will continue into the future, the participants in their early 20‘s were more likely
to communicate with me via social media on a daily basis over the course of six months. This
was useful for continuing to build rapport and momentum throughout the study and an element
to consider for future work with undocumented students.
Conclusions
I walk away from the experience humbled and honored to be trusted with the responsibility to
be a witness to these women‘s lives. Each life story is incredibly unique, and taking the time to
truly understand the lived experiences of an individual can be life changing for both parties. With
statistics such as 800,000 DACA recipients and 11 million undocumented people being used to
illustrate that many lives are impacted by immigration policies and actions taken by the federal
government, I fear that we miss the stories behind the numbers. This study was an opportunity to
bring three women‘s narratives to life and to take their stories seriously in a culture that all too
easily dismisses the pain and beauty of those deemed unworthy in society.

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Aris, Aaliyah, and Esther‘s stories of being an undocumented community college student in
contemporary America poignantly illustrate a range of human experiences. Aris‘ commitment to
her faith and journey of self-care and veganism is a testament to how she has learned to cope
with the instability that accompanies not having a legal status. While Aris does not consider her
undocumented status to color every aspect of her life, her decision to turn away from traditional
forms of activism for self-preservation while taking on other activist roles for the environment
offers an insight into how coping and mental health impact each individually different.
Aaliyah‘s story of being separated from her mother at an early age and the extreme mental
suffering that she has experienced over the past decade illuminates elements of a dysfunctional
home life not often captured in the undocumented student narratives. Stories of family unity and
sacrifice are replaced with a sobering reality of ongoing domestic violence and the complicated
cycles of abuse that Aaliyah is navigating amidst being a 4.0 GPA student and active member of
feminist organizations on her campus. Stories of a broken mental health and legal system are
weaved through her life saving memories and daydreams of her childhood in Trinidad and what
her life would be like had she never immigrated. As Aaliyah grows older, her desire to return
home and meet her twin brothers for the first time continues to call her away from building a life
in the U.S., but the material comforts of life in America combined with her ability to assert her
individuality with aspects of her identity such as her sexuality make a life permanently abroad
seem unrealistic. For Aaliyah, a real and imagined homeland and the negotiation between the
two continues to play the largest role in her life. America, for her, is a means to an end with
some personal individuality along the way. Unlike Aris and Esther‘s faith, it is the drive to be
reunited with her family that centers her.

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Esther would say that her story is a cautionary tale for others and wants people to learn from
her experience. Her experience being an undocumented immigrant is bittersweet literally and
figuratively. On one hand, being undocumented ultimately saved her from her alcoholism. If she
had not ended up in jail and been worried about being deported, Esther‘s path would not have
changed. She attributes this divine timing to finding God and being shown the true course that
her life should take. We have yet to hear perspectives such as these that stir an amalgam of
emotion at the thought that being undocumented could actually help someone. In a time where
human torture is being captured in the media on a daily basis, it hardly seems feasible that one
would feel grateful for losing a permanent green card, but Esther‘s story peels back the layer of
human complexity. While her undocumented status led her to find her faith, it continues to be the
challenge of a lifetime for Esther. As she continues into her career as a nurse and future caregiver
for her mother, her future in the U.S. hangs in the balance motivating her to acquire alternative
plans for income if she is to remain undocumented for the rest of her life. For Esther, she has all
of the wherewithal in perseverance and personality to work and travel the world, but she has
dreams of supporting her mother and living a life close to her faith. Her story elicits complexity.
What does it mean when the relationship between having citizenship and addiction is inversed?
Esther‘s narrative challenges us to ask these questions and to grapple with the consequences of
the answers.
Implications
This study‘s findings are important in myriad ways. First, to use narrative inquiry to situate
undocumented community college voices in the center is a way of destabilizing the status quo. It
reorients the power dynamics between the researcher and the researched and calls for a co-
constructing collaboration to produce a narrative. In addition, this research brought voices to the

231
table that have been neglected. Although this study is a start, we need to hear from more
undocumented voices from underrepresented racial communities and need to start paying
attention to the intersectional identities that shape ways of seeing and being in the world.
This study was also useful for experimenting with new methodological approaches for
engaging with this work. For instance, introducing a reverse snowball sampling method will
hopefully offer an insight into delving into this work from an etic perspective. This will be
especially important for scholars attempting to navigate a more cross cultural approach to
collecting and preserving undocumented student stories. Recognizing the inherent power
dynamics when working with an extremely vulnerable population such as undocumented
students requires additional considerations when working together. For instance, not collecting
student names, addresses, or other pertinent information is critical for confidentiality.
Universities are not protected from federal subpoenas, thus, it is important that we, as scholars
and researchers, do our due diligence to protect our participants.
The goal of this study was simple. I wanted to humanize the dehumanized. I wrote this study
against a backdrop of overt racism, xenophobia, and violence where children and families are
being held in prisons and cages, dying, and feeling hopeless. I wanted to know if hope still
existed. In higher education, community college students are in an uphill battle against racism,
bureaucracy, K-12 systems that fail them, and first generational gaps in social and cultural
capital a majority of the time, and it is no surprise that a majority of undocumented students are
found in two-year institutions. Community colleges are built on hope but their graduation rates
have diminished and the timeline for finishing a two-year degree has plateaued at the six to 10-
year mark. This rhetoric of hope and the bleak reality was incongruous for me, but after meeting
these three women and many others along the way, I realize that hope is what one makes of it.

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For a masochistic nation-state, hope can be the torturer that prods and cuts an undocumented
person flesh to the point where the physical pain is all encompassing and only the nation-state
can stop the pain. It is the cat and mouse game where the cat will only let the mouse live as long
as they will it. Hope can be bleak and miserable and suffocating to some and liberating and
powerful and a way of life for others. The women I have met choose to hope, but unlike an
obvious hope for a green card or American citizenship, Aris, Esther, and Aaliyah hope for life
spent with their families and giving back to their communities. For them, hope is about
connecting with others and ensuring that their loved ones do not have to continue to suffer. Hope
is a memory, a delicious vegan meal, or second chance to make their mother‘s proud. It is a
feeling, a moment of validation, or an A on a test. Miyazaki characterizes hope as a method, but
hope in this context is the space in between words. It is the canvas upon which a method is born.
It is the reason that humans are able to find a reason for being in this lifetime.

APPENDIX

Appendix A

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Figure 1.

This is a picture of Aris‘ bedroom that she shared with her mother when she first immigrated to
America.

234
Figure 2.

This is an example of the kinds of dresses Aris would sleep under as a child while waiting for her
mother to finish her work for the day. (Model: Aris)
Appendix B

235

Figure 1.

The Hindu dance group that Aaliyah joined for the Christmas concert in her Presbyterian primary
school in Trinidad.

Figure 2.

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A mental health pain scale photo Aaliyah took when she sought out help in student services on
her community college campus.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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Abrego, L. (2008). Legitimacy, social identity, and the mobilization of law: The effects of
Assembly Bill 540 on undocumented students in California. Law & Social Inquiry, 33(3), 709-
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Abstract (if available)

Abstract Studies on undocumented students has expanded over the last two decades, however, there is little research on the experiences of undocumented community college students. In addition, there remains an absence of representative stories from myriad racial and ethnic backgrounds across undocumented communities. Using a combined methodological approach, this qualitative study employed narrative inquiry and phenomenology to explore the lived experiences of three undocumented women attending community colleges across California and North Carolina. From in-depth interviews emerged a canvas of deep storytelling where heartache, pain, beauty, and divinity emerged. Working primarily off of Hirokazu Miyazaki‘s framework for hope (2003) and taking a more ethnographic approach to the field, there were seven themes that emerged across narratives: 1) Abusive and Estranged Fathers

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Creator Meyer, Dayna Jessie (author)

Core Title No bodies wasted: undocumented community college student experiences of hope and the chameleon phenomenon

School Rossier School of Education

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Urban Education Policy

Publication Date 12/16/2019

Defense Date 08/14/2019

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag community college,Hope,OAI-PMH Harvest,Students,undocumented

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Harper, Shaun (committee chair), Davis, Charles H.F., III (committee member), Jacobs, Lanita (committee member)

Creator Email daynajessiemeyer@gmail.com,fullmoonlifestyle@gmail.com

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-c89-254854

Unique identifier UC11673840

Identifier etd-MeyerDayna-8074.pdf (filename),usctheses-c89-254854 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-MeyerDayna-8074.pdf

Dmrecord 254854

Document Type Dissertation

Rights Meyer, Dayna Jessie

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Access Conditions The author retains rights to his/her dissertation, thesis or other graduate work according to U.S. copyright law. Electronic access is being provided by the USC Libraries in agreement with the a...

Repository Name University of Southern California Digital Library

Repository Location USC Digital Library, University of Southern California, University Park Campus MC 2810, 3434 South Grand Avenue, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles, California 90089-2810, USA