stories of loss and hope
What is it like to be undocumented? What is it that drives people to come to the U.S., even if there is no legal way to do so, which, because our system is so broken, is true for the vast majority of immigrants. Below are some of their stories.
Note: These stories come from Jefferson County and other locations in the U.S. Names and identifying details have been changed to protect privacy. Some stories are summarized and adapted, others are based on interviews.
Note: These stories come from Jefferson County and other locations in the U.S. Names and identifying details have been changed to protect privacy. Some stories are summarized and adapted, others are based on interviews.
First, a poem written by a young immigrant mother:
Baby, when you're sounding asleep, I'm sounding awake, and even though I love lying next to you, I also love locking myself into my sewing room. I can imagine us talking about your projects, and all that you can become. . .
Daughter, tell people that one day we embarked on the journey looking for the dreams of many Americans, dreams of the lucky few, to have dinner next to my family after eight years of not seeing them.
Tell them that we never thought of stealing their space, I just wanted you to sleep a little more peacefully than me. Tell them we did not plan to stay here, but that I took this decision when I heard your heartbeat, when I stopped thinking about me to think about us....
Tell them the truth daughter, tell them that it was a miracle, that our lives are full of miracles. The day my visa was approved, in a prayer I entrust myself to God, one minute before going to my interview, "Lord speak for me, talk to him, put in my mouth the words that He wants to hear. Lord touch his heart."
Baby, when you're sounding asleep, I'm sounding awake, and even though I love lying next to you, I also love locking myself into my sewing room. I can imagine us talking about your projects, and all that you can become. . .
Daughter, tell people that one day we embarked on the journey looking for the dreams of many Americans, dreams of the lucky few, to have dinner next to my family after eight years of not seeing them.
Tell them that we never thought of stealing their space, I just wanted you to sleep a little more peacefully than me. Tell them we did not plan to stay here, but that I took this decision when I heard your heartbeat, when I stopped thinking about me to think about us....
Tell them the truth daughter, tell them that it was a miracle, that our lives are full of miracles. The day my visa was approved, in a prayer I entrust myself to God, one minute before going to my interview, "Lord speak for me, talk to him, put in my mouth the words that He wants to hear. Lord touch his heart."
MARTINA’S STORY
What Happened to Marina? Circumstances Prevented Her from Entering DACA
Why do so many people fail to understand that the letter of the law is not always fair? For Martina, it was a trap. Arriving in the U.S. as a young teenager, Martina lived in a Western state where she graduated from high school. She was eligible for DACA, but couldn’t afford the application fees, which were about $500. Desperately wishing to save the money to pay the fees, which loomed over her, she went to work in a restaurant.
While she worked, Martina met a young man at her church and fell in love. Together, they had a baby girl, a U.S. citizen by birthright. Martina and her fiancé planned a joyful wedding with hope for the future. And then—one day before the wedding—Martina was arrested in a workplace raid. She was charged with using false documents to obtain a job, a felony in the state where she lived.
We don’t know what has happened to Marina. She is ineligible for DACA because of her felony conviction. She faced deportation and permanent separation from her family. We can only hope for her.
CITLALI’S STORY
A Young Mother Decided She Wanted a Better Life for Her Daughter, Free of Cartels and Fear
When Citlali was 17, her mother left her country and came to the U.S. Her mother sent money home to pay for Citlali’s education. Citlali went to a city to earn her degree, and worked there for two years before returning to her home town. But it had changed. Cartels had taken over—it was so unlike the friendly community that she had known before. Young men were being forced to join the gangs. Children were being kidnapped. Schools shut down, and life became bleak. Young women were forbidden from going out of the house after 7 p.m.
Citlali had started a home business, but now it was threatened. Soldiers were in the street, but the local government was allied with the cartels. She was also now pregnant and a victim of domestic abuse.
“I hadn’t seen my mother for eight years,” she explained. “And now, I was pregnant. I wanted nothing more than to be able to see my mom and have dinner with her.”
Citlali applied for a visa to visit the U.S. She prayed intensely to get the visa, which she was granted for a stay of 30 days. At that time, she was 7-1/2 months pregnant. Once in the U.S. and connected again to her mother and other family members, she was relieved, but she still planned to return home.
Then, her sister took her to a nearby park, where she could walk and bike, and where tall trees surrounded with views out to deep blue water. Struck by the natural beauty, something clicked inside Citlali’s brain. “This must be heaven!” she thought. And I have the freedom to walk without needing to look behind my back to see if someone dangerous is following me.” She started thinking of returning home, but realized, “This is what I want my daughter to have! I want her to feel the same peace that I have now.”
As is true with most young women having their first child, she also wanted her mother to be near when she gave birth. So she began helping her mother clean houses—her mother, who also had a college degree, but could not get a higher-paying job, because she, too, was undocumented.
Citlali stayed. She even started her own business again, designing and sewing clothes for infants. She made a friend who taught her QuickBooks, little by little, helped her get a business license. She attended community college to improve her English, although she already knew English fairly well, having studied it for years. Then she began to volunteer with an organization that helped survivors of domestic abuse and sexual assault.
Over time, she became not just a business owner, but an advocate for others, which remains of great importance to her. She became a valuable, contributing member to her community. She tells her daughter, “Whatever you choose to do in life, make sure you use your talents to help others.”
Now, she has a daughter who is a citizen, though she is still undocumented. “But I won’t give into fear,” Citlali says. “You can’t do that. You can’t let fear run your life.”
A Young Mother Decided She Wanted a Better Life for Her Daughter, Free of Cartels and Fear
When Citlali was 17, her mother left her country and came to the U.S. Her mother sent money home to pay for Citlali’s education. Citlali went to a city to earn her degree, and worked there for two years before returning to her home town. But it had changed. Cartels had taken over—it was so unlike the friendly community that she had known before. Young men were being forced to join the gangs. Children were being kidnapped. Schools shut down, and life became bleak. Young women were forbidden from going out of the house after 7 p.m.
Citlali had started a home business, but now it was threatened. Soldiers were in the street, but the local government was allied with the cartels. She was also now pregnant and a victim of domestic abuse.
“I hadn’t seen my mother for eight years,” she explained. “And now, I was pregnant. I wanted nothing more than to be able to see my mom and have dinner with her.”
Citlali applied for a visa to visit the U.S. She prayed intensely to get the visa, which she was granted for a stay of 30 days. At that time, she was 7-1/2 months pregnant. Once in the U.S. and connected again to her mother and other family members, she was relieved, but she still planned to return home.
Then, her sister took her to a nearby park, where she could walk and bike, and where tall trees surrounded with views out to deep blue water. Struck by the natural beauty, something clicked inside Citlali’s brain. “This must be heaven!” she thought. And I have the freedom to walk without needing to look behind my back to see if someone dangerous is following me.” She started thinking of returning home, but realized, “This is what I want my daughter to have! I want her to feel the same peace that I have now.”
As is true with most young women having their first child, she also wanted her mother to be near when she gave birth. So she began helping her mother clean houses—her mother, who also had a college degree, but could not get a higher-paying job, because she, too, was undocumented.
Citlali stayed. She even started her own business again, designing and sewing clothes for infants. She made a friend who taught her QuickBooks, little by little, helped her get a business license. She attended community college to improve her English, although she already knew English fairly well, having studied it for years. Then she began to volunteer with an organization that helped survivors of domestic abuse and sexual assault.
Over time, she became not just a business owner, but an advocate for others, which remains of great importance to her. She became a valuable, contributing member to her community. She tells her daughter, “Whatever you choose to do in life, make sure you use your talents to help others.”
Now, she has a daughter who is a citizen, though she is still undocumented. “But I won’t give into fear,” Citlali says. “You can’t do that. You can’t let fear run your life.”
MATEO'S STORY
Betrayed by the System: Mateo’s Fight for Citizenship
Mateo came to the U.S. with his family from South America when he was a child. They had visas, only to be plunged into the shadows by an immigration lawyer that bungled their case. Though they overstayed their visas, that likely would not have happened had he not been incompetent or malicious—they never knew which. He had even listed an infant as the family’s head of household, so he wiped away their legal status, and they became undocumented.
For Mateo, it wasn’t a problem at first. “For most of my childhood, being undocumented didn’t feel that different,” he said. But that changed when he began thinking about college. He had no Social Security number, and he couldn’t get financial aid. Life became uncertain; his dreams were on hold. Fortunately, thanks to local funding, he was finally able to get into college.
However, when graduation approached, the fear returned. Without work authorization or the ability to travel, his future felt fragile and on edge. He worried that any kind of minor trouble—such as being cited for jaywalking—would put him at risk of being deported.
Then, before he graduated, President Obama introduced Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program. It became Mateo’s lifeline. About the same time, Mateo found a new attorney. This one handled his case with care and competence. “Having a good lawyer changed my life,” he said.
With DACA, Mateo was able to work, pay taxes, and build a promising future. He went to become accepted at Harvard and, with the help of his skilled attorney, he eventually applied for citizenship. Finally, it happened. After 20 long years of uncertainty, Mateo became a U.S. citizen.
Looking back on his journey, Mateo notes how lucky he was. “There are many people who are far more vulnerable. Many don’t speak English. Many have faced unimaginable trauma. That’s why everyone should be guaranteed the legal right to counsel in immigration court.” Without a lawyer, especially today, he says, “Their chances of navigating the system successfully are slim to none.”
Betrayed by the System: Mateo’s Fight for Citizenship
Mateo came to the U.S. with his family from South America when he was a child. They had visas, only to be plunged into the shadows by an immigration lawyer that bungled their case. Though they overstayed their visas, that likely would not have happened had he not been incompetent or malicious—they never knew which. He had even listed an infant as the family’s head of household, so he wiped away their legal status, and they became undocumented.
For Mateo, it wasn’t a problem at first. “For most of my childhood, being undocumented didn’t feel that different,” he said. But that changed when he began thinking about college. He had no Social Security number, and he couldn’t get financial aid. Life became uncertain; his dreams were on hold. Fortunately, thanks to local funding, he was finally able to get into college.
However, when graduation approached, the fear returned. Without work authorization or the ability to travel, his future felt fragile and on edge. He worried that any kind of minor trouble—such as being cited for jaywalking—would put him at risk of being deported.
Then, before he graduated, President Obama introduced Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program. It became Mateo’s lifeline. About the same time, Mateo found a new attorney. This one handled his case with care and competence. “Having a good lawyer changed my life,” he said.
With DACA, Mateo was able to work, pay taxes, and build a promising future. He went to become accepted at Harvard and, with the help of his skilled attorney, he eventually applied for citizenship. Finally, it happened. After 20 long years of uncertainty, Mateo became a U.S. citizen.
Looking back on his journey, Mateo notes how lucky he was. “There are many people who are far more vulnerable. Many don’t speak English. Many have faced unimaginable trauma. That’s why everyone should be guaranteed the legal right to counsel in immigration court.” Without a lawyer, especially today, he says, “Their chances of navigating the system successfully are slim to none.”
AZUCAR’S STORY
For the Sake of Her Children, Azucar Never Gave Up
Good parents want nothing more than to do all they can to give their children a good life. It’s that overwhelming love that motivated Azucar to overcome extraordinary hardships.
Azucar met her husband, an American, on the Caribbean island where she was born. He was there on a mission when they met and married. In 1996, she came with him to the Eastern U.S., cradling their first daughter in her arms.
Life in the U.S. was difficult from the start. Azucar missed her large, close-knit family immensely and struggled to adapt to a new culture, unfamiliar food, and a language she didn’t speak. While her husband worked, she spent her days alone in a rented room with only her baby.
After moving to the West Coast, where her husband found work, the family continued to face extreme poverty. “I remember going to the store needing diapers and groceries, and only having one dollar,” Azucar said. She prayed for help and one day found a large basket of strawberries in the parking lot. “I was so delighted!,” she said. And once, finding a pizza someone had dropped, she asked a store employee to microwave it, since she and her husband had only a heating stove. It was their only food for two days.
Even after they lived in the U.S. for some time, Azucar still did not speak English, and her husband would not help. He became quite controlling and abusive. They eventually had six children, two boys and four girls. Eventually, Azucar began teaching herself English from books and taught her Spanish-speaking children too.
Her husband never wanted her to become a citizen and belittled her dreams. When he was working and earning more, Azucar asked him about getting a bigger house and a car, because they now had so many kids, he replied, “Why? Your family never had a big house or car!”
With support from friends, she finally left him. He threatened to have her deported and to take the children, but she refused to give up. After escaping she and the children lived in a house with little food, no water, no electricity, and no toilet. Rain leaked through the roof, and she had to put buckets in place to catch the water. “My friend would come and cry for me,” Azucar remembered.
Thanks to her friends and a pastor group, she got by. She filed for divorced. It was a scary time. He tried to persuade her to leave the country and give him the kids. “No way!,” she cried.
In 2008, the divorce was granted. Life still presented enormous challenges for a single mom raising six kids. Finding a job was hard, but she finally got a position at a day care center where her children were. She also went to community college, expanding her English capabilities and earning a GED. She became a citizen.
Today, her children have flourished, two with college degrees, the others in college or about to start. Although, like many people of color, she still occasionally experiences racism, but she perseveres. She teaches Spanish to give back to her community.
Love, faith, and determination have paid off. Azucar just received a scholarship to go to college herself.
For the Sake of Her Children, Azucar Never Gave Up
Good parents want nothing more than to do all they can to give their children a good life. It’s that overwhelming love that motivated Azucar to overcome extraordinary hardships.
Azucar met her husband, an American, on the Caribbean island where she was born. He was there on a mission when they met and married. In 1996, she came with him to the Eastern U.S., cradling their first daughter in her arms.
Life in the U.S. was difficult from the start. Azucar missed her large, close-knit family immensely and struggled to adapt to a new culture, unfamiliar food, and a language she didn’t speak. While her husband worked, she spent her days alone in a rented room with only her baby.
After moving to the West Coast, where her husband found work, the family continued to face extreme poverty. “I remember going to the store needing diapers and groceries, and only having one dollar,” Azucar said. She prayed for help and one day found a large basket of strawberries in the parking lot. “I was so delighted!,” she said. And once, finding a pizza someone had dropped, she asked a store employee to microwave it, since she and her husband had only a heating stove. It was their only food for two days.
Even after they lived in the U.S. for some time, Azucar still did not speak English, and her husband would not help. He became quite controlling and abusive. They eventually had six children, two boys and four girls. Eventually, Azucar began teaching herself English from books and taught her Spanish-speaking children too.
Her husband never wanted her to become a citizen and belittled her dreams. When he was working and earning more, Azucar asked him about getting a bigger house and a car, because they now had so many kids, he replied, “Why? Your family never had a big house or car!”
With support from friends, she finally left him. He threatened to have her deported and to take the children, but she refused to give up. After escaping she and the children lived in a house with little food, no water, no electricity, and no toilet. Rain leaked through the roof, and she had to put buckets in place to catch the water. “My friend would come and cry for me,” Azucar remembered.
Thanks to her friends and a pastor group, she got by. She filed for divorced. It was a scary time. He tried to persuade her to leave the country and give him the kids. “No way!,” she cried.
In 2008, the divorce was granted. Life still presented enormous challenges for a single mom raising six kids. Finding a job was hard, but she finally got a position at a day care center where her children were. She also went to community college, expanding her English capabilities and earning a GED. She became a citizen.
Today, her children have flourished, two with college degrees, the others in college or about to start. Although, like many people of color, she still occasionally experiences racism, but she perseveres. She teaches Spanish to give back to her community.
Love, faith, and determination have paid off. Azucar just received a scholarship to go to college herself.
