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Due to coming to America at such a young age, I have nothing but faint memories about my birth country. I came to America at a tender age of 4, from the Philippines. All I have really is what I’ve always known, my home, and that is America, but the ironic thing about it is i feel like a prisoner in my own home. I think that a lot of undocumented students feel the same way. Not being able to do the the regular things that other kids our age do, to me is frustrating, and knowing that I could become so much more, than what I am today.
From elementary to my first year of high school, was pretty normal for a kid my age. I went to school, got good grades, got along wit pretty much everyone. I played sports, I liked to be social, and I truly adapted to the culture of America. Sometimes more than my parents wanted. Although it wasn’t until my sophmore year, that i figured out that I didn’t have a social security number, therefore I couldn’t get my driver’s license. But getting that license wasn’t just because I wanted to drive, i mean that was literally the only thing I had for identification. This was because my passport was lost, having moved 2 or 3 times since I came here in 1990.(I now got a replacement) My friends would always ask me, how come I didn’t get my driver’s license yet. I would always brush it off, and make up excuses, like “well i don’t have a car, i don’t see the need to get one if i don’t have a car.” I took honors/ AP classes, the last 3 years of high school thinking it would help me. I now know that it really isn’t going to help me. I cannot get financial aid, or any scholarships/loans because of my status. I had felt that way for a long time, even after I graduated. I knew that maybe with my grades so high, i could get a scholarship at a university or maybe even become a full-time student at a community college.
I now live in Nevada, and in my early 20’s. and find it hard for myself to pay for school, because this state doesn’t offer the AB540 as California does. My only option now is to keep paying that type of tuition or to move back to California, since i graduated high school there. The only reason why i moved to Nevada, is because my parents couldn’t afford to live in California anymore. Although the frustration and disappointment still lingers in my head, I choose not to show it. I do not want anyone to think that whine and feel sorry for myself. I know for a fact, that if I didn’t come to America, I wouldn’t of been able to reap the advantages that this country has to offer. I also know that I am in a better situation than others. So for that I am grateful. But at the same time, I now know that I have to work twice as hard to get what I want. Sometimes it gets tiring, and I feel like giving up, but knowing that my future is at stake, I know I can’t
I’m from Thailand. I came here when I was seven with my parents and sister. My mom told me I was going to Disneyland and that we were going to take a plane. Our visas were valid for one year. After one year, it expired and I had no idea that I was breaking immigration law. During that one year, I did not go to Disneyland. I spent the first half of my life living in rundown apartments while my parents slaved away doing restaurant work.
I’ve been here for thirteen years and it’s only the last eight years that my life has started to look up. My parents had been through everything in order to give me a better life. My mom worked so hard that she almost bled to death due to health problems. My dad works irregular hours just to make ends meet.
In school, I excelled in English and history the most. I started second grade in the fall of 1996 and quickly moved from ESL classes to the regular English class in just a few months. My favorite subject in school is American history. I loved learning about how the American people built up this great nation and made it to what it is today.
My parents’ hardships encouraged me to do well in school. My family back in Thailand is also another reason for me to do well. I would be the first person in my whole family’s generation to graduate from an American university. I have huge aspirations to make my American dream come true. My goals in life are to become a broadcast journalist or an American politician who helps represent Asians in the federal government. This dream cannot come true because I am living illegally. I did not know I was illegal until I had to apply for college. I had no idea on what box to fill out. When I found out America did not recognize me as its citizen, I was crushed. I grew up falling in love with America and everything in stands for and yet, America does not see me.
Believe it or not, my family has tried to apply for legal status but it was too costly. My parents work minimum wage. There is no way we could come up with the money to pay the expenses.
I am grateful for the things America has given me. American taxpayers have paid for me to go to school and for my health care when I need it. The only sad part about all this is that I could never repay them because I am not allowed to legally contribute to the country because I lack legal documents. I will only go back to Thailand when I have finished my education and if there are no prospects of legalizing myself. Nothing is to be gained if I am deported back to my home country. I only hope that American lawmakers know this and will help pass the Dream Act for kids like me.
…. I found your contact information through dreamact.info. I go there often to check for updates on the dream act and find consolation in all of the members who are so talented and united in hope and solidarity. When I saw your website and facebook group, I realized how hard you and your classmates were working on behalf of us AB450 students…and well, I thought I should be more than willing to share my story.
My name is Maria and I am an American. However, I am also an undocumented immigrant. I arrived in this country from Peru when I was only 13 years old. The truth is I did not know I was breaking the law when I entered the United States. And now that I am here, I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I’ve grown up here; I’ve assimilated to the American culture, attended school, learned its language, and appreciated its history. Does that not make me American? No matter what the law says, this is my country, and the only country I call “home.”
The truth about my undocumented status did not sink in until I was a junior in high school. Growing up, my teachers always assured me that I can accomplish anything if I work hard. Things for me are unfortunately not that simple, and without ‘papers’ the American dream will always be out of reach. Because of my status I don’t qualify for in-state tuition, financial aid, and most scholarships, making it more difficult to pursue a college education. As I watched my friends apply for college and plan their lives beyond high school, I had to come to terms with putting aside my own dreams and aspirations for I was destined for a life of menial labor. It was then when I realized what being “undocumented” in this country truly meant.
It has now been two years since I graduated high school and I am now 20 years old. My dream of becoming an elementary school teacher may still be just a dream, but it hasn’t been forgotten. Despite all of this I am thankful to be living here and my patriotism has not wavered. I am not asking much; just the opportunity to give back a little of what this country has given me. I have not given up hope. I will continue working hard, and hope for the day when I can finally fulfill my dream.
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This is my sister’s story:
I am an undocumented student. Well, I was an undocumented student. As of today, my education has abruptly come to a cessation. My family and I moved to the United States from Peru when I was 11 years old. I didn’t realize at the time what was truly happening. I didn’t realize I wouldn’t be able to see my family for over 7 years, and I had no idea we were breaking the law. In Peru, my parents owned a very respected and profitable restaurant. That is, until the economy in Peru plummeted. At one point, my parents couldn’t afford to send us to school, keep the restaurant, or even maintain our car. Therefore, we sold everything in order for us to afford passports. Leaving was very heart-breaking, yet I was extremely excited since my only knowledge of the United States was what was displayed on T.V. I told my family I would return in 5 years or less.
Commencing school was quite nerve-racking, considering the fact I did not know the language despite the couple of lessons my cousin gave us prior to arriving in the United States. My parents reassured me I would learn with time. I was teased by other girls in the school, I had a very hard time with schoolwork since I did not know the language, and I was very shy and soft-spoken. I thought the girls and boys from school were so much different than my friends from Peru, and some were certainly not very fond of me. I got made fun of the fact I didn’t understand them sometimes. The teacher was very kind and tried to help me as much as she could with learning English. I also had a friend who had recently moved to the USA, as my family and I had. We helped each other get through the school year. Since the neighborhood we resided in was very dangerous, my parents were scared to send us to the High School that upcoming year. Again, I would have to say good-bye to my friends who I had gotten to know over the past year.
Unaware of the reason that drove my parents to move so quickly, I found myself in a new school, with a lot more unfamiliar faces. It took me some time, but I eventually learned English and could communicate with the other students easily. I was still very shy, but I made a couple of friends. I became more secure with myself as time passed, and adapted more to the American lifestyle. I graduated High School in 2007, and attempted to register for school. I figured at least a couple of classes would be good, since that was what my sister was doing. The lady my dad and I spoke to explained to us that the system had recently become more firm with not letting undocumented students attend college, and that any identification they had for international students would be sent to Immigration. As we talked it over, we decided it was too risky for me to go to school under those circumstances.
I would never want to put my family in danger of deportation; my parents have worked so hard to give us a better life, a brighter future. They have sacrificed and left so much for us to come to the United States; family, friends, our country and their business. It’s been a year now and I still have not been able to pursue my dream of attending college. I have to find jobs that pay under the table, and it is very hard to find an unproblematic and reasonable job under my circumstances. I’m praying that by this time next year, I will be closer to achieving my goals of becoming a citizen of the United States and going to college. This country has given me so much; I wouldn’t be who I am today had I not moved here. This is my home. I only want to better myself, and give a little bit back of what this beautiful country has given me
I came here when I was 6 years old. The first jobs my college educated parents had were as farm workers in a small town. The first experience I remember in America was the first day of school. Another little girl had her birthday on my first day and her mother brought in cupcakes for the class in the morning. As the mother passed out the cupcakes to the class she skipped me and went on to the next kid. In a class with 10 kids everyone saw and stared at my empty cupcake-less desk. The mother finished passing out the cupcakes asked if anyone wanted seconds giving me a disproving glare daring me to say something. I sat their quietly trying not to cry and wondering why this woman I had never seen before hated me. After the woman left, my teacher without a word came and put her own cupcake on my desk and we started my first day in an American school. I was the only colored face in the room and ultimately would find out in the entire school and some parents never got used to having me there. That was 14 years ago. In the years to come I moved to another state, to the city and e my family eventually began to live the American dream. They opened their own business with several American employees of their own and were able to provide their kids a middle class existence. My brother and I both skipped a grade, played varsity sports, volunteered with our church, and forgot our parents language. My sophomore year in high school was when reality hit. I couldn’t get my driving permit like everyone else, I couldn’t get a job, and most importantly I couldn’t take the PSATS. I didn’t qualify for a national merit scholarship and if I became a finalist there would be too many questions asked and that would put my family’s existence in jeopardy. I didn’t qualify for any scholarships and it was always an awkward conversation when a college coach or college recruiter would approach me offering a scholarship. I took every AP class my high school had to offer and graduated high school with a year of college already completed.I graduated this spring with a Bachelors of Science in Chemistry with honors. Here I am at 20 years old with no future or options. I no longer speak the language of my parents native country and never learned to read and write in their language. If I am forced to return, I go from being a college graduate here to illiterate there. I have very little in terms of a future here but I have no future there.
I just pray the only country I love and have every known will one day see me and acknowledge me as one of her children but I’m not holding my breath.
Soon after I completed my statement of intent to register at UCLA, I found out from the school that I am considered a non-resident of California. As a result, I was required to pay the very high non-resident student tuition fees.
My first reaction to this news was complete shock and confusion. It did not make sense to me. I have been living in California since 5th grade, been issued a California driver’s license, and registered for a bank in California; basically I have been doing what any other Californian would be doing. However, because my parent is not a California resident and I am his dependent, I am forced to take-on his non-resident status.
My second reaction was financial fear. If it is not already known, non-resident tuition fees is more than double than that of a resident. Given this information, I knew there was no way I could afford going to UCLA. Plus, I thought that my financial aid or more specifically, my California-grants will be taken away from me because of my non-resident status. At this point I was so stressed out and scared that I was seriously thinking about not going to UCLA all together.
Luckily for me there was the AB 540. This meant that I was waived from non-resident fees but still considered a non-resident because I attended at least three years of a California high school and graduated from it. Also, after many phone calls with FAFSA, I was told that my California grants will not be affected by my status. It turns out that the Regents of the University of California and FAFSA have different requirements of what it means to be a California resident. Therefore, under FAFSA I was considered a California resident eligible for funds.
Without AB 540, I can honestly say that I would not have attended UCLA. The tuition would have been too much for me. But because of AB 540 and my eligibility for financial aid, I was able to afford college and I am happy to say that I will be graduating this year.
- Documented AB 540 UCLA student
Anyone have a story to share?
Testimony of Tam Tran - by Tam Tran
University of California, Los Angeles, Class of 2006
May 18, 2007
Testimony before the House Judiciary Committee’s Subcommittee on Immigration, Citizenship, Refugees, Border Security and International Law I hate filling out forms, especially the ones that limit me to checking off boxes for categories I don’t even identity with. Place of birth? Germany. But I’m not German. Ethnicity? I’m Vietnamese, but I’ve never been to Vietnam. However, these forms never ask me where I was raised or educated. I was born in Germany, my parents are Vietnamese, but I have been American raised and educated for the past 18 years.
My parents escaped the Vietnam War as boat people and were rescued by the German Navy. In Vietnam, my mother had to drop out of middle school to help support her family as a street vendor. My father was a bit luckier; he was college educated, but the value of his education has diminished in this country due to his inability to speak English fluently.
They lived in Germany as refugees and during that time, I was born. My family came to the United States when I was six to reunite with relatives who fled to California, because, after all, this was America. It is extremely difficult to win a political asylum case, but my parents took that chance because they truly believed they were asylees of a country they no longer considered home and which also posed a threat to their livelihood. Despite this, they lost the case. The immigration court ordered us deported to Germany. However, when we spoke to the German consulate, they told us, “We don’t want you. You’re not German.” Germany does not grant birthright citizenship, so on application forms when I come across the question that asks for my citizenship, I rebelliously mark “other” and write in “the world.” But the truth is, I am culturally an American, and more specifically, I consider myself a Southern Californian. I grew up watching Speed Racer and Mighty Mouse every Saturday morning. But as of right now, my national identity is not American and even though I can’t be removed from American soil, I cannot become an American unless legislation changes.
In December, I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in American Literature and Culture with Latin, Departmental and College honors from UCLA. I thought, finally, after all these years of working multiple jobs and applying to countless scholarships all while taking more than 15 units every quarter, were going to pay off. And it did seem to be paying off. I found a job right away in my field as a full-time film editor and videographer with a documentary project at UCLA. I also applied to graduate school and was accepted to a Ph.D. program in Cultural Studies. I was awarded a department fellowship and the minority fellowship, but the challenges I faced as an undocumented college student began to surface once again.
Except the difference this time is I am 24 years old. I suppose this means I’m an adult. I also have a college degree. I guess this also means I’m an educated adult. But for a fact, I know that this means I do have responsibilities to the society I live in. I have the desire and also the ability and skills to help my community by being an academic researcher and socially conscious video documentarian, but I’ll have to wait before I can become an accountable member of society. I recently declined the offer to the Ph.D. program because even with these two fellowships, I don’t have the money to cover the $50,000 tuition and living expenses. I’ll have to wait before I can really grow up. But that’s okay, because when you’re in my situation you have to, or learn to, or are forced to make compromises.
With my adult job, I can save up for graduate school next year. Or at least that’s what I thought. Three days ago, the day before I boarded my flight to DC, I was informed that it would be my last day at work. My work permit has expired and I won’t be able to continue working until I receive a new one. Every year, I must apply for a renewal but never have I received it on time. This means every year around this month, I lose the job that I have. But that’s okay. Because I’ve been used to this—to losing things I have worked hard for. Not just this job but also the value of my college degree and the American identity I once possessed as a child.
This is my first time in Washington DC, and the privilege of being able to speak today truly exemplifies the liminal state I always feel like I’m in. I am lucky because I do have a government ID that allowed me to board the plane here to share my story and give voice to thousands of other undocumented students who cannot. But I know that when I return home tonight, I’ll become marginalized once again. At the moment, I can’t work legally even though I do have some legal status. I also know that the job I’m going to look for when I get back isn’t the one I’ll want to have. The job I’ll want because it makes use of my college degree will be out of my hands. Without the D.R.E.A.M. Act, I have no prospect of overcoming my state of immigration limbo; I’ll forever be a perpetual foreigner in a country where I’ve always considered myself an American.
But for some of my friends who could only be here today through a blurred face in a video, they have other fears too. They can’t be here because they are afraid of being deported from the country they grew up in and call home. There is also the fear of the unknown after graduation that is uniquely different from other students. Graduation for many of my friends isn’t a rite of passage to becoming a responsible adult. Rather, it is the last phase in which they can feel a sense of belonging as an American. As an American university student, my friends feel a part of an American community—that they are living out the American dream among their peers. But after graduation, they will be left behind by their American friends as my friends are without the prospect of obtaining a job that will utilize the degree they’ve earned; my friends will become just another undocumented immigrant.
for more on this:
Immigrant’s family detained after daughter speaks out - USAtoday
http://www.usatoday.com/news/washington/2007-10-16-Dream_N.htm
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