DACA

Carlos’s Immigration Story – Santo Domingo, the Dominican Republic to Lancaster, Pennsylvania

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Faded Memories

When Carlos thinks of the Dominican Republic, memories of “hectic traffic” and “warmth with a cool breeze” come to mind. It’s been almost two decades since he was last there, so his memories have faded. Carlos, the middle child of three, had a comfortable life in Santo Domingo, the capital. His father worked as a civil engineer for a successful company, allowing his mother to stay home to care for the family.

Above: In DR it is common for people to wear a ring from the college they graduated from, as a sort of status symbol.

“I don’t have many things left that belonged to my dad, which is largely why I value his graduation ring so much. The ring is symbolic of the type of man that he was. He was kind, hardworking, and responsible. Those are ideals I try to live by.” 

Tragedy

Carlos’s life changed drastically at eight years old when his father suddenly passed away from cancer. Carlos doesn’t have many photos of his time in the Dominican Republic. Most were left behind and then destroyed by bad weather. “I cherish the few photos that I have left.”

“This was taken at my first birthday party [see the above photo]. Obviously, I don’t remember that day, but I love the photo because of my father’s expression. I feel how proud he was of me just for being his son. It means a lot.” (audio below)

Up until age eight, Carlos was never an earnest student, mainly because of the family’s “comfortable lifestyle”. After his father passed away, he saw how his mother – who didn’t have a college-level education – struggled to pay their bills.

“Education felt like the only way I could regain that sense of security, so I began to take my studies very seriously.”

Thanks to a great third-grade teacher who helped and guided him, Carlos earned a medal for academic excellence.

“That year was the first time I was recognized as a good student. Winning that medal showed me that I was capable of doing well in school, which gave me a lot of confidence.” (audio below)

United States

Little by little, Carlos’s mom sold everything they owned, trying to gather enough money to pay for plane tickets for her, Carlos, and his two sisters, to immigrate to the US. Carlos remembers seeing their house empty. The day before leaving the Dominican, there was a power outage, and it was boiling hot. Carlos remembers how his mom spent the entire night, fanning him and his sister with a piece of paper. Carlos’s godparents dropped them off at the airport – Carlos, age 11, his mom and older and younger sisters.

It was the summertime in Pennsylvania when they landed in 2002, but to Carlos, it felt “super cold.” He was shocked to see his uncle, who picked them up at the airport, wearing a tank top. Carlos started school that fall in the sixth grade in Reading, Pennsylvania, where they would live for two years before moving to Lancaster.

First Day of School

“I remember walking into my classroom on the first day of school and feeling tremendous pressure to do well academically. I was aware of the sacrifices my mom had made to move to the US, all so that my sisters and I could have access to a better education and lifestyle.”

The other ESL (English as a Second Language) students in his class seemed to know some English already. Voices surrounded him, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“It really hit me at that moment how far behind I was from my peers. The hurdles I would have to go through to learn felt overwhelming, and I just broke down and cried. The teachers had to kick me out of the classroom because I was so loud.” (audio below)

Carlos spent the rest of his first day at school in the main office. Over time, however, he began to adapt. Carlos knew learning English was the key to getting into college. By eighth grade, Carlos had not only learned the English language but was thriving. Within three years of arriving, this school in America named him their “Student of the Year.”

“This plaque [see the above photo] means so much to me because I know how hard I had to work to get it. I was focused on school and improving myself because I knew that was the only way I was going to get an opportunity to go to college. It felt like a culmination of one arduous journey and the beginning of another one.” (audio below)

Undocumented

Carlos knew that his mother never planned on them returning to the Dominican Republic. He also knew their visas were going to expire, leaving them undocumented.

“Growing up undocumented was a difficult and traumatic experience. I felt like I needed to shelter who I was from the world so that I didn’t reveal too much and put my family in jeopardy of deportation. It only takes one call to immigration or for the wrong person to know about our status, for all of our sacrifices to have been in vain.” (audio below)

Carlos deliberately avoided making many friends – he didn’t want to get too close to anyone because of his undocumented status. His life revolved around school and studying. He never let his status get in the way of his studies. However, when Carlos started applying to colleges, the box where they ask for your social security number became an insurmountable problem. He decided to tell a high school teacher he trusted about his status.

“I was terrified to tell him. I feared his reaction because of the negative connotations attached to being undocumented. Some label you ‘illegal’ and dehumanize you when they find out that part of who you are. To my surprise, he was very supportive, and we are still close friends.”

Rejection

Carlos’s goal was always to go to college. He didn’t care where he went; he just wanted to continue his education.

“Receiving a pile of rejection letters was very hard because I had done everything I thought I could do in high school. I believed in the idea that if you work hard, you can get somewhere. At that point in my life, it wasn’t that way. I had worked as hard as I could, but society was still telling me I had reached the end of the line.”

Although Carlos felt disappointed, he didn’t stop looking for options. Eventually, he found a local community college where he started studying social sciences in 2009. Carlos excelled academically and became a student leader – hoping that an opportunity would turn up. Because he was undocumented, he was paying the international student rate, so he had to work and study simultaneously.

The Quintessential Campus

In 2011 Carlos came across an opportunity to transfer to Amherst College in Massachusetts. He took the bus to visit the campus as he was too afraid to fly. Carlos fell in love with its “quintessential campus,” seeing it as the perfect learning environment. He majored in political science and interdisciplinary studies.

“After I got into college and learned about social justice and different issues, I realized it was important to tell my story and put a face to the undocumented community.” (audio below)

Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) was announced in 2012 while Carlos was at Amherst. He applied, and in many ways, DACA changed his life.

Home

Carlos has always had an interest in politics – seeing it as a way to improve people’s lives. His college counselor at Amherst got Carlos interested in the idea of community organizing. He ended up moving to Chicago for a summer on an internship, where he learned firsthand how to mobilize communities. After graduating in 2014, Carlos returned to Chicago. He did more organizing work around raising the minimum wage for a project called “Raise the Wage.” He then headed to Washington DC to work as a congressional fellow for then-Congressman Mike Honda of California.

As an undocumented American, the last thing Carlos ever thought possible was spending an academic year in the United Kingdom, followed by a year in China. In 2015, Carlos earned a Gates Cambridge Scholarship to study for a master’s in Philosophy in Latin American studies in the United Kingdom. The following year he won a Schwarzman Scholarship to do a master’s in Global Affairs in China.

“I was humbled and empowered by my experiences abroad.”

Lancaster

In 2017, Carlos started working as the Statewide Capacity Building Coordinator for the Pennsylvania Immigration and Citizenship Coalition, which brings together immigrant and refugee rights organizations. Carlos works with partners in the community and helps them build their capacity to be better advocates.

Carlos describes this former US capital, Lancaster, as an increasingly Latino but traditionally Amish town. The Amish started the city’s “strong immigrant roots.” They came to Lancaster because of the religious freedom Quaker William Penn, founder of the English North American colony the Province of Pennsylvania, offered settlers. Carlos sees the city’s high per capita population of resettled refugees as being in line with Lancaster’s history of being welcoming to newcomers.

Solidarity

Carlos thinks it’s essential for more people who are undocumented to share their stories. He believes most Americans who haven’t met an undocumented person (or at least aren’t aware of meeting one), regard them in a negative light – as if they are faceless and nameless.

“We can be your neighbors or go to school with you or be your colleagues. Hearing our stories puts a human touch to the experience and builds solidarity. People who might be opposed or hostile to the undocumented community, change once they realize they know one of us. It’s important, especially in this political climate, that we tell our stories.” (audio below)

Above: Carlos’s mom cooking Dominican food at home

Identity

Regarding his place in the United States, Carlos does feel “in limbo.” His main document is his Dominican Passport, but he has spent most of his life in America.

“I stay connected to my Dominican roots through food, language, and dancing.” 

Carlos thinks it’s funny when people ask him for recommendations when they travel to the Dominican Republic. “Don’t you realize I’ve been in the US for the last 15 years!” (audio below)

Above: Carlos’s mom’s hand on his

A Mother’s Love

Carlos will never forget that his mom sacrificed her own dreams and health so he could grow up in the United States and have better opportunities. Since coming to the US, she has done so many different jobs, from working at the trash processing plant to labor-intensive factory jobs. Today his mom has arthritis directly related to her work, but he has never heard her complain. Carlos knows he couldn’t do the work she does. His mom, and people like her, are his motivation. She came here with nothing, risked it all, knowing that her future wouldn’t be comfortable.

“My mom knew she was going to be undocumented and what that meant, but that didn’t stop her. She was chasing the possibility that things could be better for her children. I think that her sacrifices are inherently American. The immigrants who came to America took the chance to come across the ocean and didn’t know that things would be the best. I hope she has the opportunity to stay in the country legally, get out of the shadows, and pursue her passions.” (audio below)

Dreams

Carlos’s dream is to have the ability to plan his future freely. He doesn’t want his immigration status to be hanging over his head for life. He wants to be able to pursue his passions – public service and seeing the world. Carlos’s options are limited, but that’s something he has grown used to – finding a path despite limited opportunities. He knows many in his community are much worse off than he is.

“I’ve been fortunate that so far, my status hasn’t held me back that much – but it has for many people, and that’s what motivates me to continue to do the work I do.”

American Values

Carlos is hurt by people who advocate for an immigration system that would only allow people with extraordinary qualifications to immigrate to the US. He wishes the immigration system was more reflective of American values and traditions since the current system would exclude the ancestors of most Americans from coming here today.

“I want them to think about their own ancestors and the fact that most of their ancestors would not be able to come here if those were the standards. When they are advocating for that, they are slapping their ancestors in the face. I wish there was a system of legal immigration where there are different ways that people can come here and contribute, which is not what we have now.” (audio below)

*Update: Carlos is currently pursuing a joint degree in law and public policy at Harvard University with support from the Paul and Daisy Soros Fellowship for New Americans.

#FINDINGAMERICAN

To receive updates on the book release and exhibition of “Finding American: Stories of Immigration from all 50 States” please subscribe here. This project is a labor of love and passion. If you would like to support its continuation, it would be greatly appreciated!

© Photos and text by Colin Boyd Shafer | Edited by Kate Kamo McHugh. Quotes edited for clarity and brevity.

Jazmin’s Immigration Story – Paracho de Verduzco, Mexico to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

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Childhood

Jazmin was born in Paracho de Verduzco, a small city in Michoacán, the same place her father was born. When she was only a few months old, they moved to Tijuana, and at a year old, her parents separated. Jazmin went to Cherán, her mother’s hometown.

Above: Jazmin’s doll representing Cheran’s Danza de los Viejitos. The dance is performed at festivals by young men who dress up like old men.

When Jazmin was four, her father, who was living in the US, asked her mom if she would bring Jazmin and join him there.

United States

Jazmin’s memory of going to the US in 1996 as a four-year-old, is vague. She was in the car with her mother, her aunt, and her five-year-old cousin. She remembers commenting to her cousin on the lights as they drove north – it was the first time she had seen city lights like that.

“I thought the lights were all candles. My cousin said, ‘no dummy those aren’t candles, those are matches!’” (audio below)

They didn’t make it to the US on the first try. Their car was stopped at the Texas border and they were put in a detention center. After being returned to Mexico and released, they tried to cross the border again, and this time they made it.

Their first stop was Henderson, North Carolina, where Jazmin’s father, uncle, and grandfather were working in the tobacco fields [see the photo below]. After a week, the family moved on to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Jazmin felt incredibly discouraged as a teenager in Philadelphia. She ended up dropping out of high school at the end of freshman year. 

“I dropped out because I felt like I didn’t belong here. All my friends were getting their driver’s licenses and hoping to go to college. When I started the process, they asked for a social security number, which I thought I had, but I didn’t. I didn’t understand the meaning of being undocumented until I was in high school and needed that SSN.” 

Return to Mexico

Jazmin didn’t want to be in school if she couldn’t go to college. After dropping out at 15, she started working full time as a server in a Vietnamese restaurant. Jazmin heard that her uncle was leaving for Mexico, and she told her mom that she was going to go with him – Jazmin thought she could start going to school again in Mexico. Her mom broke down in tears as she didn’t want Jazmin to leave her. In the end, she decided to go with Jazmin, and they moved back to Mexico together in 2008.

Jazmin started high school in Mexico, but she was finding it hard to pay for everything: uniform, textbooks, rent, food, etc. At first, Jazmin’s mom tried to help with the bills by selling tacos but after a few months, she returned to the US. After her mom left, Jazmin ended up dropping out of school again. She couldn’t see a future for herself in Mexico.

Immigrating… Again

Jazmin decided to try and return to the US in 2011 at 18 years of age and eight months pregnant. The only person who knew she was pregnant at the time was her father. 

Even though it was a risk to her and her baby’s life, Jazmin thought it was worth it for her daughter’s future. 

“I didn’t want my daughter going through what I went through and I would have risked everything to get her to be a US citizen and not have to jump borders like I was. I want her to have the opportunities that I didn’t.” (audio below)

Jazmin took the bus to the border and called her dad. She hadn’t told him her plan ahead of time, and he was surprised to hear that she was going to cross. The next time she called him, Jazmin was being held hostage.   

Hostage

While waiting at the bus station with her “coyote” (the person she hired to help her cross the border) two trucks suddenly pulled up and told them to get in. The men were part of an armed cartel – Jazmin could see weapons and blood in the truck. They took her coyote’s phone, but Jazmin hid hers and managed to text her dad. They brought her to a payphone and made her call her dad. The cartel told him they wanted five thousand dollars each for her and her coyote, or else they would kill them. Her father told the cartel he didn’t have much money, and eventually, they said they would take $1500 and would help Jazmin cross to the US. Her dad deposited the money. (audio below)

For two weeks, Jazmin waited in a small one-room wooden house packed with other people waiting to cross. They tried twice to take Jazmin to the river to cross, but each time there were flashing lights on the other side. On the third attempt, they put Jazmin and another pregnant woman in inflatable donuts and pulled them across. She thought she was going to drown. On the other side, they walked for three hours, then they were told to run to a car that was supposed to be waiting for them once they reached the road; instead, the immigration authorities were there. 

Kindness

Jazmin remembers the immigration officer asking for her name. He could see she was pregnant. She told him everything: how she had lived most of her life in the US, then left for Mexico, and was now trying to return for her daughter’s future. Jazmin knows he could have deported her right away, but he didn’t. He asked her if she wanted to see a judge, and she said, “no.” Now that Jazmin understands more about immigration law, she knows that if she had seen a judge, she could have asked for asylum based on all that has happened to her.

“Instead of deporting me, the officer gave me an ‘involuntary departure.’ He took me back to Mexico and dropped me off at a bus station. Instead of just telling me to go by myself, he crossed with me to make sure I was going to be okay.” (audio below)

The Boat

She called her dad from the bus station in Tamaulipas – worried, he asked her what she wanted to do next. She told him she would stay in Mexico. After the conversation, while at the bus station, she met a guy who seemed trustworthy, explained her situation, and he said he could help her cross to the US with his boat. 

The next morning Jazmin told this stranger that she wanted his help. Within 15 minutes, she was in Texas. She got off the boat and ran to the nearest house. The person in the house brought her to a gas station and told her, “good luck.” She called her dad from the payphone, and he had her aunt, who lives in Texas, go pick her up. (audio below)

Jazmin stayed in Texas for two weeks with her aunt – eight months pregnant, and exhausted. She could either stay and have the baby in Texas or go with her father by car to Philadelphia. Jazmin decided to go. 

She remembers the checkpoint on their way north, and the officer commenting on her being pregnant. Jazmin thought they were going to ask her for an ID or papers, but they didn’t. Her pregnancy was enough of a distraction. Three days after getting to Philadelphia, Jazmin gave birth.

Education

Jazmin told her mom that she wanted to find a job and try going back to school. That year she attended three different high schools. The last school had an accelerated program, and Jazmin was able to finish all of her four years of high school in only two. After applying and receiving DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) in 2013, Jazmin started attending Esperanza College for a degree in criminal justice. She managed to afford college by getting an international scholarship, working a part-time job, as well as living with her mother rent-free.

On top of the financial challenges, her father, who is an alcoholic, started drinking a lot. This forced Jazmin and her daughter to move in with an aunt who was kind enough to let her stay and eat rent-free. She knows she couldn’t have graduated without her family’s support. 

Jazmin went on to pursue a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice and graduated in 2016.

“This is my college graduation hat [see the photo below], dedicated to our traditional dance, ‘Danza de los Viejitos’. On it, I wrote: ‘Fly as high as you can without forgetting where you come from’. It’s something we all should keep in mind. We can’t forget our roots because that’s what led us to be who we are now.” (audio below)

Inspiration

Jazmin was 18 when she had her daughter. Jazmin’s mom, who didn’t know about her daughter’s pregnancy, was pregnant at the same time that she was. Jazmin’s mother gave birth three months before she did, so Jazmin’s sister and her daughter have grown up like twins. 

“I always dressed them alike, treated them alike, and they grew up like sisters even though one is an aunt, and one is a niece.” (audio below)

Everything that Jazmin does is with her daughter and sister in mind. She wants them to see a positive example of what they should and can do. Jazmin didn’t grow up with a role model who went to college, let alone finish high school, and she loves that her daughter, siblings, and cousins can look up to her and see that going to college is an option. 

In many ways, Jazmin thinks having a daughter as a teenager, gave her the motivation to keep going and be the best possible version of herself. If she hadn’t had that responsibility early on in her life, she thinks she may be working at a factory or even an alcoholic like her father. (audio below)

Jazmin remembers when she felt out of place in school because the other kids’ parents were professionals. She was the only one who didn’t want to say where her mom worked because she was a cleaner. She thought the other kids would look down on her family. Now that she is an adult, she recognizes how hard her mother was working to provide for her. (audio below)

La Muerte

Jazmin says that trying to cross the border is like playing with “la muerte”.

“The border is something indescribable. It’s a place that’s not for humans. It’s like a game – I usually compare it to playing cat and mouse. The immigrants are the mice. The cats are playing to trap the mouse.”  

She wants people to know that immigrants aren’t coming to the US to take anything from Americans. She also wishes most Americans would reflect on the fact that their ancestors came from somewhere else at some point. 

“The US is where everybody seeks their dreams – “American dreams” – so why aren’t immigrants accepted? You never know what they’ve gone through. At the end of the day, everybody is working. I’ve been reporting taxes, so I’m not stealing from anyone – I’m actually giving back. We would just like to be accepted.”  (audio below)

Philly

Jazmin likes living in Philadelphia now, and truly believes it is the “city of brotherly love.” She feels like it’s a friendly place where other cultures are appreciated. As an example, on October 4th she was outside her home, dressed in traditional clothing and cooking for the Patron Feast. The neighbors came over because they were curious and wanted to know more about what she was celebrating. Jazmin appreciated that they took an interest, and feels like this kindness is symbolic of the city. 

Above; Jazmin’s “Golden Door Award” from HIAS, a Jewish American nonprofit organization that provides humanitarian aid and assistance to refugees.

Pride

Jazmin works at a law office as a senior paralegal. In 2017, she was the first Latino and first DACA recipient to receive the HIAS “Golden Door Award” for the legal services she has provided to Philadelphia’s immigrant community. Jazmin is determined to go to law school and get her Juris Doctor degree.

“Law is my passion and I’m not going to give up my passion just because I don’t have papers. That’s not a good reason to stop. If we are already here, we might as well prove to the US that we are here and contributing and can help.”

Jazmin hopes her daughter tell her friends at school proudly, “my mom works at an attorney’s office.”

*Update: Since the interview, Jazmin was able to obtain a T visa (a visa for certain victims of human trafficking and immediate family members to remain and work temporarily in the United States). She also gave birth to her second daughter and is waiting on the birth of her first son.

#FINDINGAMERICAN

To receive updates on the book release and exhibition of “Finding American: Stories of Immigration from all 50 States” please subscribe here. This project is a labor of love and passion. If you would like to support its continuation, it would be greatly appreciated!

© Photos and text by Colin Boyd Shafer | Edited by Kate Kamo McHugh. Quotes edited for clarity and brevity.

Ximena’s Immigration Story – Lima, Peru to Miami Beach, Florida

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Childhood

Ximena grew up in Lima, Peru’s capital, where family and friends surrounded her. Her best memories include camping on the beach and watching her grandpa make strawberry jam. The smell of cut grass always brings her back to Peru.

Tragedy

Ximena remembers an idyllic childhood until she was six. Her baby brother was supposed to be arriving but she sensed that something was wrong. When she asked her father, “Where is my brother?” – he pointed up to the sky.

“It was the first time I saw my dad cry.” (audio below)

After the loss of her brother, her parents’ marriage started to crumble. They were fighting a lot, and Ximena’s mom went into a deep depression. To make matters worse, in 2000, Ximena’s father was diagnosed with testicular cancer.

Florida

When she was eight, her parents separated, and Ximena and her mom left Peru for Miami. She hated having to go to a new school where people made fun of her for not speaking English. After six “miserable months,” her parents decided to try and make their marriage work. Ximena and her mother returned to Peru. When they returned Ximena and her parents lived in the same house as her maternal grandparents, and her cousin Malena, who Ximena has always thought of as a sister.

Above: Ximena in Peru with her mom and her cousin [left] and her cousin’s baby Iyari, who was four months old when she left [right]

In 2006, Ximena’s dad was offered a position at a seafood distribution company in Florida. At the age of 14, Ximena and her parents moved to the US as a family. It was hard to leave because Ximena’s cousin had just had a daughter who was only four months old. Still, they packed three suitcases and their pet pug and headed to Miami.

After working for a seafood company in Florida for a couple of years, the business started failing, and so her father lost his job. They were his sponsor, and without this, he and his family wouldn’t be able to stay legally in the US. Ximena’s father looked everywhere for another job/sponsor. At the same time, in 2008, he was diagnosed with Leukemia – his second experience with cancer. 

The doctor treating her father felt bad about his situation and signed him up for a program through the American Cancer Association. He needed to take one pill four times a day, and just one of these pills cost 57 dollars! Luckily, because of the program, his treatments and medicines were free. This saved his life. Ximena’s father has been in remission since 2011.

“My father doesn’t look sick, but from what he used to be to what he is now is completely different. He used to have big muscles and was always showing them off.”

Undocumented

When her father lost his job, and couldn’t find another sponsor, Ximena, a senior in high school, became undocumented. Growing up, Ximena didn’t know what exactly she wanted to be but she always knew that she wanted to help people. When it came time to choose a career, she felt trapped by her undocumented status. Focusing on her studies during that last year of high school felt futile.

 “I would try to think about my future, and I could only think about the day after tomorrow.” (audio below)

After graduating high school in 2008, Ximena started working as a personal assistant for a lawyer who paid her under the table. What choice did she have? Ximena remembers people telling her to “just get married” so she could get papers, but she didn’t want to do that.

DACA

In 2012, a friend from high school was working at a private Montessori school and told Ximena they needed help. Ximena tried it out as a volunteer and loved it. She explained her situation regarding documentation to the school. They said they would have the position available for her once she had the proper documentation.

In June 2012, Obama announced DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals), and Ximena applied for it immediately. 

 “I don’t think I had ever felt that amount of hope before. It was like a bright light was turned on.”

Every day she would check her status online. On a rainy, miserable day in December, she checked, saw she was approved, and “fell on the ground with happiness.”  (audio below)

“Finally, I am able to do something with my life.” 

DACA allowed her to have a work permit, and start working at the Montessori school.

Becoming a Montessori teacher in 2012 changed Ximena’s life.

Above: Ximena keeps thank you cards from her students, as a reminder of the difference she has made in their lives. 

“The thing about working with children is it is tough, but it is also a reminder every single day that there is something to be happy about. Those children love you.” (audio below)

Ximena wanted to study, but she was going to have to pay out of state tuition, which is three times as much. In 2012 she decided to take one class at a time, which was all she could afford. 

Above: Graduation Cap from Miami Dade and yellow sash representing TheDream.US scholarship fund (audio below)

Finally, because of DACA, she could pay in-state tuition and she started taking more classes. She applied for TheDream.US National Scholarship in 2014 and this paid for her whole associate’s degree at Miami Dade College. She started working and going to school full-time. 

After this degree, and finishing her Montessori training, Ximena started her bachelor’s degree in Psychology at Florida International University.

Montessori Teacher

Ximena has become close to many of the students’ families at the Montessori school. When she graduated from university, they went above and beyond, giving her gift cards for books. It took Ximena a while to share her immigration story with some of the families whose children she teaches. Over time she started to feel more comfortable opening up.

“A lot of the parents have made it their mission to learn more about immigration and the immigration system.”

Support from these families has given Ximena confidence to put herself out there even though she is “not fully documented.” She knows not everyone in the US is as supportive. (audio below)

“When you put yourself out there, you get the nastiest out of people, but that doesn’t stop me. I need people to understand who we are and what we want. If you have DACA, it doesn’t mean you have it easy.”

Miami Beach

Ximena likes living in Miami Beach. She loves how you can find people from all over the world – different cultures mixing.  

“You never have a boring day in Miami Beach.”

Ximena says she sounds Cuban when she speaks Spanish now, something her mom teases her about.

Above: Damage in Ximena’s neighborhood left over from Hurricane Irma

During Hurricane Irma in 2017, there was a mandatory evacuation of her neighborhood. After driving all over, trying to stock up on drinking water, Ximena, her pug, cat, and boyfriend went to his family’s place one hour away. They stayed there for five nights – 20 people, two babies, five dogs, and a cat – it was crowded, but they cooked a lot of delicious Cuban food. It was fun until the power went out, and they didn’t have air conditioning. Luckily after everything was over, she was able to return to her apartment safely.

Grandpa

One person Ximena really misses is her maternal grandfather, who lived in the same house as her growing up. 

 “He taught me how to use tools. After four daughters and six granddaughters, he was like, ‘I need to teach one of you to build stuff.’”

Ximena and her cousin would spend days with him, building birdhouses and completing school projects.

“I had to do a little electricity circuit. My grandfather went all out, and we made this huge model with this little church in the middle, street lights, houses, and I got a really good grade. I remember it perfectly.” (audio below)

Ximena thinks her love for helping people comes from her grandpa. He was the type of person who would take the food from his own mouth to give it to you. He passed away in 2015, and Ximena never was able to see him or say goodbye to him in person. The most she could do was send him a video, and have her cousin show him. Her cousin says he smiled when he saw it. Losing him was devastating for Ximena – she was angry that she was never able to say goodbye. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there, and I couldn’t say goodbye. To me, it meant everything that I wasn’t there for him. I should have been there with him, but I wasn’t able to be.” 

Belief

Ximena’s maternal grandmother is a very religious woman, and Ximena has distinct memories of grandma, taking her to go to church with her when she was growing up.

“Even though I was forced, I still loved it because I spent time with grandma.”

After more than a decade of being apart, Ximena’s maternal grandmother came to the US in 2016. During that visit, her grandma tried her best to get Ximena to return to Catholicism. She was confused by all of the Buddhist items around their house. Ximena’s mother had become a Buddhist and started practicing yoga after learning about it when she cleaned a Buddhist’s home. Grandma didn’t know this.

Ximena appreciates religion but doesn’t follow any particular one.

 “I don’t belong to any religion. I take what’s best from different religions and apply it to my life.”

Ximena loves her parents. Her mom is her best friend, and she will always be her “dad’s little princess”. Ximena is incredibly grateful for all that they have sacrificed for her to be where she is today. 

 “My parents have given everything they have in order for me to have a better future.”

Her mom still works every day as a cleaner while suffering fibromyalgia. A typical day for her is working hard, coming home, and then going to bed.  

Future

It’s been more than a decade since Ximena has been back to Peru, and she misses her country of birth. She wants to go back and visit, but she knows she would never feel like she belongs there. Her time in the US has been tumultuous – full of “fear, anxiety, and sadness,” but she knows it isn’t the United States’ fault.

Luckily Ximena found Montessori teaching, something she loves. Crying with their parents when the students’ graduate continues to be a priceless experience for her.

*Update: Since the interview, Ximena became a lead teacher at the Montessori school, got married, and now has a green card. She is thinking about returning to university to do a Master’s Degree. Ximena is hoping to become a therapist for youth who have experienced trauma. 

#FINDINGAMERICAN

To receive updates on the book release and exhibition of “Finding American: Stories of Immigration from all 50 States” please subscribe here. This project is a labor of love and passion. If you would like to support its continuation, it would be greatly appreciated!

© Photos and text by Colin Boyd Shafer | Edited by Kate Kamo McHugh. Quotes edited for clarity and brevity.

Sabato’s Immigration Story – São Paulo, Brazil to Northampton, Massachusetts

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Childhood

Sabato’s father met his mother, an industrial designer, in the mall where he owned a toy store. Their son Sabato was born in 1985, and when he was only one year old, they moved the family to Miami, USA. Sabato believes they had many reasons to leave and did so when his father secured a visa and some money to start a company. Sabato’s parents imported Brazilian semi-precious stones. The belief prevalent in the late 1980s and early 1990s within the Hispanic community of the healing powers of crystals fueled their business. Sabato’s parents opened concessions in Sears stores throughout South Florida, where they sold these stones.

Separation

When Sabato was six years old, his parents separated. His mom moved back to Brazil, and Sabato remained with his Dad in Miami. When Sabato was in college, his father remarried, and he has a 10-year-old baby brother, “who is amazing.”

Sabato’s mother wasn’t around when he was a child, and he remembers that he went through five years without seeing her. Currently, he gets to see her a few times a year.

Miami

Sabato grew up in Miami’s “multicultural immigrant vibe.” where he was able to interact with classmates from all over the world. As Sabato got older, he started to hate the superficiality of Miami’s “new money.” Sabato recognizes how Miami is different today with a budding street art scene and independent cinemas. Still, it wasn’t like that when he was growing up.

Undocumented

In the Miami of Sabato’s youth, so many people were undocumented. It was an easy place to get a job under the table. Like many of the kids he grew up around, Sabato didn’t know what the implications of not having papers were. Over time, he started to realize what it meant. Sabato couldn’t get a driver’s license but was able to secure a Florida state identification one day before September 11th, 2001, when the requirements changed.

“You become aware of these challenges. For people who grew up in the United States, it is just, ‘I’m 16, I’ll get my license’. These are things you assume you have access to, but you don’t.” (audio below)

Even though he heard that he couldn’t go to college because he was undocumented, he applied anyway. 

“You continue being a part of the community: you have friends, do American things, but when it comes to certain things like employment or financial aid you can’t.”

Because Sabato knew he wasn’t eligible for financial aid, he didn’t apply for it when applying for college. He worried about potential implications if he told the school he was undocumented: the chance of deportation worried his father. After being accepted to Amherst College in Massachusetts, the reality of not having financial aid hit:

“Holy shit! I need to pay $50,000 dollars every year to go here!”

Hustling Pianos

Because of his status, Sabato couldn’t find a job that would provide him with a salary, so Sabato and his father started a business flipping merchandise from auctions on eBay. What they decided to flip stemmed from Sabato wanting a piano to learn classical music. When his father went to a piano distribution center to find out the cost of one, he realized he could sell them on eBay and make enough of a profit to pay for three years of Sabato’s university degree.

“Only five percent of undocumented people go to college. I’m so lucky to have overcome that – hustling pianos!”

Audio: Sabato playing “Berimbau” / “Consolação” (Vinicius de Moraes / Baden Powell) on the piano

DACA

Sabato remained undocumented until 2014. With the DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) program, the government deprioritized his deportation, and he received a work permit. Most paths to financial stability involve getting a full-time job, and finally, Sabato could do this. Here in Massachusetts, he showed his Brazilian passport, and that was enough to get a driver’s license. (audio below)

Massachusetts

In 2001 at the age of 18, Sabato fulfilled the dream of going to Massachusetts to attend college.

“I wanted to go to a place where it snowed, the seasons changed and it was more ‘American’ – I was tired of Miami. I knew if I went to school somewhere where it was cold, my family would hardly visit me. That was part of the calculation. [laughing]”

Living in Massachusetts made him appreciate and miss Miami; however, following graduation Sabato decided to stay in New England.

Sabato has always been creative. He remembers getting into trouble in middle school for drawing cartoons when he was supposed to be paying attention to the lesson. 

At college, Sabato began taking portraits of his friends and doing video production. These two side hustles were extremely helpful considering that he couldn’t get a regular nine to five job.

Glitch Art

In 2011, a friend showed him a compact flash memory card in which the files were coming out glitchy. He was curious and fascinated by the missing parts and rearranged the pieces. Sabato began to create “glitchy” digital files on purpose [see the photos above]. This process of finding ways to corrupt or break photos or videos that he takes has become his artistic focus. His art has been shown at the Tate in London as well as featured in Time magazine. (audio below)

Meeting Meredith

It was through art that he met his wife, Meredith. Sabato was shooting an art show in Connecticut, and Meredith was one of the vendors. When he took her portrait, there was an instant connection. He still loves taking her photograph.

From what Sabato has observed, people who grew up in the States have all read the same children’s books or watched the same shows. He grew up reading Brazilian comic books and the bible in Portuguese, so some American pop-cultural references go over his head.

“I grew up differently and had different experiences.” (audio below)

Roots

He feels lucky that his father was persistent in his wish that Sabato would speak Portuguese as a child and maintain his language. He knows that for many immigrants his age, this is not the case. Throughout his childhood, Sabato translated for his dad, including the sermon at church and any legal documents.

Soccer played an important role in keeping Sabato connected to his roots.

“In 1994 the World Cup was held in the United States, and it was a big deal. I was really rooting for team USA. Brazil played the US in round 16 and I was rooting for the US even though Dad and everyone watching with us were rooting for Brazil. The US lost 1-0 and Brazil ended up winning the World Cup. That’s the first time I was proud to be Brazilian – being with that group, watching old games from the 70s with Pele and all the classic Brazilian soccer heroes. I’m part of this shared history which makes me really happy. In 1998, when Brazil went to the finals and lost to France, I was crying my eyes out.” (audio below)

Sabato feels like his Brazilian identity is becoming more defined with age, especially since moving to New England for college. Massachusetts is where his identity coalesced, and for the first time in his life, he felt “exotic.” (audio below)

Future

Sabato currently creates advertorial content for personal injury lawyers as his day job. In the future, he dreams of going to graduate school for photography or digital arts/media and eventually working full-time as an artist.

“I dream of one day being in a position where I can live off my work.”

*Update: Since the interview, Sabato got his green card through his marriage to Meredith, quit his job with the personal injury lawyers, and has been working as a full-time artist. You can find out more about Sabato’s incredible work on his website.

#FINDINGAMERICAN

To receive updates on the book release and exhibition of “Finding American: Stories of Immigration from all 50 States” please subscribe here. This project is a labor of love and passion. If you would like to support its continuation, it would be greatly appreciated!

© Photos and text by Colin Boyd Shafer | Edited by Janice May & Kate Kamo McHugh. Quotes edited for clarity and brevity.

Isaías’s Immigration Story – Guadalupe De Trujillo, Mexico to Denver, Colorado

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Childhood

In 1992, Isaías [who prefers the pronoun ‘they’] was born in Guadalupe de Trujillo – a tiny town of 400 people at the foot of mountains in Fresnillo, Zacatecas. Isaías’s elementary school was small, and because they didn’t have enough teachers, the students would either attend at night or in the morning. Isaías remembers being incredibly poor, often being alone, and bicycling a lot – up into the mountain as far as possible.

Isaías’s mom remembers her child as being unique, strong, and intelligent while growing up.

“He could have conversations like an adult when he was a little boy.”

Above: Isaías and cats at home in Guadalupe De Trujillo [left] and Isaías’s parents sitting at home in Mexico under their daughter’s portrait [right].

Isaías’s father’s family had long been working on a big ranch nearby, which is how they all ended up in Guadalupe De Trujillo. Their family grew corn, beans, chile, and other produce to subsist. Over the years, the family’s financial resources steadily depleted as they couldn’t compete with cheaper imported corn from the USA as a result of NAFTA. They could no longer survive there.

“It was tough to live. Agriculture wasn’t good, and we were not making enough money to survive.” (audio below)

Family History

Isaías’s family has a long history of coming to the United States. Their maternal grandfather was a bracero (temporary farm worker) in the 1960s. He would go north, work the fields, and then return to Mexico. It was much easier to cross the border at that time. His sons did the same when they were old enough. Isaías’s two older brothers were inspired to try their luck in the US like generations before them. Isaias’s brothers moved to Colorado and started working in fast-food restaurants and later worked in drywall. The family was surviving on the remittances they were sending back to Mexico.

Isaías’s older brothers encouraged their parents to visit them in Colorado. It was supposed to be a vacation – a spring break trip on a six-month visitor visa.

“We left everything as though we were going to return, but we never did.”

Valentine’s Day

At eight years old, Isaías and parents crossed the border at El Paso, Texas, during the night on Valentine’s Day, 2001. Isaías woke up on the way and remembers being fascinated by the structure of the houses – in particular, the angle on the rooftops designed for the snow. This was something not seen in Mexico and previously only seen on the miniature Christmas houses from childhood which Isaías received in exchange for Coca-Cola bottle caps.

After arriving in the US, Isaías’s mom would make tamales to sell every Friday at the local liquor store. Isaías learned to work hard helping mom sell tamales. Isaías’s father [see the above photo] started working in road construction and has been doing this job for over 20 years now.

Above: Isaías with Dr. Sierra, the first educator in the US who got Isaías interested in learning

Adjusting

Shortly after arriving, Isaías started third grade.  

“I was placed in a classroom where I didn’t understand anything. I would often get in trouble for not following the rules, but it was because I didn’t understand what I was supposed to be doing. My teacher, who was bilingual, told me that she didn’t speak to me in Spanish because she didn’t like Spanish. In 4th grade, I had a teacher who was Cuban, and she helped me realize that what I was going through when I got here was not normal.” (audio below)

It was challenging to adjust to being inside a house all the time. In Mexico, Isaías was always outside and free. In Colorado, Isaías wasn’t allowed to go out alone. Their mother didn’t think it was safe, as, at the time, there were a lot of gangs in their Globeville neighborhood.

Above: Isaías’s father holding a photo of Isaías taken one month after arriving in the US. Isaías is holding a birthday cake their cousin made for them.

“I was happy and excited because, in Mexico, we never celebrated birthdays since we were poor.”

Undocumented

Isaías always knew that the family was undocumented; their parents never hid it from the children. Isaías knew they couldn’t get a driver’s license or a social security number and that working legally wasn’t an option.

“In high school, I worked very hard, hoping that by the time I graduated, I could become ‘legal.’ When I got to senior year, I realized that it wasn’t happening – that began my activism. I did not have the resources at highschool. All of the conversations on how to go to college didn’t apply to me. Almost 50 % of my class was undocumented! I realized they needed help.” (audio below)

The realization that undocumented students were not being properly prepared for life after high school led Isaías to help form an advocacy organization called “Keeping The Dream Alive”.

Advocacy

Isaías graduated from high school in 2011. It was going to cost between three to six times more for them to go to college than a documented student – so Isaías didn’t go. Isaías began advocating for in-state tuition for undocumented students in Colorado, becoming more vocal and meeting with state representatives.  In 2013, Colorado changed the policy, and undocumented students were eligible to pay in-state tuition fees. Isaías increasingly connected to people all around the country, fighting for causes related to undocumented youth.

Isaías feels like since the 1980s there has been a lot of promising talk by politicians with minimal action. Even with Obama, Isaías didn’t see their community getting enough support.

“Obama deported more of our family members than any other president in this country.”

Isaías started canvassing, signing up family members to vote, going on hunger strikes, and other non-violent protests such as ‘occupying.’

“I had nothing else to lose. I became very vocal about my story.”

DACA

Finally, in 2012 Obama passed the Dream Act. DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) allows undocumented people who arrived in the US as children to receive a renewable, two-year period of deferred deportation. After DACA came into effect, Isaías decided to take a step back from leading the community. As the face of many campaigns, assuming the role of “poster child” was a lot of pressure, and Isaías came to realize that it was all-consuming.

“I would get asked about my hobbies and I always said, ‘I don’t have a hobby; I organize.’ When I wasn’t doing that, I was resting.”

On August 15th, 2012, the day of the announcement that applications for DACA were open, the police pulled Isaías over for speeding. Isaías was heading home after the press conference – to gather paperwork to help at a DACA clinic. Isaías was not speeding. 

Arrest

When asked for identification, Isaías showed a school and a church ID, which didn’t satisfy the officer. The police officer asked: “When did you come into the country? When did you learn to speak English?” Isaías refused to answer because these questions did not relate to the alleged speeding infraction. Told to get out of the car, Isaías went to text their partner. The police officer took Isaías’s phone and threw it. Then they arrested Isaías, along with Isaías’ partner, who had arrived on the scene. Luckily, the office of the non-profit “Rights for Our People” group was closeby, and the director came on the scene to help.

“The cop kept asking if I was ‘legal’.”

Isaías didn’t want to answer any questions unassociated with being pulled over. The officer said they were going to call ICE, which Isaías said was fine. Isaías told the officer, “when I get out of here, we are going to sit down and talk about how you aren’t supposed to be arresting people based on immigration status.”

“I wasn’t afraid I was just very angry. I told myself if I end up in a detention center, then I would organize in the detention center”.

A year after the arrest, as promised, Isaías did discuss this with the arresting officer and the chief of police, who after the discussion, committed to better training for police officers. (audio below)  

Sister

Isaías’ older sister stayed in Mexico when they left in 2001 because she was already married. Isaías misses her constantly and says that she is the reason why their parents are physically in the US but mentally still in Mexico. It wasn’t until 2015, 14 years later, when the Mexican government facilitated a trip to Mexico for “prominent” activists and immigrant youth with DACA, that Isaías was able to finally see her again.

Above: The first photo Isaías received in the mail of their sister’s children who live in Mexico
Above: Isaías with sister before leaving Mexico [left], and Isaías with sister in 2015 [right]

“It was the very first time I was able to travel back to Mexico, after 14 years, and hug my sister. Because of the current US immigration laws, I am no longer able to do that and don’t know when or if I will hug her again.”

Globeville

Isaías has been living in the Denver neighborhood, Globeville, since arriving in the states. Globeville used to be a separate little town outside of Denver, where European immigrants came to work in the coal smelting plants. The houses are small – built as temporary housing for the workers, and many of them have weird shapes because residents have added on additions. Isaías highlights how 80216, their zip code, is one of the most polluted in the country because of the smelting plants. As a child, Isaías remembers the city removing contaminated topsoil, house by house, throughout the neighborhood.

People referred to Globeville as “Little Guadalupe” when Isaías was young because the population had become predominantly Latino. Today Globeville is undergoing intense gentrification, and Isaías sees the harm that results firsthand.

 “All the people that we knew are no longer here. The only people of color still here are ones that were able to buy a house, since rent has skyrocketed.”

The only reason Isaías’s family is still able to stay in Globeville is that the landlord hasn’t increased their rent in 10 years. However, the landlord has informed them that he will no longer be renting out the house. Isaías has an opportunity to buy the house, but it’s too much.

“My family is so attached to this neighborhood and this house. If we have to find a new place, we would rather go back to Mexico.”

Education

Isaías has been studying social work part-time and working at the front desk of a local charter high school. Isaías has been trying to transition into an advocacy role in schools. Through experience with organizing and advocacy, Isaías understands the importance of equal access and high-quality education for the next generation. (audio below)

“I get a lot of hope from working with students; they are hilarious.”

Queer

Isaías came out as queer in high school. (audio below)

“I was very proud of myself – coming out as both undocumented and queer.”

Isaías emphasizes how for many trans/queer immigrants who are undocumented, deportation could mean returning to a country where their security may be in jeopardy because of their sexuality or gender. A lot of Isaías advocacy has been at the intersection of trans/queer and immigration – bringing people together at this intersection instead of letting these two movements remain siloed. Isaías emphasizes how in the immigrants’ rights community, can be transphobic, and the LGBTIQ community can be anti-immigrant. (audio below)

Above: Caprio Sanguinette Park where Isaías goes to decompress.
Audio: Isaías offers advice to other immigrants in the LGBTIQ community

Strong and Honest

Isaías describes their mother as the strongest and most honest person they know. 

“I’m so thankful to mom. She was always very honest with everything we were going through including living in poverty. She has helped me by always being honest with myself and other people. Sometimes too honest. Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable being as honest as she is.”

While Isaías’s mom thinks life has been better for her kids in the United States, it has been harder for her and her husband. She is tired of how hard her husband’s job is on him.

“My future isn’t in the US, it is in Mexico. My main hope is to look after my kids, and I won’t be able to see them if I’m there. It is really sad. It would be hard to leave them.” (audio below)

Her dream is for Isaías to graduate from university. She understands how hard it is for Isaías to do that since they have to work to help support the family.

*Update: Since the time of the interview, Isaías has returned to community organizing for immigrant student rights, and to remove educational barriers for students of color. They are currently the Operations Manager & Executive Assistant for Padres & Jóvenes Unidos. Isaías’s family’s house was placed on the market, and they had to move out. The family was able to stay in Globeville but now they are paying four times more in monthly rent.

#FINDINGAMERICAN

To receive updates on the book release and exhibition of “Finding American: Stories of Immigration from all 50 States” please subscribe here. This project is a labor of love and passion. If you would like to support its continuation, it would be greatly appreciated!

© Photos and text by Colin Boyd Shafer | Edited by Janice May & Kate Kamo McHugh. Quotes edited for clarity and brevity.

Armando’s Immigration Story – Acapulco, Mexico to Los Angeles, California

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Acapulco

“When I tell people I’m from Acapulco, people are like ‘Oh my God, what are you doing here?’ I am not from the part of Acapulco that you see in the movies. I am from the segregated area where all the poor people live and go in to work for the tourists every day.”

One of the fondest memories Armando has of Acapulco is being out in the street playing football with the other kids. Although he had no shoes, he felt free.

Childhood

Armando’s mother and father divorced when he was four, and his father left. Armando was raised by a single mother who worked many different jobs, usually as a waitress or a cook. While she was working, Armando would live with neighbors, uncles, or with his grandma. He had a conservative Catholic upbringing. He remembers being six years old and dressing like a priest for a performance [see photo below].

When Armando was twelve, his mother met his step-father. She stopped working and had his little brother. They were still living in poverty, but their life improved significantly.

Discrimination

It became apparent to Armando early on that the school system in Mexico discriminated against poor people. He remembers how the teachers wanted the kids to wear black shoes for class and white shoes for physical education. His family didn’t have money for either color of shoes.

“My mom said, ‘we are going to buy you the shoes, but we are not going to eat.’ That’s why all my family members, cousins, friends, uncles, stopped going to school. We normalize that. It is normal to quit school when you are 10, 11, 12, 13, and then get a job.” 

Above: Armando always wanted rollerblades but couldn’t afford them. His cousins all pitched in and bought him a pair for his birthday.

Film

When Armando was seven, his mom managed to rent a small room, and the first significant new item she bought was a black and white television. Armando remembers getting hooked on films like Casablanca and Gone with the Wind. When he was nine, Armando went to a music festival at the beach where the presenters were all soap opera stars. For the first time, Armando realized how white all of these stars were – even though they portrayed poor people like himself on television. At 12, Armando wanted to see the Lion King so severely that he snuck out of the house and went to the movies by himself. By 14, he had his first job at Walmart – packing people’s groceries into their cars for tips – and while there, stealing movie magazines from the store.

Pretty People

“In my mind, I thought all celebrities were like me, but here I saw that they were blond, blue-eyed, light-skinned people. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe that all the actors I admired on soap operas were white. My cousins were asking for autographs. Then I understood that artists and celebrities are white people – they are pretty people. We are brown and not going to be on TV – we are ugly people.”(audio below)

Armando grew up in a culture where people asked what shade of skin a newborn had. If you married someone with light skin, there was a common expression – “mejorar la raza” (improve the race). Because of this, he never would have dreamed of working in film, although it was his passion. He believed that careers in the arts were only for wealthy people or white people. If he had told someone his dream was to be a filmmaker, they would have thought he was joking.

Above: Armando at 15, being a chambelan – one of the dancers who accompanies the quinceañera girl.

The Other Side

Armando frequently heard talk about going to “the other side”. It became apparent when someone went to the US. Shortly afterward, their family circumstances would improve – better food, clothes, and perhaps an extension on their house.

One day Armando’s stepfather fell sick, and they had to sell their television and VHS player to pay for a doctor and medicine. As soon as he recovered, his stepfather started planning how he would go to “the other side”. The biggest challenge was always finding someone to sponsor you – meaning someone living in the USA who would loan you the money to pay a “coyote” (the person who helps people cross the border in exchange for money) to help you cross the border. His stepfather could have worked for a decade and still not have enough money, but luckily he found someone to loan him the money. He came to the USA in 1998, and while working as a painter, he made enough money to help Armando’s mom and his two siblings cross. 

“There’s a lot of pain in me against my country. My mom says, ‘I was crossing the border walking at night with my three-year-old son, my six-month-old daughter, and the only thing I was thinking was if one of my children died here I’m staying here.’ How can we accept this kind of thinking and normalize it?” (audio below)

Crossing

At first, Armando didn’t want to go to the USA, since he was living with an aunt, receiving money from his parents in America, and going to school. He quickly realized, though, that the money he was receiving from the USA wasn’t going to be sufficient for him to continue his life in Mexico. Armando told his parents he wanted to cross. They found their son a coyote who Armando met near the border in Sonora, Mexico. 

“I was 18 and naive and thought the USA would have their doors open for me. When I was trying to cross, I felt like my innocence was lost. I saw Mexican police take immigrants’ belongings and assault them. I saw indigenous women from Guatemala and Honduras getting raped so they could get a pass. Women with condoms because in their minds, they already knew what was going to happen to them, and they didn’t want to get pregnant.”

Armando remembers sitting on a Mexican freeway near the border and these big trucks driving by throwing empty beer bottles and trash at them, yelling “adios illegals.”

“That moment for me was defining. I don’t ever want to come back to this country. I was happy to leave.” (audio below)

It took many attempts over three weeks to cross the border before Armando was successful. One day the coyote woke him up at six in the morning, warning him that they would be walking all day.

Risking Everything

“I started seeing clothes, backpacks, and bottles of water in the desert. I was picking up the photographs and turned one around. Women were writing to their husbands, ‘don’t forget about us,’ and ‘I hope God is with you.’ I couldn’t believe this was going on. People risk everything, and some of these families will never see their family members again. I know that I am blessed that we made it.”(audio below)

Next, Armando tried to cross with the coyote in a truck, but it broke down in the desert, in the middle of the night. He remembers being so cold he couldn’t sleep, and then there was a point where it wasn’t cold anymore.

“The coyote touched me and said I was hard like ice. He got scared, and he started throwing all the clothes on top of me, and I couldn’t move. I told him, ‘if something happens to me tell my mom.’ That’s the only time in my whole life where I felt like I was going to die. When I started seeing the first light of the day, it felt so beautiful. I knew I was alive. It was one of the best moments of my life.”

The next time Armando tried to cross was with a larger organization of coyotes, and he was in a truck with 20 other people. At one point in the journey, border patrol saw them, but the driver was somehow able to speed away. 

“At some point, it felt smooth, not rough like the desert and I saw that we were on the freeway and I saw a small house and I was like ‘this is the USA!’ I saw a house that looked like a house in the movies.” 

Trigger

When Armando crossed, he wore this green and white shirt, pants, tennis shoes, and an empty backpack. Looking at this shirt, which his mom has kept safe, brings back a lot of memories.

“Today, she pulled it out of the closet, and as soon as I saw it, I broke down. It brought all of those memories that I have been avoiding all of that pain and traumatic experiences. Looking at that shirt reminds me of all the injustices that me, my mom, and family went through to look for a better life. That shirt is a reminder of the life that I don’t want to go back to if I end up deported. I need to keep that shirt to remind me why I came to this country, so we can continue making a better future for others. Education is the only power we have to fight for a change, telling our stories so people can see our humanity. That shirt is painful to look at.” (audio below)

When he finally got across in 2000, his family met him at a McDonald’s where the coyote received money from his uncle. His mom was waiting there, crying. His family warned him before coming that in America, he should forget his goals of going to school and be ready to work. 

Service Industry

“Learn English so you can get a better job and don’t tell anyone about your undocumented status. All of your goals, forget about them.”

Armando’s first job also happened to be at McDonald’s. 

Above: Armando, age 19, after one year of being in the US. He is in their one-bedroom apartment wearing his uniform for the restaurant where he was working as a cook.

Since starting at McDonald’s, Armando has worked in around 20 restaurants. He began as a dishwasher, then was promoted to cook, then to the front of the house, then a server and bartender.

Undocumented

“Even in your social life, you don’t tell anyone. When people invite you out to a bar, you say you can’t go because you don’t have an ID, and you don’t want to use your Mexican ID. Now with my undocumented friends, we laugh about it. I spent ten years lying and trying to fit in.” (audio below)

In 2011, the manager at the restaurant where he worked called him in, saying that his social security number didn’t match his name. Armando told his manager that his social security number was fake. Armando felt humiliated, embarrassed, and scared. He went home devastated and worried about how he was going to pay that month’s rent. Armando couldn’t tell his mom, and the next day Armando put on his uniform as if he was going to work but instead went to the movies. He did this for three days before his mom realized that something was up. In 2013 the same thing happened again at another job – and that was the last straw for him. Armando decided that he had to get more involved in the undocumented movement.

“That letter was the before and after for me to start speaking up and not be in hiding anymore.”

Unafraid

Armando will never forget watching the 2012 movement of undocumented youth on the streets yelling, “Undocumented! Unafraid”! This civil disobedience was inspiring, and then they announced DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals). DACA meant that undocumented children who were brought to the US by their parents could get papers giving the right to remain, work, and study in the country.

Armando didn’t qualify for DACA since he wasn’t in the country before the age of 16, but his brother and sister [see the photo above] did.

Hope

When friends visit, they always ask Armando why he keeps so many documents. He tells them how people in his situation hold on to hope that one day there will be an opportunity to fix their status. When that opportunity comes, Armando wants to be ready.

“People who are documented do not understand. Every piece of paper –  we have got to keep.”

After he joined the movement, Armando quickly discovered undocumented people in California who were going to post-secondary school – it is possible. Armando enrolled in college. When the counselor asked him his major, he hesitated before saying “filmmaking.” He didn’t know how he would tell his family and when he did,

“I got silence. It was like they were laughing at me. ‘We are poor, and being a filmmaker is not possible for you.’”

Queer

Becoming an activist, exposed Armando to a new word – “queer.” For the first time in his life, he realized it wasn’t bad or wrong – it was just how he felt.

 “I had been hiding my identity as a gay person – it added another layer – undocumented and gay. Hiding from society and your family is common- especially in the Latino community, where it is not okay to be gay.”

In the summer of 2015, Armando fell into a deep depression. His mother, a conservative Christian, told Armando how hard it was for her to accept him being gay. Armando wasn’t sure if his life was worth continuing. Two things key things happened in Armando’s life that helped him go on. He saw activists proclaiming that they were undocumented, unafraid, queer, and unashamed. Around that same time, a friend asked Armando if he had watched the web series Awkward Black Girl by Issa Rae. Armando checked it out, and it was the inspiration he needed to go on. He wanted to tell his story like she does and break down stereotypes.

“It brought me back to life. It’s amazing the power that a filmmaker can have on people. That changed my life, and I started embracing my identity and who I was.”

Undocumented Tales

Armando began writing about being undocumented – about having to lie to people about not having an ID or Social Security number or driver’s license. He wrote about being gay and what it was like having his mom ask him about girlfriends or his family asking when he was getting married. Out of this writing, he came up with the idea for the web series Undocumented Tales.

“Writing is very healing for me, and putting those stories on the screen is healing for others. Maybe we have obstacles, but we have to embrace what we have.” 

He saw how most TV characters are white and straight, and the need for a series with people of color and people from the LGBTQ+ community.

“The media told me my whole life that I could not be the lead character.”

Armando created a lead character based on his story – undocumented, queer, poorly educated, and working as a busboy in a restaurant. He remembers the response after the premiere of the show and someone commenting, “That’s me”! People from his community felt represented. Armando’s web series was saying to other undocumented or queer people: “You are on the screen, and you matter.”

“I just want all the undocumented people to come to LA. We have privileges here. We have drivers’ licenses and identification cards and health care. It is the most friendly city for undocumented people, and I am aware of that. We have all the cultures here, and they make the city rich.”

Audio: Armando’s first trip to Charlotte and the fear he felt surrounded by white people

Battle on Two Fronts

Armando fights a battle on two fronts – homophobia from the Latino community, and racism from some white Americans. He is aware that he may never see the changes that he wants to happen. However, he is okay just making his small contribution so that that future generations will benefit.

“Hatred is growing in this country like a snowball and Trump is just pushing the ball. Hopefully, it doesn’t crash and instead it dissolves along the way.” (audio below)

Despite his struggles, and feeling like his community is continually marginalized, Armando tries to remain positive.

“They don’t see the humanity in us. That frustrates me. I’m just going to continue speaking up about my experiences. I’m not afraid anymore. I want to show that despite all the barriers – we continue on, and we are beautiful. Brown is beautiful.” 

#FINDINGAMERICAN

To receive updates on the book release and exhibition of “Finding American: Stories of Immigration from all 50 States” please subscribe here. This project is a labor of love and passion. If you would like to support its continuation, it would be greatly appreciated!

© Photos and text by Colin Boyd Shafer | Edited by Janice May & Kate Kamo McHugh. Quotes edited for clarity and brevity.