LGBT

Phanat’s Immigration Story – Phanat Nikhom Refugee Camp, Thailand to New Iberia, Louisiana

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Phanat’s parents met in Laos during the 1970s. They were both working for a French colonial family – Phanat’s mother was their servant, and his father was their security guard. After the Vietnam War, they fled from Laos to Thailand, out of fear of political persecution. His father left first, crossing the Mekong river at night, and his mother followed weeks later. 

Phanat Nikhom Refugee Camp

They had Phanat’s brother, sister, and then in 1981, Phanat was born in the Phanat Nikhom Refugee Camp. Six months before his birth, his parents’ resettlement to the US was approved. The family would be going to Louisiana, where Catholic organizations were helping resettle refugees, and the state had an abundance of available low-wage jobs. 

Louisiana

The family arrived in New Iberia in 1983, the largest city in Louisiana’s Iberia Parish. They lived in a three-bedroom trailer with a total of 11 people from three different families.

“We didn’t have a bed to sleep on. My mom found a mattress on the side of the road and pulled it into the trailer.” (audio below)

Survival for Phanat’s parents in this new country with three children and no money was hard. Their first job was sorting potatoes into cans and making $1.80 per hour. They also peeled crawfish and shucked oysters. He remembers his family members always smelling like seafood.

Everyone in their family had an economic function.

“If you existed and you were eating, you needed to do something.” 

Most of Phanat’s life has been within a three-block radius of New Iberia. Growing up, Phanat felt like he was living simultaneously in two different worlds; no one at home would be able to explain the “American” things he was learning at school, and no one at school understood his culture at home. 

“I had to figure a lot out on my own, since I spoke a different language, had different food, and different music. I grew up having to be very adaptable to every situation.” (audio below)

Above: Wat Thammarattanaram Buddhist Temple in Iberia Parish

Lao Community

Many families from Iberia Parish’s Lao community that arrived in the 1970s and 1980s have had similar experiences to Phanat’s. The region had federal training programs that targeted immigrant men to work in the oil fields and women in the textile industry. Because many of these immigrant families had dual-income households, they quickly elevated to a higher socioeconomic position within the community. This success, in turn, led to a lot of xenophobia and resentment from locals.

“Americans were used to a certain way of going about work. These immigrants came in, worked hard, did not take breaks, and that was threatening.” 

Above: The neighborhood streets surrounding Wat Thammarattanaram Buddhist Temple have Lao names

The Lao community has been somewhat insular and isolated in Iberia Parish – forming their own community ties to sustain their customs and traditions. Phanat believes the downside is that they have missed out on participation in local government and culture. As Phanat grew older he started to see himself as a connector between the Laos community and the other Louisianans.

Asia Market

Phanat’s mother always had an entrepreneurial spirit. She quit school after second grade in Laos to grow and sell vegetables at the market. After arriving in Louisiana and working in factories, she longed for a job where she could work for herself. She saw how many other Asian people were coming in Iberia Parish and looking for commodities they missed from Asia. Phanat’s mother opened her market in 1985, and offered many things from Asian movies to staple foods like rice, to small loans to help others start their own small businesses. She also started an urban garden in their backyard, growing Asian produce to sell at the store.

“The store became a mecca of Southeast Asian culture. There was an economy that was independent of the mainstream economy that was built in the Asian community.” (audio below)

Phanat has always had a lot of creative energy, and being the youngest child allowed him some space to explore this side. His brother, as the oldest boy, had obligations to provide for the family, whereas Phanat had the “freedom to dream wildly.” (audio below)

When it came time for university, Phanat decided to become an architect. He thought it was a career that would “balance the pragmatic side of his Asian roots and his creative side.” He went on to study at the University of Louisiana and then went to Columbia University in New York City to study Urban Design. Phanat knows he could have gone anywhere in the world with his degrees, but he wanted to move back to New Iberia and help return the city to its vibrant past.

Above: A painting of Bunk Johnson, Louisiana’s prominent jazz trumpeter, on the side of Phanat’s Da Berry Fresh Market.

“I was learning all these great things, but my mind always went back to New Iberia. Why couldn’t this happen in New Iberia – wonderful architecture or a beautiful park?”

Audio: Phanat discussing New Iberia’s vibrant past and his decision to return to help revitalize the area

Returning Home

After a decade of being away, Phanat returned to New Iberia in 2010. Within a year, he started Envision da Berry, an organization focused on local creative and artistic activities that open dialogue on how best to improve the cultural and economic development within Iberia Parish. He targeted five core areas to improve – art, culture, economy, transportation, and health and wellness. 

“I knew I had minimal resources, but I could get paint and do something impactful and get people to have conversations.”

His first local art installation in 2011 was a temporary public space piece – ‘tactical urbanism.’ He collected a group of residents, picked a street, put up planters, and installed street furniture [see his plan in the above photo].

“Let’s imagine our neighborhood the way we want to see it in a few years, but do it in a temporary low budget way. My art is ephemeral, very in the moment. It takes into consideration where the community is at. It pulls from the community in the way that it manifests itself – whether through PVC pipes, or me singing in a pop-up gay show tunes bar.”

Community Garden

Phanat could see the need for fresh produce in the community – a community that lacked healthy food options. In 2013 he expanded on the garden his mother had started when he was a little boy, and the Iberia Community Garden Co-Op was born. It is a community-supported urban food farm focused on pesticide-free, bio-dynamic, and space-intensive food growing practices.

“The garden has been this amazing thing in this community. It has become an obsession of mine and from it have found such peace and serenity.”

Above: A small community garden Phanat built in the middle of public housing

Aside from the community garden, Phanat has his personal garden, where he retreats for meditation and hopes to spend more time there in the future. He found himself involved in too many projects, stressed, and unable to express himself creatively. This garden is a place where he has complete control. 

“I think gardening is communion with nature. When you plant a seed in the ground you can’t rush that. You can’t rush a pepper plant growing. What I do with my meditation is to get my mind to move at the same pace as nature. At harmony, at peace with everything in the universe.” (audio below)

Brother

Phanat and his older brother Saysane live together in the old family house. A year before Phanat moved back to New Iberia, his brother’s kidneys were failing, so he had to go on dialysis. He is on a waitlist for a new kidney. If he doesn’t get an organ soon, Phanat plans on giving him his. 

Growing up, his brother played all kinds of sports, and he always looked very healthy. However, his brother, like many people in the community, never ate healthily. He would eat the same things that so many people in this community eat that cause high blood pressure, heart disease, and diabetes. Phanat mentions how Louisiana is ranked 49th in terms of the health of the state’s population.

“It is the poor eating habits of poor people. – a box of fried chicken and a gallon of soda. When I drop him off at dialysis treatment, the majority of people there are poor black people. This is why I see the importance of the garden and our effort to bring fresh produce to the community.”

Building Bridges

When Phanat moved back to New Iberia, he knew that he was going to be true to himself as a socially liberal, progressive, gay, Lao Buddhist immigrant. He also expected himself to be at odds with the greater community, which is predominantly African American and either Catholic or Baptist. 

As time went on, Phanat built up trust with the community. In 2018 he got a call from the minister at the Star Pilgrim Baptist Church, a 149-year-old African American church. He told Phanat that the church would like to honor him with the “Pacesetter’s Award” as part of their black history program. Phanat responded, ‘You do know I’m gay, Asian and Buddhist, right?’

 “I never would have thought that an African American Baptist church would honor me with anything!” (audio below)

Receiving this award was one of Phanat’s proudest moments. He saw it as representative of a paradigm shift happening in the community, celebrating people no matter where they are from, how they pray or who they love.

Fresh Market

Phanat’s most recent project in New Iberia is Da Berry Fresh Market, which opened in 2017. It’s a combination of a fresh produce market and a job training program for the local community. At the market, you can find fresh produce from the community gardens. 

Phanat has passed the torch of managing the market to Carl, a young man from Mississippi. Carl used to work full-time in the oil fields while attending college at night. His diet was horrible. One day an elder mentioned to Carl that he wasn’t taking care of himself, and that planted a seed. Since then, Carl stopped drinking soda, eating candy, and getting fast food. He’s fully invested in being healthy – growing his own plants, buying organic, and exercising regularly.  

“I never would have imagined that my life would have changed that much from my diet.”

Carl feels more spiritually connected – like Da Berry Fresh Market is part of his calling. He respects Phanat for starting it and sharing his knowledge. Carl thinks the local African American community is kept in a “condition of disease” from the unhealthy food they eat. He hopes the market can help change this by creating, “a community, surrounded by people of African American descent who all learn and heal together.” (audio below)

Above: A collection of articles written about Phanat’s work in Iberia Parish

Most of the work Phanat has been doing since moving back to New Iberia in 2010 has been for free. He has been widely recognized for all of his accomplishments, but as he says, “all these awards don’t come with a check!”

Above: Phanat after a meal at Brenda’s Diner, a favorite local restaurant.

Future

When Phanat returned to New Iberia, he committed to a “ten-year plan” to improve the community. It’s incredible how much Phanat has done since returning. As the decade comes to a close, Phanat wants to take more time for himself and spend more time on his personal garden. It is clear that no matter what Phanat does in the future, it will be creative and have a positive effect on New Iberia’s community.

*Update: Phanat’s brother Saysane passed away on April 7th, 2020 after a long fight with kidney disease, and complications from a very rare blood cell condition.

#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 are 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.