Mexico

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.

Tano’s Immigration Story – Mexico City, Mexico to Liberal, Kansas

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Childhood

Tano (Estanislao) was born in Mexico City. His father was a civil engineer, and the family lived in many different parts of Mexico for his work. When Tano was six, the family moved to Venezuela, where they lived for a few years. This new home allowed Tano to meet people from many different parts of the world. Without other relatives closeby, Tano’s bond with his brother grew very strong. Today Tano considers his brother his best friend. 

Their father, Estanislao Sr., was a hard worker and instilled a strong work ethic in Tano and his brother.

“My dad was everything. He was my role model. He always showed me the right thing.”

Every summer Estanislao Sr. had his sons work long days on the family farm. At five in the morning, they would be out watering trees, cutting alfalfa, and feeding the animals. Tano also spent a significant amount of his childhood living with his grandmother in Mexico City. When Tano was eight, he was sent to live with grandma to finish elementary school, and then again when he was accepted to the same all-boys Catholic high school his father attended.

American Football

The first time Tano saw American football was when a game was televised following his cartoons. He remembers thinking he would like to play the sport someday. From an early age, Tano was large compared to most Mexicans, so football seemed like a good sport to try. He started playing defensive end at age 17. 

Tano knew that his father wouldn’t approve, fearing it would interfere with his studies, so for the first two years he didn’t tell him. If his father asked where a particular bruise came from, Tano would say to him that it was from one of the cows. 

When Tano received the rookie of the year award, a local radio station wanted to do an interview. Tano didn’t want his father to find out, so he told him he was going out to study with a friend. Still, his dad found out about the interview and recorded it on a cassette. When Tano came home, he handed him the recording. Tano will never forget the first game his father came to watch, and how he tried to play his best. He remembers his dad telling him after the game, “If all of these players had a real job, Mexico would be different.”’  

His father’s second wife revealed to Tano recently that when a sports magazine featured Tano, his father actually carried that article around and showed it to everybody. It meant a lot to Tano to know that his father was proud, even if he hid it. (audio below)

Meeting Paty

Tano went to a friend’s wedding in Cuernavaca, Mexico. The wedding started at noon, and by midnight he had met his future wife, Paty. The following day the two of them went out and Paty told him that she has multiple sclerosis. He didn’t know what that was, but he said he didn’t have a problem with it.

“When we started dating, she said, ‘you need to go with me to see a specialist, so you know what you are dealing with.’ The specialist was really clear. I was in shock and like, ‘I don’t know if I want to do this.’ We left the doctor’s office and she said ‘let’s go drink coffee’. I said, ‘no, I want to go home,’ and she said, ‘you owe me this.’ I’m glad she said that, or else we wouldn’t be here. We went to drink coffee, started talking about it, and I thought about how if I was sick, I would love someone to give me the opportunity. I cannot picture my life without her.” (audio below)

When Tano proposed to Paty, he was working as a prefect at school. Paty said the answer was “no” unless he got a better job. He started looking, and he found one in the swine business, which was the animal he promised his dad he would never work with. 

Tano spent a lot of time growing up on his grandpa’s farm, about five hours from Mexico City. He had lots of animals, and it was there where Tano first started dreaming of becoming a veterinarian and taking care of animals. Pigs, in particular, were important to the family. Trucks would drive up to the farm to pick up the pigs, and Tano had to help load them. But he will never forget the time a pig bit him – 45 stitches – and the doctor said he would be lucky if he walks again. Luckily he recovered, but he told his dad, “I’m not going to work with pigs ever in my life.”

Tano didn’t know at the time that he would end up studying to become a veterinarian, and his career would involve pigs.

Adoption

After marrying, Tano and Paty decided to adopt. The process in Mexico requires a lot of time, paperwork, and waiting for a phone call. Tano will never forget when Paty called and said, “You are going to be a dad!” Tano loves how his daughter sleeps the same way as Paty. People are often afraid to ask about adoption, but Tano and Paty aren’t shy about it. Their kids have always known they were adopted. (audio below)

Tano and Paty are both very proud of their children. His advice to other couples thinking of adopting:

“They are your own kids, and you need to feel that way. It is not about who is the biological father; it is about who raises the kid. Don’t care about what your relatives will say. It is about what you and your partner feel.”

One thing he has tried hard to teach his children is to finish what you start no matter what. 

“We live in a culture of quitters. If you start, you finish.” (audio below)

United States

Tano grew up thinking the United States is where candies come from and a place where everyone is successful. Paty, who is of French ancestry but born in Mexico City, was familiar with the United States as her parents always vacationed in the US and owned a house in Texas. Paty had spent one year at a boarding school in Texas to learn English. 

After one year of marriage, Paty went to visit her sister in Texas. When she returned to Mexico, she told Tano they needed to move to the United States. Paty felt like Mexico was getting more and more dangerous, and she was increasingly concerned about kidnappings. She wanted to raise her children in a place where they could feel safe.

The company Tano was working for, the world’s second-largest pork producer had a central office in the USA, and he found out they were hiring. In 2002, the whole family moved to Kansas. He started as a manager, but his goal was to be in upper management. He heard those jobs were only for Americans, but Tano became upper management four years later. Tano is used to defying the odds.

“People have told me my whole life, ‘don’t do it, it is not going to happen.’ I guess I don’t listen.”

While there, he created the company’s international recruitment program, figuring out ways to bring employees from Mexico to work in the US on the NAFTA trade visa. In his last year at the company, Tano facilitated the hiring of 480 Mexicans.

Kansas

Moving to the USA felt like a vacation at first for Tano and Paty. After the first two weeks, when he started working, he thought, “Oh, we aren’t in Kansas anymore – but we are!” Paty was used to having a housekeeper in Mexico.

“I missed having a maid! I didn’t know how to clean, so I learned how to clean here. This is the American dream, I guess?”

Paty was a private school teacher in Mexico, but couldn’t work legally in the US when they first arrived, so she looked after their son, who was four and their daughter, who was two. Tano’s salary wasn’t enough to live on, so Paty started babysitting other children in those first years. 

Paty thinks it is essential for immigrants to adapt quickly to the new culture.

“We moved to a new country, so we have to adapt to the culture. Don’t expect the country you moved to, to adapt to you. Even if you love your culture, don’t get rid of it, but you are in a new country.”

Work

Paty moved from babysitting to being a teacher’s aid and then went back to university. Eventually, in 2017 at the age of 49, she received her US teaching degree. She now has her own fourth-grade class at the local public school.

“The moment I put my foot down in the school, I knew I was back in my element.”

Paty thinks the Hispanic students in her class benefit from having a teacher who is bilingual and bicultural. In the beginning, the white children in her class were difficult – making fun of her accent. Cleverly, she came up with a creative way to prove to them that everyone has an accent, and there is nothing wrong with that. (audio below)

Paty describes Kansas as windy, mountainless, treeless, and weather that is either really cold or really hot. The demographic of the population is different than what Paty expected with many Spanish speakers. The county in which they live is approximately 75% Hispanic, with many being second or third-generation Americans. Most of the people living around them work in the nearby meat processing plants. 

Tano is aware of the difficulties of working in the meat processing industry. When he started his recruitment job, he made a point to go into the plant and see how it all works.

“I don’t know how these people do it. I gained a lot of respect for people doing these kinds of jobs. Ninety percent of the people at the plants are Hispanic.”

Currently, Tano works for a small family-owned pork company with 150 employees. They are antibiotic-free, hormone-free, and targeting the organic market, instead of trying to compete with the big companies. Tano’s job is to develop their business and find producers to raise pigs. He visits farms all over the country, flying over one hundred times a year. Tano has grown to love pigs, emphasizing how smart and clean pigs are. He feels satisfied working for a company that cares about these animals.

“To be honest, working for this company was my opportunity to give back to the pigs. Without these animals, I wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t have this house. Now it is more humane, they can move, and are antibiotic, hormone-free. It’s better for the animal.” (audio below)

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Paty’s health has benefited from being in the United States. There is a familiarity with multiple sclerosis in the US that doesn’t exist in Mexico. She has had access to knowledgeable doctors and a culture that understands her particular situation. 

Still, Paty wishes her children could grow up going to their grandparents every weekend as she did. Not having extended family around them is hard. Ultimately Tano says they are “living the dream” at the moment.

Dreams

They have a beautiful house with a pool and a golf cart outside. His wife, his kids, and he are all healthy. 

“I love what I’m doing, and they pay me for that! I’m like a professional athlete!”

One of Tano’s dreams is to see his kids graduate from college. Their son studies neurological science and is on a running scholarship. Their daughter is going to university on a golf scholarship. Tano predicts that his son is going to be a lawyer and his daughter, a chef. Their dog Rita, who they got at the shelter, continues to be “the princess of the house”.

Tano’s dream for the future is to one day spoil his grandkids, retire, and play lots of golf.  He misses playing football but is happy being a golfer now. He loves the challenge and how it releases stress.

“Everybody plays golf here, and I just love it.”

When asked if he has any advice for young couples, Tano said: 

“Patience and lots of communication. Do not expect any changes. When we get older our defects will be more pronounced. Learn to love the things you don’t like about your partner.” (audio below)

In 2018 after living in the United States for 15 years, they became American citizens, but Tano will always be Mexican.

“I was born Mexican, raised Mexican, and I will die Mexican.”

#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 & Janice May. Quotes are edited for clarity and brevity.

Abi’s Immigration Story – Mexico City, Mexico to New Albany, Mississippi

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Mexico

“I don’t have many memories of Mexico.”

Abi’s memories of life in Mexico are vague – it’s hard to tell what is a memory and what is from the stories her mom has told her. She knows they were poor, and eating from the street vendors was a luxury. This one lady would always come by on a bicycle selling tamales and hot chocolate. Abi would run out to her. The lady would have a huge smile and she never expected Abi to pay her anything – she could see that Abi was poor and hungry. That woman’s kindness, Abi has never forgotten, and it inspired her to want to do good for others too. (audio below)

Abi remembers how close-knit her family was in Mexico and has memories from the day they left. It had been almost two years since they last saw Abi’s father, who was already in the US. Leaving felt spontaneous – Abi had no idea her last day in Mexico, was her last day. She left wearing a black Bart Simpson backpack, with a cardigan, a coloring book, and crayons inside. (audio below)

Leaving

She remembers how sad leaving Mexico was for her mom. Abi was put on a bus which took her close to the border, then she got in the van of her mom’s friend, and this woman brought Abi across the border, saying Abi was one of her daughters. (audio below)

Abi’s mom tried to cross on her own and got caught and sent back to Mexico by border patrol the first time. This meant that Abi, four years old, had to stay two weeks in a hotel room with this stranger who crossed her and her own three kids. Abi remembers the smell of cigarettes and combing the lice from the children’s hair. For these two weeks, her parents didn’t know where Abi was and they were “freaking out”. Then one day, the woman told Abi to get dressed and get in the van. That was the day Abi finally got to see her dad for the first time in almost two years. Three weeks later, her mom crossed the border without getting caught and met up with them.

They stayed in Colorado for a few months, where an aunt was living. Adjusting to the United States was hard for Abi’s mom, and job opportunities were scarce. An uncle had a construction business down in Mississippi, so they headed there to try it out. Abi’s dad was a welder in Mexico, but in America, he worked in construction and for a furniture business. Her mom, the daughter of a seamstress, had always worked office jobs in Mexico. She always said she would never sew like her mom did but a factory in Mississippi was hiring, and she has been sewing for them ever since. Both of Abi’s parents had to work night shifts. 

Abi’s mom, in particular, has endured a lot being away from her family.

“To be able to fight as hard as my mom has to raise my sister and me is incredible. We are family people, and she didn’t have support.”

Adapting

It wasn’t easy for Abi to adapt to school in Mississippi. She started kindergarten in New Albany, and only three other Hispanic families had kids at that school. She always felt like she was bringing weird-smelling foods or weird-looking drinks to school.

“We don’t stop being Mexicans just because we moved to a different country. It was hard to find friends that wouldn’t look at you weird. It’s really close-minded here. The Hispanic community is large now, but back then, it was small, so we were ‘foreigners.’”

There also wasn’t an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher at her school to help her.

“I remember for two years, all they did was stick us Hispanics in a room and let us draw on the board.”

But Abi will never forget one teacher, Ms. Tammy Hill, who would try her best to help despite the language barrier. It was because of Ms. Hill that she learned English in nine months. (audio below)

Abi always felt excluded due to religious differences. Most of the people in this part of Mississippi are Baptists, whereas her family is Catholic. She felt like people were always asking her questions about the bible, and she couldn’t believe they do “bible drills”. (audio below)

Community

“I’ve always been a loner.”

Her mom thought Abi needed friends and signed her up for Girl Scouts. The leader, Miss Kareen, was the first white person Abi remembers truly accepting her and the other Hispanic kids. Her first friends, her age, were Miss Kareen’s daughter and niece.

“They were the first American family that accepted us for who we were. They didn’t question why we weren’t speaking English or why we couldn’t afford this or that. Girl Scouts will always hold a special place in my heart. It gave me the confidence I never had as a kid. We were all the weird kids, and we bonded over our weirdness.” (audio below)

Stokes is a general store off the highway that’s been around for many years. It’s where Abi’s parents would go to cash their work checks. They couldn’t cash them at most places without ID, but Mr. Stokes would cash them. He asked her family what they missed from home, and they said tortillas.

“There was nowhere here that you could find tortillas. Mr. Stokes said ‘give me a list,’ and he would order Mexican products to bring into the store. He was one of the few people who supported immigrants in this community. He always told me I could take one candy that I wanted when my parents cashed their checks.” (audio below)

Like Miss Kareen, Mr. Stokes, who passed away recently, treated Abi’s family with respect and kindness.

Dreams

From an early age, Abi knew she wanted to be a medical surgeon. With her high school counselor’s help, she took all the classes she would need to get accepted, and made excellent grades by “working [her] butt off.” It was two months before she graduated high school in 2013, and many universities had sent her letters of acceptance (including her dream university, Stanford), when Abi came to realize that because she didn’t have a social insurance number, so she wouldn’t qualify for any scholarships. Abi wasn’t going to be able to afford university, which was one of the hardest realizations she has ever had.

“You spend your entire senior year planning out your life and I wanted to go to Stanford so bad. That’s all I ever talked about.”

She settled for community college, and because she was undocumented, she was paying out-of-state tuition. After the first semester, she dropped out.

“I couldn’t get it out of my mind the fact that I had failed myself.” (audio below)

Medical school wasn’t in the cards for Abi. She thought about studying criminal science, and then joining the police force – and then found out she couldn’t do that since she wasn’t a US citizen.

“I went into a depressed state. I always knew something was off about me but I used to be one of those people who said, ‘just think happy thoughts, and it will go away.’”

She didn’t know what to do with her life, felt very alone, and was hopping from job to job. Then she met her partner, he helped her a lot, and she started to see “the light at the end of the tunnel.”

Grandma

If there is one person who has inspired Abi the most, it would be her grandma. She was orphaned at a young age, married young to an abusive husband, and got divorced (which was highly unusual at the time).

“My grandma is the epitome of strength and resilience. She put all her kids through school as a single mother. She would find ways to have fun and never focus on the negative.” (audio below)

When Abi left Mexico she thought she would never see her grandma again. Luckily, one decade after she arrived in the US, her grandma got a tourist visa to come to Mississippi and attend Abi’s graduation. Her grandma makes a green mole from scratch and snuck in some spices to make sure Abi got to eat her favorite dish.

“When I see her, it is like we haven’t missed a day. She’s just the light in my world. If I can be half the woman she is I’m doing something good. She forgets a lot of things because of her age, but she never forgets someone’s birthday.”

Although Abi couldn’t go to medical school, she still managed to find employment in the medical field. It started with a job in 2014 at the hospital doing newborn photography. Finding a passion and love for photography helped her get out of her depression. 

After the hospital, she started working at a dental office. Two Italian American dentist twins, Ronnie and Donnie, really believed in her.

“I didn’t know anything about being a dental assistant, and they hired me.”

Future

Abi feels like she is at a bit of a fork in the road and isn’t exactly sure what she is going to do next. She’d like to go to dental school, ideally at Ole Miss.

Even though Abi’s been in Mississippi for almost two decades, the fact that she isn’t from there is something she is reminded of regularly.

“To me, this is my home. New Albany is the first place I made my memories in the US. It doesn’t matter how excluded they make me feel; this is always going to be my home.”

Still, Abi believes that her generation is changing a lot of things here and thinks the future is bright.

“Here in Mississippi, we need to learn how to accept immigrants. We came here because we wanted a better life. If Mississippian people were to open up their doors and listen to our stories, they could start to understand that we aren’t here to invade or take jobs. We are all just people, and we are trying to make life happen for us too. I hope and pray that everyone learns to respect others, who may not look alike, sound alike, or pray alike. We are in the “bible belt,” and if we really are Christians, then we need to act like it. Immigrants should be included.” (audio below)

Abi hopes more people like herself will share their stories.

“I don’t think my story is particularly special from anyone else that has come to the United States to try and make a new life.”

Abi also thinks too many people either try to forget that they came from somewhere else. She doesn’t want to forget her roots.

“Even though I was four years old when I came here, Mexico is still a part of who I am.”

#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.

Kakiko’s Immigration Story – Autlán, Mexico to Anchorage, Alaska

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Childhood

Kakiko and his two siblings grew up in Autlán, a small Mexican town in an agricultural valley. As a child, he regularly played with his cousins, but then they migrated north. When he was a teen, his mom and dad divorced, and his dad, like his cousins, migrated north too. Their migrations had a significant effect on Kakiko’s happiness. He found that physical activities like biking and mountain climbing could distract him from life’s worries.

Kakiko

At birth, Kakiko was named Jose Ricardo. As a child, he struggled at having people understand his name, and when he told them “Ricardito”, for some reason, they heard “Kakiko” – so that name stuck. In Alaska, people know him as Kakiko and think it’s his birth name.

Mother

Kakiko’s mother was a school teacher and she also ran a shoe store. When he left his hometown for college, his mother’s best friend gave Kakiko this photo [above], and he takes it with him every time he moves somewhere new.

“I have a really strong connection with my mom. I was a big support for her, and she came to me with any problem she had. When I moved, it was a big deal for her – although she was happy that I was doing what I wanted to do, she was also sad that she was going to be so far from me.”

 Mountaineering

“I remember being a kid and going to climb a mountain with cousins. I wanted to go to the peak, but they said it was too dangerous. That’s when I was like, ‘Why can’t I climb mountains?’ That started my ‘climbing-mountain bug.’”

In high school, Kakiko made friends with other people who like the outdoors and got really into mountain biking. Kakiko’s first trip to the United States was in 2003 to visit a biking friend who had moved to the East Coast.

Kakiko moved from his town to Guadalajara to study electronic engineering at university. While there, Kakiko joined the Alpine Club: Club Alpino De Instituto De Ciencias, which was started by a priest who loved to climb mountains. Older experienced mountain climbers in the club impart knowledge and skills to the younger generation, and together they climbed challenging mountains.

Dreams

Kakiko always dreamed of going to Alaska to climb Denali, and in 2005 he fulfilled this dream – an experience that left him longing to return. Kakiko loved the mountains and the snow, and he was very impressed with how the United States manages its resources through its national parks. 

After graduating in 2006, the Alpine Club did a massive road trip from Guadalajara, through Canada and into Alaska. They drove during the night and went sightseeing during the day.

“It was a wakeup call. I really wanted to be up north. The more north we drove, the friendlier people were.” 

Desk Job

Kakiko tried working in electronic manufacturing for five years in Mexico. The whole five years he dreamed of moving to Alaska and climbing. Friends he used to climb always asked him when he was leaving. Girlfriends he had at that time, knew that moving to Alaska was always on his mind. He became sick of his stressful job and asked his boss to fire him, hoping to get some severance. He didn’t, so Kakiko kept working.

Moving to Alaska

Finally, in 2010, at age 27, a Mexican consulate opened in Alaska and was looking for someone good with computers, so Kakiko applied. They were surprised that he wanted to move to Alaska and hired him.

“I really like the snow. I don’t know why I like to climb mountains? It’s like a suffer-fest but it’s really appealing. I feel safe and more stable there.” (audio below)

Kakiko chose to get a tattoo of the snow – a symbol of both his inspiration and his passion. He shared his idea of snowflakes combined with a person snowboarding through snowy trees with an artist in Guadalajara who did the tattoo.

“It’s funny because a lot of people ask me, ‘Where did you get the snowflakes?’, and I’m like, ‘a guy in Mexico did it.” (audio below)

Adjusting

Kakiko found the formal work environment at the Mexican consulate in Alaska challenging. It was strange to be working for a government he wasn’t in favor of while growing up.

“It required a big change of mentality. I’m an idealistic person, and I try to follow my ideals. If I don’t like something, I try to change it.”

He found the process of adapting to this new culture to be an adventure, but hard lacking friends and English skills. Before arriving in Alaska, Kakiko thought he was proficient in English, but when he tried to speak with people after arriving, that wasn’t the case. Working at the Mexican consulate and speaking Spanish all day didn’t help Kakiko in learning English.

“It wasn’t until I started skiing, snowboarding, dating people, and socializing more with native speakers, that I became more comfortable with speaking English. I still don’t feel entirely comfortable, but I’m getting there.” 

Assumptions

A lot of people don’t understand what life in Alaska is like.

“There are people who think I live in an igloo or ride polar bears to work. Everything is extreme up here – the weather changes a lot, people change a lot, accidents can be really extreme too. Everybody thinks I moved up here and I’m living the dream. No. I still have personal problems, life situation problems – I am just living in a colder place. It’s still tough; I still have to work a lot, get sick, worry about bills and taxes.”

Since 2015, when he got his first green card and left his job at the consulate, Kakiko has been doing seasonal work so he can have the summers off to explore the Alaskan Range. He is working three jobs: bartending at one restaurant, bussing tables at another, and working in the office at the Alaska Avalanche School which provides certification in avalanche safety.

Knowing little about avalanches before moving to Alaska – Kakiko has seen them while driving, skiing, and climbing the Alaskan Range.

“It’s not just playing in the snow, so I need to be aware. I try to be as safe as possible.”

Loss

Kakiko and his friend Daniel started climbing together at Club Alpino De Instituto De Ciencias, and together in 2006, they climbed Wyoming’s Grand Teton. Daniel’s skills progressed rapidly. According to Kakiko, he became “the best complete climber in Mexico in the last 20 years. He was a great alpinist, strong rock climber and a great human being, who was following his passions”.  In 2012 Daniel and another friend came to Alaska to climb Denali. Kakiko hosted them and got a celebratory beer with them when they finished. “They gave me this photo [above] of them getting to the summit. I always keep it with me.”

In the summer of 2018, Daniel came to climb the Cassian Ridge in Denali. Kakiko saw him in the 14th camp, and when he got sick, Kakiko gave him some medicine. That was the last time he saw Daniel.

“I got the news that he died in a rappel in Artisan Ratu Mountain in Peru. They were rappelling, and a serac fell from the mountain and hit him. He was a really good friend of mine.” (audio below)

Mexico

“It’s a tradition in climbing that you mark your gear with something so when you climb with other people, and the gear mixes, you know what gear is yours. I put three tapes on my gear – the colors of the Mexican flag [photo above].” 

Kakiko misses Mexico’s food, his close circle of friends, and his mom. She came once to visit in 2011, but “she never came back because it’s too cold for her.” Kakiko has seen her a few times since then in warm California. 

“I always try to uphold the stereotype that people have over here. I have really dry humor. The wrestling culture is fun in Mexico. Everybody thinks that all wrestling in México is like ‘Nacho Libre.’ I try to exaggerate sometimes, so I keep a wrestling mask around. I find it funny.” (audio below)

Kakiko keeps this necklace [above] he bought from an indigenous community in Mexico with him in Alaska, a place where he feels like the indigenous people have a stronger voice.  

“I feel like some of the art and the native cultures in Mexico are being isolated. When I moved up here, the native communities are stronger, and they fight for their rights and culture. It would be a highlight for Mexico to keep those cultures alive.” (audio below)

Immigration

Kakiko wishes more people understood how complicated the process is to immigrate to the US, in particular, Alaska.

“It takes a lot of time and effort if you want to do things correctly. When you try to get jobs, it’s really hard. In a place like Alaska, the priority is the locals, and if you are a minority, it’s harder to find jobs.” 

Since the 2016 election, Kakiko has noticed when it comes to the bureaucracy around immigration, “everything is taking longer, and they are making it harder.”

“I started my renewal process for my green card two years ago, and it’s taking a lot of time and effort to get it. I’m still getting letters and extensions and more requests for more evidence and all of that.”

Kakiko’s first green card came through his previous marriage. The immigration officials now want him to prove that the marriage was legitimate – and since they didn’t have any kids or a house, that is proving complicated.

“If you want to do things ‘the right way’, you can spend a lot of time doing that. I have been here for eight years, and I don’t feel a lot of stability in my life. It’s unstable, and you have to plan your life accordingly. Try to move forward, but you don’t know what’s going to happen.” (audio below)

Future

In the future, Kakiko wants to become an American citizen, join the park service to train others, do search-and-rescues, and help preserve Alaska’s natural beauty. When he isn’t working, Kakiko would like to be outdoors in the mountains, guiding others.

#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.

Juan’s Immigration Story – Tepic, Mexico to Mobile, Alabama

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Streets of Tepic

Juan grew up with 12 brothers and sisters in the large city of Tepic in western Mexico. Since the age of five, he worked on the streets – something that seemed reasonable to him at the time. Now that Juan has kids of his own in America, he often reflects on how different his childhood was from theirs.

When Juan worked on the streets as a child, he sold jello, bread, donuts, carried luggage, and shined shoes. Tips were the only form of payment he got to take home.

“Most of my recollections of my childhood are of work.”


Audio: Juan explaining to his daughter how he used to shine shoes

Parents

Juan’s parents were teenagers when they married. Although they were opposites – his mother sweet and caring and his father a “strong macho Mexican male”- they always stuck together.

“Her life was us – her children. She always greeted us at the door and never went to sleep until everyone was inside. We knew she would be there waiting for us.”

Audio: Juan telling a story representative of his mother’s love

Juan’s father made money by smoking fish. At five in the morning, Juan and his brothers would wake up, gut, scale, and prepare 50 kilos for smoking. After school, they would take the fish their father hadn’t sold during the day to sell in the neighborhood. However, the fish business wasn’t always a sure thing. Juan’s father struggled with alcoholism, and he often didn’t have money to buy fish. Sometimes money would have to come from tips the children could make on the streets, or else they wouldn’t eat.

“We didn’t wait to be told that there was no food – it was an ingrained family duty passed down from my older brothers and sisters. They did it. You saw it and knew you were next.”

Juan learned how to do the right thing from his mom, and he got his work ethic from his father.

“He showed me everything he knew how to do, and in that sense, he was a good father. If we needed to wake up at three in the morning to move rocks, he woke us up and worked with us. He moved the first rock and showed us by example.”

Father Tony

At 14, Juan went to live with his sister, who was studying in Puerto Vallarta. On the day he arrived, he walked by a clothing store for tourists with prices higher than he’d ever seen. He had his eye on a blazer for sale when a voice in broken Spanish asked him, “Do you like that?” It was a white man – he’d never met one before. The man told Juan that someday he could buy it if he wanted it. He also asked Juan why he wasn’t in school. The man asked questions Juan had never considered before. This was the start of a long friendship between Juan and the missionary Father Tony.

While working as a janitor at a hotel, Juan started volunteering with Father Tony to visit the sick and elderly in the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta. Juan didn’t know it at the time, but Tony had connections to wealthy people interested in sponsoring young men to study in the USA. Looking back, he realizes that Tony was testing him to see if he was right for sponsorship. One day he asked Juan whether he wanted to go to the US to study English, and Juan said yes. Juan realized how serious Tony was about helping him when they went together to visit Juan’s parents in Tepic, to get permission.

Studying English

Juan arrived in 1988 with the plan to study English for a year and return to Mexico with increased job opportunities. The school in Nogales, Arizona, that Juan would be attending was for Mexican children from wealthy families and run by nuns. Juan liked the nuns and got along great with the other students, but the parents did not want him, this poor kid from public school there, and they voted against his return. When Father Tony heard this, he spoke up for Juan, and the parents reversed their decision.

Above: Juan holding a photo of himself taken by Father Tony at the Chicago airport on the day Juan arrived

“There were so many cases where things were not supposed to happen for me but Father Tony stood up for me and made it happen.”

Audio: Juan explaining how Father Tony fought for him

It also wasn’t easy for Juan to get a visa to study in the USA. After denying him twice, Father Tony went and wouldn’t leave the office until they stamped Juan’s visa.

Juan enjoyed his high school years in Arizona and has many fond memories, like “funny hat day.” Juan thought he would return to Mexico after high school. Still, when a college in Mobile accepted him, he decided to give Alabama a try.

Above: Juan wearing a homemade monkey hat for ‘funny hat day’

Hard Work

Juan worked three minimum wage jobs – at a deli, at a buffet restaurant, and a small airport – and it still was not enough to pay for college. Just when he was starting to lose hope, he met a man who invited him to help him with some landscaping work [see photo below]. Juan worked one weekend with his man – unclear as to how much he would get paid. At the end of that weekend, Larry paid Juan double what he made at his other jobs. As a student, Juan couldn’t officially work more than 20 hours a week. Larry knew this and told Juan that “if anybody ever asks, we will tell them you are helping me, and I am paying for your college.” 

Alabama

When Juan moved to Mobile in the early 90s, he didn’t feel understood or welcomed. Juan wanted to contribute and get involved but it didn’t feel like the local people wanted to hear what he had to say. At that time, it seemed like if you didn’t know the local politics or sports, you couldn’t join the conversation. Juan felt like a “foreigner” and often heard people refer to him as “the Mexican.”

“Immediately, when I came to Mobile, I felt ignored and invisible. People didn’t care or value if I had an opinion. I guess I can see where a group of people would find themselves with a foreigner and say, ‘oh that’s the foreign guy what does he know’? That sort of mentality is what I encountered right away. I understood far more than what I let know.” (audio below)

Meeting Yohana

Yohana, Juan’s wife, moved to Alabama from Venezuela with her fiancé at the time. She started working at the same place as Juan. She didn’t speak English and enjoyed the Spanish conversations with him. After Yohana’s fiancé was fired, he decided that he wanted to return to Venezuela. Yohana didn’t want to go back with him as she had to continue making enough money to support her whole family in Venezuela. If she went back, the money wouldn’t be enough.

After her fiancé left, she went to Atlanta, Georgia, to live with a friend. Before leaving, her coworker Juan told her, “if you need anything, you can call me”. Shortly after getting to Atlanta, she realized that the situation she would be living in wouldn’t be safe, so she found a payphone and called Juan.

He told her, “Get all your stuff and come back. I’m gonna take care of you”.

Audio: Yohana explaining the circumstances of how she and Juan came to be together

Working Hands

Yohana was working for a health insurance collection agency in Alabama. She started feeling conflicted, realizing that it was her community she was going after. Yohana was trying to get poor people to pay money they didn’t have, so she quit. Around that time, she kept having the same dream.

“I saw the hands of women working in the field – dirt in their fingers and their nails. I felt like it was something important – like God was telling me something.”

Every morning she tried to figure out what the dream meant. She started praying – wanting God to tell her why she kept having this dream? 

Yohana found out about a program by the city that provides services to immigrant families working in agriculture. Despite her academic background in architecture and previous unrelated jobs, they hired Yohana as a social worker. When she went for interviews with these agricultural families and saw the women’s hands working with the dirt, it was like her dream was a reality.

Belong

In 2011 Alabama passed an anti-immigration bill (HB 56) into law, and the immigrant community in Mobile was nervous. The local community didn’t seem willing to speak up in defense of their undocumented neighbors.

Yohana already had a lot of connections with immigrant families in Mobile. She and Juan felt like they needed to do something, so they invited a couple of friends over to pray and talk. This meeting planted the seed for what would become BELONG, their non-profit organization. They decided to host a kickoff potluck dinner, and over 300 people showed up. BELONG is a place where immigrants – not just Spanish speaking immigrants – feel valued regardless of social or legal status. They tutor children, provide ESL (English as a Second Language) and GED (High School Equivalency Certificate) classes for adults, and act as a channel to all the other services that are available in Mobile. 

Juan thinks that because of his own experiences immigrating, he can better connect with newcomers.

“I know how difficult it is to be an immigrant in this country. It’s even worse for immigrants who came undocumented since the people they know are invisible too. I have a lot of empathy for the people we serve.” (audio below)

Next Generation

Juan and Yohana are trying their best to raise their two children to be inclusive and value diversity by exposing them to different cultures and experiences – including their own Mexican and Venezuelan heritage. Juan wants them to have the childhood he didn’t have. He knows the opportunities for bilingual kids in America are much better than the opportunities he had at their age.

#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!