Immigration & Me

By Mirna Aguilar

My mother was a 21-year-old single mother of two infants when she crossed the Rio Grande River. She carried her belongings in a plastic bag over her head and held on to nothing but hope. Her aversion to water has remained ever since, a silent testimony of that moment when her dreams nearly slipped away with the current.

The immigration process in the United States is no less daunting than the treacherous Rio Grande River. As many children of immigrants can relate, I learned early on how to navigate a system bigger than myself. I often found myself translating mail and legal documents for my family, explaining terms I barely understood myself. In doing so, I saw how language and financial barriers kept families like mine locked in place. The system felt it was never built for us to succeed and move upward. Still, I witnessed how our family’s strength and perseverance never wavered in the face of these challenges during the 20 years it took for my mother to receive her legal residency.

In Brownsville, Texas where I grew up, having an undocumented parent was not unusual. Yet even then, I knew I was one of the “lucky ones.” I didn’t have to cross the border each day just to get an education. I was able to ride the bus home and find my mother waiting for me. We learned English together as she helped me with homework. She came to every school assembly and even dressed up as a clown for my birthday to bring cupcakes for my class. The risk she took to cross that river gave us the chance of a better life, but more importantly, it allowed my brother and I to grow up with our mother every step of the way. When I read about the current ICE raids at graduation ceremonies, I think of that childhood fear. That fear of having my mom ripped away from us, separated by another layer of the system, the criminal justice system.

As a first-generation college graduate and American, I carry the responsibility of honoring the sacrifices that were made for me. I will never forget the day my mother read a full letter in nearly perfect English. The pride I felt for her reminded me of the pride she must have felt each time she watched her children achieve what once felt nearly impossible.

Seeking a better life does not make someone a criminal. It brings people who leave their “patria” behind to work hard, contribute meaningfully, and give their families a chance to thrive. They do not come here to exploit the land of opportunity, but to build a life from the ground up. The newfound fear created by the recent ICE raids and the violent reaction to pro-immigration protests lingers in our communities, stronger than before. It lives in the stories of our friends, our coworkers, and our family members. Their stories, like ours, deserve to be heard as living proof of the humanity that frequently — and almost always — gets lost in the headlines.