I Survived a Crime. Now I’m on a Path to Citizenship.
I was born in Colombia, and came to New York City in 1994. At the time, violence and poverty impacted the country and forced many people to leave, and my mom and I were two of them. We struggled to make ends meet and it was nearly impossible to get a visa to enter the United States unless you were well-off. Without any direct family connections in the U.S., money, a career, or the possibility of waiting a long time, there was little to no opportunity to obtain a visa. To wait any longer meant more uncertainty about a safe future. I don’t say this to shame those who have come to the U.S. without visas. I say this because there’s a misconception that the immigration system is easy to navigate and accessible to everyone.
When we landed at the airport, we became undocumented. I didn’t know it at the time; I just knew I wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. I was four years old.
I lived undocumented for about 20 years. I grew up in different neighborhoods in New York City but never quite fit in. I always knew I was undocumented but I didn’t understand the full impact of my immigration status until I was in high school. We were screened by an immigration attorney many years ago and weren’t eligible for anything. I became involved in the immigrant rights movement when I met the New York State Youth Leadership Council, an organization dedicated to immigrant youth justice issues. Through them I learned I could make a change in my community and that my immigration status wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
After years of a lot of pressure and immigrant youth activism, President Obama announced Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals in 2012. I decided to apply, and during my immigration consultation, I found out I was eligible for U visa. U visas are given to crime victims in the U.S. who reported the crime and collaborated with law enforcement. I was eligible because I was sexually assaulted by my stepfather when I was little. I sought out the support of the New York Asian Women’s Center, and they submitted my application and provided free counseling services.
The U visa application process was a lengthy one. Obtaining the right evidence for my application was time-consuming and sometimes difficult. I was even denied access to my police report. The application process reopened a lot of old wounds, as I had to recount a lot of things and relive many horrible moments. Once the visa application was sent, I waited about 10 months until I heard back from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that my application had been approved. Due to horrible circumstances the U visa put me on a long path to citizenship. In November 2016, I’ll be eligible to apply for a green card.
The process of applying for this U visa wasn’t easy. But I am thankful that I had the support of friends, family, lawyers, and a counselor along the way. I know that not everyone has access to this network of support. Many undocumented immigrants don’t report abuse and it can be hard to qualify for this specific visa. Even though many undocumented immigrants don’t report crimes, so many do, and applications for U visas are flooding in. Unfortunately, the amount of visas available every year remains the same, and my mom had to wait two years for her U visa. This bittersweet application process, my involvement in the immigrant rights movement, and the experience of growing up in a mixed-status family was captured in a PBS documentary entitled No Le Digas A Nadie (Don’t Tell Anyone). I experienced a lot of pain and sadness, but I hope that through this film and the activism of immigrants across the country, others will be able to relate and find power.
