APA Heritage Month: Breaking the Undocumented Stigma
May is nationally recognized as Asian/Pacific American Heritage Month, but to me it doesn’t mean a lot.
I was born and raised in Brazil, where I lived for 16 years before immigrating to the United States. I was never very connected to my Chinese heritage while living in my homeland — the only traditions I knew were through my family — and even here I don’t always feel connected to APA Heritage Month because it’s hard for me to know where my story fits in the rich history of APIs in America.
My family and I are part of the 1.7 million undocumented API immigrants in this country. We left Brazil to reunite with our family in a place free from violence but when we settled in the U.S., I knew our life would still be difficult: After our tourist visas expired, we would lose our immigration status and face a whole new fear.
Adjusting to life in a new country with a different culture and language is difficult enough. I was also forced to live under the constant shadow of deportation and the fear of re-experiencing the violent trauma we left behind, not to mention the prospect of separation from my extended family that has lived in the U.S. for years. Seeking to change our immigration status, we hired a private attorney to take our case, but in the end it didn’t matter: Our political asylum request was denied and we were ordered to be removed.
The deportation proceedings lasted for eight years. To protect myself and my family, I resorted to living reclusively so that no one would know we were undocumented. While this approach kept my family safe, it had lasting effects on my mental health as I became socially isolated and internalized my feelings of hopelessness.
For the longest time I thought my family and I were the only ones facing these challenges, since immigration is so commonly treated as a Latinx issue. During this period, I came to understand the shame and stigma associated with being both undocumented and Asian. My parents would tell me not to talk to anyone about our immigration status, not only for our protection but also to avoid the hatred that so many undocumented immigrants are subject to.
That’s when I discovered ASPIRE, a program created by Advancing Justice — Asian Law Caucus and led by a group of pan-Asian undocumented youth. The member’s life stories resonated with me, especially when I heard them describe the emotional toll of growing up undocumented. As I became more involved with the group, I formed deep friendships with members and found comfort in their unconditional support. When new members joined, I saw uncertainty, shame, and fear hidden in their words and body language — the same feelings I once had. I knew then that it was incumbent for me to support and uphold a safe space where people who shared my experience could openly address the stigma associated with being undocumented. With ASPIRE, I finally found my voice and the empowerment to stand up for our rights.
That sentiment manifested itself during the campaign to stop my family’s removal. At a rally in front of the Immigration and Customs Enforcement building, with my family in the crowd, I publicly shared my immigration story for the first time, as well as all the pain I had accumulated trying to survive as an undocumented immigrant in America. The community support that I received in that moment allowed me to overcome the dread that had loomed over me for years; to take a stand not just for my family, but also for everyone else living with the fear of having their families torn apart by inhumane deportations. That day I conquered the doubt I once held over my belonging and found acceptance in a commitment to serve my community. I realized that home is more than where you land: It’s the space where you can make a positive impact in people’s lives.
Today, I no longer have to struggle in silence. But I know that shame and stigma still exist for many undocumented API immigrants who continue to remain in the shadows. During Asian/Pacific American Heritage Month, we ought to reflect on the state of our community and what we are doing to ensure untold stories are uplifted. We should honor the humanity of every individual so that more people can be seen and heard. By sharing my story, I hope to form our own narrative — one that is an essential part of APA history — and to be embraced and supported by the community we create together.
