For the first time in 16 years, my mother got to leave the country and see her sick father.

The human cost of our broken immigration system.

When I was two years old, I was hit by a car and pinned against a wall in Peru. I survived, but my right leg was amputated. Mi mamá, Chela, and mi papá, Manolo, moved heaven and earth to get me to the United States for the specialized medical treatment I needed. When it became clear that the best treatment options were in the United States, my mother made the decision to overstay her visa.

For the past 16 years, she hasn’t been able to go back to Peru. If you are undocumented, and you leave the country, you may never make it back in.

But this Christmas, my mother’s dream came true: she got to return to see her father, Papá José, who is sick. And I got to be there with her.

My name is Lorella, and this is my story.

I had a relatively normal childhood. My mom, sister, and I settled in Connecticut, and I went to the local public school.

Then, when I applied to college I had to fill out the FAFSA form to apply for financial aid, everything changed.

That’s when my mom told me three words that are seared into my memory: No tenemos papeles.

We are undocumented.

Initially, I felt powerless. I was angry, I was hurt, and for some time, I felt ashamed. Then I met fellow DREAMers and I realized — this is my country just as much as it is anybody else’s.

This country was founded by millions of immigrants like me and my family, and I wasn’t going to let fear define who I was or how my future was going to unfold. So, I became an activist, too.

Along the way, I met my husband Tim — an extraordinary man who didn’t flinch when I told him I was undocumented. I distinctly remember being nervous when telling him. But he saw me for who I was and didn’t define me by my immigration status.

We got married in 2012.

A few weeks ago, with my mom and sister watching, I was sworn in as an American citizen by President Obama at the National Archives. It was an extraordinary moment — a moment that I want millions of people to share.

As the mother of a citizen, mi mamá had the opportunity to leave the country without fear. It didn’t come a moment too soon.

Before getting ready to leave for Peru, I snapped this picture of mi mamá.

Less than 24 hours after that, on Nochebuena, we were at the hospital in Lima.

Republicans in Congress and on the campaign trail talk about us as if we don’t have families, as if we don’t laugh, cry, and love like any other person. They’re wrong.

We will not be spoken about as if we were cattle — we will not be “rounded up” by the millions and deported.

This past June, afters years working in the immigration activist community, I joined Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign as Director of Latino Outreach. Some were surprised. They didn’t expect somebody with my background as an outspoken DREAMer activist to be working on her campaign.

Since joining, I’ve watched as vitriol invades the airwaves, permeating every aspect of a once reasonable party. How dare Republicans speak that way about millions of hardworking people, leering at us as if we were the source of the nation’s woes. And how is it that candidates with backgrounds like mine turn a blind eye to — and in some cases participate in — the hatred engulfing their party?

Millions of Latinos — who are just as revolted as I am — are listening. Hillary está con nosotros, she is with us, and that is why I am fighting with her.

Hillary will stand up to ugly rhetoric and fight for families like mine. She’ll fight to defend DACA and DAPA, President Obama’s executive actions that provide relief from deportation for DREAMers and parents of Americans and permanent lawful residents. And she’ll fight for comprehensive immigration reform with a path to full and equal citizenship.

That is why, as your fellow American, I am here luchando every day.

Because,