“I am Not My Stereotype”
Students living in the United States wake up every day filled with fear. Fear of their government, the unknown and often times their own neighbors. This fear runs deep in the hearts of young Americans from coast to coast that are left uncertain of a future they cannot determine.
This — this is the daily life of being an immigrant in America.
According to the Department of Homeland Security, there are many ways that people can enter the U.S. from being demarked as a refugee, asylee, permanent resident, nonimmigrant visitor or undocumented person.
The most current homeland security data available is from FY 2015 and notes that 1,051,031 people were given permanent residency while 730,259 became naturalized U.S. citizens.
But, behind every one of those numbers is a name, a face and a story. An entire town holed up in fear, friends unable to socialize safely and a focus on everything but learning. Meet the students behind these three, compelling narratives below.
Immokalee, Florida — Waking up to the smell of breakfast in the kitchen is only a mere distraction to the fact that the clock reads 5 a.m.
Munguia’s parents have been up already and her dad is out the door. Headed to the fields all day, he has to make the bus blocks away that takes him to work and back. School begins at 7:05 a.m., but it could be worse.
Living in Immokalee, Florida is unlike any other community in the United States. For current Wartburg student and Immokalee resident, it’s all that Maria Munguia has known. Munguia came to the United States from Morelia, Michoacán, Mexico at the age of two years old. Her brother was only months old.
“I didn’t know I was undocumented until the third grade. I was saying I was born in a hospital in Naples like everyone else,” says Munguia.
Her childhood could almost be considered nonexistent.
“I had a lot to carry on my shoulders being the only one in my family learning English,” says Munguia.
She had to schedule her families doctor appointments, translate totals at the checkout aisle to her mom, and run her school conferences even in elementary school.
Not until high school, though, did the ramifications of living undocumented begin to affect Munguia.
Not being a resident, she was unable to obtain a driver’s license, get a job to help her family financially, apply for scholarships or attend higher education.
On June 15, 2012 Munguia’s life was altered when DACA was announced.
“Picture golden doors opening and that’s what it was like for me,” says Munguia.
The Consideration of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals is commonly known as DACA. The U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services webpage states that DACA allows people living in the U.S. that were under the age of 31 on June 15, 2012 to apply for documents and work authorizations. They must meet several guidelines and renew their documents every two years.
DACA does not help all immigrants, however.
The Southern Poverty Law Center is currently in a lawsuit with Collier County Schools that operate Immokalee High. Collier County is refusing to admit undocumented immigrants over the age of 16 and blatantly defying federal law of a free, public education in doing so.
On a recent Wartburg College service trip Munguia led to Immokalee, several organizations noted the town’s culture has shifted.
Catholic Charities & Guadalupe Social Services published that they have seen a reduction of 50 percent in use of their resources. A usual 400 people per week coming for food, clothes, laundry and legal assistance has dropped to 200 after the November election.
“Families are afraid to leave their homes to come to the food pantry and receive food they need to survive,” Munguia told other students on the service trip.
The center is getting creative and has invested in a food truck to bring groceries to residents’ homes and is hosting crisis planning workshops.
“Immokalee is a sanctuary, but with a lot of fear,” says Munguia.
Phoenix, Arizona — Meanwhile on the opposite side of the nation it’s not uncommon to come across horses and cows being led along the roads in Laveen Village. Laveen is a growing, southwestern suburb of Phoenix and town laced with controversy of such growth.
“We have three McDonald’s now in the town so we’re getting places,” Yecenia Andrade joked.
Andrade is a student at Wartburg College and alum of Betty H. Fairfax High School in Phoenix.
More than the expansion of fast food restaurants and a new interstate, talk on immigration has increased and runs rampant among students.
“It’s kind of hush hush but it’s also very known,” says Andrade.
Undocumented students and their parents are not uncommon to this town. According to the school district’s website, they host workshops for undocumented students to know their rights and to register for classes.
“Some people are scared still and think it’s a trap. But, the school does try to help,” Andrade says.
Nearby, Phoenix Elementary District #1 is updating their policy to restrict immigration officers from entering campus. Even with a warrant, officers will need to be accompanied by school district administration on their visit.
When asked what scares her the most in a recent interview, Andrade paused before bursting into a nervous fit of laughter.
“Dude, that’s a hard one.”
Across the board, a lack of trust is buried deep in the souls of many immigrants. Lack of trust in government and scam artists making money off of desperate families.
“I’m scared that they’re trying to find a loophole. That secretly, they’re trying to find a reason or ability to take us all back. When someone wants something really really badly they’ll try to find a way.”
Andrade is a legally born U.S. citizen and still uncertain of the future. Even when talking to her friends in a social setting, times can get tense.
“I’ll talk to them about their experiences, their fears, their families. Even when I’m with my friends that are undocumented and driving around they carry that fear with them,” Andrade says.
“They go through struggles and still are enjoying life. That strength gives me hope,” Andrade says.
Houston, Texas — “I’m kind of alienated,” says Martha Aguirre, “but I alienate myself from others on purpose.”
Aguirre is a junior at Westbury High School in Houston, Texas and a member of the Houston ISD Student Congress.
Aguirre notes that there is a lot of division setup in her school by students.
“There’s the little groups of students that huddle up in the hallway and I think it’s so funny. Even the Hispanics hang out with what country they are from like El Salvador or Guatemala.”
Westbury High has a 98 percent minority enrollment and a 69 percent AP test participation rate according to U.S. News & World Report.
Early on in the interview, Aguirre declared her level of privilege.
“I can’t relate to that fear of coming home to an empty house as my immediate family is all documented. But, my school does have a high influx of immigrants,” Aguirre says.
Undocumented immigrants make up 1.3 percent of all K-12 students at public schools in the U.S. according to the Pew Research Center.
The issue of immigration comes up often in school and is what she sees as creating some of the divisive culture.
“We have a Trump supporter at our school. I’ve heard how he stands up in the middle of class and starts chanting ‘Build the wall’ and this little posse will chant it because they think it’s funny,” Aguirre says.
“They obviously don’t know anything about immigration. My school is half Latino. If you don’t believe in this issue, you’ve probably never met one of us before.
“I remember, actually, the day after the election. We were in school but school wasn’t happening. We were just there for the sake of attendance and funding,” Aguirre says.
Students were discussing the very recent election and immigration on Nov. 9. For many students, there were too many larger problems occurring in their lives with the recent news. Where would their families go? Would they leave with their parents or travel to distant, legal relatives?
“It’s taboo. But, when that topic comes around, we can’t pretend it’s not about us because it is.”
Three students living in different worlds with unreal parallels. Maria, Yecenia, and Martha are all overcoming misconceptions, stereotypes, and federal policy that undermines their humanity.
Learning to find new hope and serving as advocates for their communities.
“Self-advocacy has become a new trend. We see marginalized groups standing up and advocating for themselves,” says Aguirre.
Munguia says it even simpler.
“I am not my stereotype.”
