Once my fetters have fallen...

“The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. He frees himself and shows the way to others. Freedom and slavery are mental states”

-Mahatma Gandhi

What happens when you see your dreams vanish in the air? When a piece of paper that doesn’t exist in your reality transforms your goals into uncertainty?

My name is Alejandra and I am in my twenties. I was born in Mexico but raised in the United States. On a sunny August day in the mid 80's, when I was only 5 months old, my parents began their journey to what they thought would be freedom and happiness. Like every parent, they wanted the best for their daughter – an education, freedom, and safety. The United States represented all of that and more. Little did they know, I would be sitting here, in this small cluttered room, 20 something years later, typing a narrative that propels me back into my devastating reality.

You see, like any other American child I went to school here. I can honestly say I don’t remember having to learn the English language, I just knew it. Like any other American child, I participated in daily activities at school, such as singing “this land is my land” and reciting the pledge of allegiance in the playground everyday at 8:00 AM sharp. I never realized that I was different, disadvantaged. I went to school everyday, never missing a day. I took part in the Cheer squad and held very high-grades. Everything was perfect and I was living the life my parents had always envisioned for me. I was a happy child living with every right this country stands for. I had dreams, hopes, plans.

Then came the day. The day when my father told me he would come back but never did. I was 5 years old when my parents got divorced and we were faced with so many complications. My mother was now a single parent of three – she was undocumented as well as my older brother and I. Still she had to manage to get a second job…then a third. With all the family difficulties and stress I became ill with a condition called Bells Palsy. Bells Palsy, the doctor said, was rare in a child but because of the divorce trauma, I had had a nervous breakdown and half of my face was now paralyzed. My mother couldn’t pay for my treatment so we had to apply for medi-cal, get loans, etc. Although I was only a 5-year-old girl I knew something was wrong. We were finally granted an emergency Medi-cal and my Bells Palsy was treated. Chemotherapy helped a lot, and while it had gone away, the doctor said it could come back if I stressed out or with another trauma. I knew something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure what it was still. After all, to a 5 year old the word ‘undocumented’ is just that…a word.

It wasn’t until my sophomore year in high school that I realized I was undocumented. We had gone to an early-prep seminar, in which counselors from numerous colleges come to high schools and recruit young students and encourage them to start preparing for college. It really caught my attention because I always wanted to go to college. That evening I took home a stack of forms to fill out. I remember looking through them on my way home as I sat in the bus. Every form started by asking my name, last name, and then of course my social security number. I didn’t think much of it because I had always assumed I had one. The look on my mom’s face when I asked her to give me my social security number was devastating. Her eyes became watery as she said:

“You don’t have one”.

I remember thinking I would just leave box number 3, (which asked for my social security number), blank. Then reality kicked in – that wasn’t an option. This 9-digit number would determine my future, or as I came to see, the lack of it. The next two years were terrible, especially my senior year. All my friends were filling out financial aid applications, Cal Grant applications, and preparing for their long awaited SAT’s.  For me that wasn’t an option. I knew I would never be able to pay for the school that I wanted to go – USC. I decided I would still apply for UCLA, UC Berkeley, and a few Cal States. I got into both UC’s and Cal State LA and Long Beach. That year I got a pleasant surprise – I received the governor’s scholarship, which was worth a few thousand dollars, but again, the lack of that 9-digit snapped me right back into reality: I was not eligible to claim it. While that was a very sad time in my life it also encouraged me to fight for what I wanted, for my dreams and hopes.

I decided to attend California State University, Los Angeles. I applied for AB-540 so that I could pay in-state tuition. Still, it was very difficult for me to pay off the tuition. I was forced to take two jobs and baby-sit on the weekends as a third job. There were nights when I wouldn’t sleep because after a long day at work I had to come home and write papers for my classes. I cried myself to sleep many nights when my friends traveled and I couldn’t go because of my status. I hated being treated like I was a criminal, like I had not rights, like I was a slave in my own life. Today I am proud to say that I have graduated with a bachelors of arts in television and film studies, with an option in broadcast journalism. Unfortunately, I have not been able to do much with it because I am still undocumented. But like Gandhi said:

“The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. He frees himself and shows the way to others. Freedom and slavery are mental states”

I have resolved that I will no longer be a slave in my own silence. I have realized that no one else will fight for me and young Americans like me. We do have a voice. While being undocumented has brought me endless difficulties, it has also made me a strong young woman – a young woman who is ready to fight and defeat any obstacle that stands in her way. Enough is enough! My fetters have fallen, I have freed myself and today more than ever, I am ready to show the way to others. Today I am a dreamer – tomorrow…tomorrow I will scream at the top of my lungs:

“The sky is the limit”