Once hopeful Dreamers fear for future without youth immigration program

http://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/nov/20/daca-dreamers-undocumented-immigrants-republicans

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When she was undocumented, Greysel Sousa worked as a housecleaner. She did waitressing. Then she got a job as an office administrator for a Las Vegas recycling company, a position she describes now as “one of the worst, most abusive experiences as far as employment law goes”.

She was underpaid, overworked, the company’s owners were fond of screaming at her, and she witnessed even worse treatment toward the undocumented workers sifting through trash in the plant. Sousa hated it. “But back in the day, that’s the only type of place you could work,” she told me.

And by “back in the day”, she meant before Daca.

Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals is President Obama’s 2012 initiative to give millions of undocumented “Dreamers” like Sousa who came to the US as children their first ID cards, a legal stay against deportation, and work permits.

Sousa was 13 years old when her parents brought her to the US from their native Mexico. She attended high school here and earned a bachelor’s degree in political science from the University of Nevada, Las Vegas while working at the recycling company. She worried, then, that she might not ever legally use the degree. But now she can.

Now, Sousa is working at a law firm and earning twice the amount she made before. She is also applying to master’s programs in diplomacy and international relations, an aspirational shift she credits to Obama’s executive action. But she doesn’t know how long this new stability will last.

There remains a strong possibility that Sousa and 1.2 million other program recipients could soon return to the shadows of the American economy, losing jobs that require a social security number and much of the other basic security that comes with federally recognized protection.

One year ago, Obama announced his intention to expand Daca, but that effort remains blocked by federal judges. Now, as the case makes its way to the supreme court, undocumented immigrants face another threat: every major Republican presidential candidate has promised to end the existing program if they take office in 2017.

“I’m thinking that if a Republican wins the presidency, I might leave the country,” Sousa said. “Being here undocumented for 15 years, I constantly lived in fear. People really don’t talk about the mental health of immigrants. Crossing the border, worrying about being deported, hiding all these things – they’ve affected me.”

Her fears capture a reckoning that many Daca recipients could face: after investing in new careers, can they go back to life on the fringe? And for those who would have benefited from Obama’s expansion of the program, another question looms: after so much excitement on 20 November 2014, will they ever get to participate in “Daca 2.0”?

Blanca Gamez was enrolled in her second bachelor’s degree at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, when Daca was announced. A quintessential “Dreamer”, she chose political science for her first degree because, as she explained it: “If I study this – understand what it takes, the policies around it – I can actually do something to change my life and my family’s life.” As soon as she could, she took a job at Hermandad Mexicana, a nonprofit organization that provides immigration services. As a caseworker, she helped Dreamers prepare Daca applications. It offered strong inspiration for future work as a community organizer.

“I remember seeing all the faces,” Gamez said of the work. “I would ask them, how is this going to change your life? They would say, I’m going to college, I’m going to start applying to jobs. People who had kids were like, this is going to change not only my life, but my child’s life as well.”

Gamez’s own family is “mixed status”. Her sister is a citizen, her father a permanent resident, and her mother undocumented. They all gathered at Hermandad Mexicana last November when Obama came to Las Vegas to announce the Daca expansion.

The president also announced Dapa, Deferred Action for Parents of Americans, which would have benefited Blanca’s mother. Gamez recalled, “It was great being in the same room, seeing my mom’s eyes tear up when she heard her life was going to change.”

In total, an additional four million immigrants would have been eligible for the expansion. At least until the supreme court rules on its fate next year, however, it will have benefited none.

“Mom keeps saying, ‘It’s another roadblock, but eventually we’ll get through it.’ She tries to keep her spirits up,” Gamez said, “because that’s all you can do.”

Gamez once planned to attend law school next year, but she is postponing that goal now to work at Battle Born Progress, a political action group, in response to campaign promises to repeal Daca and “round up all the illegals”.

“I need to focus on getting the right people elected into office,” she said. “Law school can wait, this election can’t. And that is what I keep telling the immigrant community: you need to understand that some of these candidates are not in favor of extending the executive action. We need to elect somebody that is actually going to help us.”

Hillary Clinton hosted Gamez and other Dreamers at an immigration reform roundtable this past spring. Gamez also recently met with representatives of the Sanders and O’Malley campaigns. “I said look, what is your plan of action when it comes to immigration? Because I can’t vote for you, but I sure can knock on doors and make phone calls,” she said. “I can’t vote, but my sister can vote, and my sister is undecided. So persuade her.”

Norma Ramirez is acutely aware of the limits of her status as a Daca recipient. She is a doctoral student in psychology at Fuller Theological Seminary, aspiring to provide free mental health services to undocumented immigrants.

Although navigating the higher education system is much easier with a social security number, Daca recipients are still ineligible for financial aid. Due to the temporary nature of the program, banks won’t offer them loans, either. Ramirez and her friends are forced to make tuition payments with help from parents, through work, fundraisers, and by winning the few scholarships available to Dreamers.

According to a recent survey, an estimated 65% of Daca recipients are currently in school. Of those, the majority are pursuing undergraduate degrees and 17% are enrolled in advanced degrees.

“Because of the situation we’re in, we have to get better,” Ramirez said. “That’s how we’ll get noticed. That’s how we’ll get validated. That’s how we’ll get treated like we’re normal. But that’s just for the people who are able to go school. Some people don’t have that option.”

She remembers how devastated she was in high school to learn that college might not be an option because she was undocumented. “I was angry at my parents for bringing me to a country that didn’t want me,” she said. “I even told them: why would you do this to me? I didn’t understand the reason for coming. It wasn’t until I visited my grandmother in Mexico this past year that I began to understand the situation they were coming from.”