<![CDATA[Beyond Borders - DACA Travelers]]>

<![CDATA[Beyond Borders - DACA Travelers]]>Thu, 23 Feb 2023 16:40:10 -0600Weebly<![CDATA[Buenas tardes joven: A chapter that was waiting for me]]>Fri, 31 Mar 2017 13:51:34 GMThttps://www.imbeyondborders.com/daca-travelers/buenas-tardes-joven-a-chapter-that-was-waiting-for-me

My name is Abraham and I.M. Beyond Borders.
Having traveled to my home country after fifteen years was a once in a lifetime opportunity that I will always be thankful for. I missed my chance to say goodbye to my grandmother, but my grandfather was waiting for me in Monterrey and I took the risk. Why do I call traveling to my home country a risk? What’s Advance Parole? Would I be able to see my family once again, if so on which side of the border? I invite you to read my “I.M. Beyond Borders” story to find out why many people like me have chapters waiting for us to return and decide to that risk. #IMBeyondBorders #HereToStay #AdvanceParole #ISupportDACA #DACAWorks

“Cuando se regrese usted mijo, echele muchas ganas y dígale a su mama que la extraño” or… “When you go back son, give it your best and tell your mother that I miss her.” These were my grandfather’s last words to me before returning to the United States a few months ago. They didn’t just imply the literal meaning, but it was more of “I hope to see you soon.”

Returning to Monterrey, Mexico was not an easy decision. I had countless sleepless nights wondering if this was part of God’s plan for my life. Deciding to take the risk of returning to Mexico would not only leave me with an amazing experience as an adult, but I would also be able to somehow close a chapter in my life that had been started. After several years later, I was finally going to be able to return to what I call my second home.

I immigrated to the U.S. from Monterrey, Mexico in 2002 at just eight years young. At this early age, the only thing I knew about Monterrey was the street I grew up in, the name of our school, and the names of my family members; nothing more and nothing less. A child’s dream is never to leave his best friend and go into the unknown where he will stand out by dressing differently, speak another language, or have a different culture.

I’ve been raised in the “frontera” or border of South Texas, known as the Rio Grande Valley, for almost fifteen years. My home is just ten minutes north from the US-Mexico border. I can physically see my birth home when I stand by the border wall, but it always felt so unreachable. So close, yet so far. It was never my choice to leave Monterrey, but I do know that as a future parent, I would have made the same decision for my children.

Like many immigrant families, our journeys have its up and downs, but I thank God for keeping us together and in His sight. Being far away from our family members has been rough. It has been hard not being able to attend birthdays, weddings, quinceaneras, but especially funerals. About fifteen years ago, my mother took it upon herself to ensure her sons and daughters had the best opportunity and migrated to the U.S. She knew the life-threatening risk, emotional damage, and hardships that were ahead, but with faith and perseverance she knew that she could overcome it. She is the real dreamer, she’s the one that gave me hope and passed her dream to me. She’s God’s angel to me, the firm rock in my path, the giver and pusher of my faith; she’s the reason why I said yes to returning to Monterrey and closing a chapter for her and for myself.

My mother was not able to return home and take care of her mother, just like her mother took care of her when she was a young girl. In fifteen years, my mother couldn’t receive a hug nor kiss from her family; she was only able to see them through a computer screen. Tragedy, and the hurt of being undocumented, hit home when our grandmother passed away in November 2015. The most precious blessing to our family was gone, forever. She had developed an irreversible stage of Alzheimer’s, but was blessed to have lived that long. My mother had to make a life decision of 1) going back home to Monterrey to give her mother one last hug and kiss before her burial, yet risking the possibility of not ever seeing her husband, sons, daughter and grandchildren or 2) stay with her family in the U.S., yet carry the burden of not being able to see her mother one last time. This is the reality that being undocumented comes with, tough life decisions from one day to the next.

This was one of the deciding factors of why I decided to apply for advance parole. I knew that I had to close a chapter in our life and pay respects to my grandmother, send the message that we love them and miss them, that we're doing fine “el otro lado”, but mainly to make sure that I didn’t have to suffer the same thing with my grandfather as we did for my grandmother. My grandfather's nickname is Chano, he’s currently 83 years old. He’s the life partner of Concha, my grandmother. The reason why I sealed my advance parole document was to make sure that I saw him in person rather than through a computer screen like we always had.

I sent my Advance Parole request for humanitarian reasons explaining my grandfather would be going through a cardiac catheterization, a procedure that is used to diagnose and treat cardiovascular conditions. At his age, this procedure would be high risk, which could possibly include a heart attack, stroke, blood clots, or severe arrhythmia. This was a needed procedure, but ran high risks. He knew it was worth it and that he would take the faith that came from his decision. My grandfather’s high health risk was my motivation and reason to travel to Monterrey and ensure I was there for anything he needed.

While applying for Advance Parole, I saw the face of joy from my mother. She shared endless stories of when we were in Monterrey and all the places and people that I would get to see once again. I learned to file the $360 application through friends and colleagues and although I knew it was more than worth it, it was a bit scary since I was filing it on my own. I filed my application at the beginning of June to be able to attend my grandfather’s procedure that was going to happen in late-August or early-September. To me, this was one of the longest waits I had ever experienced. I didn’t know if I would be accepted or denied nor what available travel dates I’d have. The scariest thing was the fine print that mentioned Customs and Border Protection officers had full discretion to allow or deny my return to my home, the U.S. Since I live in the borderlands, my plan was to crosswalk into Mexico, depart to Monterrey from there, and same thing when returning home. It was scary because the furthest I had been to since 2002 was the border at the Old Hidalgo Pumphouse in Hidalgo, Texas. I was finally going to touch land in Mexico after so long!

My parole was approved and allowed me to visit and be with my grandfather from August 26 until September 30. It was a blessing to be able to go back home after so long. I have spent close to two thirds of my life living in “la frontera” that I did not recognize Monterrey when I arrived. The first place I traveled to as soon as I got off the bus was to my grandfather’s house. I was accompanied by my aunts, my mother’s twin sister and her sister, and a cousin. When we arrived, I shook my grandfather’s hand, but he had no clue who I was. He shook my hand firmly and said “buenas tardes joven”, which means “good afternoon young man”. I felt a bit broken because I had been far from home for such a long time that my grandfather did not recognize who I was. The last time he had seen me I was a young boy playing with toys and watching cartoons. Now, I was an adult. Man, how does time fly by without even noticing. My old man that once said goodbye with a hug and a kiss on the cheek was now shaking my hand not knowing who I was. I was now a stranger in my own land, with my own family, with the plan of saying goodbye to my birth home and go back to what was once the unknown.

After a shake, I told him “soy Abraham, el hijo de Panchis, su hija”, “I’m Abraham, the son of Panchis, your daughter”. His eyes opened up, broke down and hugged me. The best feeling in the world when you feel reunited with your past and are able to break that border barrier. I was there to see him, tell him that I’m an adult now, that I haven’t forgotten about my roots, that I’m here for his procedure and for anything at his service, but mostly to continue the chapter that I left open from when I was a child. We spoke for a long time, he offered me some water, sat me down in what was left of my grandmother’s favorite dinning table and caught up. I showed him pictures of his great-grandson and of my beloved mother and how blessed our family has been, how our family misses everyone, and how someday we plan on coming back to Monterrey when everything is worked out. I wasn’t in Monterrey for luxury or trips, I was there because of the concerns of my family.

I spent a total of seventeen days in Nuevo Leon, helping my grandfather recuperate from his procedure, taking care of him, visiting family members that I hadn’t seen since 2002. I was able to go to the grave of my grandmother Concha, pray, thank her for the endless smiles she had brought to my life when we used to video chat, and also spoke to her on behalf of our family. I was able to apologize for not being able to attend her funeral, be with her on her last days, care for her, or do many things that we should have done, but deep down inside I knew that she understood. I knew that Mamá Concha had forgiven us before we asked for an apology and felt for one last time her warmth while being at her grave. I was able to close this chapter with my grandmother while some mariachis were playing in the background for another funeral that was going on nearby. I knew that hopefully some day, I would be able to come back and bring my own family here along with my mother who has yet to see anyone.

Advance Parole not only gave me the opportunity to travel back to my birth home, but also gave me the opportunity to be more in peace with myself and my past. This program was made for humanitarian reasons like mine, where life-or-death situations may appear and can possibly affect us greatly. I took the opportunity and risk of traveling back home and being able to see family that I had not seen in years, and knew that this was a blessing. I continue to spread the message across the Rio Grande Valley about the opportunities that Advance Parole and DACA can bring and the many doors that it may open for us. I hope that one day, a border does not define us nor separate us. I dream of the day that families, like mine who may be undocumented, will one day be able to reunite with their loved ones.

Atentamente,
Abraham

]]><![CDATA[BELONGING]]>Thu, 19 Jan 2017 13:00:00 GMThttps://www.imbeyondborders.com/daca-travelers/belongingMy name is Emma and I.M. Beyond Borders. Learn about the great opportunities DACA has given me, such as my recent trip to Mexico City on a journey towards discovering my bi-nationality and ultimately becoming “de aquí Y de allá”. Learn how I have found my place in a classroom as a first-generation college student navigating spaces that were not meant for me. I have come to appreciate the phrase “Si, se puede"
#ISupportDACA #DACAworks #DACAmented #IMBeyondBorders #HereToStay

At an alumni event last week, I shared with fellow Irma Rangel Young Women’s Leadership School graduates the life-changing experience I had in the summer of 2016. I shared how for five weeks, I lived and studied in Mexico City, Mexico, and how, for one brief, happy and heartbreaking weekend, I was able to return to my place of birth.

I was prompted to share this experience because we were all sharing ways in which we’ve dealt with bias and discrimination at our respective college campuses. I spoke of the identity that solidified as a result of my participation in the DACA Cultural Exchange Program. Of how before this experience, I’d felt a bit lost in regards to which country I belonged to, which led to an uncertainty in going forward as a person, as a student, (and in the future) as a professional. After that experience, I was able to ease some of the anxiety that plagues my interactions at an institution where many people don’t know what “undocumented” means, and not to mention what “DACA” or “Advance Parole” means. Now, I am more confident in where I come from and the direction that I want my life to take...

I emphasized that the realization of my identity as Mexican AND American did not happen overnight, as it took many weeks after my trip to ruminate on the conflicting feelings of gratefulness and disillusion that I experienced. It wasn’t until I returned to Austin College as a junior in the fall of 2016 that I was able to name what had changed. It was an empowerment of sorts, a greater confidence in not only my academic work, but my actions, my place in the classroom, and in myself as a person overall. It was a validation of all of the experiences that had brought me to where I am now – a first-generation college student navigating spaces that were not meant for me. It’s not only a far cry from my humble beginnings in Durango, but also the streets of Oak Cliff that saw me become the woman I am today.

The memorable five weeks of living and learning alongside fellow DACAmented participants; Colegio de Mexico (COLMEX) classmates hailing from all parts of the Mexican republic; our expert and world-renowned professors; and the unprecedented access to officials from all levels of government ranging from former Secretary of Foreign Affairs Claudia Ruiz Massieu, to U.S. Ambassador to Mexico Roberta Jacobson. It all culminated in what I can only call a bi-nationality I did not know I possessed and I’d never learned to appreciate as a valid one. It was most evident in the shift I took from being “ni de aquí ni de allá” to being “de aquí Y de allá”. A shift from not being “from neither here nor from there” to being “from here AND from there”.

But the path to be able to return to Mexico wasn’t easy. Thankfully, I had the undivided support of Dallas’ Latino Center for Leadership Development and Mexican Consulate to make the process as smooth as possible. I will admit that I wasn’t going to apply for the opportunity, as I felt my Spanish skills were inadequate for an institution such as el Colegio de Mexico, one of Mexico’s premier liberal arts and social sciences institution.

You see, I left Durango when I was seven years old. Upon my arrival to Dallas, it was assimilate or fail. By the time I was able to return to Mexico, I was twenty years old with well over half my life spent speaking English and wholeheartedly embracing American customs. At the encouragement of my family members and professors, I applied to the program in early February, and by early March, I was notified of my selection to take part in the transformational experience after several rounds of introspective interviews. After that, everything moved very quickly, as my fellow program participants and I had to quickly submit our applications to receive Advance Parole, the discretionary measure that would allow us to be paroled back into the U.S. for our return in July. Three months, many emails, and signed applications later, I boarded a flight with a return ticket alongside nine other DREAMers whom I would come to consider family.

After five weeks of illuminating classes at el COLMEX, almost daily excursions to prominent historical sites such as El Castillo de Chapultepec and El Angel de la Independencia, and adventures in Puebla, I wanted to come home. But when we finally came home, as ecstatic as I was to see my family, I couldn’t deny the urge to return to Mexico some day and continue to experience all its culture, history, and another trip to see my extended family once more.

I am aware of the inherent, albeit hard-earned privileges that my life has been defined by up to this point (the DACA Cultural Exchange Program being one of them). Most evenings in Mexico, and many since my return to the U.S. , I am wracked with guilt at being one in a small number of immigrants with the privilege to visit their origin country and return with relative ease. I am troubled by the classist divisions at work within the immigrant community, and the opportunist legislators trying to convince America that there are those among us who truly belong here and those who don’t.

And days away from seeing a fascist, white-supremacist bigot inaugurated as President, this January has been particularly difficult. It’s fraught with hopelessness and despair of having to put your life on hold because the future is uncertain. The anti-immigrant rhetoric is at an all-time high (although is it ever at a low?) and some days, it feels like the weight of the world can be too much.

But haven’t we always picked ourselves up despite our losses? To all my fellow DACA recipients, and to all immigrants, regardless of where you fall on the legalization spectrum I say this:

Don’t fall into the trap of justifying your place in this country over another’s. Recognize the common humanity in each and every one of your fellow undocumented migrants. Understand and sit with your often hard-earned privileges, whether you are college-educated or already receiving a steady source of income. Celebrate your successes and accomplishments. Take pride in them, no matter how big or small.

And finally, undertake the difficult task of claiming your bi-nationality if you so choose, no matter your country of origin. I have to confess I never thought it was possible to dedicate yourself to one national identity, as if it was fixed or you had to choose. But that’s the beauty of the situations many of us find ourselves in. That for one reason or another, we migrated to this country, and personally, have learned the importance of making peace with both parts of our identities. I’ve had to accept both sides of me, have pride in both of them, and then work with both of them to be the bridge that our countries so desperately needs.

We, without a doubt, need to move beyond catchy and convenient slogans and resist. Resist as hard as we can because, as we’ve already seen, these next four years are going to be hard. But we’ve never shied away from a challenge.

Our existence is our resistance.

Emma

]]><![CDATA[I considered giving up until someone else followed my footsteps behind me.]]>Sun, 08 Jan 2017 20:29:29 GMThttps://www.imbeyondborders.com/daca-travelers/i-considered-giving-up-until-someone-else-followed-my-footsteps-behind-meMy name is Giovanni and I.M. Beyond Borders.
Get behind the scenes at how, with numerous legal, economic, and emotional barriers, I was able to see my mother and country after 12 years. Among the few, I met with the US Ambassador to Mexico, USCIS Director, former Mexico Secretary of Foreign Affairs, and the Mexican President to be a voice for my community. If if you find this inspiring, share my DACAmented story to show "si, se puede."

A week or so ago, in the company of great friends, a few miles from the US-Mexico border, I said farewell to the best year of my life—2016. Together we welcomed 2017 cheerfully singing and dancing to classic English and Spanish tunes. We enjoyed foods from both sides of the border as we laugh at our English, Spanish, and even Spanglish jokes. Right at midnight, we yelled to the top of our lungs a hopeful “Happy New Year” and “Feliz Año Nuevo!” wishing each other the best for the upcoming year. In the midst of the entire celebration, you could hear the fireworks on both sides of the border blending together to create a single celebration. As for me, I stood with my DACA documents in my hand and so close to a border that could potentially separate me from my dreams.

January for me has always been a month of reflection. I firmly believe that you realize your advancements when you reflect back. I arrived in this country on January 6, 2004. For the first time in twelve years, I look at the year ahead of me just like I did on the day of my arrival— with uncertainty, a bit of fear, and a lot of determination. Something I learned in 2016 was to be proud of my immigrant story. The truth is that it isn’t too different from the millions of people who left their home in search of a better future. I have faced similar challenges like immigrants that arrive in a new country and fight the uphill battle towards integration and success. However, despite all these challenges, I have never forgotten my childhood dreams of one day obtaining a college degree.

Navigating the education system as an undocumented immigrant has always been a challenge. Sometimes, it seemed like an unreachable dream... (Read More below)

I’ve found myself working and fighting 10X harder than some of my peers, even for the same opportunities. My journey from community college to a four-year institution often consisted of two or three jobs while being a full-time student. I’ll never forget the conversations with other students during the midnight train rides home after a long shift at the restaurant—the ride of dreamers as we used to call it. Or, the early morning train rides full of people in suits on their way to work. It was without a doubt day and night, two different worlds traveling on the same train on the journey towards their dreams at different times of the day. In fact, it was during these commutes that I applied to three opportunities that would change my life, the Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute Congressional Internship, the Latino CLD DACA Exchange Program, and Scholarship America Dream Award Scholarship.

My midnight train rides turned into trips to our nation's Capitol during my time as a Congressional Intern. I had a chance to work in a congressional office, walk the halls of congress, meet with legislators, visit the White House, and even camp for more than twenty hours outside of the Supreme Court for the DAPA hearing. Having a front row seat to our government empowered me to share my story and advocate for all DACAmented students like me. With the help of other DACAmented interns, documented interns, organizations, and friends, I learned to appreciate and share my immigrant story. I finally understood that hard work, late night train rides, and sleepless nights had a purpose. Every day as I walked in front of the Capitol, I remembered the morning of August 18th, 2013 when my DACA Authorization letter and work permit came into my mail.

Thanks to DACA, a document that read ‘Advance Parole,’ and the Latino CLD DACA Cultural Exchange Program, I had the opportunity to return to Mexico for the first time after 12 years. I never imagined that one day I would be able to jump on a plane to Mexico with a round-trip ticket on hand. With my dreams packed tightly in a suitcase and nine other outstanding DACAmented students, I decided to make the best of my trip.

Our arrival to Mexico City was very emotional. Family members and government officials welcomed us at the airport with a huge banner that read “Mexico Tambien Es Su Casa” (Mexico is also your home). Our first weekend explored we Mexico City’s most famous landmarks like the Teotihuacan pyramids, plazas, and restaurants. We enjoyed street tacos as we reacquainted with our culture and practiced our Spanish with the locals. We soon began our five-week summer classes at El Colegio de Mexico, a liberal arts and research institution. We enrolled in Mexican Anthropology, US-MX Relations, US-MX Immigration, and US-MX-Cuba Relations. Getting used to Spanish lectures in was a challenge, even it being our native language. Nothing open our eyes more than learning the long-standing history between our two countries. In my case, I regained a long lost pride for the struggle of those who came before us and started to build a better vision towards the future. Our immigration professor took us through the journey of immigrants since the inception of both countries, oftentimes relying on us to share our own immigrant stories with our fellow Mexican classmates. Needless to say, our classes often ended in emotional roller coasters.

We met with local, state, and federal politicians every week. They shared their work with us and asked for our suggestions to improve their programs. At first, we just listened and commended them for their work and efforts to better the lives of Mexicans on both sides of the border. But as the weeks went by and we talked to people on the streets, our student peers learned about the struggle of immigrants who have been deported from the US, and struggles many people have to face every day to survive. We knew we had to change our approach towards the government. For many years now, we have been unafraid of sharing our ideas and complaints with the government, we haven’t allowed the American government to oppress us, and we decided to voice our concerns at the intents of the Mexican government intentions of doing it to our fellow Mexicans.

Mexico hurts. It hurts to see and learn about the limited education opportunities for students; it hurts that minimum wage is less than 3 USD per day; it hurts to see a country so divided by social classes that the rich almost never turn to help the poor. It didn’t take long for us to recognize our privileged position during our visit. We had the honor to study in one of the best institutions in Mexico. We visited beautiful touristic attractions, had a seat at the government’s table, and were able to spend more than 10 USD in tacos for dinner. We often ended identifying with servers at restaurants as that job is often the fate of many undocumented immigrants.

Our program allowed us to travel to our home states for a weekend. I remember boarding the plane to San Luis Potosi with uncertainty and excitement to see my family for the first time in 12 years. As soon as we landed, I picked up my luggage and headed towards the exit and saw my mother waiting for me impatiently. She couldn’t believe that I had come home. The word she used to describe it was ‘miracle.’ For the first time in my life she face-to-face told me how proud she was of my hard work and happy to see me again after so many years. It was then when she understood that all my odd jobs, many years in school, and community involvement had a purpose. I spent the weekend visiting family, friends, and all my favorite childhood places. I had dinner with my entire family where I shared all my dreams and plans for the future. It was without a doubt one of the highlights of my trip, and saying goodbye was extremely difficult.

In Mexico City, we visited with the Secretariat of Foreign Affairs where we met with the then Secretary of Foreign Affairs Claudia Ruiz Massieu to discuss a set of plans and ideas for programs Mexican Citizens living in the US. We talked about education programs, health, and cultural programs for second generation Mexican Americans. We not only shared our ideas for programs, but also committed to work with the Mexican Government in the implementation of these programs in the US. We weren’t there just to complain, but also offer our services as part of the millions of Mexicans living abroad wanting better living conditions for Mexicans on both sides of the border.

Following the visit with Secretary Ruiz Massieu, we had the honor to be invited to celebrate the 4th of July at the US Ambassador’s House Roberta Jacobson. The ten of us along with Secretary Ruiz Massieu, Ambassador Roberta Jacobson, and hundreds of other attendees from both countries celebrated America’s Independence. We couldn’t help but feel emotional as we sang the National Anthem and pay tribute to the American Flag. I would never forget that for the first time in my life, I truly felt like an American.

Our trip was full of interviews where we shared our story over and over again. By sharing our most difficult moments as immigrants, we gave a voice to millions of immigrants going through the same challenges. We found strength, resilience, and hope. Our visits to Pyramids, Tepito, Puebla, and home gave us a strong sense of belonging. The museums, food, and music open the door gave us the gift of cultural awareness. Together, the ten of us became a new family—a DACAmented family.

After five weeks we packed our dreams and brand-new memories in the same suitcase, but now to return to our other home- the United States of America. We carried our luggage and, with a heavy heart and a bit of fear, we boarded. At the Dallas airport, the immigration officer was courteous and helpful. He welcomed us back home stamping our passports and Advance Parole documents. Upon our return, we saw our families, friends, and Mexican consulate officials welcoming us at the airport. As I exited the airport, I couldn’t help but reflect on my trip and life. My life would never be the same after that trip.

A few weeks after my return, as I struggled to readapt to the life, language, and social norms of the US, the Mexican Embassy in DC called me to meet the Mexican President, Enrique Peña Nieto. I met with 24 other DACAmented young leaders to discuss our plans to work with Mexico to implement programs focused on improving the lives of immigrants. With President Peña Nieto, we shared our concerns and desired to work with our countr to put together a plan of action. We also met with USCIS Director Leon Rodriguez to discuss the future of DACA and other options for DAPA. Secretary Ruiz Massieu committed to helping us organize and plan a conference to bring a group of DREAMers and DACAmented leaders to work together.

After my internship with Congress and the study abroad in Mexico City, I boarded a bus traveling south to Edinburg, TX, just a few miles from the US-Mexico border to finish my education at the University of Dallas Rio Grande Valley. Thanks to many friends and America’s Dream Award Scholarship, I am back on track towards achieving my dreams of obtaining a higher education degree. Due to my immigrant story, life-changing opportunities, and work with the community, I have decided to pursue a double major in political science and public health. I found a new passion in policy, hope to become a legislator, and work to better our communities across the country.

I know that many DREAMers and DACAmented students out there are afraid. I know this because I share the same sentiment. Our journeys in this country are far from over. We haven’t arrived where we need to be-- please don’t lose hope. Find strength in someone else when you feel like giving up. I considered giving up until someone else followed my footsteps behind me. Whether our path for the next four years is traveled by foot, car, bus, train, or airplane, we need to keep strong until together we arrive and achieve inclusion, and even citizenship.

Best,
Giovanni

]]><![CDATA[The Golden Ticket That Opened My Door to Europe]]>Sat, 31 Dec 2016 14:50:33 GMThttps://www.imbeyondborders.com/daca-travelers/december-31st-2016 My name is Maria and I.M. Beyond Borders.
Get behind the scenes what I'm calling a "golden ticket," a pass I've been rejected for several years, hoped and prayed for, and recently make my dream come true. I'm doing all of this with a full ride scholarship with a group that full supports me. I won't stop here. If you find this inspiring, please share to show "si, se puede."

Last night, I celebrated New Year's in Paris, France, the country I always dreamt of visiting. Some people here have mistaken me as American, but the reality is incredibly different. Yes, I am American by heart, but I am a Mexican by birth. Another thing they don't know is that I am DACAmented in the United States, and am in Europe only because of what I call a golden ticket-Advance Parole.

My life in the U.S. has been rough since day one. Not knowing the language or culture was a huge back-breaking barrier, but I didn't allow it to push me down. Growing up in the U.S. since I was 7 years old brought me to value this country immensely. It's been the only place I truly know and call home. Regardless of graduating in the top 3% of my high school class, it's been a rough rollercoaster ride, especially now in college. Doors have closed on me because not being a U.S. citizen or resident disqualified me from several college funding opportunities. That didn't stop me: I'm blessed to say I've somehow been able to fight for enough scholarships to pay my entire way to college. I'm more blessed to say nothing was simply handed to me so, I've learned how to work hard for what I want. Part of me is happy because since I received DACA, many doors have opened; however, at the same time, it gave many the authority to deny to us rights that should be fundamental. These obstacles have prepared me for things like why I am here today. These obstacles have empowered me to prove that we are students wanting a betterment of OUR nation.

Many have supported me through my educational journey... (Read More below)

But most importantly, God has been by my side every step of the way. I know some of you might not be religious, but as for me, God has worked tremendous miracles. Since day one, I had faith that He would help me, and until this day, He has still remained faithful. Many people expressed I'd be in a circle of impossibilities because of my immigration status, but God told me to do the possible and He would do the impossible.

This past fall semester, I transferred to a university after receiving my Honors Associate of Arts degree from a community college. Just 3 months ago I found out about this Europe study abroad opportunity that I am participating in now. I immediately had flashbacks of when I was previously not given the permission to go with my community college because I was told my immigration status made everything 'too risky' with a DACAmented student. There it was -- the same opportunity opening its doors to me at a full 180 degrees. Last time, that door to study aboard was shut to me, but this time God opened a greater door for me that I felt that no one could close. Well, here it goes…

The door slowly began to shut at a 90 degree angle. Donald Trump continuously attacked the immigrant community. The fight in the elections had me nervous and then disappointed when I saw the election results. I walked in circles for hours rethinking what was once a safer chance to study abroad. If I left in December, would I be able to come back in January? One DACAmented friend insisted me joining him in the trip. He convinced me to apply, but he unfortunately couldn't go due to financial issues. I informed the director of the study aboard office of my high interest and being DACAmented. To my surprise, he knew a little bit about it, and thus finally convinced me to apply. He offered any and all assistance. The application to the program wasn't my worry though. It was the application to the Golden Ticket for Advance Parole that made me anxious as I researched tirelessly on how to apply.

I was told the process took about 3 months. I had 2 months prior to departure, but a positive mindset telling me to give it a try. I was aware of the high financial risks-- loosing what I would pay for the program, airfare, class costs, and governmental fees. At that point, I didn't care of loosing the money because it felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity. God had brought me this far, and I knew that He wouldn't leave me at this time. The trip would be over before the inauguration, thus I felt more comfort in the risk.

Weeks passed and nothing happened. November 8, 2016 came, and it brought something that many weren't expecting, the triumph of Donald Trump as president. That door took a sharp 45 degree closure. I was devastated, but once again I held onto my faith in God. I wanted to study abroad this winter and knowing that it may be my last chance to accomplish this dream before he becomes president, I wanted it even more. That’s how I got my courage to make this happen. Of course, I am human, I feared. I had fear of getting my hopes up and once again being denied a study abroad, but this time, I was willing to take the risk.

Then it became so foggy that I couldn't even see a door anymore. Three weeks prior to departure for the trip: I was losing hope and patience. I called USCIS and requested to expedite my case. Two weeks prior to departure: I got a letter saying the request was denied because of lack of evidence to expedite it. I didn’t' give up. I knew that something was wrong. I had the evidence in my hands, so once again I called them. I told the USCIS Officer about my case and she submitted another request to expedite it as I'm watching the dates on the calendar. One week prior to departure: I opened my mail and the document to expedite my case came had come explaining that my case had been sent to a different department to be expedited. The next envelope I opened that evening was the Advance Parole document. I was crying with excitement, the golden ticket had come. It was in my hands as I slide into the door that had once tried to closed on me several times!

Packing for my trip was crazy. Before me stood a 9 hour direct flight to finally see the world outside of the U.S. and 16 days in Europe. I was worried I would forget another document, but it didn't stop me. I was determined to take this opportunity to study abroad. The truth is that both my parents were afraid, but they knew that God had it all under control. My parents were so happy and proud of me. My family from school was also worried, but continued to supported me every step of the way. Whether it was random motivational texts, or calls to speak to me, they gave me the courage to keep on going and keep pursuing my dreams.

If I look back months ago, I would have never thought I would be were I am now. I thank God every minute because I know that without His help, I wouldn't be where I am now. These past few days I was in The Netherlands and now I'm in France. I have seen greater things than what I had imagined. I have gone on adventures to see many countries, while studying at night. There are times where all I want to do is cry of happiness. I want to cry because I'm doing greater things than what people have told us we couldn't do. I want to cry because of the excitement to be on the other side of the world, studying what I like most- government. I want to cry because I want every one of you DREAMers to have this chance. I'm here on the other side of the world to represent every single one of us. We're dreamers, with a passion to be above average and to take risks that change us forever.

Today is 2017 and the first day of another amazing year. It's the start of many amazing opportunities for us, DREAMers. In the next few days, I will be traveling to Germany, Austria and Italy. After that, I will be heading back to the U.S. Of course I am worried once again. I fear the entrance back to my home could be denied. At the same time, I know I have all documents ready and a clean criminal record, which give me comfort that everything will be okay. I know God has my back and will be right there to protect me.

DREAMers, don't worry. I will be okay and go back home with my head held up high as a proud DREAMer. All the things that have occurred in my life have made me the stronger woman I am today. It has strengthened me spiritually, mentally, professionally and academically. Many people judge us, but they've never walked in our shoes. I'm so thankful to my God, my family, my school, and friends that have supported me in every way. I'm proud to represent each one of us. I'm proud to call y'all my brothers and sisters.

I will be back home soon!

Thank you for taking the time to read my study abroad story. I hope to inspire many of you. Please, do not give up on your dreams. We have gone through so many things, thus we are stronger than we were yesterday. God put them in your heart for a reason, and with Him, everything is possible. As for me, I am living my dream right now, at this very precise moment. I haven't slept much during this trip, but I'm wide awake and hungry for more time. I'm here in Paris you guys, it's a dream come true!

Bonjour!
-Maria

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