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Five personal stories of life in mixed-status families

Photo by nunodantas/Flickr (Creative Commons)

What is it like to live in a family in which you’re a U.S. citizen, but your spouse, one of your parents, a sibling, an uncle or aunt, even one of your children is undocumented?

During the past week, Multi-American has presented a series of first-person stories from people in families like these. Families of mixed immigration status are surprisingly common. In 2009, the Pew Hispanic Center estimated there were 8.8 million people living in mixed-status families in the United States.

This makes for a conservative estimate, as Pew’s definition was limited to families with unauthorized immigrants and their U.S. citizen children. Even more common are mixed-status extended families, one example being the Kenyan-born family of President Obama, whose undocumented half-uncle was arrested in August, and whose aunt was up for deportation until being granted asylum.

Why are mixed-status families so prevalent in the U.S? The demand for family reunification through legal channels is much larger than the number of available immigrant visas, for one thing. And for those who are in the U.S. illegally, it is much more difficult to adjust one’s immigration status than commonly thought, even through marriage. Those who entered with visas and overstayed stand a better chance, but tighter laws over the years have made it impossible for many people who entered without visas to ever adjust their status.

So what is life like for these families? As those who contributed to the series have explained, things as simple as taking a trip together are fraught with anxiety, or just not done. Those here legally don’t add their spouses to insurance plans or add their names to loan documents. “It’s as if she doesn’t exist,” one person wrote. Here are some highlights from the series.

People who don’t have undocumented family members don’t believe me when I tell them he can’t get papers. They don’t believe me when I tell them my brother-in-law can not enter this country legally to pick crops. They always tell me I’m mistaken. Or they’re callous and don’t understand how easy it was for their ancestors to enter, and how difficult it is now.

  • A man who works with elementary school students in Portland, Oregon public schools writes about how media images and public attitudes affect children in mixed-status households:

Many of my students have a lot of sad issues with their cultural identity, stemming from the kind of hateful things they hear all the time about them and their families. The undocumented population in Portland is pretty big, so there’s not as much fear or secrecy as there are kids growing up having to listen to their neighbors and the media speak about their parents as if they were sub-human. That causes lasting damage to kids, and it sucks.

  • A woman who was born to Mexican immigrants in Kansas City, Missouri writes about life with her domestic partner, who has tried to adjust her status but remains undocumented:

It hurts to keep so many secrets. I can’t put her on an application for a loan and I have to say I’m the only person in the household. I can’t put her on my health or auto insurance and again – it’s as if she doesn’t exist.

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Life in a mixed-status family: ‘It’s as if she doesn’t exist’

Photo by hebedesign/Flickr (Creative Commons)

This week we’ve been featuring the first-person stories people who live in families of mixed immigration status, families in which some members are U.S. citizens or legal residents and others remain undocumented, often unable to adjust their status.

With the demand for family reunification high and the number of immigrant visas available each year low, especially for hopeful immigrants in countries like Mexico and the Philippines, mixed-status families are common in the United States. But with the risk of deportation always present, family members keep quiet, not revealing why they can’t do things other families take for granted.

KPCC’s Public Insight Network has asked people who are willing to share their stories to write in about their experiences, and several have. Among those whose stories have been featured this week was one young woman, the U.S. born child of undocumented parents, who wrote, “Mixed citizenship status within a family causes frustration, uncertainty, secrecy, lies.”

Yesterday’s post featured the story of an Orange County man who has legal status but whose siblings don’t, although they all arrived in the U.S. as minors.

Today’s story comes from a 32-year-old woman in Kansas City, Missouri who was born in the U.S. to Mexican immigrants. She has been with her partner, a woman who is undocumented, since 2008. ”I knew she was undocumented, but it didn’t matter to me,” she wrote. “I loved her and still love her.”

But as she tells it, their life together isn’t easy:

It hurts to keep so many secrets. I can’t put her on an application for a loan and I have to say I’m the only person in the household. I can’t put her on my health or auto insurance and again – it’s as if she doesn’t exist.

We share a car because I don’t feel comfortable knowing she is driving at night (she works at two restaurants). She works weekends, so I know that there is plenty of police patrol on Friday and Saturday nights. I had to learn to drive stick shift (but that’s a positive)!

I have a professional career and I hate not being able to take her to company events where they may require valid drivers license/identification/etc. I hate that I can go to college and she (who is miles ahead of me), can’t. I hate that she is taken advantage of at work and she can’t just quit or file grievances like I could.

Our emotional relationship has also had problems because (she’ll never admit this), but she feels helpless. She wants to be the breadwinner. She wants to be the provider. She doesn’t want me to drive her around. She doesn’t want me to worry about bills. I’ve seen her cry and it kills me.

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Life in a mixed-status family: ‘Frustration, uncertainty, secrecy, lies’

Photo by barnabywasson/Flickr (Creative Commons)

A series of posts that began in August, prompted by the arrest and detention of President Obama’s undocumented half-uncle, has explored the prevalence of mixed-status families. These are families composed of a blend of U.S. citizens and/or legal residents and undocumented immigrants, often living under one roof. There might be undocumented parents, grandparents, siblings, children, or as with the First Family, aunts and uncles.

Very often, the family members who are undocumented have have tried to adjust their immigration status but can’t, even through marriage. And so these families remain mixed in their status, unable to do many of the things other families take for granted.

What is it like to live in a family in which your spouse, your parents, a sibling or other relative is undocumented? A post last week featured a mini-essay from one reader, a U.S. citizen who has unsuccessfully tried to adjust her husband’s status. She wrote about how simple things, like adding him to her employer-sponsored health plan, are impossible to do. Since then, KPCC’s Public Insight Network has asked others to share their stories about a phenomenon that is surprisingly common, but seldom discussed outside the family.

We’ll be featuring some of their stories here, starting with this one from Susana, a young woman in Los Angeles who was willing to share hers. She is a U.S. citizen, but her parents, who were born in Mexico, are undocumented and can’t adjust their status. Here’s what she wrote:

My dad and mom came to the US shortly after they married. I was born here and so was my younger brother. My parents have been here 21 years and they are still undocumented.

My dad spoke to a lawyer regarding the process for residency and he told my dad that it would be pretty much impossible to help him with his situation. We are waiting until I turn 21 so I can file for them. My parents work minimum wage jobs which means they have to work long shifts with usually just one day off. They don’t receive any benefits, health insurance, vacation. We live in a two bedroom apartment because that’s all we can afford.

My parents have been saving money to buy a home for about ten years now but the prospects of that actually occurring seem to diminish everyday.

The only reason I am able to afford college is because I receive financial aid and I was able to take out a generous amount of money in loans. My parents could never afford to send me to UCLA paying out of pocket, so I found a way to do so without putting a heavy load on their shoulders.

Secrecy is important because the revelation of undocumented is a stigma, especially right now with so much ignorant anti-immigrant sentiment throughout the country. Fear is something we live with. It’s our enemy because it’s always there reminding us of who we are but it’s also our friend since it has been with us for so long.

Fear is involved in everything we do and everywhere we go. Driving or paying with a credit card (no license or valid ID). Deportation is always a possibility as well. Our future as a family is uncertain.

Mixed citizenship status within a family causes frustration, uncertainty, secrecy, lies. It’s a burden at times and something that is thought about every single day.

Do you have a story to share? Feel free to post comments below, or view the Public Insight Network questions here.

A week’s worth of reactions to the House hearings on Islam

Photo by waltarrrrr/Flickr (Creative Commons)

A view of the King Fahad Mosque in Culver City, CA, November 2009

The news of last Friday’s earthquake in Japan all but obscured what had been some of the biggest news of the previous day, the first hearing of a planned series in the House Committee on Homeland Security on the “extent of radicalization” among American Muslims, led by committee chair and New York Republican Rep. Peter King.

Muslim groups and other minority organizations condemned the hearings as xenophobic; King defended them as “absolutely essential.” Prior to the first hearing March 10 (the next one has not been scheduled), KPCC’s Public Insight Network sent out a series of questions to members of its audience, inviting Muslims and people of all faiths to share their take on the hearings.

By last Friday morning, the House hearing had quickly fallen off the news radar, but people continued to respond. The majority were Muslim, though Christian and Jewish respondents answered the questions as well. Here are some excerpts from their responses.

Q: King’s hearing is titled: “The Extent of Radicalization in the American Muslim Community and that Community’s Response.” How, if at all, does King’s asking these questions in Congress change how you feel or speak about Islam?

Nadia Hassan, Villa Park, CA: It doesn’t change anything at all for me. If anything, it enforces my speech and what I stand for, which is justice for all.

Yasmin Elhady, Orlando, FL: Muslims in America have undoubtedly carried the burden of explaining away the extremists in their faith who unleashed the violence and tragedy of September 11th, 2001, and beyond. Muslims in America constantly feel the pressure of defending their faith and helping people understand that Islam too has individual members who claim to follow the faith, but contort the teachings to serve their own selfish agenda. The hearings on “Radicalization” are an unfortunate setback for American Muslims who have been educating, informing, and cooperating with their American communities–both in law enforcement and in the civilian population.

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Undocumented and afraid, part 2

Photo by Bryan Goseline/Flickr (Creative Commons)

Students taking in a lecture, October 2007

In my previous post, I explained my rationale in going forward with a young undocumented college student’s story after he requested that he remain anonymous.

The student had sent an e-mail to KPCC through the station’s Public Insight Network, which allows the public to confidentially share their personal stories related to topics in the news. I’d asked him if he would be willing to participate in a Q&A for the Multi-American blog. He agreed, but later asked if I could publish his answers without using his name.

I briefly wondered if I should simply find another student’s story to publish, one of the many who are coming out about their immigration status as they campaign for the DREAM Act. But then, would passing on this wary kid in Claremont, and on his fear, mean passing on part of the story?

My thought is that it would be. The flip side to the student activism surrounding the DREAM Act is that the students who are going public with their status are putting a great deal at risk. By coming out they risk deportation, and with that, separation from their families, their friends, and for many, the only country they know. There is much to lose, and not all are willing to take that chance.

The Claremont student has lived here since early childhood. Factor in that he has his parents and sister here also, and it’s not difficult to understand his desire for anonymity while, at the same time, wanting to have his voice heard.

So here is his story:

Hi, I do not want to use my first or last name for the protection of myself and family.

I was born in East Asia. I am currently 19 years old, double majoring in Economics and Mathematics with a GPA of 3.2.

I came to the US when I was 6 years old, and we got here on tourist visas, with plans of getting residency; however, though our papers were turned in, the government’s immigration service lost our papers, and by then it was too late for us to do anything about it as we were considered undocumented.

M-A: How does being undocumented color your experience as a student? How does it affect your post-college plans?

Student: My undocumented experience has made everything more difficult than necessary: getting into college, thinking about paying for college, getting a job, getting to the job, get a checking account, and so much more. I want to go into finance after I graduate, but this will be difficult for me without a SSN. I have not even been able to invest in stocks, as I would need a SSN to do so.

M-A: You’ve mentioned that you were able to get a scholarship to Pomona – private, I take it, since there is no public student aid available to you? How much has this helped?

Student: Yes, I was accepted to UC Berkeley and Los Angeles, but I did not receive any funding; however, luckily, I was accepted into Pomona College with a scholarship. Pomona College is a private college and most faculty and staff have been supportive from the Dean of Students, Miriam Feldblum, and Directors Sefa Aina, Sergio Marin, and Maria Tucker, all the way down to the professors. I am so grateful that Pomona College has given me the opportunity to attend such a great college and obtain a great education with a scholarship.

M-A: You mention having to work several jobs in addition. Do you help supplement your family’s income? What do your parents do for a living, and how does their status affect them and your family’s overall position and access to education for you (and any siblings)?

Student: I just try to help out around the house whenever possible. Over the summer, I have even worked three different jobs in order to save up for the school year. My dad works at a factory. Both my parents had great jobs, and we had comfortable lives, but they came to the US to give us the “American Dream.” Though they are much better off in their native country, they have done this all to give my sister and me, the opportunity to get a great education.

M-A: You’re an undocumented student born in Asia. Much immigration coverage, as well as the immigration debate in general, is focused around Latinos. How does this make you feel?

Student: As the immigration debate is focused around Latinos, people are surprise to hear that I am undocumented. I don’t know how to feel, but I know that I want to fight for my rights and get an equal opportunity here in the US. I think that Asian voices and stories are not as prominent, as many do not want to stick out and just want to fit in.

M-A: The DREAM Act is coming up for another vote, though whether it passes is iffy. How optimistic are you this time around?

Student: The Dream Act is coming up for another vote. I am enthused that we will have another vote; however, I am getting worn out and don’t know how much more hope I can have as every time I get my hopes up, it gets shot down over and over again.

M-A: If the DREAM Act does pass, what effect will it have on your life plans? And if it doesn’t, and you can’t find a way to adjust your status, then what?

Student: If the Dream Act passes, I don’t even know where to begin to say in what magnitude my life plans will be changed. I will be able to travel without worry, apply for a job/ school knowing I am getting the same opportunity as the student in the same class as me, and so much more. More importantly, I will not have the constant worry of the possibility of being deported.

If it doesn’t pass, I will still work my best to get my degrees and hope that some company will like what I have to offer and see if I could get residency. If not, I am running low on options and do not know what I can do.

Undocumented and afraid, part 1

Photo by Bryan Goseline/Flickr (Creative Commons)

Students taking in a lecture, October 2007

Much has been written lately about the college students who are coming out about their immigration status in support of the DREAM Act, proposed legislation that would allow undocumented students like themselves, or those who join the military, a path to legal status if they meet several criteria, including having arrived in the United States as minors under 16.

But for every one of those students, there are are many others who are afraid to come forward.

A couple of months ago, a colleague here at KPCC passed along an e-mail that came in response to immigration-related questions posed via the station’s Public Insight Network, a project that gives the public a confidential way to share personal stories related to topics in the news. The e-mail, written by a young man in Claremont, caught my attention: He was a college student who had been here since childhood, he was undocumented, and he felt hopeless.

I contacted him to see if he would share more of his personal story for the Multi-American blog in a Q&A, and he gladly did – but then, after I asked him if it was okay to publish his last name, he asked me to please, please not use his name at all.

In general, news organizations use anonymous sources only sparingly, and only if being identified represents a valid threat to the source. Deportation typically counts as such, but I wondered, with so many other students going public with their undocumented status as they campaign for the DREAM Act, should I just speak to someone else? Or is the fear that is prompting this young man to remain in hiding a part of the story that I would be missing if I passed on him?

It is, and I would be. That point was driven home yesterday, when I caught a post on the Arizona-based advocacy site La Frontera Times by Alfredo Gutiérrez titled “Undocumented and Unafraid” – a popular slogan among DREAM Act supporters – about those who have come out, and those who haven’t.

From the post:

I want to share a word about the undocumented and afraid. I suspect that there are many more of them. My great niece came here at seven, graduated from high school with honors, with great ambitions and dreams attended Phoenix College and completed her AA with honors as well and then the dream stalled. The anti-immigrant climate of hate in Arizona suffocated young folks like her. Her brother was deported. The University by law demanded out-of-state tuition from her in order to complete her studies. She waitressed, cleaned houses, married, had a baby and after an Arpaio raid near her home moved to San Francisco.

She is afraid every day that she will be discovered and separated from her baby. She hides. If the Dream Act passes today she will come back to Arizona finish her degree and go on to graduate school and this country will have another Pediatrician. If it fails she will hide.

The wary student in Claremont is one of those “many more” undocumented youths who are still hiding, worried that they or their families might be deported if they reveal their names, but whose personal stories are still worth hearing.

In a forthcoming post, I’ll be sharing his story.