Do I look Illegal? [View All]

[getthefacts]

I live in a small town in Massachusetts. People know me in different ways: as a classical guitar teacher and performer, as a journalist, as a parishioner, as a father and husband. But almost nobody thinks of me as an undocumented immigrant. Why would anyone? I’m a reliable guy, who is very active is his parish, chair of his condo board, politically active, beautiful family, speaks fluent English and, maybe best of all, looks Italian.

But although I’m not proud to say this, I am out of status and I have been living like this for the past five years. But let me set the record straight. I am no alien. Neither am I a criminal. It is true I did not comply with all immigration statutes, but all of these are civil statutes.

I came to the U.S. for the first time in the late 80’s. I was in Junior High. Although I spent my childhood in South America, I somehow always knew I would end up here. My mother moved to Illinois when she was young and left the country to rebuild her life after a failed marriage. She remarried and had other two kids. I remember hearing many stories about this country growing up and listening to Simon and Garfunkel, Joplin, Santana et al. We all moved to NYC in 1989. We stayed for a year and a half and then returned because she could not sponsor her two foreign children for a green card. At the time, the reasoning was that as a single mom, she did not meet the financial requirement to file an Affidavit of Support (meaning, she couldn’t afford to feed the four of us and we would become a charge on the system).
In 1995, we returned to NYC. In 1996, I applied for permanent residency and was denied. As I was already accepted into college, the university I would be attending suggested I applied for a student visa to stay legally while I found a way to apply for a green card.

The avenue for a green card never materialized. I could go into the details here, but it makes no sense. It is just too long and complicated a story. In short, at some point my work authorization expired. I applied for an extension, but was denied. Since I had bills to pay, including college tuition and rent, I chose to work unauthorized. I couldn’t afford not to. I even approached my principal to let her know USCIS did not extend my work authorization (I was a teacher then), and she told me that we never had that conversation.
Once my visa expired, I couldn’t petition for a new one unless I lied on the form (the form asks if the petitioner held unauthorized employment). I could not get myself to lie, even though most friends and even an attorney told me to go ahead, stating that USCIS would never find out and I would only make life miserable if I lost my status. You can call me naïve, but, as I said to my wife at the time, I would not let anything corrupt my sense of right and wrong. And I did not think, as I still don’t, that it was wrong to keep working. At the time, I already had a sense that I belonged here. I was married, expecting a child, and deeply involved in my community. I was not going to pack up and go.

Today, I live in limbo. I am a father of three beautiful American children. My mom is a naturalized American citizen. I have brothers and sisters who were born here. My wife is a permanent resident on her way to become a citizen (and this, by the way, is another nightmare story with a long 10 years of waiting. And that is because she did everything absolutely right). But in order for me to have a shot at becoming legal again, I would have to leave this country and my community behind for 10 years before I could qualify to apply for residency (a process which can take anywhere from three to six years average).

Now, today, I can’t express the anger as I heard a congressman explaining on TV how the police in Arizona would be able to identify illegal immigrants. “They dress like this, they use certain types of shoes and they have such and such behavior patterns”. How do we elect these people? Most would probably gasp if they knew how many undocumented immigrants have been living right across the street, sharing church pews, and even employing American born citizens in their businesses. We all still have the same image of these “illegals”. Why don’t we just call them wetbacks, like we used to?

Immigration reform is important to me and my family. I don’t want to live my life with this invisible ceiling holding my potential. I want to be able to think high, and dream far, without ropes to tie me down. I thought about leaving, but it is hard to leave family and friends, community and country behind. After all, this IS my nation, and I’m not letting anyone tell me otherwise.
Here at D.U. , I often read people describing reform as a shortcut. There are no shortcuts when talking about immigration law. Only when you don’t understand how the system works, you can make such absurd statements. And most people don’t understand or care to. I was amazed last month when I joined thousands in D.C. for the immigration rally. But I was also disappointed to come back home and see that the minuscule Tea Party rally held in front of Congress got more media attention. That Tea Party crowd could fit into two buses. Our march filled the mall. But the reality is, we are invisible.

And, in a twisted way, I do wish that the Arizona governor signs this ridiculous bill. Because then, I hope, people like me will decide that it is not worth to hide anymore. As we will go out by the thousands. And citizens with some good-sense will also understand that this has gone way too far and will start demanding a solution. And maybe then, President Obama will remember the promises he made as a candidate. The promises that made me believe in a new tomorrow. That is why I called and drove every single American citizen I knew - family and friends - to the polls on that Nov. 15th to make sure they voted.

I’m still looking forward to a bright future. I walk towards it and I hope to find more people to walk it with me.