Undocumented Successes
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Background
When I stepped onto Harvard’s campus, I thought I made it. I thought that was it.
Boy was I wrong.
Alongside memories of the amazing moments I spent there, I have some that reflect the struggles I faced to get through it all. I think these are similar to those experienced by first generation college students.
I remember being in bed, lying down in the fetal position as tears streamed down my face. I felt like I was in a deep pit I would never climb out of. I didn’t know why, but felt sad, mad, and ashamed. I felt as though there was something wrong with me. I got into Harvard but didn’t always feel like I belonged there. And yet, I knew I couldn’t give up. I worked too hard to get in and couldn’t let my family down.
Years later, I’d learn that I experienced a lot of culture shock when I got to college. It was a sense of relief to know that my breakdowns weren’t because I wasn’t strong enough.
During my junior year, I got my bearings and started to feel like I belonged. I had a strong support system established with amazing friends and great student organizations. I found my place.
This change I saw in myself also coincided with a shift in the classes I was taking. I switched my concentration (major) from Economics to Social Anthropology and fell in love with the material I was learning. I studied the characteristics and origins of different cultures, while focusing on immigration. For the first time in my life, I was exposed to content I felt connected to. Immigration wasn’t just a topic I studied, but something that was a part of my life since I was born. My parents constantly shared their stories with me, helping me understand their journey to this country. By seeing the value I had to add in these classes, I was able to make connections to the value I could provide the university.
These classes also helped cement my belief that immigration stories can add value to our society. We are currently living in a climate where documented and undocumented immigrants alike are frequently being vilified in the media. We hear countless stories of detainment and deportations. It’s never been more urgent to increase the number of immigration stories out in the world.
We need stories to counter the negative rhetoric that has taken over the media. With my blog, I hope to add to the ever growing bank of stories out there of the lives of immigrants and their families.
Inspiration
Father
My father made a decision to flee his home country full of family and friends when he heard he was next in line to be killed. He was caught in the middle of a Civil War he didn’t believe in, with few options left before him. Migrating to the United States wasn’t a decision made out of luxury; it was borne out of necessity. His first attempt into the United States ended in Mexico where he was tortured to the brink of death by Mexican state police. The journey left him scarred; he almost gave in to what seemed to be his inevitable fate. Fortunately, he was able to make it through legally with all the appropriate papers, that is, until his papers were stolen from him by those he trusted most. He had to start at the bottom and work his way up the restaurant business, moving from dishwasher until he became a chef and owner of his own restaurant.
My father’s story was a part of my upbringing and a constant source of motivation for me.
Mother
My mother’s decision to leave El Salvador was based on the extreme sense of responsibility she felt over her parents and siblings. She grew up in poverty, and the Civil War only made things worse. During the Civil War, boys as young as 14 were taken by either side to fight in the war. My mother needed to come to the United States to set up a stable environment for her younger siblings and to make enough money to send back to her family who chose to stay in El Salvador. My mother’s second journey ended just across the border into the United States after she crossed the Rio Grande when she was caught and placed in jail. She was able to make it across using a tourist visa. She ended up being the rock for her family, taking in siblings, cousins, and friends when they made it here.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the responsibility I feel over my students and the greater Latino community is borne from watching my mom take care of those around her.