A Sense of Doubt blog post #3630 - America's Undocumented Immigrants: more Complicated than You Might Think
My Dad died 150 days ago. That's why I tagged the milestones category. These numbers seem significant, even though 150 does not have any round eights in it.
Regardless of number 150 or overuse of nuanced, this is a good article because awareness of who are the undocumented immigrants is NOT the picture Trump and his robotic parrots claim it to be. Or favorite NY Times writer who has been here for 30 years could be an undocumented immigrant. My neighbor from back in Woodland who told me he came here during the Reagan administration may be undocumented, I don't remember.
As questions of who deserves to be in the United States and who we define as American take center stage, we have lost sight of how complicated it is to find a path to citizenship in this country and how many obstacles exist.
By Jose Antonio Vargas Mr. Vargas is the author of “Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen,” and host of “Define American,” a YouTube show. |
Since publicly declaring my undocumented status in The New York Times Magazine in 2011, I’ve been all over the country, to 48 states, engaging with people of all kinds — Democrats, Republicans, young, old. And what I’ve learned is that immigration is one of the most fraught yet least understood issues in America. Many people have no idea how our immigration system works.
The question I get asked most is, “Why don’t you just get in the back of the line and make yourself legal?”
Well, there is no line. No standardized legalization process exists for America’s more than 11 million undocumented people. The government either wants to deport you or force you to leave for a consular interview in another country in order to receive a green card or visa, with no guarantee that you’ll be allowed to return to the place you call home.
Disinformation about and fear of immigration that propelled Donald Trump to the presidency twice have certainly not helped with developing pathways to citizenship. Trump’s assertions that undocumented immigrants are a criminal monolith have been relentless and wildly effective. Never mind that undocumented immigrants are arrested at less than half the rate of native-born citizens for drug-related and violent crimes, and a quarter the rate for property crimes.
In my guest essay for Times Opinion this week, I chronicle my decades-long journey to securing documented status through an O visa, illustrating how the process is so arbitrary and Byzantine that it is often downright impossible for undocumented Americans to become legal residents. And, as Congress passes legislation with bipartisan support to deny migrants due process, and Trump pushes his own black-and-white solution to immigration, I encourage you to fight for the nuances.
https://www.nytimes.com/2025/01/20/opinion/undocumented-immigrant-stories.html
Guest Essay
I Was an Undocumented Immigrant. I Beg You to See the Nuance in Our Stories.
Mr. Vargas is the author of “Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen,” and host of “Define American,” a YouTube show.
Almost 14 years ago, I risked the life I had built for
myself in the United States by coming out publicly as an undocumented
immigrant.
This past Christmas, I took an even greater risk: To find my
way to a stable legal status in this country, I had to leave the place I have
called my home for over 30 years. I had no promise of being able to return.
In front of me was an opportunity I almost stopped hoping to
find. For me, like many undocumented immigrants, immigration reform — on both a
wide scale and a personal one — can seem impossible. During the election
campaigns last year, we heard endless plans that too often vastly
oversimplified the reality of immigration. In this country, immigrants, with
their complex, nuanced lives, have seen their stories flattened through
misinformation and fear.
Those of us who try our best to navigate the legal system
run up against arcane, sometimes nonsensical, even arbitrary rules. We need
lawyers, friends and allies to help us.
I was born in the Philippines. When I was 12 my mother sent
me to live with her parents, both naturalized U.S. citizens who lived in
California. Under family petition laws, U.S. citizen grandparents can’t sponsor
their foreign-born grandchildren. I later learned that my grandfather had paid
a coyote to bring me to the United States. With the help of educators and
mentors, I graduated from San Francisco State University and established myself
in my career as a journalist. Over time I learned the limitations of my status,
first when I applied for a driver’s license, and later when I applied for jobs.
I was a 20-year-old student when the Dream Act — which
stands for Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors — was first
introduced in Congress, in 2001. At least 20 versions of the legislation have since reached
Capitol Hill. None have become law. Each has proposed a path to legalization
for immigrants like me who were brought to the United States as children.
In 2012, under pressure from undocumented youths who
organized and protested at his rallies, President Barack Obama announced
Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA, an executive order protecting
those called Dreamers from deportation and granting them two-year temporary
work permits.
I was just over four months too old to qualify.
Against the counsel of several immigration lawyers, I wrote
my story for
The Times Magazine in 2011. I wanted to show readers the path of an
undocumented person who came to this country as a minor, to put a face to the
many undocumented people in the work force who are forced to exist at the
margins of society.
Acknowledging my legal status was a risk. But what truly
sank my chances at citizenship was revealing that throughout my young adulthood
I lied to get employment: I checked off the I-9 box, falsely claiming U.S.
citizenship. That choice — made without thought or counsel — meant I found
myself trapped in a legal cul-de-sac which greatly limited my options to change
my status. I was ineligible for a work visa and would be ineligible for
citizenship, even if I ended up marrying a citizen. That
transgression seemed to have closed all doors.
My most trusted friends urged me to pursue the waiver. My
immigration lawyer proposed that I apply for what’s known as an O visa — a
nonimmigrant visa for people who “have extraordinary ability or achievement” —
along with the D-3 waiver.
It was, yet again, a gamble.
My O visa was approved on Dec. 13. The earliest appointment
I could schedule was Dec. 26 — at the U.S. Consulate in Tijuana, Mexico.
On Christmas Day, less than 24 hours after my appointment
was confirmed, I left the United States for the first time since 1993. Without
approval of my D-3 waiver, I would be stuck in Mexico. I brought a stack of
greeting cards with me to send to loved ones in the worst-case scenario. They
read: “You are my home.”
In my consular interview, I answered everything honestly. I
am 43 years old. I have spent 31 years living in America’s gray zone. This was
my only shot — a complicated, unlikely shot — at living in the only country I
have ever really known, with legal status. I brought with me every piece of
documentation I had to show I have tried, throughout my life, to contribute to
myself and this society. My college degree. Character testimonies. Tax forms.
Three days later, my D-3 waiver was approved. I was finally
documented. That said, an O visa is not a green card. It does not make me a
permanent resident. It does not directly put me on a path to U.S. citizenship.
It is temporary — but it can be renewed.
As questions of who deserves to be in the United States and
who we define as American take center stage, we have lost sight of how
complicated it is to find a path to citizenship in this country and how many
obstacles exist.
It took months and enormous resources, strategizing and
support, for me to get a work visa. I am just one man, and this is just one
story. Consider now the estimated 11 million other undocumented people in
America, how many hurdles they face and how little we support them. They don’t
have my platform. Many haven’t had my chance at education. And, still: I nearly
didn’t make it.
Complicated as it was, I couldn’t begin to chart a similar
path for the next person. Immigrants are not a monolith.
Why do politicians treat us like one?
Jose Antonio Vargas, author of “Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen,” is the host of “Define American,” a YouTube show and podcast that tells immigrant stories.
The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: letters@nytimes.com.
Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, WhatsApp, X and Threads.
Just putting this here as counter-point:
Under President Biden, more than two million immigrants per year have entered, government data shows.
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- Days ago: MOM = 3494 days ago & DAD = 150 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I post Hey Mom blog entries on special occasions. I post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day, and now I have a second count for Days since my Dad died on August 28, 2024. I am now in the same time zone as Google! So, when I post at 10:10 a.m. PDT to coincide with the time of Mom's death, I am now actually posting late, so it's really 1:10 p.m. EDT. But I will continue to use the time stamp of 10:10 a.m. to remember the time of her death and sometimes 13:40 EDT for the time of Dad's death. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
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