Reflecting on 12 Years of DACA

Today marks 12 years since the signing of the executive order Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals or as we have come to know its DACA. A decision that this young woman had not idea would change her life forever. And we owe it all to the fearless organizing of undocumented young people who stood in their power.

These last twelve years have been to minimally put it, a nightmare of uncertainty. Our survival as undocumented people was used by all politicians as a hand to be played for votes on either side of the political spectrum. During the Obama years we saw our families torn apart by ramped up deportation tactics. During the Trump years we saw our children put in cages and their brutal deaths televised for public spectacle. Myself and my fellow DACA people were forced to bare witness to this reign of terror as we fell into ourselves lost to the void of depression and feelings of futility. We’ve lost so much. To gain so little.

And yet…still…we triumphed.

When I learned that I was undocumented at the age of 12 I stopped dreaming of futures for myself. But at 16 back in 2006, as I marched among the throngs of undocumented people, who for the day flooded the streets in protest for protection for undocumented people, something inside of me radically changed. I began to dream of a future for myself again. I began to entertain the idea that I could leave the United States. Go back to Mexico. And pursue the life I yearned for myself. But I always have rooted myself in the histories of people who faced unimaginable odds. And so, I chose to stay and resist.

And when I made that choice, I found that an ENTIRE community of people were standing behind me. My chosen parents, used the privilege of their citizenship to resist with me. Latine communities resisted with me. My teachers and my professors resisted with me. My friends and partners resisted with me. I was met with resounding love…one that filtered the anti-immigrant hatred that is so pervasive. I was cloaked in a shield of love and support of all who resisted with me.

One day I will tell the story of this great love. And it won't be about hard work or perseverance. It will be a testimony about creation and imagination. About a radical love and empathy. It will be about how we didn’t just survived we also thrived.

To my DACA people...Our stories continue.

May they be good ones. Imperfections and all.