After enduring some 6 days in central cell block jail in this country’s capital, on hunger strike and risking deportation, it’s difficult to express how relieved I am to be out. I can’t fully explain how scary it was to be in there. But during my time spent in jail, I remained resolved in the fight to win permanent protection for other young undocumented immigrants.
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You’ll find more of my story below. What you need to know is that my mother didn’t teach me to be a coward. She didn’t teach me to wait until someone does something for me. She taught me to never give up without a fight.
Can you join me by giving $3 to the movement that I know will help immigrants finally win permanent protection?
I remember being in my apartment with my mom and hearing the announcement for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrival (DACA). I figured out how to apply, then got approved for DACA and I was so happy because finally I was able to be a teacher and work legally. I felt empowerment — like I belonged in this country. But that was fleeting.