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.
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.