Allison Argueta /
Esperanza Immigrant Rights Project /
California, USA
I began my internship with Esperanza almost the same way as I ended it, grappling with the autocratic nature of the U.S. immigration system. Within a few weeks of the internship, it became apparent that there is so much convoluted messaging that surrounded immigration policy.
Kamala Harris’s “Do Not Come Here” Speech after Biden’s many immigration reform promises. The deportation of thousands of Haitian people amidst a political crisis. This summer USCIS (United States Citizenship and Immigration Services) began accepting new first-time DACA applications for the first time since former President Donald Trump ended the DACA program in 2017; in June, however, a federal judge in Texas blocked new applicants from applying for the Obama-era program after declaring it “unconstitutional”. The Supreme Court held Temporary Protection recipients who entered United States unlawfully prior to obtaining TPS were not “admitted” and therefore a barrier to permanent residency.
All of these happenings and more immigration news greatly informed my experience this summer. My morale was tested again and again.
In terms of work, I was more than happy when I heard success stories—though they felt far and few. I became more invested in the people who seemed to not fall under the criteria of certain immigration relief. My role in the Access to Asylum Project involved conversations with my supervisor as we ran through the possible forms of relief available to certain respondents. At times, we reached a dead end, thinking there might not even exist a form of relief for some. Not only were these respondents’ immigration histories long but they were also complicated by issues of mental health, disrupted family ties, and little to no knowledge of immigration legal aid.
It was not the first time I had experienced this belief of having no relief available to someone but hearing it from immigration professionals was a first and something that has stuck with me. The Pew Research Center disclosed that in 2017, the unauthorized immigrant population has tripled in size from 2000, 23% of the immigration population in the U.S. lives undocumented.
The rhetoric around immigration is usually akin to the phrase of “living in the shadows” or living clandestinely because of the perpetual fear of being whisked away by immigration officials. The “solution” then is to duck your head down, live unnoticed, do not commit a crime. If you do not commit a crime, they cannot take you away. Adopting this way of life translates into a sort of relief, a poor one at that, but one that immigrants perceive as a viable option.
My time at Esperanza has advanced my study of migration in that its forced me to look to the immigrants that do survive and stay in this country without legal documentation and how they create their own form of relief.