“Am I not American Enough?”
By: Milagros Heredia
Just as I began to regain hope, all my plans were shattered. When they announced the restoration of DACA on June 18, 2020, it was as if millions of opportunities opened up. I had begun to hope that living in uncertainty and fear would soon be a thing of the past if DACA was restored. Although DACA is not a permanent solution, it would provide some protection from deportation. I began gathering the documents I would need as a first-time applicant. I had been too young to apply when the program was first terminated in September 2015, but since my mother was a DACA recipient, I was familiar with the process since my mother was a DACA recipient. I was too young to apply when the program was first terminated in September 2015. I thought about finally being able to take the Pharmacy Technician Certification Board Exam. I studied for the exam for two years, but when the time came to sign up, I was denied access because I couldn’t provide a social security number. For a moment, I pictured myself driving without fear of encountering the law and potentially being deported. Yet today, I face reality. The reality of having to wait for what life-changing decision the government will make next. The most devastating part of it all is that I was so close to meeting age requirements when the program ended -- so close, but not there.
Having to wait for someone to make a decision that could potentially reshape the rest of your life is devastating. Doing as you are told isn’t enough for immigrants. I have done everything my teachers and mentors have said to do, and yet I am still not deserving of belonging to the country I call home. The place I have known for all my life continues to question whether I am qualified to stay here. Uncertain is an understatement to describe how I am feeling through these moments. What concerns me the most is not being able to fulfill my parents’ reason for bringing me here: to receive an education and better the generations to come. My undocumented parents came here to establish a family and contribute to the United States economy for the better of this country.
As a childhood cancer survivor, I aspire to be an oncologist as a childhood cancer survivor. Yet, I might never be able to practice medicine because I cannot provide a nine-digit number to prove I am “American.” I arrived in Phoenix, Arizona in June 2003 and began school in 2007, where I learned to speak English. I went through my elementary years with excellent grades and recently graduated from Metro Tech High school, where I took on multiple leadership positions. In the fall, I will attend Grand Canyon University on a full-ride scholarship. Is that not American enough? Have I not earned my place here? These are devastating times, but I want to thank ALIENTO for always keeping me on my feet with their passion for serving the immigrant community.
