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 French artist JR’s image of an inquisitive baby looking into the United States over the US-Mexico border wall towards Tecate, California.
The French artist JR’s image of an inquisitive baby looking into the United States over the US-Mexico border wall towards Tecate, California. Photograph: Mike Blake/Reuters
The French artist JR’s image of an inquisitive baby looking into the United States over the US-Mexico border wall towards Tecate, California. Photograph: Mike Blake/Reuters

Life on the California border: the specter of deportation never goes away

This article is more than 6 years old

As Dreamers, we face constant uncertainty about our fate. But we also have faith in people of conscience to defeat the worst of what Trump has proposed

I was born in Mexico City, but I have lived just a few miles north of the Mexican border in San Diego for nearly 20 years. Yet the area between the part of the city where I was raised and the country I was born in is nearly off-limits to my family and I because of our immigration status.

Driving to the mall in San Ysidro (in the southernmost part of San Diego) or visiting the nearby city of Chula Vista for my mom’s job was always a risk because of Border Patrol presence.

dreamers

Their agents are everywhere along California’s southern border. They can be seen at trolley stations, in the freeways, in grocery store parking lots. Their presence is a physical reminder of the constant threat of deportation felt by my family and my community.

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Who are the Dreamers?

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Dreamers are young immigrants who would qualify for the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrival (Daca) program, enacted under Barack Obama in 2012. Most people in the program entered the US as children and have lived in the US for years “undocumented”. Daca gave them temporary protection from deportation and work permits. Daca was only available to people younger than 31 on 15 June 2012, who arrived in the US before turning 16 and lived there continuously since June 2007. Most Dreamers are from Mexico, El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras and the largest numbers live in California, Texas, Florida and New York. Donald Trump cancelled the program in September but has also said repeatedly he wants Congress to develop a program to “help” the population.

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I have more protection than my mother, my aunts, uncles and other relatives and friends because of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (Daca) program, which from 2012 to September this year protected me and about 800,000 people from deportation as long as we didn’t commit any crimes.

But our future is in jeopardy, because President Trump decided to terminate Daca. Trump says he wants to reach a deal that gives us Dreamers protection, but he is also pushing for more border security and immigration enforcement.

Politicians are using our lives as political bargaining chips in order to further militarize our communities.

The fact is that border states have become highly militarized throughout the years, with thousands of unaccountable agents who are able to stop, frisk and interrogate any community member without probable cause. Border agents that have committed murder have not been held accountable for their actions and continue to serve for the Border Patrol today.

Trump’s push for even more border agents makes us feel especially targeted, as an estimated one in five Daca recipients live in the border region, and half of all Dreamers live in the four southern border states – California, Arizona, New Mexico and Texas.

To increase border security in exchange for a deal on Daca, presumably through the Dream Act being pushed by Democrats, could mean exposing our parents and family members to Trump’s already vast deportation machine on the border where I live.

Dreamers on the US side of the border speak with relatives during the ‘Keep Our Dream Alive’ binational meeting. Photograph: Jose Luis Gonzalez/Reuters

The fear of being deported never completely goes away, but because of Daca I have been able to do things I never thought I’d be able to: pursue higher education, have a fulfilling career and get a driver’s license – all without the same level of crushing worry about being detained or deported.

Uncertainty about our fate as immigrant residents of this country looms large. But so does our faith in each other and the ability of people of conscience to defeat the worst of what Trump has proposed.

While I could have felt helpless on 5 September, when it was announced Daca was ending, I instead stood on stage with another activist and fellow Dreamer for a rally to show the White House we would not take this decision lightly.

I felt so much energy from the people looking at us. You could see hope in their eyes as they chanted with us, screamed and yelled. That’s when I knew we had more love than hate.

As Congress continues to debate our futures, time continues to run out for us. Our ability to do good for our communities is weakening every day. It is unacceptable for our communities and our immigrant youth to back down now.

We have an opportunity and a duty to defend the lives and rights of people in our communities who are threatened by oppressive and immoral policies in a new age of hate and division. Standing down is no longer an option.

This is a moment crying out for moral leadership. Americans must do what is right, and listen to millions of immigrant youth and our allies calling for immediate passage of a clean Dream Act.

The time is now.

Itzel Guillen is an immigrant integration manager at Alliance San Diego

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