By choice not by chance

February 9, 2012, Thursday (By choice not by chance)

Fear and sorrow have left and ANGER and RAGE have set in.  I am so pissed and I am furious that I am “not good enough” to go home.  I hate the way this process works and the way it treats us making us feel subhuman.  I hate that I was not born where I made a home and I hate that my husband has to suffer and pay for choices that were made 23 years ago.  Why don’t I deserve happiness?  Why don’t I deserve a family?  Why don’t I deserve a home? Why don’t I deserve the right to be free and to pursue my happiness?   I am sorry I wasn’t born in the U.S. I am sorry I made a home there but I am not sorry that my parents made the choices they did because they only did what they thought was best for their family.  I am sorry I didn’t choose where I was born but I am not sorry about where I choose to make a home and I am most definitely NOT sorry that I fell in love with my husband and that we were born in two different countries.  By chance I was born in Mexico and by choice I live(d) in the U.S.  I made a conscious choice everyday to do the right thing and be an active participant in the community I live(d) in and still I can not be a member of that community.  I am angry that some bureaucrat behind a desk somewhere has the right to make, break and tear families apart.

"My heart hurts for you"

February 8, 2012, Wednesday

A friend’s message comes through “my heart hurt for you” and I melt again.  I don’t want to get out of bed I don’t want to eat I don’t want to breath and frankly I don’t want to live.  I fid the strength to go on absent from my body and I hear my grandmother and uncle moving about the house.    My uncle is leaving back home to Chicago and I wish I could stow away in his luggage.  I must get up; grandma needs my help with the house and helping uncle pack.  I muster up the will to move and help serve breakfast and pack cheeses.  Visitors start flooding the house dropping off goods for my uncle to take to their relatives in the U.S. to wish him well and talk to grandma.  The day is a blur I am not even sure how I get through the day.  “Get it together”, “it will all be ok soon”, and “don’t give up” are only a few of the messages I get from friends and family.  I know they want to make me feel better and that they mean well but right now I don’t want to hear it.  It feels as though I’ll never go home, like I will never see my husband or anyone else I care about back in the U.S.  My sister gets angry with me and reminds me that I am “too negative” but what has being positive gotten me?  What has doing the right thing done for me?  My mother calls me and I conveniently yell at her.  I am tiered of hearing that I am going to go home soon that I have to believe it and pray on it.  In four days I will have been here 7 months, and they might as well be 7 years because I don’t feel any closer to being home.  

Magic Envelope

February, 7, 2012 Tuesday

Oddly enough I had some of the greatest sleep I have ever had last night.  I was hopeful to hear from my father early in the morning but when I didn’t I went about my day, having breakfast, doing my chores and chatting with my grandmother.  Dad called around 11 am and wanted me to fax him a letter turning power over to him to be able to pick up my packet from DHL.  Although I had already done that the first time we were in Juarez the officials there neglected to tell us that the letter is only good for 2 months.  Now I had to run around town finding a power of attorney letter, two witnesses and a fax.  By noon I have everything sent and I am waiting for a response.  Its 12:30 when dad calls me upset at all the hoops they are having us jump through.  I am oddly calm because I know this is a sign. I am not going home, at least not now.  They didn’t like the fax because the pictures of the witnesses could not be seen clearly and I must now find the nearest cyber café scan and send the information to some strange email address in Juarez.  It’s close to 1 pm when dad calls back and reads me my fate.  My heart stops beating and my lungs stop pumping air just to make sure I hear him clearly “your application has been referred and they need more evidence, they say we haven’t been able to prove how your husband’s hard ship”.  The words ring through my head, my arms, my legs, my stomach and my heart.  I try to remain calm and I hear my voice crack, I don’t want to cry this “thing” isn’t worth one more of my tears.  I hear my dad’s voice saying something but frankly I didn’t make out anything after that magical sentence.  I am not going home.

                                                         

I am not sure how I got back home since I couldn’t feel my body let alone my legs after I hung up the phone with my dad.  Back at home I remember that three years ago today life sent me the most amazing man sitting in a Starbucks café on a rainy day.  In all the madness I had neglected to acknowledge that today is the anniversary of a great and miraculous event.  I never thought I would find Mr. Right and I had accepted to fill my life with other things that were important to me but life had other plans for me and sent me the most amazing man… for me!  I text him that I love him, that nothing can keep us apart, curl up in the fetus position in bed, cry and wait for the night to cover me.  I am not going home. 

Is there a future?

February, 6, 2012, Monday

Just our luck, the DHL office where I need to pick up my magical packet is closed and we must wait yet again.  What’s one more day when I have waited 23 years?  The day is almost surreal to me and I feel like the time doesn’t move forward at all.  Part of me wants to pack, another wants to run and leave everything behind but the practical part again wants to wait to see what happens.  I am beginning to hate that part of me but it is what has kept me sane all these years.  Now I can physically feel and see myself losing my mind.  Could the next step of my life really be here?  Did life finally have mercy on me?  Am I now worthy of a future?  

Last Sunday?

February, 5, 2012, Sunday

Waiting is difficult and it is just about the longest Sunday of my life.  Family starts to call and in my secret excitement I tell my aunt and my cousins here that this might be the last Sunday I spend with them.  I am a roller coaster of emotions and I am practical one minute, not wanting to tell anyone anything until we know for sure and I want to shout with excitement the next wanting to yell to the world that I am going home!  Thinking about how soon I will be in my husband’s arms planning our lives together like we used to, and laughing about the next trip.  I can almost taste my husband’s kisses and feel his arms surrounding me with love.  I’ve never wanted to be home as much as I do right now. 

Somewhere in Juarez there is hope?

February, 4, 2012 Saturday

The call came before noon and I could hear something strange in my husband’s voice.  “Hone, pack your stuff, you’re coming home”, it was difficult almost impossible to believe and part of me didn’t want to believe it; it was too good to be true.  I asked him what was wrong and he told me that an answer was waiting for me in Juarez.  My lungs began to tighten and I could feel the breath from within my soul leaving me.  It couldn’t be happening; the answer I waited for 23 years for was finally here.  I wanted to cry and jump for joy but my brain wouldn’t let my heart get ahead of itself.  I have often been told that I think too much and don’t “feel” enough.  If those people knew the pain I have been living for 23 years they might stop saying that.  Immediately I go into practical mode and remind myself and everyone else on the other end of the phone that this is an answer but may not be the one we want.  My sister yells at me she says I am too negative, my father is upset and I can hear my husband about to sob.  I hang up the phone and I am upset, how could I possibly be upset when this just might be the happiest day of my life?  My husband sends me a text and apologizes for being happy; he tells me he has to believe that something good has to come out of all this time spent apart.  I am glad that one of us still has the strength to believe. 

With every day that passes I believe and hope a little less.  Of course I apologize to my husband and tell him that he never has to apologize for being happy for us, for hoping or believing.  I put on my best fake voice, call him back and pretend that I am just as happy when in fact total and utter fear has set in.  What if the response is not positive?  What if I can’t go home now or ever?  Friends start to call and text, my sister in her excitement told some of my friends and within seconds everyone is sending prayers and planning welcome home parties.  I am hesitant to say much and let them know that we won’t know until Monday what the magic envelope says.  Somewhere in Juarez, Mexico are my hopes and dreams, my husbands, my family and my friends waiting inside some envelope in the bottom of some box waiting to be opened.  

Of course I lay in bed but can’t sleep; dad will head out for Juarez tomorrow and be there early enough to open my future.  I wonder what the rest of our lives will look like. 

Time

January 25, 2012 Wednesday

My 6 month anniversary came and went without any news and in two more weeks it will be 7 months.  I wonder how much longer I’ll be stuck here.  I was sure I would be back way before the time it took my mother to get home and now it looks like I will be here far longer than my mother.      

Living from a suitcase

January 24, 2012 Tuesday

I used to go to camp every year and live from a suitcase for a week.  My mother always laughed at the amount of stuff I would take for just one week.  Now I’ve spent the last 6 months living from a suitcase and rolling like a stone from one place to the next.  Bouncing like a ball from one grandmothers house to the other.  Watching as people grow tiered of having a stranger live in their home.  

Slowly

January 23, 2012 Monday

Over the past three months of absence from this blog I have learned to knit, tried to volunteer for local political parties, taken photography, marketing and human development courses just to pass the time.  Nothing is working; the time keeps going by so slowly.  

E's Arrival

January 22, 2012 Sunday

Husband came to visit me in December and I have to admit it did more damage than good.  His arrival only reminded me of how much I miss our life together.  Going to the movies on the weekend and spending lazy Sunday’s watching football all day.  My little niece sent me a picture she drew of her and I with a bird and a dog and I tear up every time I see it.  Family sent warm clothes and girlfriends send daily essentials, entertainment and wine.  I spend 4 days with him and spend the following 4 weeks crying.  I used to consider myself such a strong woman, incapable of crying and now I am weak and fall apart at the sound of my husband’s voice.  I have issues believing that god is out there “doing this for a reason” and every day is a challenge

Throwing in the towel

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

The better part of the morning is spent typing catching up on the blog and talking to my parents who call to get the latest and greatest on the wedding.   The rest of the day is spent swallowing my tears and hoping I can make it through the day without my grandma seeing me cry.  Last night E and I got in another fight this time because he said he ran into an old barber who now has his own shop in Ballwin Park and I asked “isn’t that far?” The stress and the tension gets the better of us now he took that to mean “what the hell are you thinking going that far for a hair cut”  while I simply wanted to know a location.  I feel like I have to watch everything I say now and I am sure he feels the same.  Today he called in the morning and again the fight from last night continued.  He calls me twice a day and I used to think that wasn’t enough but as time passes by I think twice a day might be too much.  Most of the time we have very little to talk about, once you get passed the “how was your day at work and how are the families?” after the first phone call.  By the time the second call comes in at night we really don’t have much else to say to each other.  I usually have nothing to report about unless I learned to make a new scarf at knitting class and I know for a fact that it’s the last thing he wants to hear.  I am not sure what else is left of me but whatever it is is slowly going too.

I feel like I used to have purpose and meaning to my life.  I used to volunteer for committees at the university I attended, spent time on the board of a local charter school, not to mention teaching about undocumented students to teachers and faculty who would listen.  There was always a plethora of events and drama to catch up on.  Now all I do is sit and wait, for a response that seems like it may never come and when I am not busy doing that then I fight with my husband about how far Ballwin Park is and weather or not he’s thinking about cheating on me.  My self respect was gone a long time ago and with the departure of my soul it’s taking my marriage with it.  I am sure that’s what they bank on, that a marriage will fall apart before they even have to hand out a visa so that person never makes it back home.  I use to think I was stronger than what I am now and that I would fight against this but more and more it keeps getting easier to throw in the towel. 

Dear: Mr. President

Dear: Mr. President,

I have written and re-written this letter more times than I care to think about.  Over the past 23 years I have written this letter not only to you but to the many presidents over the last two decades.  Every time I press delete before I have the nerve to send it but today is different and I need you to know about my love for the country that saw me grow into the woman I am today and the disappointment in what I thought was a system that worked to help people, not tear families apart.  I was 7 years old when my mother and father decided to follow their dream of a better life for their family and although I am 31 years old now part of me is still seven years old.  I had no choice on the matter.  I remember crying because I had to leave my grandmother, my school and my friends but my mother and father were sure we could have a life and more opportunities in the United States. 

You have two daughters of your own and I know you remember when you told them you were running for President of the United States and if you won they would have to leave their home to follow you to the White House.  I don’t know what that conversation sounded like but I am sure it was difficult for them to think about leaving their home even if they didn’t voice their opinions.  They followed you and your wife to the White House because they knew their parents were doing what was best for their family and the entire country, and let’s be frank because they had to do as their parents said.  My dad may not be the President of the Free World and my mother is no First Lady but they had just as much right to do what they thought was good for their family. 

In a perfect world my parents would have had the money and knowledge to get us all visas and immigrate legally but that wasn’t the case at the time and my parents did what they had to.  I can’t tell you how many times I blamed my parents for the inability to live without fear in a country that has a phobia for Mexicans, but not our food.  But as I have grown I realize I have the same dreams for my family and the same desire to succeed. 

Over the past 23 years I have grown from a scared little girl of 7 into a mature woman of 31.  I made my parents proud and took advantage of all the education the U.S. had to offer, after all that’s why they risked everything.  I graduated with honors from my High School, went on to attend and graduate with honors from a local Community College.  Eventually thanks to California Assembly Bill 540 I was able to attend one of the fine colleges in the California State University system.  In 2003 I received a B.A. in Political Science and in 2006 a Masters in Communication Studies with an emphasis in Political Communication.  I have degrees I can’t use and that should be discouraging enough, but my father once said that you could deport me but you could never take away my education and the knowledge and experiences I have lived and he was right.  I didn’t let my “undocumented” status deter me I volunteered with any and every organization that I thought was worthy of my time in my county.  I took action and volunteered on local, state and national political campaigns.  Just because I couldn’t vote didn’t mean I couldn’t influence others to do so.  In 2008 I had the privilege of phone banking for a man who I thought could make some serious change in the country I loved so much and although I do not regret volunteering on your campaign I am seriously disappointed in your lack of commitment to the Latino/a Community, specifically to the millions of Mexican and Mexican-American’s living in the U.S.

In 2009 I met the man of my dream and in 2010 we were united in marriage for what I thought would be the rest of our lives.  Together we made the decision that I would apply for an I-601 visa and hopefully be back in the U.S. to start a beautiful life together.  The way the system is setup now in order for me to apply for this visa I must leave the country and head back to my country of origin, Mexico.  I left my mother, father, sister, brother, nieces and my husband in July 2011 hopeful that I would return to them in a matter of months.  Two years prior my sister had to go through the same process and she was back in 2 ½ months.  I can’t say it wasn’t difficult because she had a loving husband and a 1 year old baby girl she had to leave behind.  For that little girl it was the longest time she ever had to be apart from her mother.  Neither my sister nor her baby ever fully recovered from the separation.  Two years ago it was my mother who had to also go through the process and we were separated from her for over 7 ½ months.  Over six months later and I am still stuck in a country that is just as foreign to me as China.  My husband and I have attempted to contact any and all government offices we are suggested only to find road blocks at every one of them.  No one will give us information on my case except the standard “the computer shows your application is pending review”.  No two offices ever give us the same information and the lack of it is making us crazy. 

The worst part is I am not alone; there are thousands of people just like me who are separated from their families ever day not knowing if they will ever be reunited again.  My husband is a facilities manager and although we are thankful he has a job he doesn’t make enough to support our home in the U.S. and me living in a foreign country.  The immigration process is also a costly one and conveniently enough after six months we have to redo all our medical paperwork, meaning more money we don’t have.  The bills are pilling up; money ran out months ago along with the friends and relatives we have borrowed money from.  The stress on our marriage is overwhelming but we know our love will have to be enough.  My hope and faith are the last things I am letting this system take away from me.  I know someday my husband and I will be reunited again even if its in another life and I am still HOPEful that you are the man who will CHANGE the injustices that are taking place on so many of us “innocent immigrants”.  The DREAM students who nock on your door every year are the casualty of a war on immigrants.  They are innocent bystanders of terrible injustices just like me. 

Today I implore you to follow the words of Dr. King “One has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws”.  The change he brought to the world is still felt today and I know that together we can do the same. But no words ring more true to me everyday than those of Malcom X “We declare our right on this earth to be a man, to be a human being, to be respected as a human being, to be given the rights of a human being in this society, on this earth, in this day, which we intend to bring into existence by any means necessary”.  I refuse to sit in the back of a bus that treats me like a second class citizen.  The time has come to stop being complaisant and bring about real CHANGE for the thousands of families like mine! 

In strength and solidarity,

Picking your food

Saturday, September 24, 2011

After I got married and lost my job there was a dark period in my life where all I wanted to do was sty home and feel sorry about myself and as a part of my pity party for one I stayed home and played Farmville all day.  A game played on facebook where a person gets to create their own farms and raise animals.  It’s just a video game but I got so hooked I would base my entire day on when I needed to be back to the computer to farm.  Today, Farmville has a whole new meaning for me.  Aunt Luz and her family have asked grandma and me to join them at their ranch to help with pick corn.  I wanted to laugh at the thought of me in my dress and heels picking corn in my COACH purse.  So we loaded up the truck and moved on over to the ranch.  When we get there I take one look at the field filled with corn and I can’t imagine finishing in one day.  Aunt Luz and her husband explain to me and their daughter-in-law how to tell if a corn is ready to be picked.  They give us a sack and tell us not to be back to the truck until we have filled up the sack.  Everyone picks a row and we start picking corn.  The husk on the corn is prickly and my hands are soon raw from picking the corn and after what seamed like all day, my sack is filled and I am ready to head back to the camp site.  I arrive to find everyone sucking corn, I was the last one to come in and I must empty my sack and start to clean the corn.  Aunt Luz also explains that we will get to eat some of the corn we just picked and that I should pick the best ones to enjoy.  After picking and shucking all the corn I am not sure I can look at it let alone eat it but when in Mexico I must do like the Mexicans do.  Uncle starts a small fire with some brush, the clay pot is filled with water and corn and before we knew it we were enjoying some of the tenderest corn I have ever eaten.  We ate it with salt, lemon and chilly, we enjoyed it with mayonnaise and cheese and we savored it plane.  Aunt Luz had also gotten up early in the morning to make “gorditas” for the day and we ate like kings and queens.  No utensils needed, we ate with our hands and liked our fingers to ensure not a drop of goodness was lost.  At the end of the night I hoped on the back of my aunts ATV and drove home with her at the handle bars.  I felt the cool breeze of the night and watched as we descended back into town.  We arrived at my grandmas where I fell into a deep sleep from exhaustion.  Tomorrow will be another day and I must rest to take it on. 

Bloodlines

Friday, September 23, 2011

Although grandma had a rough night she sleeps in and wakes up feeling refreshed.  We head out to buy groceries for the next few days and while we are out in the town square we ran into my aunt Luz and grandma’s sister Maxi.  Together after doing the shopping we all sit at the town square, relax and catch up.  People from neighboring ranches pass by us and they stop to say hi and chat with all three of them.  It’s odd to see everyone knows one another and everyone is connected somehow.  Grandma and her sister have stories to share about everyone passing by and discuss what “houses” they come from meaning family lines.  One of the many beautiful things about being Mexican is the way a persons name honors both father and mother.  People here use both their father and mother’s last name as a way of identifying family lines.  One is never far away from where they come from and here I am back to where I came from.  I guess the universe wanted to remind me that I have a past I cant shake and that no matter how long I live in the U.S. and how Americanized I become I cant forget my heritage.  I may be whoever I want to be but the universe reminds me that my blood and my blood lines have already determined who I am. 

A long time...could today be the day?

Every day is a challange and I just when I get used to the idea of being here displaced in a country far from my family I hear my niece's voice on the phone and I just want to go home.  Since my last post a lot has happened and at the same time nothing new.  It's been over six months and I am still 'stuck' in Mexico.  My husband and I have tried on a weekly basis to contact every and any government office we are suggested.  I never would have imagined how dibilitating this process can make someone.  I won't lie I tought because I had a Masters degree I could navigate my way through this immigration system, and I never imagined that every person I encounter in thouse government offices could make me feel stupid and worthless.  Of course I know I am not but their responses make me feel less than human.  I ask about the status of my application and it's always 'pending review'.  I ask if I am missing any documents and their response 'if we need anything from you we'll let you know'.  I ask why it's taking so long and their response 'you're lucky it's only been 6 months, this process takes years' as if somehow that is supposed to make me feel better.  Those are the responses I get when someone is in a good mood because when they're not I get the 'ma'am it's only been 6 months call us back when it's been over a year'.  Emails are supposed to be the fastes way to get a response and my husband just got a response from an email he sent in September, the reply:  'email us back when it's been over 10 months'.  No two government offices have ever given us the same response it's as if they make things up as they go along.  More than anything I am dissapointed that a believed in a system that I thought helped people when in fact it is made to deter people from doing the right thing.  I still have some faith left that I will go home someday but everyday I wake up wondering if today could be the day.  

Understanding

I know you have not seen any posts from me in a while and I promise to post again soon. It's has been over 6 months since I left my home and things aren not getting any easier. We have no information about my case and the lack of information has been frustrating and most of all sad. I live day to day and hope that each new day brings less sadness than the previous one. I know I will be home someday but wonder when that day will be. I pray for courage to keep fighting and for patience and understanding of why this process aims to kill the human spirit. In strenght and solidarity!