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!

The knitting begins

Thursday, September 22, 2011

The 22^nd of every month grandma is in charge of saying the rosary at church and staying through the day to take care of the church.  Over the past few years the church has been vandalized on a regular basis, saints and relics are stolen, people take bathroom breaks on the door and alter of the church and more than once the week’s collection is taken.  Church goers take turns throughout the day every day to pray and patrol the church for those wanting to bring harm to it.  Grandma must stay at church for 6 hours and rather than subject myself to a days worth of boredom I leave grandma at church while I head over to my aunts house to go bother her.  A few weeks ago I found out that one of my aunts in Ojo is pregnant and I wanted my aunt in Valpa who knits to make her a baby blanket.  I went over to see if she had any made already she could sell me or if I could pay her to knit me one in a neutral pearl color since she doesn’t know what she’s having yet (but it’s a baby for sure).  To my surprise my aunt tells me that she doesn’t have time to knit a baby blanket for me since she has to go take care of the cows in her ranch by morning and her grandkids in the afternoon but she will teach me how to make it so I can make it myself.  I am definitely not the woman who makes things, I am sure I made valentines day and mothers day cards in school but the only thing I know how to make for sure is money to buy what I need.  Aunt Luz assures me it’s an easy process and that she can walk me through the steps while she does her house chores.  I have nothing to do for the next 6 hours while grandma is at church and I guess making a baby blanket is better than sleeping on my aunt’s couch.  Sure enough the process is easy and fun and before I know it 6 hours passed and I am almost done with my first baby blanket.  She lets me take the tools and the baby blanket home to grandmas so I can keep working on it there and promises to come to grandmas one day and finish knitting the edges.  I can hardly sleep that night with the excitement that I knitted that blanket and that my new little cousin will have something made by me. 

Witness

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Grandma and I are back at Doña Chilas house but this time I brought and arsenal of weapons with me that will prevent today’s boredom.  I brought my dvd player and the fourth season of Dexter.  It took the strength of every bone in my body to prevent myself from watching the movies E sent me while I was in Ojo.  There I have my own room and a television where I can see what’s on any of the 5 channels available without cable.  I knew that when I got to grandmas in Valpa I would have not television and lots hours filled with nothing to do.  One after the other I watch episodes of Dexter and I can’t get enough, each episode is better and more intriguing than the previous one and I need to know what happens. I get through the first four episodes before it’s time to head back to the house.  We arrive to a call from my aunt who wants grandma to light her candle and say a prayer for her son and his wife whose house was not only robbed today again for the 5^th or 6^th time this year but because his wife witnessed a murder on her way home from the university.  A neighbor and shopkeeper to a little market in the neighborhood was robbed and when he didn’t give up the money fast enough he was shot in front of all the customers in the stores.  My cousin’s wife devastated by what she had witnessed ran home and hid until her husband arrived to find her home crying in a closet.  Chills fill my body as I listen to grandma repeat the story.  Grandma hangs up the phone and we kneel to say a prayer for my cousin and his wife.  I pray that things will get better for them and that the violence will stop but I don’t pray for myself because I am still not convinced it will make a difference.         

Doña Chila

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Doña Chila is an old friend of the family’s, her family was one of the first families in Valparaiso to have a telephone back in the 80’s.  Doña Chila would let people use her phone to send and receive calls from loved ones back in the U.S. (for a small fee of course).  When I was a child I remember heading over to here house on Sunday’s after church to wait in line and use the telephone to talk to my father who was in the U.S.  It always seemed like we waited forever and that the call would never arrive but when it did I sat on my mother’s lap and talked to my father about how much I missed him and how I was doing in school.  Doña Chila was also grandma’s first neighbor when she moved from the ranch she was born and lived in “Las Viudas/ The Widows” to Valparaiso. 

Now Doña Chila is 90+ years old and her health is less than optimal these days.  She lives with one of her daughter’s who is single and they both take care of each other.  Her daughter must go to work every day and as a consequence Doña Chila must stay home alone most of the day.  A few weeks ago her health got so bad the priest had to be called in to give her communion in bed and prep her for the afterlife.  She didn’t die but her daughter is so afraid to leave her alone now that she has asked grandma to check up on her and stay with Doña Chila during the day while she is at work.  Not having much to do during the day herself grandma takes her bible and whatever she’s knitting that week to her friends house and she sits, prays and knits while her old friend rests.  Today I had to accompany grandma to her new day job and I was less than pleased.  If I ever felt that my days were long and boring I was understating until now.  I sit on a couch and look at the people who walk by the window, I count them (32) and I look at what they are wearing.  I didn’t know that my days were going to be like this and I may soon run back to Ojocaliente.  In the afternoon a near by internet café opens and I leap the chance of getting out of the house to go read spam mail rather than have to endure this much boredom.    

Grandma’s sitting duties are over by 3 pm and I couldn’t be hungrier.  She surprises me by telling me that she has been asking around and that she knows of a hamburger place in town that sell burgers like back home.  I am less than pleased at the thought, in Ojo one of my aunts took me to a burger joint there and let’s just say it left me not wanting a burger for a while.  But grandma seemed so happy to be taking me I agreed to go.  The place is called “Los Simpsons” and I have to say it is by far one of the best burgers and fries I have ever eaten.  With the exception of Mexican ketchup which is very sweet, the entire meal was delicious.  Grandma had the chicken burger while I had the beef burger both were amazing and we both agreed to come here again while I am visiting her.  I haven’t finished digesting the first burger and I am already thinking about when I am going to have the second one.  I know I am fat, sue me!

La Emme

Monday, September 19, 2011

I am not sure why but the trips to and from seeing my grandmothers are emotionally and physically tiring.  It’s a four hour bus ride with a few transfers but when I arrive at my destination I am hungry and ready for a nap.  Grandma in Valparaiso (La Emme) is always so happy to see me and has dinner waiting for me and more food than both of us could possibly eat together.  We sit, eat, laugh and I tell her about all the latest with my family back home and in Ojocaliente.  I tell her about the series of events that brought the federal police to Ojo and she is not shocked to hear what took place.  She tells me that violence is an everyday occurrence there and that soldiers were keeping things peaceful there in Valpa for a while but since they left a few days ago the bad guys have come back into town to take their place at the head of the violence.  I ask myself how things could get this out of had?  How could a government allow their people to live in such fear?  How could people allow themselves to see violence as a normal everyday occurrence?  I know back in the U.S. I don’t live in the best of neighborhoods and that we have our own share of violence but we don’t have to worry the way people do here, or am I just naïve?

Blah

Sunday, September 18, 2011

There are days here that go by that aren’t worth mentioning not because they don’t mater but because nothing interesting enough to write about happens.  However, I write about every day even if its just a little because I heard a priest say once that every day matters and that we should be thankful everyday we get to get up and live another day.  I lack a religious bone in my body but I agree that I need to be more cognizant of the fact that every day I get to get up and breathe, walk, talk, speak, type is another day to be grateful for, and so I write about a most mundane Sunday that is no different than any other Sunday in Ojocaliente.  As usual the family gathers to have lunch.  Aunts, uncles, cousins all gather from various towns and cities at the grandparents’ house to enjoy a meal together and share in the weeks events.   Cousin who announced he is getting married next month comes over to invite us to his future wife’s bridal shower and all the ladies agree to do their best to attend.  I turn on the television and I am elated to see that there is a channel here that is showing American Football and I partake in a little of my Sunday ritual back home.  Like a dutiful granddaughter I once again prepare to accompany grandma to church and end my day packing and get ready to start my journey back to Valparaiso and to my other grandmother in the morning.