Protections Not Just for Dreamers — Activism Beyond the Classroom

By Kareli Lizárraga

For the past two years, I’ve had to prepare for the distinct possibility of being deported. My future, and the future of 800,000 other DACA recipients, hang in the balance. On November 12, the Supreme Court heard oral arguments about whether the present administration’s decision to wind down the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program was lawful. At the same time, attention and support for those with DACA should also extend to millions of other undocumented immigrants in the United States.

Created in 2012 as an executive order by President Obama, DACA provided undocumented immigrants who arrived to the U.S. as children and satisfied strict requirements much-desired protection from deportation and a work-permit that could be renewed every two years. In 2017, however, the current administration rescinded DACA and threw the lives of hundreds of thousands of the program’s beneficiaries into limbo.

My family has lived in the United States without documentation since I was four years old. Knowing that our success would be limited in our home country of Mexico due to an economy destabilized by unfavorable trade agreements, corrupt governments, and a drug war fueled by U.S. demand, my parents made the difficult choice to leave behind family and friends and emigrate.

Once on this side of the border, I thrived academically. I threw myself into my studies, believing that if I had just the right grade point average and extracurricular activities on my resume, I would prove that I “deserved” a spot in the U.S. In this sense, I became a hyperdocumented student ─a term coined by Dra. Aurora Chang, which describes an undocumented student who accrues awards, accolades, and academic degrees to compensate for their immigration status.

“Support for DACA recipients cannot occur while forgetting the other 11 million undocumented immigrants in this country. ”

As a first-generation, low-income, “hyperdocumented” student, I was admitted to the same university that the current president attended, for both my bachelor and master degrees. Weeks before my undergraduate graduation, I received my first work permit and felt the doors to American opportunity finally open for me. I could finally use all my education and preparation in the service of my community. I became one of the first undocumented teachers in the country and have worked with hundreds of students since.

With DACA in limbo, elite universities across the country have expressed their support of undocumented students. A handful have even labeled themselves as sanctuary campuses. This institutional backing is incredibly important and has provided a line of defense against federal law enforcement agencies like ICE.

In early November, the University of Pennsylvania highlighted its support of DACA and the immigrant community at a town hall. Students, faculty, staff, and the broader Philadelphia community came together to discuss resources and strategies available to students regardless of what the Supreme Court decides. I was proud to see a diverse room packed with people who sought to learn more on how we could protect our most vulnerable student populations and help ease their well-founded anxiety.

However, support for DACA recipients cannot occur while forgetting the other 11 million undocumented immigrants in this country.

In order to gain public support for DACA, immigrant advocates have positioned students and professionals like myself as “Dreamers”. Other immigrants may be “bad hombres” but we are “good” and “American” on everything but paper. Our “clean” criminal record, earning potential, and degrees have all been used as a response to those telling us to go back to our countries. And while this strategy may have helped in the short run, it is ignoring the humanity of immigrants who lack a degree, don’t speak English, or have criminal records. My Penn degrees do not make me any more worthy of a life with safety and dignity.

Cristian Padilla-Romero and his mother, Tania Romero

The story of Cristian Padilla-Romero, a Yale doctoral student and DACA recipient makes this point. Cristian is fighting for the release of his mother, Tania Romero, from ICE detention after being stopped for a traffic violation. Undocumented students and professionals do not leave our parents and communities at the door when we enter elite spaces. Sanctuary for me does not feel complete when it excludes those I love most.

The Supreme Court must protect the future of DACA recipients and allow the 800,000 immigrants to regain a semblance of normalcy and stability. We must also keep fighting for the fate and dignity of immigrants, even when they lack fancy credentials. All of us are harmed by a “good” vs “bad” narrative that valorizes immigrants only when they fit within a narrow mold. This strips us of our full humanity and limits us to impossible dichotomies where some of us are Dreamers and others are “animals”.

It feels impossible to demand more considering the deep harm this administration is imposing on immigrant communities. However, we cannot keep settling for immigration reform and measures where only a “worthy” few are seen and protected.

Kareli Lizarraga is a DACA recipient, educator, and an alumnus from the University of Pennsylvania.