The Unseen Scars of Growing Up Undocumented

**Trigger Warning: This blog post discusses experiences of racial discrimination and includes a mention of a violent threat.**   

The Setting  

Imagine walking into a classroom where you're one of the few, if not the only, person who looks like you. That was me, a 12-year-old in a predominantly white middle school, one of the few Latinos in my grade.

The Moment  

That fateful day in seventh grade was a turning point for me. A boy in my class, who frequently talked about hunting with his dad, locked eyes with me and bluntly inquired, "Are you an illegal?" His tone was harsh, not curious. I answered with a firm "No," to which he chillingly replied, "Good, because if you were, I'd shoot you." His words cut through me, stripping away layers of my identity and humanity. It was at this point that I felt utterly dehumanized, my sense of shame and fear so overpowering that I couldn't bring myself to even look at the teacher.

Realization  

It wasn't until much later that I fully grasped the impact of that moment. Back then, I felt a hazy sense of exclusion and dehumanization but couldn't quite put it into words. His question, followed by that menacing statement, were no mere comments. They were a deliberate attack on my human dignity and right to belong. This set the stage for the many years to come where I carried this interaction within me.

Burden of Keeping Quiet 

So, I chose silence, burying the pain deep within. Speaking about it felt like giving his words power over me, solidifying them as a defining aspect of my identity.

Unspoken Fear 

The cruelty of his words echoed far beyond that classroom. They compelled me to guard my undocumented status more fiercely, not just out of fear of deportation, but from the unsettling realization that others might harbor the same violent intentions toward me and my family.

A Change in Tide  

High school marked a new chapter for me with YMCA Latino Achievers. Here, I met others who could relate to my experience, my culture, my family. It was a space where I was seen for who I am, not reduced to a label. For the first time, I felt the warmth of being truly understood and accepted. While high school offered a respite, I would soon find that the professional world carried its own set of challenges.

A Continuation of Struggle  

Being a hostess was just one chapter. Here, too, servers grumbled when minorities were seated in their section. Managers casually nicknamed any Latino as "Juan," even after being told such nicknames were inappropriate.

Why We Must Speak  

Often, stories of being marginalized remain locked in our hearts, unspoken and overshadowed by a society that turns a blind eye. For those of us who can, we should speak up. It's not just about airing our grievances but about educating one another, affirming our worth, and encouraging each other to stand tall. In hindsight, I realize that I could have done more than just confront individuals, especially now that I am an HR professional.

Quest for Belonging and Self-Worth

It's a journey that needs all of us, supporting each other to create an environment of mutual respect and understanding. Being documented does unlock certain doors, but the absence of that piece of paper shouldn't label us as less than human. We all have the right to walk this earth with dignity, to be treated with respect, and to feel a sense of belonging—not because a document validates our existence, but because our humanity alone makes us worthy.

Your Call to Action 

If you can share your story without compromising your well-being, please consider adding your voice to the chorus of narratives that need to be heard. You can connect with me at [email protected]. Your account can be another brick in the foundation of a community built on understanding and mutual respect, free from the shackles of labels.

Let's unite to enact the change we yearn for, forging spaces where everyone's inherent worth is acknowledged and cherished.