On December 4th, 2020 the New York Federal Court ordered the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to restore DACA. What stands out about this is not the feeling of relief many in the immigrant community felt, but the fragility of the DACA program. As a DACA scholar myself, I live with the fear of this fragility every day.
DACA, otherwise known as Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, established in 2012 by President Obama, was meant as a temporary placeholder for what would eventually be a path to citizenship for as many as 1.8 million “dreamers” living in the U.S. However, 8 years later nothing has changed. Every 1-2 years, DACA scholars spend roughly $600-$1,000 in legal fees to renew their status with the hope of renewal in the years to come.
How are we still fighting the same fight roughly a decade after the program was introduced? We have lived through the drastic administration changes and have personally felt the effects: from anxiously awaiting Supreme Court rulings to celebrating something that should have never been contested in the first place.
This uncertainty takes a toll on our mental health. The deep fear of not knowing where we could end up in the next 4-8 years, the fear of retaliation once we disclose our status to someone, and the clear reminder that at the end of the day, we are still “non-resident aliens” in a country we have known all of our lives. We need to make one thing clear for this new administration: We are ready for change. As DACA students, we should not carry the burden of having to justify our worth.
For DACA scholars like myself, life milestones that many take for granted, such as applying to college, are uniquely challenging. There were many calls, late nights of researching, and too many counselor meetings to count to find the few “DACA-friendly” schools that offered sufficient amounts of private financial aid. Even though a growing number of colleges and universities have recently openly welcome DACA students, in terms of finances, nothing has really changed.
Each time I apply to the next step in my educational journey, I am frequently considered an “international student,” which means no access to scholarships nor institutional grants. Further, the common responses from many programs begin with “I am sorry to inform you, DACA students cannot apply,” limiting my choices in where I get to go to school and what I am able to do as a career. This makes it difficult for DACA scholars to advance in their education, especially considering that most DACA scholars are low-income or come from low-income families.
This is why it is so important that DACA scholars are represented in all forms of education and government—from those reading college admission applications to those advocating for immigrant rights in Congress. Sure, let’s celebrate that DACA was restored, but let’s also keep in mind that the next outcome could be different if we do not push for a more permanent solution. Beyond the obvious direct path to citizenship, the real challenge is fighting for greater representation.
With COVID-19 ravaging communities of color, predominantly immigrant individuals working in low-paying manual labor jobs, DACA scholars offer a unique and much needed perspective. With most DACA scholars being bicultural and bilingual, the ability to understand our community and establish trust is easier. Having leaders, educators, doctors, and representatives that look like us, speak our languages, and share our lived experiences can be a powerful first step in dismantling and rebuilding a system that has historically discriminated against immigrants and communities of color.
We have witnessed the dangers of what happens when we allow hate and fear to make decisions for us. It is time for our voices and the voices of individuals who have been hurt to be heard, acknowledged, and validated, eventually allowing us to lead and make truly progressive policies with our communities’ best intentions in mind. It is time for us to be at the forefront of the decisions that determine our future, our home, and our country’s legacy for years to come.
This article was written by Isabella (last name has been omitted for privacy reasons). Isabella graduated from the University of Chicago and is on the path to applying to medical school.