DREAM Act

The DREAM Act

The Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act

According to the DREAM Act Portal, approximately 2.8 million students will graduate this year from high school in the United States. While some will go on to attend college, enter the military, or have the opportunity to pursue other paths of life, others – about 65,000 students a year– will not, simply because they bear the term undocumented immigrant. Although brought to the U.S. years ago as children, they face barriers to higher education, cannot work legally, and must constantly be wary of detection by immigration authorities.

Although reintroduced on March 26, 2009, the DREAM Act was initially introduced in  2001, during the 107^th Congress, by Senators Richard Durbin (D-IL) and Richard Lugar (R-IN), and Representatives Howard Berman (D-CA), Lincoln Diaz-Balart (R-FL), and Lucille Roybal-Allard (D-CA).

Passage of this bipartisan legislation would enable undocumented young people to be eligible for American citizenship in exchange for a mandatory two years in higher education or the military. In addition, good moral character must be demonstrated and candidates must have kept sufficiently out of trouble.

The National Immigration Law Center states that “by enacting the DREAM Act,  Congress would legally recognize what is de facto true: these young people belong here…If Congress fails to act this year, another entire class of outstanding, law-abiding high school students will graduate without being able to plan for the future…this tragedy will cause America to lose a vital asset: an educated class of promising immigrant students who have demonstrated a commitment to hard work and a strong desire to be contributing members of our society.”

The following testimonials, which can be viewed along with several others at Dream Activist, relate the daily challenges and inspirational life experiences of undocumented youth who were brought to the U.S. when they were children…

Alejandra

My name is Alejandra Garcia and I am a DREAM Act student. I came to the USA at the age of thirteen. My parents plan was to finally reunite and save enough money to buy a house in Mexico. I saw it as an adventure while my younger brother disagreed with the whole plan altogether. The promise was that we were going to be back home in less than two years. Legend goes, my dad had to come to the USA. I was thirteen and dying, they needed money. He came and broke the USA immigration law to save my life.

Only my mother knew that we were going to be smuggled into the United States. We found out in the Mexico/USA border. It was pitch black when we ventured through the desert in Nogales into the US territory. The smugglers were high on cocaine. They carried guns. They were lost and we had no choice but to follow. The coyotes howled without fear every time closer to us. There were a lot of them, a dozen… a hundred… a thousand. I could not tell because I was too young and afraid to count coyotes in the desert. The moon was as big as a fist. We got near a bunch of trees, other people with other smugglers hiding on the rocks and the grass. The sound of the Border Patrol nearby looking for me, a helicopter cut the darkness with a beam of pure white light. I knew at that moment that I was a criminal. I broke a law but I could not go back. I couldn’t tell my mother to go back. The smugglers were going one direction which was north and we were on their hands until my father paid our release. I was afraid of the police, of the smugglers, of the coyotes and of myself.

Unlike many dreamers, I had always felt like a criminal. I was old enough to know that jumping the fence was not legal. My entry was not sanitized with a passport or a temporary visa and made belief that it was as like forgetting to leave. Still, I could do little about it. I cannot blame my parents either. My father was not my father just the man who conceived me. My brother did not call him dad. It took some time for him to know our birthdays and for my brother to call him dad. Maybe is his fault but he also lost a finger at work and they didn’t even paid his medical bills. His hands are oily and rough. He lost his hand lines working for 1/3 of what a logger earns. I told him that since he has no hand lines, he has no destiny. He is free to make his own. In a way, that is the reality of all immigrants of the US. We lost the destiny we had. We die in the border and someone else was born, someone without destiny.

Well, when I was in high school someone told my mother to enroll me on the 10^th grade. It was a mistake and I went to high school when I was supposed to enter the 8^th grade. I graduated from HS within the top 15% of my class with a 3.75 GPA without knowing it was good. I took a lot of English classes in College and finally graduated from Communication Design. I am a class away to finish an Economics Degree. The dream of my life is to go to Film School and either become a movie director or a college professor. At times, I give up because it feels impossible. Then I remember how I came to this country: with only the clothes I was wearing, skinny, cold and covered of mud. How did I manage to get a college degree? I don’t know because I am always broke and I do not feel especially bright or talented. One professor told me I was dumb like a bag of hammers but “…but by God can make five pounds of bread with one pound of flour!”

I know that I am better off being an illegal alien in the US than a citizen in any country of the world. Still, why do I have to give up my humanity? Why can someone else have the right to tell me what I am or not? It is not the right to scream that this is my country. It is not. It is a matter of belonging. I study hard to be a better person. I volunteered on a hospital and later worked to increase the wages of our local firefighters. I was paid less than half of what I was supposed to be paid to organize a community to clean its water. Like a foster child that although loves the neglectful mother learned to love by the foster father. It is time, time for the father to admit loving the child without being sneer by the rest of the family. It is time to call the father, father. It is time to call things by their name without anyone having the right to say it isn’t so. This country does not belong to me. I belong to this country.

Benjamin

Hello,

I have been contemplating on how to start a letter like this. I could start with how angry, depressed, or frustrated I feel being in the situation I am. I know that there are a lot of problems that are occurring in the world, and I understand that some people will over look this letter and go on with their lives. That’s what I want most, to go on with my life. So I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this and listen to my story, because this is not just a story, it is my actual life.

My name is Benjamin and I was born in Santiago, Chile. I was 9 months old when my parents brought me to the place where anything is possible, the United States. I had a normal childhood, just enjoying life in the simplest of times. Elementary school, Middle school, and life were just flying by. When I turned 16 my parents told me they did not want me getting my license so young because it was so unsafe, so I had to wait till I turned 18, not knowing I would not be able to get one. I did not grow up with tons of money, so from a young age I knew the only way to make something of myself would have to be to excel in school. I was accepted into the International Baccalaureate program at my local high school and also had been playing the clarinet since 5^th grade and started to play the violin my junior year. I knew my future was going to be bright. As most teenagers, at some point in my junior year I decided I wanted to get a job, just to have extra money to go out, buy clothes, or just do anything.

My friend and I then went to the local Steak and Shake to apply. I grabbed an application and called my mom to come pick me up. As I was filling out my application in the Wal-Mart parking lot, I asked my mom for my social security number. I never expected what would happen next. I knew I was born in Chile, but I had no memory of even ever living there. She then told me I was undocumented, or as some people use the harsh word, “illegal”. I did not really understand what that meant, but my mom then explained to me. It felt like I had grown up being someone that I was not. I figured it would be such an easy fix, but then came to learn it wouldn’t be. That day I felt as if I had just seen my future explode in my face. I felt as everything I was doing was worthless.

In the upcoming months, I had fallen into a depression and had to be put on medication. I then had to talk to a therapist, but I did not tell her of the real problem that was occurring in my life. I quit band, and my grades were dropping, because I had lost all of my motivation. After a couple months with the anti-depressants, and having to get a higher dosage, I started having suicidal thoughts, and planned my death. So as I sat crying in my room, I thought of the repercussions and all I could think about was my mother who has done so much in my life. So I called her, and she reassured me that everything was going to be ok. After that incident I was put in a behavioral center for a week and taken off the medication.

I finally graduated high school, with honors, and awarded the bright futures scholarship. I am the type of person that knows that higher level education is needed to have a bright future. So here I am, 19 years old, waiting for the DREAM Act to save my life so I can have my chance to go to college and do what I want with my life. My plans are to attend a four year college and get a B.A. in Health Care Administration, and then get my Masters.

As I said I know there are so many problems in the world, and this is just another one of them. There are so many stories like mine, and people like me. I feel as if I am on a dead end road with nowhere to go. It has taken me so much to even write this story because every time I think of it I am reminded. My brain can just not understand how I am illegal; I have felt as a U.S. Citizen since I knew what one was. So I sit here with tears in my eyes staring at this word document just not knowing what else to say. Not knowing who will read this, which people will care, if things will change, and if my life will ever begin. So I will end this story which happens to be my life, with just a simple phrase. Help me and help others like me.

The DREAM Act is the law that will let my life and many others begin.

Dan

My name is Dan, I’m 20 years old and I currently live in Florida. I was born in Colombia and came to the U.S. on a tourist visa at the age of 11. At the time I thought I was just taking a vacation and visiting my relatives that had been living here, legally, for many years. My intention was to try and think about something other than the great tragedy I had suffered just 2 weeks before. It turns that going back was not an option because there would be nobody there waiting for me. My father died 2 weeks before I came here and my mother had died 3 years prior to that when I was 8. The only family I had left was my sister who is 5 years older than me. I needed someone to look after me, and that someone was a permanent resident living here for many years. She was my aunt but she has now become a like a mother to me.  Because of technicalities I wasn’t able to adjust my status and I am the only member of my family without legal status.

I am a part-time college student majoring in Finance and I have a 4.0 GPA. I wish I could go to school full time but because Florida charges me as an Out-of-State student, I have to pay close to $1000 per class at a community college. Therefore one or two classes are all I can afford. I’ve had to turn down scholarships and job offers due to my status.

I often find myself lying to my closest friends every time they ask me about my life. Why don’t I have a job, car, or even a license? How come you’re not going to school full time? It’s frustrating not being able to just let it all out, but I’m afraid they won’t understand since they never had to go through what I’m going right now.

I am not asking for a handout. All I want is the opportunity to earn the things that I want, to make my dreams come true and to be able to give back to my community and this country which I consider my own.