Dreaming with my mother.

• Author: Rivera, Angy
• Position: FIRST PERSON SINGULAR - Life as an undocumented immigrant - Essay

When I was younger, I knew I was undocumented. My mother would always tell me we didn't have papers. She would waitress and bartend to make ends meet, and she even took up construction work despite her small frame. But I didn't believe that my immigration status would make my life difficult. After all, I was being raised in America, the land of opportunities.

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Instead of opportunities, I found fear. My mother's friends suggested we go into hiding and stay away from public places like hospitals, post offices, and airports. I was warned never to reveal our secret to anyone.

It wasn't until I became a high school student that my immigration status actually started to make an impact on my life. I accompanied my friends as they applied for working papers. I listened to them discuss their adventures at the DMV, as well as their tales about voting for the first time and traveling outside of the country. I sat and stared from the passenger's seat--never the driver's seat. I silently struggled with this exclusion, not knowing that I wasn't the only person in the state, or the country, in this situation.

When I was a senior, I attended a City Youth Conference at John Jay College of Criminal Justice that highlighted several issues faced by Latino youth. One of the workshops was about immigration. I first heard about the DREAM Act, and undocumented youth organizing in the state of New York, during this workshop that was facilitated by the New York State Youth Leadership Council. I listened carefully, took notes, collected handouts, and signed up for their newsletter, but I never revealed my immigration status.

I was accepted into several colleges, but the problem was financing my education. In June 2009, I found myself walking across a stage, receiving my high school diploma with my first semester of college covered with the help of the Leadership Council's fellowship program and my mother's savings. I felt guilty for having her spend her hard-earned money on me, and I swore that it would never happen again. I would attend college in the fall of 2009 and would make it on my own.

I became more actively involved with the council during this time, and it was there that the wall I had built around myself to protect my secret--and my mother's--would be put to the test. In solidarity with the Immigrant Youth Justice League in Illinois, we decided to host our first Coming Out of the Shadows event in New York in March 2010. This would be the first...