The Journey Stories of Undocumented and Unafraid Community Activists
Assessment of DACA: The Two-Year Report
From Undocumented to Becoming DACAmented … “I licked my card and it tastes like plastic, it doesn’t taste like freedom”
DACA Clinic Reflection: With a cup of hot coffee in hand, I arrive promptly at 8 a.m. at the middle school to set up for the DACA clinic, only to find 10 families awaiting our arrival at the front door. I quicken my pace to meet the rest of the volunteers inside the school while making eye contact with the little children, flashing them an excited smile. Inside the old cafeteria I find my DACA clinic teammates consisting of law school students, lawyers, Latino student organization members, and university and community members. Once the tables, paperwork, and organizers are ready, the cafeteria quickly fills and is buzzing with voices. My first applicant, accompanied by his mother, sits down and sets an overflowing folder in the middle of our table. The mother looks unfazed by this process but the young man seems excited. During the inquiry process I hear a few particular questions (“How did you get here? Where was the point of entry?”) that bring back a flood of memories for the mother. A bit sad and in pain, she tells me her story, which answers the majority of questions I was going to ask. The young man opens the brown folder and presents his birth certificate from Guanajuato and a laundry list of all his academic accolades, school activities, and community service recognition. He has no...
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