Growing up Undocumented in a Documented World

Diego Quintos

This is going to be a personal account of what it’s like being a kid and growing up in a foreign place, where your legal status carries so much weight. Where at the age of 10, you were labeled as an “illegal alien,” and that phrase carried shame through most of my life. Where you had to make sure you were trusting the right people to tell about your situation, because you are unsure if they might betray you and call ICE. This is my brief story.

When people ask me about what it was like being in Mexico, I can’t answer it. Because I don’t remember, that’s how young I was when we migrated to the States. I was 2 years old and I just remember waking up somewhere and that was my life. It was almost as if I had re-spawned in a video game but I had no idea what game we were playing. This was the beginning of what would be a years of fear, anxiety, and discomfort. From the moment I entered pre-k, I knew that I was different from my peers. Maybe not entirely due to skin color, but a feeling. This feeling that I was different, I felt like everyone knew our secret. It was a constant paranoia, that I would not shake off until I was about 15, when I received my DACA card. There was always this thought in the back of my mind, that today might be the day me, or my parents will get deported. That is a lot to think about as a young child, imagine fearing over something that you have no control over. Thinking that you might never see your family again. A kid shouldn’t have to fear this.

Growing up in Georgia, I learned that people can be truly hateful. I never thought that I would experience racism, since I though at the time, I was not perceived as “one of those Mexicans.” However, I would later learn that even subtle phrases carry racist intent. Through most of my grade school and middle school, I felt like I had to hide a part of myself from everyone else. I felt like I had to stop being Mexican so that people would like me and not judge me for being an undocumented immigrant. I was ashamed of that part of me. It didn’t help that my conservative classmates would say sly comments about immigrants. This pushed me further into my shell, and I eventually felt like I had to conform to “white ideals.” Which eventually led to me being “white-washed” and entirely rejecting my culture. I went through most of high school pretending to be a the poster child for American ideals. Much of what I said was regurgitation of those around me. I was also always told, ‘well you aren’t Really Mexican, because you’re one of us.’ Hearing this then, I would just agree and go on with my life. As if it didn’t matter, in fact, I used to take it as a compliment that people didn’t see me like all the other Latinx students. Fast-forward to couple years down the road, I’m in college and finally learning to form a unique, personal thought.

In my college experience, so far, I have come to deeply appreciate who I am and the culture we have. I was no longer scared of hiding because there was nothing to be ashamed of. I wanted people to see me and know that I am a DACA recipient. I want people to know that everything I stand for, and strive for, comes from a place of hard work and determination. I have stopped hiding because I know that there are people out there who support us. I want people to see that undocumented kids can and will be successful! Being undocumented in a country that does not want me, has truly molded a huge part of who I am. Even though it is not something I chose, it is something that I am thankful for, because without this experience I would not be the person I am now.

-Abre Tu Corazón

Diego Quintos