What Now? The Future of DACA and the dreamers who need it
Traversing through the Sonoran desert at the tender age of six, Yuriet Martinez held her mother’s hand tightly as her family – a mother, father and her little brother – made their way towards Arizona. Martinez didn’t know what to make of the perilous trip she was forced to embark in February 2005.
“I felt shocked, I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going. All I did was hold her hand and didn’t let go,” Martinez said.
The daytime brought punishing heat; hypothermic cold followed suit in the evening. Water was carefully rationed.
“It was counted how many drinks of water we would take because we couldn’t pull over to buy something to drink,” Martinez said.
But to Martinez’s father, the obstacles paled in comparison to the opportunities that the United States had to offer. They were stopped by border agents a total of seven times until one of the agents, who recognized them from previous encounters, questioned their dangerous endeavor.
“‘How many more times are you going to do this?’ inquired the agent to my dad,” Martinez said. “My dad replied ‘Until I can give my kids a better future and a better life.’” It wasn’t until the 8th time that we actually made it (into the U.S.)”
Now at the age 19, Martinez is one of thousands of DACA recipients currently residing in the United States,
The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) was formed in 2012 through an executive order by former president Barack Obama. It allows certain people, often “dubbed “dreamers,” who came into the U.S. illegally as minors to be protected from deportation. Recipients can request “consideration of deferred action” for a period of two years and is subject to renewal. The program does not does not grant legal status.
On Sept. 5 attorney general Jeff Sessions is calling for the end of DACA as part of his “America first” foreign policy. If passed, nearly 800,000 DACA recipients will become eligible for deportation. An estimated 300,000 of them are college students.
“It can be incredibly hard, them not knowing what is next,” said Michael Pfahl, associate council of Kent State immigration services.
Patricia Mendez is one of Ohio’s 4,400 DACA recipients currently in the state who are unsure of their future. Hailing from Mexico, Mendez resides in Painesville where she has grown up since the age of three.
“I feel stressful because I have to make sure my grades are up in college and I also have to work.” Mendez said. Currently attending Lakeland Community College, Mendez hopes to transfer to a four-year college where she can pursue a career in criminal justice.
Mendez found out she wasn’t a citizen when she was going through the process to apply for scholarships when the somber reality hit her. “I was in high school when everyone was applying for scholarship and everyone was getting their temps,” Mendez said. Mendez asked her mother about her status to where her mother simply stated she was undocumented. “That when I realize I wasn’t a citizen, that I couldn’t go to college or that I couldn’t have a driver license.”
As of now, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) personal data to immigration enforcement agencies – for the time being.
According to the U.S. Department of Education, students who are non-citizen are able to apply for the Free Application for Student Aid (FAFSA), but they are not eligible for federal financial aid. They may still be eligible for state or college aid, in addition to private scholarships but more than often DACA recipients are left with few options.
For example, Kent State University’s tuition rate for its undergraduate program as well as room and board cost approximately $20,928.00 for Ohio residents; $29,460.00 is the price non-Ohio residents pay.
If the tuition finance ordeals weren’t enough, Mendez is also keeping the March 2018 deadline in mind, unsure if she’d even be in the United States next year.
“It’s really hard to think what’s going to happen and I was thinking to myself ‘should I not go to school anymore and get a full time job to save money?’” Mendez said. “So I have some money when I get deported but right now I’m still trying to keep the present now and think about the future later.”
Martinez struggles with the same issues, unsure if she’d be in the United States come next year.
“I go to work as a STNA (State tested nurse assistant) and I want be in the medical field; a pediatrician.” Martinez said.
“It is really is frustrating because I speak for myself, but I feel people can relate that we all grew up here. For me, I don’t know anything from Mexico besides the language; speaking it and writing it. I don’t know how the economy works, I don’t know how school works,” Martinez said. “I don’t even know how their money looks.”
Martha Najar, who came to the United States at the age of 12, worries too about returning to a Mexico she barely recognize.
“It’s terrifying because I have three kids and I can’t imagine being separated from them.” Najar said. “I have my brother who’s becoming a resident but it’s not the same when your parents are gone.”
Tears began to well up in her eyes until it spills unto her brown check.
“We want to come out of the shadows.” Najar said firmly.
“Right now my parents are afraid to go to work. They have to ask people for rides from work to their house.” Jose Ramon, a DACA recipient who’s seen how the Painesville community, which has a sizable Latino, . “They’re afraid to go to the store and even afraid to go to the church. It’s a big community and most of them are illegal and it’s a big thing for them because they’re scared to go out and do their daily routine.”
A Harvey high school and Auburn Career Center graduate, Ramon is also unsure about his future in the United States. “ It’s kinda scary about the news about taking away DACA. Right now it’s scary because I’m not able to get a job, not going to be able to different places.” Ramon said.
President Donald Trump said nothing will happen to DACA recipients until March 5.
Angelo Angel, Rachel Duthie and Rob DiFranco contributed to this story.