¡Hola! Me llamo Gerardo Herrera-Cortés y soy un pasante por los poblaciones hispanos y latinos en el Mosaico: centro para la diversidad y cultura en UMBC. Estudio diseño gráfico, pero tengo una pasión para la vida y experiencia de los universitarios.

In translation to the American English language, I just said my name, that I’m the Hispanic and Latino/x intern for the Mosaic, as well as my major and my main interest. Those two sentences took about half an hour to write. If you’re fluent in written Spanish, you can perhaps see the mistakes I made. I search endlessly through search engines and Spanish websites to ensure that my grammar is at least decent. In English, that’s lesser of an issue.

I was born in Puebla, México and immigrated to the United States with my mother at trés meses. I already knew that I was an undocumented immigrant, along with other members of my “nuclear” family (Side note: I found out what nuclear family meant this past weekend and it’s quite a weird concept). It was no biggie – my family had their life and other folks had theirs. We kept a sharper eye at the skin tones of police officers and the immigration Q&As on Univisión Noticias than others. It was normal. Normal.

My hermanos, 19 and 14, are American-born and, as my dad likes to put it, malagredecidos. They’re enjoying the American experience and the benefits of health insurance, an American passport, and citizenship. Aren’t they lucky, huh?

I applied to colleges, the first in my family, and got stuff done. I didn’t know how money worked nor how much it was but I went for it. During my sophomore year in high school, my sister and I applied for and were granted I-765 work permits and deportation deferral through DACA. I worked full-time for slightly above minimum wage – $7.80 at the time – because I had the ability to speak (decent) Spanish. I worked full-time, every week, from October 2013 to August 2015. Then, my mother revived her Permanent Residency application that was filed in 1993, back before the time of any children, with a costly lawyer during my junior year.

El trío was granted residency status in March 2015. We spent more than dos mil dólares por persona. I helped my older sister in funding the federal “forgiveness” fee, biometric fees, application fees, and lawyer costs. I came to UMBC, paid for my first semester with the dos mil that was left in my bank account and whatever leftover money the federal and state government had (and none from UMBC at the time).

Fast forward, I’m working several jobs here at UMBC, living financially unstable, enduring discriminatory and injusto practices and cultures, and still worried about several loved ones. Mi familia transverses the six of us. I acknowledge that the 1993 case was a life (and deportation) savior for most of my family.  I acknowledge the ability to live in lesser fear. I want you to acknowledge that getting benefits and “security” is not always truest to their words. I want you to acknowledge that la experiencia de un inmigrante no ha cambiado y la guerra para igualdad sigue más fuerte que nunca. Yo quiero lo más mejor por mis padres, mis parientes, y esos de la misma o peor experiencia. Tú eres querido, importante, y vital en este mundo. Y en el fin, yo asciendo por la guerra, por la gente, por mi gente, y por vos.

¿Necesita ayuda con la traducción? Need assistance with translation? Visit http://www.spanishdict.com/

I rise for our undocumented people whose voices are silenced. Our voices are silenced as soon as we internalize the belief that living in the shadows is our best chance at assimilating. We know this is oppression, but it keeps us relatively safe from deportation, discrimination, prejudice and their ripple effects that wound our families and spirits of life. Essentially, our shelter in the shadows is living fear in silence.

Like many of the 11 million undocumented immigrants in this country, I was born on the “wrong” side of the border. My home country is Mexico, Mexico City where I recollect 7 years worth of wonderful countryside memories with my mom’s family. I also vividly remember my crises of identity when I realized I was the abandoned child in the family. As a single mother and head of the household, my mom worked vehemently with a desperate heart for our reunion. In 2005, “coyotes” brought me over the border, across grasslands and from underground housing networks to my mother-daughter reunion. While we did bond effortlessly, I was well aware of my suppressed resentment toward my mom’s decision; a decision I felt placed me in a deeper crisis of identity than ever before. After many reflections and questions, I have come to understand and respect her valiant decision.

Shortly after making peace with the decision that flipped my world on its head, the 2016 election happened. I could not stop crying. Feelings of betrayal, anxiety, and confusion pained my mind and body. Then, everything changed when my dear friend asked me to speak out. You see, I am an immigrant with privilege in this country. DACA temporarily protects me from deportation, and it grants me permission to work here. Most importantly, it gives way for the peace of mind many undocumented immigrants are very likely to never experience. I am an immigrant with privilege.

When my dear friend asked me to advocate and organize for change, it dawned on me that I could no longer remain silent. Had I rejected her hand for help, I would have done a great injustice to her, my loved ones, our fighters in the shadows, and myself.

 “I rise for social justice” seems such a simple idea. The fact that one person deserves basic human rights is a very controversial topic, but should it be? In my opinion, everyone should have access to these rights, including life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. These ideals are very vague, yet we see these ideals throughout the left/ progressive movement. Life, or free healthcare for all, liberty, the choice to do with your body as you wish, and the pursuit of happiness, going to college if that’s what you wish for a reduced cost. Unfortunately, there are a few of us are very interested in controlling whatever possible. It’s ironic how they want less government control in their lives, yet seem to enforce their laws wherever they go. 

This is an example of a social injustice, which is something that “SJW’s” (Social Justice Warriors) and feminists fight against. I have been a feminist all my life, even fighting with parents whenever they said something inappropriate. Social Justice is something that everyone deserves, not just the societal elite and white people. These marginalised groups are exactly why I put #BLM or Black Lives Matter in my photo. 

Overall, everyone needs to realise that just because someone is different than you, doesn’t mean you should treat them differently or discriminate/segregate them from yourself. That’s one of the things I love about UMBC, it’s a very diverse and inclusive campus. With the exception of a few of us, that see the world through a different lens, this campus is a bubble of love.