Superman and his Immigration Status

It’s easy to see how and why Superman can be considered an undocumented immigrant. His origins mirror those of anyone forced to relocate from their home country to another because of outside factors and in Sup’s case, a dying planet. For decades, he’s embodied the spirit of America by upholding truth, justice and the American way, reflecting the origins his original creators had in mind and those placed on him by society throughout the years.

And while the details of who Superman is and how he got to earth have wavered, the fact remains that he is from another planet and he grew up in the United States, just like me. That is, if you consider Mexico another planet. I’ve lived in the US for 21 years as an undocumented immigrant and assimilated to the point of surpassing numerous negative stereotypes and low expectations placed on Latin American immigrants by US culture and society.

Like Superman, my views on society have grown and changed over time to see the inherit connection between all people of the world. Politics, policies and/or wars know no borders when it comes to creating situations in which individuals have no other choice but to migrate for a better life. When parents are faced with the choice between death and a better life, they’ll do whatever is needed to protect their children. Just as Superman’s parents did with him and my parents did with my siblings and me.

On Being DACAMENTED

“To be or not to be, that is the question: Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them: to die, to sleep no more; and by a sleep, to say we end heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to?….”

To say that this is an interesting transition is an understatement. For the last couple of months, I’ve seen others enthusiastically share pictures and updates as they got approved for work permits, ID’s and driver’s licenses. I’m no stranger to over sharing myself, and had I been in this situation a few years ago, I would have done the same thing. It’s a major transition for anyone that goes through it. Going from undocumented to being quasi-documented.

I would joke with friends about having a work permit party once I was approved, because the idea of throwing a party to acknowledge this transition is hilarious to me. Like throwing a pet a birthday party. But there’s no fan fare here. No facebook post, instagram picture (sort of) or semi-emotional status update in which I make a hollow vow to continue fighting for others and/or my family so they can have the same opportunities I have.

The demarcation of my values

Being positive is the hardest thing I consciously work on. Constantly. There are moments in which it feels like in pulling fingernails with pliers. To consciously be positive, both for others, and myself is tremendously strenuous. The incredible ease in which I can just hate, critic, and mock with the utmost disdain is indeed a conscious struggle. I like to think I’ve made some progress in how I handle situations, but it’s not enough. I still catch myself slipping here and there.

My intentions are not to silence or censor myself, but to be more critical and productive with this internal need to speak my mind, call out bullshit and have my own voice be heard in conversations. But even that in itself is incredibly selfish. This want to have a dominant voice, be acknowledged and valued as a source of wisdom and resources is something that I’ve been getting rid of because it turns into a gluttonous craving.

Hard to say how and why I’m like this now, and it’s not important right now. Not being able to see these qualities within myself has lead to questionable decisions on my part that ripple through friends and circles. My current priority is to stop them here and now. If I can do that, I can take the time I need to look back on how I got like this and start changing things from within.

No way will I ever force myself to fake being happy for someone I could careless about, but that doesn’t give me an excuse to be vindictive either. I can be genuinely happy for close friends and family when good things happen to and for them, but not to people who are at best, frequent acquaintances. The fluidity of relationships, like water, takes the shape of the container. The container will change and the water will take a new shape, but it’ll still be water at the end of the day. Unless that water is frozen and/or turned into a gas, then it takes on a whole new meaning from there. Now I'm just rambling.

The demarcation of my values escapes me. Like said water constantly changing containers, few things have been constant in my life, all except the help and support of friends. I think about that and realize that I have no reason nor excuse to be negative toward anyone given what I’ve gone through and whose gone through it with me. I’m blessed beyond count, but my ignorance blinds me to no bounds.

I’ve gotten use to throwing myself pity parties and being dramatic. In those moments, I knew of nothing else but that, but I’m glad to be learning other wise. Putting an end to destructive habits and creating positive one’s in their place has taken a lot of personal growth. Growth that wasn’t possible without the help of others.

Bourgy Values

In my life, I’ve assigned being bourgy to things I’ve never had the opportunity to try and/or explore. And because they were out of my reach for whatever reason, I figured that trying to get specific things or acting a certain way meant I’m selling out and that I’m ashamed of where I came from.

As is the case in other aspects of my life, I’m finding that selling out can mean many different things and that sometimes people can’t help be bourgy and/or sell outs because that’s all they know. And in all honesty, that’s totally fine. One can’t be blamed for how they’ve been raised and what habits form from that, but one can be held accountable for frontin’.

And that’s what it comes down to really. I can understand someone being poor all of their life, working hard to move up the ladder, leave the hood, sell out and have a baller life style. They’ve put in the time and made it happen. And they don’t deny it either. But the one’s who do the same thing and deny what they are doing, claim to be for the people and/or community and are just opportunist, those are the people I have beef with.

Then again, I’m still trying to make sense of all this and generally stay off the hateraid. But I can’t help ponder and entertain these ideas given the people I’m around sometimes. I know what I like and I enjoy it, just as others do the same. And I do respect that folks work hard for their money and if they wanna spend it at places I would never give I consider fancy, then that’s on them.

It just that there’s this nagging feeling of always having to worry about money. Knowing that while I could afford a $10 drink, part of me is going, “I paid $10 for this?” When I could have gone somewhere else and gotten more bang for my buck, you know. But there are days in which I do treat myself to whatever I want without stopping to think of price.

But at the same time, I don’t aspire to any of those kinds of places. I can appreciate them but that’s not me. I’m just there because the group is there and it’s only fair to sort of take turns in doing something they like and then doing something I like. I dunno, it just seems like I don’ fit in anymore and I’m finding comfort and stability in being independent, something that I never truly had before. The fact that I'm able to see the situation from a different perspective because things in my life are in a better place, helps out tremendously.

Assimilation Doesn't Equal Liberation

At one point in my life you may have heard me say that I want to be an American. And at that time, I meant it. But as with anything else, time changes things and I no longer desire to be American. There are several layers to that statement, but it basically comes down to assimilation doesn’t equal liberation.

English is technically my second language and the only reason I’ve adapted to the US is because I’ve spent the majority of my life here. The culmination of my time here has guided me to the kind of understanding I have today, that at the end of the day, all want is to be a citizen of the US, but I will never call myself an American.

I’ve invested in this countries system just as much as it has in me, and to not attain citizenship would be like giving up on everything I’ve gone through and worked for. It’s the principal of the whole thing. It’s principalities in this.

Help me get to Netroots Nation this year

Warning: Self Promotion Ahead

Occasional readers of this blog, I need your help. I'm trying to get to Netroot Nations this year. Netroots nations is, "We amplify progressive voices by providing an online and in-person campus for exchanging ideas and learning how to be more effective in using technology to influence the public debate. Through our annual convention and other events, we strengthen the community, inspire action and serve as an incubator for ideas that challenge the status quo and ultimately affect change in the public sphere."

That being said, the scholarship competition works like a popularity contest. The folks with the most votes are given a scholarship to attend the conference. I applied last year and sadly, didn't make it  :( That's why I'm applying again this year, and doing a HUGE push, flexing my social media muscles.

So take 2 minutes of you time and CLICK THIS LIKE RIGHT HERE and vote for me. Once you do that, take to more minutes and vote for my home girls Nancy Meza and Meagan Ortiz. They both bring in something that is critically needed at these kind of conferences, woman of color in media.

VOTE FOR NANCY HERE

VOTE FOR MAEGEN HERE