Cover Story
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anging in the alance
Undocumented ‘Dreamers’ await passage of immigration legislation that would change their lives by Elena Kadvany
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Veronica Weber
Edgar Soto, a 17-year-old undocumented immigrant, sits in his room in his Palo Alto home on June 18.
Katie Brigham
Irving Rodriguez, a rising sophomore at Stanford University, holds a sign for The Dream Is Now campaign, which supports comprehensive immigration reform. He is the campaign’s campus representative for Stanford.
or the first time since 1986, the U.S. Congress is poised to overhaul the nation’s immigration laws. The Senate is set to vote on a reform bill by the July 4 weekend, as the House continues to internally debate its own version. If the bill were to pass, Laura Tovar, a 22-yearold undocumented paralegal working at Community Legal Services in East Palo Alto, would be able to keep her recently acquired driver’s license, her job and her plan to go to law school in the fall. Irving Rodriguez, an undocumented Stanford University sophomore who is passionate about biology and immigration reform, would be able to put his degree and talent to use in the United States when he graduates. Edgar Soto, a recent Henry M. Gunn High School graduate with no papers, ID or Social Security number, would eventually be able to obtain all these things and pursue his dreams of becoming an architect or police officer. Above all, the proposed bill would create a 13-year path to citizenship for immigrants in the country illegally, finally putting Tovar, Rodriguez and Soto on a path out of the legal limbo they have been in since coming to the United States as children. The “Gang of Eight,� the U.S. Senate’s bipartisan immigration-reform team, filed the 867-page bill in April. As it is, the bill would strengthen the nation’s borders, create a mandatory system to ensure employers verify employees’ legal statuses and outline a path to citizenship with many criteria for the estimated 11 million immigrants currently living in the United States illegally. Tovar’s future has long depended on the promise and passage of immigration legislation. She found out she was undocumented in 2008, her senior year at Menlo-Atherton High School, when she needed a Social Security number for college applications and financial aid. “My world turned upside down, honestly,� she said of her discovery. The California Dream Act — which allows aspiring college students who are undocumented to apply for state and institutional financial aid — had not yet passed. So a private scholarship helped Tovar pay for her four years at the University of California, Santa Cruz, where she majored in politics combined with Latin American studies and a minor in literature. As graduation loomed last year, she was still without papers, a Social Security number, a driver’s license or a work permit. Her dreams — to take the bar examination, go to law school and live without fear of deportation — again hung in the balance. Meanwhile in Chicago, Rodriguez, too, had to learn how to live without a driver’s license, figure out how to pay for college and cope with the fear that speaking out about his legal status could lead to his parents’ — and possibly his own — deportation.
“Several of my friends had their moms and dads deported,� Rodriguez said. “They’d be left with nobody else to stay with. They’d basically have to move back, too, because they had no other choice. “So I went through that, and I never really found a way to help impact a movement or do anything for the (federal) DREAM Act.� “DREAM� stands for “Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors.� His freshman year at Stanford, Rodriguez found out about “The Dream Is Now,� a documentary and campaign dedicated to supporting the DREAM Act and comprehensive federal immigration reform. He got involved and became the campaign’s campus representative for Stanford. If the federal immigration bill does not pass, Rodriguez will face the same fate as Tovar did when she graduated from college. Rodriguez could be eligible for a federal program that allows certain undocumented immigrants to apply for a work permit, the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. But the program is in jeopardy, as the House voted to cut its funding on June 6, and might not exist when Rodriguez exits Stanford. Soto, who came to the United States four years ago, is starting classes at Foothill College this summer. The likelihood of either of these hopes becoming reality without an overhaul of the nation’s immigration laws is small. But Soto hopes to carve out a life for himself in the United States as best he can under current limitations.
Laura Tovar
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he same day Laura Tovar graduated from the University of California, Santa Cruz, last year, Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano announced the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Deferred Action allows undocumented youth who were brought to the United States as children to obtain work permits if they meet certain criteria. Tovar, meeting all the requirements, submitted her application and was granted deferred action status in October. This meant she could work full-time — legally — at Community Legal Services in East Palo Alto, where she had been interning since her college graduation. It also allowed her to finally apply for her driver’s license; she took her driving test in late May and passed. Before, she was driving illegally to and from work, as using public transportation from Sunnyvale, where she now lives, would take almost two hours. “Now that I have my license, I feel more secure,� she said. “Before I was just scared to drive with friends or family members in the car. I offer to take them everywhere now. I’m not afraid any(continued on next page)
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