Generational Difference and Fear in Mexican Immigrant Communities

Guest blogger: Lorena Nuñez, second-year law student, University of San Francisco

The fear that undocumented people—and those that love them—feel is real. When I read news feeds about the roughly 470,000 DACA eligible young people who have yet to file their applications for deferred action for fear of deportation, I get it.  When my undocumented aunt refuses to go to Sea World with the family because it means driving to San Diego, California—a city notorious for checkpoints—I sympathize. When I hear that my cousin, an American citizen, and her undocumented husband are not seeking to adjust his immigration status for fear that he will have to leave the United States in order to do so, I congratulate her for being smart.  When my undocumented ex-husband did not want to cross the border unlawfully after receiving a 10-year ban from re-entering the United Sates for fear that he would die in the attempt, I understood. Unlike my smart cousin, my ex-husband and I tried to adjust his status but we failed. 

My brother-in-laws did not appreciate the reach of this fear. To all five of my Latino (four Mexican and one Costa Rican) naturalized citizen brother-in-laws who themselves shared a border-crossing experience in common with the man in my life at the time, my ex-husband was just not “man” enough. They could not understand, let alone accept, that my ex-husband would not make the trek across the desert to be with his wife out of fear for his life.  

There is a disconnect between the older Mexican generation that arrived in the 1980s as adults and today’s generation that are coming of age while in the “citizenship status closet,” those that are undocumented but grow up never telling anyone. Those that arrived in the 1980s, or better yet, crossed the Mexico–US border in intervals throughout the year to support their families in Mexico, think of the border crossings as habitual and difficult. Sure, they were scary too, as my brother-in-laws claim, but they never seriously considered that on one of those times they might never again see their families. The question for them was not “if” but “when” to cross, again. Theirs was a surmountable fear, a challenge where their masculinity and bravado won—or at least they like to describe so today when asked about their experiences. Either my brother-in-laws like to put up a “macho” front or there really is a more palpable fear today.  I think it is both.

While I do not actually believe that crossing unlawfully as my brother-in-laws did was ever without any real risk, crossing the border unlawfully today is almost an entirely different concept.  When I was young girl I remember overhearing adult conversations about “coyote” fees, human smuggler fees, ranging from $1,000 to $2,000 a head. Today, the price per head can be upwards of $8,000.  In addition to the prohibitive costs, families will not even consider taking the risks with young girls for fear that they will be raped by the smugglers or by others in the group. And even if neither the exorbitant costs nor rape are fears that actually stop them, heat stroke or the relentless and armed border patrol agents might. 

Unfortunately, those like my brother-in-laws who adjusted their status thanks to the Immigration and Control Act of 1986 (better known as the amnesty law) do not understand those like the DACA eligible youth who are hesitant to apply for this relief.  They wonder why young people are not taking advantage of the “break” they are given and admonish them for being “tapados,” a colloquial term in Spanish that means ignorance stemming from a rural upbringing: a country-bumpkin-ness if you will. It is true that the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) provides some relief to young people in the form of protection from deportation and a valid work visa for at least two years, but it is not a pathway to citizenship and DACA eligible youth know that and worry.  They have a right to worry and fear that after the two years are up, their information and those of their (undocumented) loved ones can be used against them to their detriment.  The political climate is just not what is used to be and they are well aware of that reality. The problem is that uncles, parents and older cousins experienced immigration issues at a time when such a thing as amnesty was even politically viable. The idea of an amnesty-like immigration reform today is virtually laughable. 

So when we hear that there are still thousands DACA eligible youth not “taking advantage of the opportunity,” it is for good reason. They have many real fears. The choice to apply for this relief is a deeply personal one. The pro-immigrant rights community should understand where they are coming from or at the very least accept that they cannot truly understand and therefore defer to youth’s decision-making and risk-taking abilities. It ain’t like it used to be back in the days, as my brother-in-laws like to say. 

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