Maria Rojas: Families of undocumented workers live prepared for the worst, but value special occasions

This Father’s Day I hugged my Dad a little bit longer than I have before.

My dad is a jockey, which was what brought us to Kentucky.

I loved being around the horses and with my interest in sports, growing up I was described as a tomboy. I basically acted as the son my father never had and I was pretty okay with that, at least most of the time.

With all dads there were embarrassing moments with my overly supportive father coaching me from the sidelines in the middle of a soccer game and shouting at the referees in defense of my out-of-bounds dribbling.

Even though growing up in the United States was filled with happy memories for me and my family, I learned that something about us was different.

Maria Rojas

My family came to the United States from Chile with Visas when I was just three years old. Knowing our Visas would soon expire, my parents continued working with an immigration attorney, who insisted she was filling out all of the proper paperwork to maintain our lawful status.

My parents were horrified to discover that she had been stealing from them and had not fulfilled her duties. At the age of seven, I fell out of status. I was undocumented throughout most of high school. In many ways, my status didn’t change my day-to-day life but there were important ways that it did.

As a child, I remember my father preparing me for the worst: his deportation. He provided an emergency plan the way other parents do for a house fire; he instructed me on who to call, where to go, and what to do if I were to come home from school and find the house empty. Returning from soccer practice to find him gone was a very real possibility.

We knew other families who had dealt with this situation. Around this time, we were involved in a car accident. I can remember being surrounded by police and medical professionals which was really scary.

The scariest thing was the fear that this incident could result in my family being separated, and my parents being taken away. I was so afraid that their accents could raise suspicion that I covered their mouths and quickly blurted out the requested information.

During high school, I came out about being undocumented. In the middle of an intense class discussion concerning immigration I revealed that I was undocumented. While some students could be cruel, many people showed compassion, especially my teachers.

Those same people comforted me when the unbearable happened – when we were faced with deportation.

My father received a letter in the mail giving him an ultimatum: either voluntarily go back to Chile and leave his wife and two children or face forced removal which could mean months, or years in a detention center.

The night before my father left was filled with heartbreak. My body physically ached with sadness. I could hardly function.

At school, I was crying and distraught but, like before, my English teacher was there to console me. It was, in part, because of the support of others that I have been able to carry on.

Today I am in my 3rd year at NKU where I major in education. I dream of helping others the way that my teachers, and one in particular, helped me.

Unlike most people who are separated by deportation my dad was very recently able to come back to the U.S. with a renewed work Visa.

I am thankful that I was able to spend this father’s day with my dad, but am also mindful of the countless other American families who are dealing with the trauma of deportation, especially around a holiday to celebrate fathers.

I believe we need an immigration system that keeps families together and encourages a loving, stable family unit where children can realize their potential.

Maria Rojas was born in Santiago, Chile and moved to the United States when she was three years old. She is currently a senior at Northern Kentucky University majoring in Elementary Education and is president of the co-Ed Latino Fraternity Alpha Psi Lambda- Psi Chapter.