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Maria, an anonymous UNLV student, shares her undocumented journey and the path that ultimately led her to obtaining a U Nonimmigrant Status, a Visa designed for victims of criminal activity.
Photo by Petra Molina
As a child, Maria had always yearned to travel, visit her family in Mexico, and meet her grandparents. As she grew older, her curiosity also grew strong, and she began asking questions her parents couldn't answer. The reality was harsh: she couldn't return to Mexico or leave the United States without fear of deportation.
Guided by a coyote smuggler, Maria and her mother crossed the U.S.-Mexico border when she was just a toddler. They sought refuge alongside other immigrants in an abandoned home, where they concealed themselves for nearly a week with no access to food or water.
"All I had were spoonfuls of ketchup," Maria said.
As time passed and Maria's family established a new life in the United States, the memory of their journey began to fade, and her parents spoke less about it. For most of her childhood, she remained unaware of her undocumented status.
As time passed, this shroud of secrecy unraveled, and Maria learned the circumstances of her arrival to the United States. “She (Maria's mother) told me to keep it a secret, that I couldn't tell anyone,” she recalled.
Over time, Maria began to comprehend the implications of her family's immigration status, and she became aware of the broader issues undocumented immigrants face. According to the National Academies Press (2015), undocumented immigrants encounter severe racial and ethnic discrimination, as well as segregation and isolation. Moreover, while Latin Americans constitute 57% of all non-citizens, they represent a staggering 90% of all U.S. deportations.
“I know people and family members who have gotten deported and it’s scary,” Maria said.
When Maria’s younger sibling wandered into a public restroom stall, an older man awaited him with malicious intentions. Facing a frightening reality, her family had to choose between reporting the sexual assault and risking their immigration status being exposed or refraining from involving the police altogether.
Undocumented immigrants often have to choose between safety and deportation and the uncertainty between these two sides are challenging. A study by the University of Illinois Chicago (2013) revealed that 70 percent of undocumented Latino immigrants are "less likely” to contact law enforcement authorities if they were victims of a crime due to fear of revealing their immigration status.
“A lot of misconceptions influence the way police might handle these kinds of situations,” remarked Maria.
Despite the heavy burden of doubt on Maria’s family, they cautiously reached out to the authorities. Upon learning from a trusted family friend that they might qualify for a U-visa, they unwittingly embarked on a journey fraught with five years of uncertainty.
Over the next few years, Maria found herself repeatedly tasked with providing information, enduring lengthy waiting periods that seemed interminable, before facing further paperwork requirements. The day when the process would finally come to an end never seemed to draw near. Then, unexpectedly, after enduring five years of this grueling process, Maria and her family collectively breathed a sigh of relief upon being notified that their U-visa was approved. Their migratory limbo was over.
Though this visa granted her a legal migratory status in the United States, Maria does not recount this chapter with pride. With a soft tremor in her voice, she explained, “It didn’t have to be this way. I wish there were other options.”
Disclosure: Maria is a pseudonym name, the individual’s original name has been redacted at their request.
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