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Undocumented and Unafraid: How Community Organizing Changed My Life

I am a fearless undocumented woman of color. It’s been a long journey to think of myself in that way, and sometimes I still don’t always quite believe it, but I feel powerful saying it.

I am a Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) recipient. I migrated to the US from La Paz, Bolivia, with my parents when I was 4 years old. But, growing up, I did not know I was undocumented. I was introduced to the immigration movement at a very young age. For as long as I could remember, I would look up to my older cousin Silvina. She was always outspoken and passionate about standing up for others. By the time she entered high school, she had come to the realization that her family was undocumented. Being resilient, she mobilized our whole family to join her at protests and marches. I was only 9 years old the time I went to my first immigration reform march. By the time I was 14, I joined her in actions on Capitol Hill, going to congressional offices and hearing stories of undocumented folks from all over, even shutting down roads as we called on the Obama administration to stop deportations.


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