Feature Story on Immigration from the UK by Arron Docksey
Summer 2006: due to the humidity it was an especially hot day, the sun was high and it beat down on me and my family with intensity. We were feeling stuffed from the all-you-can-eat breakfast that morning, but the amount of walking we were about to do would sure ease that. The scent of candy followed us as we made our way around the park, we watched in awe as roller coasters raced by and Mickey Mouse hats bounced past on top of happy children's heads. This place felt like a dream that I never wanted to wake from. The prospect of another two weeks in America excited me, I knew I would come back at some point, but little did I know that in four years time I'd have the opportunity to live the dream for a whole year.Summer 2009: it was my first year at The University of Central Lancashire (UCLan) in England, I had enrolled on a three year BA Hons degree in Film and Media studies and was looking forward to the challenge ahead. Moreover, as a boy who has grown up in small towns, I relished the chance to live independently in a big city. Shortly afterwards this plan was turned on it's head when I learnt that I could spend my second year in the United States. A sandwich year they call it in England (perhaps a term more suited to the American vocabulary...) upon hearing this stunning news there was an important decision to be made, it was not concerning my interest in the venture, but where in the States I would be living. I knew if all went to plan in my first year at UCLan I could study for a whole year in one of a number of different States, and it felt like a dream come true. I recall reading the list and then stopping as soon as my eyes read 'California,' memories of Disney '06 came flooding back. Where's the dotted line, I asked. However, things were not to be that simple.
I wrote in a blog post that certain requirements must be met for immigration, boxes have to be ticked and certain steps taken; what came of this was months of application and stacks of forms that I didn't know what to do with. In order to study for a year in America I was required to obtain a number of documents, such as a SEVIS form (Student and Exchange Visitors Program), and a DS-156 form (standard non-immigrant visa application), it's hard enough to read these forms, try obtaining them. Once I had these I was able to apply for my J-1 student visa which would allow me to spend 9 months in the USA. With work at University still to be taken care of, and the worry that I might not be able to afford this once in a lifetime opportunity, it was a stressful period, but my heart was set, and study abroad I would.
As my first year drew to a close I had confidence in my grades and an important interview date set for the final stage of my study abroad application; it was a meeting with a consulate at the U.S Embassy in London, who would read over my documents, asses my personality and hopefully give me the green light. The building itself was incredibly overwhelming, a huge gold eagle perches on it's roof looking down judgmentally on anyone who wishes to immigrate to the United States - it just added to the nervousness. The process was smooth, though, and a few weeks later I received the acceptance I had been longing, and working hard for.
Summer 2011: here I am in California, writing this blog post and thinking about what a fantastic year it has been. My relationship with the USA started in 2006, and now it's stronger than ever. I said five years ago that I would return to this country, and I'll say it again...
in the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger... I'll be back.
Feature Story on Immigration Experience
My name is Raquel Hernandez, and I am an immigrant.
Many people come from around the world to the United States looking for a better life, but many times what they find is not even near what they had expected. In my small town in Mexico, people who plan to come to this country, either legally or illegally, plan to stay for only two years, find a job, send money to their families to build a house, and save money to return home with a truck and with enough money to start up a small business. HOWEVER, this is only “The Mexican Dream” that very few manage to accomplish. From the people I know, I can say that the majority of them who have migrated to the United States start by baby sitting or cleaning houses. If they are lucky to migrate with legal papers, they end up in a factory, in a restaurant, in the fields, or in construction. Most of them don’t take the time to go to school and learn English. My parents were living in this country when I was born. When I was only eight months old, they moved back to Mexico and that’s where I grew up until the age of 19. Upon being unable to continue my education in Mexico due to a financial crisis that my father was having, my parents and I decided that it would be best that I returned to the United States to study English for two straight years, go back to Mexico to find a job in a touristic place and hopefully catch up with my education. However, it has been 11 years since I came here, and I am barely finishing my B.A. degree.
Even though I didn’t have to swim to cross the river or walk for days through the dessert, I have gone through many sacrifices. I arrived at my godparents’ home, whom I only knew from their sporadic visits to Mexico. Relatives took me to Palomar College to register for ESL classes (English as a Second Language), but in order to contribute to the expenses of the home where I was graciously being hosted and to provide for my parents, I had to look for a job. After 15 days of my arrival, I had a full-time job in a factory in the second shift and a few days later I was attending school in the morning.
It took me a year and a half of saving money to buy an old car, but in the mean time since I didn’t have my own transportation or a parent to take me to school, I had to buy a used bike and a used helmet with my first earnings; on rainy days, I used to get home completely wet. For work, I had to walk all the way to my cousin’s house to ride with her since we both worked in the same factory. The shift ended at 1:30 in the morning, so I used to get home around 2 AM. My bed was a sofa in the living room. My godparents had to get up at 4:20 AM to go to work, and on weekends, they let me borrow their son’s bedroom; so they would wake me up from the sofa to send me to the bedroom after their son had left for work. This was my routine until I had to leave the house.
The house where I was staying belonged to my godfather’s mother-in-law, and when they got in a fight, he decided to leave the house, and because I am his relative, I had to leave the house as well. Having nowhere to go other than my car, my boyfriend proposed to me getting married before we had planned. I called my father to ask for his permission (my mother at that time had passed away already), he approved my decision and the next day after work, I got married wearing a stained shirt and stainless steel-toe boots that I used for work. Thank God, my husband has been a great support for me and I have been able to continue to attend school, work, and lately my internship.
My story proves that even when an immigrant person has legal documents, the change is never easy. One of the things I regret the most about migrating to another country is that I left my parents behind and I couldn’t spend more time with my mother during her illness. People who don’t have legal papers cannot even be with their family members in their deathbed because if they leave the country, they are afraid that they may not be able to make it alive in their next attempt to cross to the country that has offered them a better way of living.
