“It’s not fair. We’re all human. People are struggling to live. I’ve invested many resources in my education. I’d like to get a master’s, but I don’t have the money. That’s why I was very active in this campaign to get jobs for us on campus,” she says.
Silvia Rodriguez’s family packed a few things, left their homeland, Guadalajara, Mexico, and set out for California. They wanted their daughters to have a better future. They would fight for it, of course. They would do it for them and be productive; they weren’t going to ask for anything, they didn’t want anything handed to them.
Silvia was 3 years old, her sister eight months. Her father and mother, used to working in agricultural fields, decided to settle in Galt, California, an agricultural area where her father could work in the corn and strawberry fields. It was hard to break him—he was a warrior.
“My father worked six days a week, he would wake up at six in the morning and return at nightfall. It was very hard work; I could tell how exhausting those workdays were,” says Silvia, now a graduate from UC Davis in Spanish and Sociology.
“My mother stayed at home, taking care of us and two other sisters who were born in California. They both had one dream, that I would study, progress, and reach my dreams. That’s what they sacrificed for. We didn’t have much money; we looked for help, but my father always found a way to make sure we didn’t lack anything,” she says.
Silvia felt very isolated. Galt, a land of farmers and agricultural workers, was not a typical town, much less a city. As a child, she played with her school friends in the agricultural fields, and the houses were far apart. Her parents, fearful, always told her not to talk about her immigration status, she had to keep it to herself.
“As a child, I spoke Spanish. At school, they spoke mostly English and almost no Spanish. I struggled a lot; I grew up around white people, but I didn’t feel less than them,” says Silvia.
Silvia is very emotional when talking about immigration. She cries, feeling the word “undocumented” as a heavy dark cloud over her, a weight on her shoulders.
“As a child, I spoke Spanish. At school, they spoke mostly English and almost no Spanish. I struggled a lot; I grew up around white people, but I didn’t feel less than them,” says Silvia. “They accepted me, I got along with them, and there were no questions about my immigration status.”
For her, there were no family Sundays. Her father only rested on Tuesdays, but she had school.
“We lived in poverty, very tight on money. We did what we could. Since we got housing as part of my dad’s job, we couldn’t move, so it was helpful not to have to pay rent,” she says.
Soon she mastered English and became an exemplary student. As a child, she dreamed of becoming an artist. Her parents had no formal education, but her father was very good at math.
“It’s a universal language,” he would tell his daughter.
She always remembers her parents’ words of secrecy.
“Don’t trust anyone. Keep your status to yourself, don’t tell anyone,” they would say.
In high school, she had a rude awakening and came face-to-face with reality. She wanted to help her parents with some money, she wanted to work, but she couldn’t. She realized that being undocumented made her different, even if she didn’t feel it.
Silvia pauses. Through the phone, you can hear the pain of those memories as she cries.
“I wanted something so simple, to work, to have a driver’s license. I couldn’t have it at that time,” she says.
Silvia comes from a working-class family that, despite adversity, has fought to stay in the fight.
Moving away from her home changed her life. She managed to get into UC Davis and received financial aid. For a while, she worked to cover her basic needs.
“I was in survival mode. Many people don’t know how to help you,” she adds.
She relied on her talent and resourcefulness. She secured financial support from other organizations and mobilized. She received help from organizations and other dreamers, realizing that she wasn’t alone, that there were many others like her. Her parents saw her fight and suffer, thinking that they had not imagined this life for her.
After much effort, she was able to graduate from UC Davis. The Trump era was a heavy blow for her. Everywhere there was talk against undocumented people, DACA was canceled, and her job opportunities were non-existent.
“I questioned myself a lot. Despite my good grades, being an exemplary young woman, doors closed on me. I felt sad, angry, like I wanted to explode. I questioned whether all this had been worth it. I thought it had been a waste of time, of my efforts, of my parents’. Now I don’t see it that way anymore. I see value in what I did, in what I learned. I believe one day I will use it, share it. I told myself, ‘Here I am. How lucky I am to have the support system of my fellow students in the same situation, the fight we are carrying out,'” she shares.
Her parents also suffer. They feel bad, thinking they shouldn’t have exposed her to this situation. They think they brought her to suffer. For her, the American Dream doesn’t exist.
“At this moment, I survive because I live with my partner. I also help my mom sell ‘pan dulce’ (Mexican bread), but only two days a week. I don’t know where I’m going. People don’t really know what they are doing, the criticism they make of us, the consequences of their actions, like what (Gavin) Newsom did,” she says, upset.
The Fight is not over: as the history books say, these students have lost a battle but not the war.
For her, there are no options right now, only hopes.
“It’s not fair. We’re all human. People are struggling to live. I’ve invested many resources in my education. I’d like to get a master’s, but I don’t have the money. That’s why I was very active in this campaign to get jobs for us on campus. That way, at least I could return to campus and get a job. But now I’m paralyzed,” she says.
For her, it’s not the end of the struggle.
Her dreams have faded.
“I don’t dream; they’re not realistic. I can say I dream of working, traveling, having papers, but it’s no use now. I have to focus on myself. Try to be happy, not stressed, and continue supporting the movement,” she concludes.
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