It was 2016 when I realized how unfair the world can be. I was only nine years old but I can remember the fear I felt all around me on November 6th when Donald Trump won the presidential election. Even at nine years old I knew something was not right, me and my sister watching the election, the screen light blaring on us. Many thoughts raced in my mind; Will my parents be okay? Who is going to take us to school? Are we still going to live in California? These thoughts all kept circling in my mind. I knew those “aliens” they wanted to deport were my parents, my aunts, my uncles, cousins and even my friends. I share this same experience with many others as well, including neighbors, friends, classmates, and many other kids who were worried about their families separating and being torn apart, with the sense of never feeling whole again. These experiences were not just mine, but felt all throughout the city of  Madera. Now, almost a decade later, that same fear has rapidly risen again in my community.

New life 

My parents are immigrants and their journey to America began in 2004. It was the start of their search for the “American dream”. My mother, 23 years old and my father, 26 left their hometown in Guerrero, Mexico in hopes that moving to America would bring them better job opportunities and afford the life they always wanted back home. A safe home with a stable job, and a bright future for their children. My parents did not leave because they wanted to, they left because they had to. They left behind cousins, uncles, nephews, and childhood friends in order to come to America. Like many immigrants, they left not knowing anything about America, not knowing if they could even make it across. They didn’t know the language, the customs, or what the future would hold, but they still took the risk. A sacrifice driven by hope for something better, if not for themselves, then for the future of their children.

Hardship

In Mexico, the pay was so low my parents could barely afford to eat for two. Any sort of meat like chicken, pork, and fish was a luxury. My parents would survive solely off beans and tortillas trying to make ends meet. So, of course, trying to cross the border was not an easy task. Luckily with the help of my uncle they had a “connection” to America, already familiar with crossing the border and living in America at the young age of 15 he was a major help. They reached out to him, having to borrow money that was used to fund the bus ride to the airport, and then from the airport to a plane to Tijuana. From then on it was a struggle to get past the border. My parents first got the help from coyotes who promised them walking across was the safest most efficient way. But this was proven wrong later when they were being used to smuggle other contraband allowing my parents to be caught, used as decoy. My father felt hopeless, all the effort, time, and money had gone to waste, but my mother had hope. After being sent back twice they got help from another coyote in a  different city, and this time they succeeded. My parents had finally got to America and continued their way to Madera where my uncle had been living with other field workers. My mothers first job here was packing melons an hour away from Madera. My father worked there as well tossing melons in the carries. For years they worked in the fields to pay off the money they owed my uncle. Although it wasn’t hard for them to get jobs because of the connections with him. Once they paid him back they moved closer to Madera, from then on my dad found work at a local tire shop downtown. While my mom stayed home by 2006 my sister was born and then a year later I was born 2007. 

Life in Madera

Located in the heart of the Central Valley, life here in Madera was easy to settle into. Being in a city filled with hispanics we fit right in. Most of my school spoke Spanish, ate the meals I ate, and shared the same customs as my family even if we came from different parts of Mexico. I always felt welcomed and enjoyed hearing about others traditions, dances, songs, etc. Many of my classmates’ parents are like mine immigrants who came to Madera searching for work and stability here. These parents are hard-working, they take on the labor heavy jobs of working in the fields, waking up at the crack of dawn leaving work in the afternoon. These jobs aren’t easy, from picking grapes, almonds, pistachios, to irrigation, carrying heavy machinery, and using strong pesticides. All these contributions not only help feed our city but the entire State of California and even other states in the U.S. 

 Present 

 Today I can see these new immigration policies not only affecting the lives of people around me, but also in my community. Starting with my own mom being afraid to step out of the house for any reason. She can not run errands or doctor appointments or do simple tasks such as walk a few blocks to get groceries. My mom is not the only one scared to go out. My community is also scared as days pass on because of immigration. I notice Food4Less, Rancho San Miguel, Dollar Tree and the swap meet growing more and more vacant because of fear. This fear has spread to my tia that her husband will get deported even with his green card. She has been worried sick anytime my tio heads to work worried that it might be his last day here in America. What will she have to tell her kids when their father doesn’t come home? My other tio, now 67 years old, who helped my parents cross the border, is still working in the fields every morning to go work at the local fields here in Madera. So he can keep supporting not only his children but also his grandchildren as well. As of recently because of these new immigration laws he has been scared to show up to work he has been worried that he will be caught never to be seen by his family. As of last month a suspicious looking car labeled “Code Enforcement” was parked right in front of his house and he was terrified and they were out to get him. He didn’t leave his house, he didn’t go to work. Last resort after being home all day he asked me and my sister to drive by to help him. And to our surprise it wasn’t an ICE truck it was just the regular City County truck doing an inspection on someone getting towed on the street across. My uncle shouldn’t be scared to step out of his house because of a suspicious vehicle, people in Madera’s community shouldn’t be in fear of their lives on a daily basis.  All these scenarios aren’t just my own family but other families here in Madera are reliving them, people are fearing for their lives this is not right.

Coming together

The story of my family and community is not one of my weaknesses but it is my resilience. Even when immigration laws bring fear into our homes, we continue to show strength by supporting one another. I believe that someone like me can contribute by speaking up, sharing stories like my family’s, and joining groups that can spread resources to protect immigrant families. Groups like The Valley watch Network continue to inform and protect families on a case by case basis. Every action, even the small ones like passing out information or showing up to culture celebrations reminds us that we are not alone. From the hard-working parents in the field to young students who take up leadership roles, we all have responsibilities to protect our community. Fear should never be stronger than hope. By coming together, by refusing to be silenced, we prove that Madera is not just a place for immigrants, it is a place of courage, unity and a better vision for a future.