Undocumented Asian American Students

Emerging From the Shadows
By Mary Tablante and Jhee Yoon

Rockville, MD—Ray Jose thought his future looked bright during senior year at Richard Montgomery High School in Rockville. The Philippine-born athlete with an interest in medicine was intent on attending a university. So he was elated to be offered three college scholarships for track. But when he announced the wonderful news to his parents, he did not get the reaction he was expecting. Instead of joy, he was greeted with gloomy faces.

Jose’s parents had something to tell him: he was an undocumented immigrant, one of the estimated 1.2 million AAPI immigrants in this country without official sanction. And so were his parents and an older sister. There could be no scholarships, and probably no way to see his dreams of being a doctor become reality. In telling his story, Jose says his mother cried that day. And his father did, too, the first time the young man had seen that happen.

It’s an uncomfortable conversation happening in tens of thousands of Asian American homes. Compared to the overwhelming number of undocumented immigrants from Central America, the percentage of undocumented Asians seems small, about 11 percent, and they get little public attention. But it’s estimated at least 200,000 undocumented AAPIs are students caught between two nations. And for many of them, the news comes as a surprise.

Jose, now 22, was brought here from the Philippines by his family when he was 9 years old. By high school, he was thoroughly Americanized. Or so he thought. He was quite shocked to discover he was considered something less than his friends, neighbors and classmates, that his choices were severely limited, and that he couldn’t accept the scholarships he worked so hard to earn. He had grown up thinking he was just like everyone else. Now everything seemed different.

“At first I was really upset my parents kept it from me, but they were just trying to protect me,” Jose told Asian Fortune. “They didn’t know how to break it to me. What bothered me the most was that if you’re in that situation, it’s like no matter how hard you work, it’s demoralizing. . . you’re still going to hit a wall.”

That wall makes it challenging to deal with elements of American life both large and small, from everyday issues such as getting a driver’s license to life-changing matters such as staying in the country. Qualifying for financial aid for school is out. Travel outside the country is not possible. Forget about voting. Qualifying for a good job is highly unlikely when you can’t get a work permit, and people in Jose’s situation are forced to work for low pay, often “under the table.” Jose became wary, constantly on alert. While working at a restaurant, he was nervous when government health officials came in. When he was mugged in his own neighborhood, he didn’t want to report it to the police because of fear they would discover his status.

“It was a bit heartbreaking, but I realized after high school, I have to keep going,” he said. “If I just give up now, the whole time in the U.S. is completely pointless, and my parents bringing me here would just be in vain.”

Ray Jose is less anxious now, thanks to recent changes in state and federal law. He sees a path to a career in medicine because voters passed the Maryland Dream Act in November. The law is named after the proposed federal DREAM Act, which would provide a pathway to citizenship for eligible undocumented college students or military service members brought here as children. However, the Maryland law does not address citizenship and only allows undocumented students access to in-state rates at state schools, provided they have graduated from Maryland public high schools, and their families have filed Maryland income tax returns for three years. Jose has now enrolled at Montgomery College’s Rockville campus and plans to eventually transfer to the University of Maryland, Baltimore to study nursing.

But life is still a struggle, and his choices are constrained. He chose Montgomery College because he cannot get a driver’s license and it’s close to his home. Unable to legally work, Jose cannot afford a full schedule of classes, so it is taking him longer than most to graduate from the community college.

The plight of undocumented students like Jose is being eased somewhat by an Obama administration program called Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), created last year. It defers deportation and allows work permits for high school graduates who were brought to the U.S. before age 16 and are under 30. Jose has applied for the program, joining 407,899 others as of January 18, 2013 (154,404 of whom have been processed and accepted) according to the Department of Homeland Security. The countries of origin for the top 10 DACA recipients include South Korea and the Philippines.

By going public through his work with the Maryland DREAM Youth Committee, an organization helping undocumented youth pursue educational opportunities, Jose has had to face critics. Some online comments about his situation are brutally negative. In person, questions are more polite, but still pointed. For example, during a speech at Mount St. Mary’s University in Frederick County, Md., where he shared his experiences, one skeptical man demanded, “Why should we grant you guys the opportunities when you came here the wrong way?”

“I explained to him it’s not that we want to take advantage of the country,” Jose explained. “When we came here, we came at such a young age, it wasn’t a choice. We want to give back to our community, and without certain things, we’re unproductive in society.” Jose said he thinks he was able to persuade the critic that undocumented students are contributing to the country.

Most undocumented Asian Americans have maintained a low profile in the national debate over immigration policy, however.

Immigration activist New Latthi, 23, of Fremont Calif., told Asian Fortune he believes the AAPI community tends to look down on undocumented immigrants and regard such status as shameful. An undocumented immigrant who was brought here from Thailand at age 9, Latthi says his parents were always honest with him about his status, unlike the experience of many fellow students. Latthi graduated last May from the University of California, Berkeley with a degree in molecular and cell biology, fortunate to receive scholarships from nonprofit organizations supporting undocumented students.

Latthi is active with Asian Students Promoting Immigrant Rights through Education (ASPIRE), the first Asian undocumented youth-led organization in the U.S. They are based in the Bay Area and campaigned for the California Dream Act, with members participating in phone banking, lobbying and letter writing. Since the act passed there, ASPIRE has focused on fighting deportation of its own members, as Asian students with immigration issues often have little support. Latthi said that while Latino and Asian undocumented immigrants share similar struggles, there are cultural differences that might make it difficult for Asians and Latinos to work in common purpose.

“In the sense of our experiences, we have different cultures, different communities. Because [Latinos] are more in numbers, historically they have enough to build more of a community and be more visible,” Latthi said. “… In a lot of Asian countries, class has played a big role in society, and so I think in many ways that still transfers over.”

Jose believes that divide is unfortunate, saying “It’s not a Latino issue, it’s a human issue.”

Latthi and Jose both grew up in the United States because their parents wanted better opportunities for them. Each wants to see more done on national immigration policy, the focus placed more on families, not just “Dreamers.”

“One thing that is harder to grasp is this psychological effect of really growing up,” Latthi said. “I mean you can kind of think about it and imagine being undocumented, what that does to you … constantly worrying in the back of your mind. It all comes from uncertainty and the lack of knowledge. When I was younger and a cop car rolled by, I just froze up. So again, that comes from lack of talking about [your undocumented status] that creates that fear.”

“It’s not just the youth, it’s also their families. We really want to emphasize that point. Even if the kids have action, and then you deport the parents, it makes no difference,” Latthi said.

This time last year, Jose had doubts that the Maryland Dream Act would even pass, but now he is more optimistic than ever and believes that he and other advocates can make a big difference.

“There’s still a lot of work to do, even though the Maryland Dream Act was passed … there’s way more stuff to work on, especially on a national level, and I’m really excited,” he said. “I really want to keep fighting for this, for my family.”

For information on the Maryland DREAM Youth Committee, visit www.maryland-dyc.org or www.facebook.com/pages/Maryland-Dream-Youth-Committee/110014299055751