One Word
Illegal.
I’ve only said one word and you already think you know everything about me. You no longer care what my name is or that I have three sisters and one brother, two of which are also illegal. You’d be sure to assume that my parents have somehow managed to hide in the dark shadows of America, just to keep us here.
Let me tell you one thing, you are not wrong.
It no longer matters that I am an honors student with dreams and goals, just like you. That I aspire to make something out of myself so that by the end of the day I can walk across the stage, look at Mamí y Papí and say, “This one is for you.”
You forget that we are so different, yet the same, and possibly only because my hunger for cheeseburgers and French fries just doesn’t seem to change.
But let me tell you one thing. I, like you, have fears, too. I fear the day I’ll awaken to the voices of Mamí y Papí once again saying, “Pack your bags, we are moving.” But this time knowing we won’t be coming back.
And this…this is the reason why we hide.
We hide because you forget the real reason why I am here. You forget that I am not here to steal your job or to bring crime into your home. A home that for many years has been my home, too, despite that I am illegal, meaning that I bite my tongue when I want to speak because I know you will forget who I am.
The only thing I have for certain is that you won’t forget the title that I have been labeled with, and that is illegal.