To my undocumented Ivy Leaguers,
Today hurts. We woke up today bracing ourselves for what was to come. We rose out of our beds and headed out into the world knowing that today, the government of the country in which we have spent most of our lives has decided that we are not worthy of calling this place our home. Today, we were reminded that, Ivy League or not, we are still less than.
I grew up believing that if I worked hard, I could somehow erase my undocumentedness. I pushed myself to be the best I could be in every area I found myself in. I convinced myself that if I looked perfect, behaved perfectly, and achieved perfectly, I could be freed from this burden. Like many of you, I told almost no one about my undocumentedness, hoping a silent fight could help me escape it. I was one of the lucky ones: I got to attend an elite institution with the protections of DACA. I held on to the hope that DACA could help me succeed, as I had done before, in a world that was not made for me.
This article originally appeared in the IVYUNTOLD. Full story.