A First-Gen American’s Reflections on Family Separation and Resilience
A First-Gen American’s Reflections on Family Separation and Resilience
With a heavy heart, I write these words, my eyes filled with tears and my mind burdened by uncertainty, worry, and fear. I watch my community suffer as mass deportations tear families apart across the country. Parents are separated from children without warning, and those enforcing these policies show little compassion or empathy. Recently, my own sister’s family was split up during the holidays—it hurts so deeply because so few seem to recognize the pain and suffering these separations cause.
The Impact on Families
Think about the sudden and often impossible adjustments families must make when one or both parents are deported. Milestone events like graduations or important birthdays become overshadowed by sadness. Children sometimes remain in the care of relatives—or even unrelated individuals—simply because returning to a parent’s home country could be more dangerous or traumatic. Many parents, having endured hardship themselves, hope to spare their children from the same.
These deportations are not new; they have been happening as long as I can remember, regardless of which political party is in power. However, the methods have recently grown more alarming and inhumane. I’m not here to deliver a political lecture, but rather to share the reality I’ve witnessed firsthand as a first-generation (First Gen) American.
“Un Día Sin Inmigrantes”
History shows us that “Un Día Sin Inmigrantes” began in 2006 as a way for both documented and undocumented individuals to protest and demonstrate how immigrants contribute positively to our communities. I’ve witnessed heartbreaking stories of cruel treatment toward my people. I realize I’ve been fortunate not to experience overt racism myself, likely due to my lighter complexion. But I do speak Spanish, English, and even Spanglish—that is the beauty of being First Gen. The ability of being bilingual and bicultural. My siblings and I grew up in two cultures simultaneously: English at school, Spanish at home. We served as our parents’ eyes, ears, interpreters, and advocates from a young age.
In many immigrant families, the oldest sibling takes on significant responsibilities: waking younger siblings for school, cooking meals, and running the household while parents work from dawn until dusk. I remember waking before sunrise to be dropped off at my grandmother’s while other kids were still sleeping. Jokes like “Watch out for la migra!” or mimicking someone saying, “¡Enséñame tus papeles!” became our dark humor—a way for children to cope with the constant fear around us.
My Family’s Journey
My father came from Mexico as a teenager, crossing the Rio Grande. He later married my mother and obtained permanent residency. My mother’s story differs, but she eventually became a U.S. citizen, insisting she was “born in Mexico by accident.” Both sides of my family made the choice to come here in search of a safer life and better opportunities. Their sacrifices allowed me and my sisters to pursue our education. I became the first in my family to graduate with a bachelor’s degree and later earn a master’s. However, as a First Gen American, navigating the educational system without parental guidance was a struggle—especially when my English was limited, and I was often the only Latina in my classes.
We moved frequently: first attending a predominantly African American school in Compton, California, then relocating to Holland, Michigan, where even fewer people looked like me or spoke Spanish. My family and I migrated for many years between Mcallen, Tx and Holland, Mi solely for my parents to work in the fields. Thankfully, while living in Holland, MI, I found a small group of Latino friends living in the same apartment complex, owned by the people my parents worked for. My parents continued laboring in the fields until they found the strength to seek better opportunities.
Embracing Your Identity
I share my story to encourage you to reflect on who you are. I am proud to be the daughter of immigrant parents. As a First Gen American, I do have certain advantages compared to my undocumented friends—people who can’t take time off work, who don’t get paid vacations, and who show up regardless of how sick or tired they feel.
I urge every First Gen individual to shout what our parents couldn’t out of fear: “Gritamos lo que nuestros padres callan por miedo.” For much of my life, I suppressed my heritage, thinking assimilation was my only path to success. Now, I see the importance of celebrating who we are and where we come from. Embrace your blended identity. You are American enough. You are [Mexican] enough. You are more than enough.
Standing Up for Ourselves and Others
We must share our stories and ensure our communities hear us. We are not here to take anyone’s land—this land belongs to all of us. We strive to make a positive difference and be part of a movement larger than ourselves. Get involved, and “face the fire” even when it’s uncomfortable or risky. Throughout history, this is how heroes have created change. That’s the power of democracy.
Remember: You Are Not Alone
To my undocumented neighbors and friends, remember that you have constitutional rights, regardless of your immigration status. You have a right to seek refuge in a third country, and although a legal path does not exist, immigration lawyers understand the law and have information that can help you with your immigration status. Seek help, connect with community resources, and consult a reputable immigration lawyer. It’s normal to feel anxiety, depression, or deep fear in these times. Sharing your feelings, talking through your concerns, and seeking mental health support can make a difference. Know that you are not alone—there are people and organizations dedicated to helping you navigate this difficult journey.
