Karen Vianney Garcia Barbosa

Su Historia

Living in a country that has historically subjected people of color to an ongoing battle for survival, has forced me to confront my identity as a Female First-generation Mexican immigrant who has lived undocumented and unprotected for nineteen years. There is a prominent lack of public awareness of the undocumented lifestyle from UCs where we are viewed as unlawful beings, subjected to rejection and marginalization. In my efforts to advocate for the undocumented community of all generations, I will be sharing how I’ve been impacted by my status and provide the challenges I’ve faced.

Growing up, my family and I had limited access to governmental resources due to not meeting the eligibility criteria. There were many times when we did not know where to ask for help and were ultimately left feeling dehumanized and unsupported from many places. By the age of five, my mother left my abusive father and became a single parent. Since then, I’ve lived in several different cities, attended many schools, lived in trailer homes, and moved rooms more times than I can count on my hand. Our constant moving was my mother’s attempt and commitment to provide us with a better life while facing the challenge of obtaining a stable income. To make ends meet, she would bake bread in other people’s kitchen, if allowed, and sold it. We also never qualified for medical insurance and had few medical resources due to our family’s financial constraints. We once qualified for student-ran mobile dentist clinics hosted by a university’s dental school. But because of the clinic’s limited capacity to assist patients and my poorly maintained teeth, I wasn’t treated correctly leaving my jaw permanently damaged.

2017, DACA was shut down, but I remained optimistic. I didn’t give up on my academic goals and maintained a good record because the thought of deportation remained a constant threat. The hindering fear of deportation was always on my mind, especially with Trump’s presidency.

2019, we were evicted from our apartment. My mom never took matters to court because she feared facing the law with our status. I lived in cars, on couches, and floors of friends and family. I learned to pack my entire life up in ten minutes or less. Being both undocumented and homeless at the age of sixteen is something I’ll never forget. I have been fending for myself since I was a child. Having lived this lifestyle, I needed college to be my sanctuary. Luckily, I graduated as Valedictorian, got accepted into UCLA with an Alumni Scholarship, and had housing covered. UCLA’s offer of covered housing and meals was my priority to committing.   

2020, DACA began accepting applications again. I was finally hopeful and cried tears of joy because there was a possibility of a work permit. I began the months long application process, collected all my school records, and provided all the addresses I lived in since I immigrated to the U.S. (two years old). It felt great, getting ready to send my application out. However, DACA started to be declared unlawful and officially freezing in 2022. No application was submitted. Senior year, my status was my biggest enemy. I didn’t qualify for scholarships because “legal status” was required, causing me extreme frustration. Example, my graduation speech went viral, making me a finalist for a $50,000 scholarship from Deja Tu Huella, hosted by "Cheetos" and artist Bad Bunny. Unfortunately, I became ineligible due to my status and "Cheetos" simply dismissed me even though I was more than qualified. This is only one of many instances.

 Although my journey sounds difficult, I always continued to push through in hopes that something would come up.

January 2022, I scheduled a consultation with UCLA’s free immigration legal services and discovered that I qualified for “Special Immigrant Juvenile Status.” This is a pathway towards citizenship that is not advocated for enough. It is for undocumented individuals who have been abused, abandoned, or neglected by one or both of their parents. You must be twenty-one and under during the application process, and the most common scenario is when you have been raised by a single parent. I started this process when I was nineteen, went to court at twenty, and was approved at twenty-one. I wish more people were educated about this pathway or were willing to provide their personal experience. This was life-changing for me. I was finally granted the right to work. Now, I must wait for a visa to open-up, which leaves me in the waiting game. But I am extremely grateful for this opportunity and my family has told me “ya estas cumpliendo el sueño americano.” But I can not help but think about how much they deserve something to protect them too. All undocumented generations face discrimination and neglect, yet they continue to contribute to this country.

There are so many more people like me with similar, if not worse, lived experiences. We live in constant fear, but I am finally done hiding my identity and story. Most importantly, I am done fighting silently.

I'm finally living undocumented and unafraid.