'Dreamer' lives in limbo as Washington
battles over immigration
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[January 13, 2018]
By Barbara Goldberg
NEW YORK (Reuters) - Jovan Rodriguez plans
to go underground if protections for immigrants brought illegally to the
United States as children expire, giving up on dreams of a master’s
degree and a career in New York’s glittering theater world.
In his fourth-floor walkup apartment in an artsy, working-class section
of Brooklyn, Rodriguez obsesses over his future starts as soon as he
wakes each morning and checks his phone for the latest headlines about
the Obama-era program rescinded by Republican U.S. President Donald
Trump.
“The biggest impact ... would be being forced back into the shadows,"
said Rodriguez, 27, who has lived in the United States since his parents
brought him from Mexico when he was three.
His fate, and that of around 700,000 other so-called "Dreamers," is the
subject of intense negotiations in Congress this week on whether to save
the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, or DACA, which
allowed the young immigrants to live and work in the country legally and
avoid deportation.
If the program ends, so will Rodriguez's life as he knows it: he could
lose his job, his apartment, even the ability to legally board an
airplane.
The young immigrants would also not be allowed to drive in many states.
Because they had to submit their parents' names and addresses as part of
their applications to the program, family members would be at risk of
detention or deportation.
'INTO THE SHADOWS'
"The cruelty of forcing them back into the shadows is pretty hard to
believe," said Ethan Dettmer, a San Francisco attorney challenging the
rescission in court.
Some Republicans who favor ending DACA say President Barack Obama did
not have the authority to set up the program, and argue that allowing
Dreamers to stay in the United States, even though they were children
when they came, is effectively granting an amnesty to illegal
immigrants.
On Friday, Trump rejected an immigration plan by a group of six
Republican and Democratic senators that would protect young "Dreamers"
from deportation. The president said the deal would force the United
States to admit people from "high crime" countries "doing badly."
The battle playing out in Washington and the courts has left Rodriguez
and roommate Gloria Mendoza, his best friend from high school and a
fellow DACA beneficiary, feeling both unbalanced and invigorated as they
have joined protests against the Trump administration.
“We found power in telling our story,” Rodriguez said.
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Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) recipient Jovan
Rodriguez prepares to go to work in his apartment in New York, U.S.,
January 11, 2018. Picture taken January 11, 2018. REUTERS/Lucas
Jackson
His family settled in Fort Worth, Texas, more than two decades ago
after overstaying a tourist visa. They sat on overturned buckets
instead of chairs at dinnertime, their plates on their laps because
there was no table in their small, spare apartment.
Mendoza, 27, remembers riding high on the shoulders of a smuggler as
he waded across a river with her family during their trip from
Mexico to Texas when she was nine.
Like Rodriguez, she became an A-student, falling in love with the
theater in a class at the Fort Worth high school they both attended.
When the class went to New York to see Broadway shows, Rodriguez and
Mendoza realized they did not have identification documents to show
at airport security. Determined to go, they took a bus and met up
with the class after days of travel.
When the time came for college applications, they could not fill out
financial aid forms without papers showing proof of residency.
Ultimately, they both attended a sympathetic school after a teacher
intervened.
DACA, which began in 2012, changed their fortunes. Soon after his
acceptance into the program, Rodriguez moved to New York. Mendoza
followed.
They both have day jobs at a pizzeria and chase work making props
and building sets. Rodriguez is trying to save two months' worth of
rent in case they lose their legal status and their jobs.
When they feel really stressed by their circumstances, they light a
row of 25 candles atop their kitchen cabinets in holders emblazoned
with drawings of Jesus and the Sacred Heart.
“We're not going anywhere,” Mendoza said. “We're still going to
strive for our personal goals. But it will be harder.”
(Reporting by Barbara Goldberg in New York and Sharon Bernstein in
Sacramento, California; Writing by Sharon Bernstein; Editing by
Colleen Jenkins and Alistair Bell)
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