New friends, welcome!
Old friends, thank you for coming back again and again.
The interview today continues my Soy/Somos conversations with Latinos and others in the US rooted in more than one culture. As a naturalized American citizen of many decades, I fell into this naturally, wanting to understand pieces of the mosaic that make up this nation. In today's climate, these conversations feel essential.
We met on Zoom on a Sunday. It is one of Luis' days off from work, and he'd just finished the laundry.
So, Luis, do we speak in Spanish, or English?
Spanglish is right up my alley.
¡Me encanta!
As I understand it, Luis, you've worked in the food service business. About one in four people in the food business in the United States are Latino. They are servers, dishwashers, managers, chefs, and owners. To the rest of Americans, I suspect they're mostly invisible. I am hoping to put one face on this story.
Can you tell me in a few sentences, ¿Quién eres?
Ah. Marlena. First off, I am a father. I'm a hard worker. I am an American. I am a New Yorker. To speak about myself makes me cringe a little. I'm shy. I am also a DACA Recipient. I work in a hotel in New York City. Bartending. I am a member of a union.
I am blessed. I have my own apartment. With a union job, it's very good money. I was hoping to be a Guidance Counselor in schools. I finished my undergraduate work at Hunter College in Latin American Studies, and I started graduate school this past fall. But to be honest, after a day I was overwhelmed and I put the idea of graduate school aside for a while. Otherwise, it's work as much as I can.
Let's go back a little ways. How old were you when your family came to the United States?
I was three. They came from Medellín in the 1980s when things were really scary there. My parents are now passed. I have four older sisters. I am the only male, and I am the youngest. Three live in Massachusetts and one lives in Colombia.
In Colombia? Did she marry there?
No, she went back when my dad was sick. She left the U.S. without permission from the government and cannot come back. Leaving, undocumented and without permission, means she's banned from applying for ten years. She has a daughter here.
If her daughter wants to bring her after ten years, how long is that process?
It might be three or four, or another ten years. I really don't know. It's a broken system.
People rely on immigrant labor. There's an economic benefit to have a dependent class that companies can exploit. I don't see the rhetoric getting any better. The situation at the border is adding more fire to the disaster that we have right now.
I don't believe you have to have open borders; you do need restrictions at the borders. But we need a clear system where people come in, provide labor, get an education, with an opportunity to stay or go because they are contributing.
The people who are already here are eager to live a fruitful life. I have a three-year-old son and everything I do is for him. I am thankful to be where I am today.
I find that immigrants are the most positive about the US.
The US is everything: the good the ugly, the opportunities. There's never been a perfect country in this world, but I think the US has come the closest to achieving that on the socioeconomic level, even on the political. I am not saying it's perfect. Not to minimize any of the history. There's respect for the law and for justice. Also, I'm a Mets fan. (Luis pulls a baseball cap from somewhere and slides it on his head. It's a black cap with the number 41 in blue and a label on the left that reads "Seaver.")
My husband is a suffering Mets fan. He's from Brooklyn and went to Brooklyn Dodgers games with his dad at Ebbets Field. When the Brooklyn Dodgers left for California, fans were left without a team, until the Mets showed up.
The long-time rivalry with the Yankees... my husband suffered so much way back then.
I was in high school when the Yankees were dominant. They beat us every year. They beat us in 2000. I had to endure that.
You grew up in Queens?
Yes, I grew up in Corona.
There are more immigrants in Queens than in any other borough of New York.
It's the 7 train. People talk bad about the 7 train. For me it is home. My high school was in Long Island City, and I took the train every day. It starts on Main Street in Flushing and goes all the way down to 34th street at Hudson Yards in the city.
It crosses Corona, Jackson Heights, Elmhurst, 103, Junction Boulevard, 90th, and 82nd, areas that have always been heavily Spanish. First it was Dominicans, then more of a Mexican-Ecuadorian presence. Now Central American. Colombians were always in the mix. Now you have the Indian community on 74th and the Asian community in Corona. It's a melting pot. I love it because it's unique.
Is there a difficult experience in your past that you feel comfortable sharing?
Yes... Let me think... Not being able to fully graduate from Queens College and get started on an education career. In 2002 I wanted to be a social studies teacher. I am all about the social sciences. I hate math.
What happened?
I didn't have papers. Luckily, at CUNY (City University of New York), when I went they gave people the opportunity to study. As long as I gave them an affidavit saying I intended to legalize my status, they treated me as an in-state student, and I was able to pay in-state rates. That is not true for schools in other states. I was able to pay tuition in five installments while working.
My major was Political Science and History. My minor, Education. When it came time for me to register for my state education exams, they required my paperwork, the needed fingerprints, my social security number. When I reported that I didn't have a social security number, they said, you can't be here. You are taking someone else's place.
I was able to complete my other credits and dropped my Secondary Education studies. But I wouldn't be able to work as a teacher. I went back to waitering. It's a loss that still hurts.
My intention ten years after that was to go on to graduate school. I think I told you about that. I enrolled at Hunter College for several semesters to ease me into that. I had a great professor at Hunter. Education is something I value. It made me someone who can speak about social issues.
You are a DACA Recipient. Tell me about DACA.
I am all about DACA. It stands for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. DACA was an Obama administration program designed to protect immigrants who had arrived as children from being deported—and to give us work opportunities. There were specific requirements. You had to be not more than 31 years old as of August 15, 2012. You had to be in high school or a high school graduate. Not have more than two or three misdemeanors. No felonies. You had to be of good moral standing.
Not everyone can qualify. Thankfully I did.
Sadly, DACA does not provide a direct path to legal residency—or to citizenship. But you can enlist in the U.S. military.
Now it's closed. There are about 800,000 DACA recipients, and we must file for renewal every two years to remain protected. The program was challenged in court. They are not processing new applicants.
I believe it’s headed to the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals, and probably to the Supreme Court after that.
For the longest time it was the biggest stress in my life. It wasn't so much the risk of deportation, but the fear that I would lose my ability to work. You get to a point where you have to release the fear.
My life before and after DACA are night and day. In my twenties I was working hard and working for cash. I was living on my own, renting a room for $500-$600 a month. Back then I was working 5 days a week earning $350 a week, saving as much as I could. I have always been responsible, always paid my rent. It was always survival, survival. I can't go here; I can't hang out with my friends.
My first job was in Jewish catering. In synagogues, you know, thank God for that. There I found a network. I found people who needed waiters. I found work. I did that for 16 years.
After DACA I was able to get a job at a well-known restaurant, a banquet hall that catered to weddings and corporate events. I was a banquet server and bartender. The restaurant was union. I already had my social security. I've never used fake papers. I showed them my federal ID, my employment authorization from DACA.
It was a situation where the restaurant was desperate for servers and needed staff changes. The union allowed them to hire non-union at that time and I was fortunate to get picked.
That's an interesting detail--how you made the transition into a union.
A friend of mine working there was such a great worker that they allowed him to recommend a friend. One day he called me. Are you interested? I didn't think about it twice. I showed up the next day and interviewed. And that's it. I am grateful for that. Now I want to stay in the hotel business. In New York city the hotels are unionized. It's more stable, and the pay is better.
The immigrant experience is dependent on other people. Building friendships. Other friends have gotten me other jobs. It is not common at all that food services are union. I've experienced in other jobs that you go for two or three weeks, then they don't call you; or you said something they didn't like, and they never call you again.
One of my sisters is a year and a half older than me, and she just missed out on DACA. You could not be over thirty-one in the year 2012. Her story is much like mine, but mine took a different turn. She is working dead end jobs because she doesn't have a social.
There are many mixed-status families where one sibling has the ability to work and the other one doesn't.
A mixed status family. It's hard to think about that.
It wears on the person who doesn't. I know it isn't easy for her. I am very empathetic because of my situation. At the end of the day maybe I'd be a totally different person if I came in with a visa—with everything. I love who I am in the sense that I am not a bad person. I am honest and I work hard. It is what it is.
This is not my story only. Other people are in different stages of this. It's the immigrant experience.
Are there interesting particulars about a waitering or a bartending job? Any strict guidelines?
Everybody knows that you serve from the left and pick up on the right. The water glass goes on the right. It's the same system, but every place has their own peculiarities. I came to the banquet hall as a Banquet specialist. Within a year or so they needed more bartenders, a banquet bartender. They trained me. You have long lines, people ask for vodka sodas, gin and tonics, simple drinks. Where I am now in a hotel bar, you have cocktails. You have to know the specifics, you measure, you handle the cash. You work fast.
The banquet hall opened up opportunities for me. It helped me get into the union that I love. I met great people. I met the mother of my son. I am able to apply for positions in other hotels.
Now I feel secure.
A last question, Luis. What do you wish for your son when he gets a little older?
Fortunately, he is a happy boy. He looks like me and has a lot of tendencies that I've been told I had as a little kid. I'd like him to be who he can be. To not have the obstacles that I had growing up. You are the captain of your own destiny, but there are some situations that work against you.
I want to be present in his life, as much as I can. Me and his mother are not together, but we try to co-parent. We both love that boy more than anything, so we try our best. I can say that. She will say that. I want to be a good father figure and to guard him from stuff that I went through. You can see his personality already. I am very proud of him.
Your story is universal in so many ways.
It's the story of an immigrant who's been here almost all of his life. Some DACA kids are in their 40s. (They're not all kids!) We've grown up here. It's made up of people who love this country more than anything.
I see myself as an American, but that could be denied. I don't have citizenship. I am not really Colombian, because I was raised here. I am not here. I am not there. I am, no matter what, a New Yorker—and a Queens guy.
Give me a five, Luis! Yo soy una Newyorkina también.
This is who we are.
Se me cuida.
Hasta luego, Luis. Bonito Domingo.
The Dream Act, Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors, is a bill that would have granted legal status to certain undocumented immigrants who were brought to the United States as children. There have been several versions of this bill, but it has not passed in Congress. It's a basic, humanitarian piece that most Americans agree on. Like Luis, these are young people today trying to build a good life. The United States is all that they know.
Readers, as you know, this is a conversation. Let me know what you are thinking.
Thank you for reading, Dovra. Luis was startingly honest, and it’s such an important topic. So many immigrants here for a lifetime are not getting an opportunity to regularize their status. It’s shameful.
I wish more republicans read this blog. The country can use more understanding and empathy for the humanity of people who call this their home but who don't have full rights