That's what the DREAM Act hunger strikers outside of my building at UTSA are being told to their faces and in the blogosphere. Along with this comment, there are others, some supportive ("You shouldn't be punished for what your parents did"), some outrigt hateful ("Starve already"), some non sequitur ("Democrats want everyone on welfare so they can control us better").
The overall consensus of the DREAM Act opponents, though, is that there is supposedly a path to citizenship already in place, so why not come here legally?
Well, if only it were so easy...
As a naturalized citizen who once came here on a tourist visa, I am here to dispel a number of myths that many people believe. Follow me below the fold...
In 1988, I came to the United States as a college student to participate in an exchange program between Lower Saxony and Texas. I had been selected as one of ten people to represent my home state and to attend a university in Texas for a semester.
As we were preparing our paperwork, our professor recommended that we should apply for a tourist visa instead of a student visa. That way we wouldn't be banned from entering the US for two years after our stay. We wouldn't be able to get jobs, but since the exchange was all-expenses-paid and most of us (since only overachievers were selected) had work-study jobs at our home university, we would be able to survive for a few months without an income.
I applied for said non-immigrant visa and received a stamp in my passport that stated that I was granted entry into the United States for six months at a time.
After the conclusion of the exchange program I went back home to finish my degree. I went back to Texas a number of times to visit, and on one of those visits, I met my future ex-husband.
At the time, jobs in Germany were extremely hard to come by, and when I graduated, I came to realize how dire the situation was. Employers considered me either not experienced enough or overqualified. The fact that I came down with a mysterious illness that left me covered in boils and bedridden for two months didn't exactly help. Since I was unemployed, no longer in school, and too old to be carried on my parents' policy, I didn't even have health insurance.
When I became the first one on his side of the family to graduate from college, my father was swelled with pride. Two months later, he was not so enthusiastic anymore. Rejection letters came in the mail every day, and the sight of me lying in bed all day (it was winter and I couldn't wear clothes due to my condition) drove him crazy. Finally he gave me an ultimatum: get a job or get out.
I dragged my literally sorry behind to the employment office and landed a temp job in an umbrella factory warehouse, where I started the following Monday, hoping that no vile stuff would seep through my shirt as I worked.
The job was strenuous and mind-numbing, but it was a job. Unfortunately, since the factory was to be offshored, it would end in two months (by the time it did, I was glad to get out of there). In the meantime, more rejection letters kept coming in. The only one willing to hire me was my then-boyfriend's employer, a university bookstore. I was told I could come over and start right away -- if I managed to get a Green Card.
At this point I was so tired of my parents giving me a hard time for getting the "wrong" degree that I was willing to see what my options were. As it turned out, there was only one: get married.
There literally was no "line" to get in the back of. Entry-level jobs such as the one I was offered don't qualify for employer-sponsored immigration. At over twenty, I was too old to be adopted. There was the diversity visa lottery, but the deadline for the current year had already expired.
So marriage it was. We had hoped to be able to just date for a while before we took the plunge, but that was not an option. We could either keep seeing each other in short increments or get married right away. Since we couldn't afford the former option, we chose the latter.
The key to immigrating legally is to do everything within the deadlines. The most important factor for me was not to overstay my visa. So I had a six-months window of opportunity to get my status adjusted, apply for a marriage licence, and plan a wedding.
The first step was a call to the congresscritter's office to ask for the appropriate paperwork. Of course these days you can get it online -- as long as you know which form applies to your situation. If you can't read bureaucratese, find someone who does.
Next, I had to fill it all out, supply the required documentation (notarized translation of the birth certificate etc.), and pay the fees. At the latter part, most immigrants experience a severe case of sticker shock. Green Cards are expensive, often prohibitively so. On top of the ICE fees, one has to pay for the required medical examinations (to prove that one isn't insane or the next Typhoid Mary). In my case, the nearest INS-approved doctors were 50 miles away.
Speaking of which, to get around in Texas, one needs a drivers license. A foreign one is only good for 30 days, so I had to get a DPS booklet, cram the traffic rules, and pass the test. I needed a second attempt -- the fist time I hit a cone while parallel parking.
At some point we had to go to city hall to get the marriage license. All we needed at the time was birth certificates and an affidavit that neither of us was currently married to anyone else.
We ended up getting married without my parents in attendance since they did not approve of what we were doing. They turned out to be right, but at the time I didn't realize that. Afterwards, no honeymoon for us (well, one day in Corpus Christi). We had to get busy with more INS (now ICE) procedures.
At the appointment, we came armed with affidavits from friends, electric bills, marriage license, and wedding pictures. There was a brief moment of suspense when the officer discovered that our drivers licenses had different addresses on it. My darling husband had not changed the address on his since he moved out of his parents' house. Luckily the electric bill with the same address as my drivers license had his name on it.
The people at the INS believed us that our marriage was legit. But no, I was not given a Green Card. What I did get was a work permit. With it in hand, I was able to apply for a Social Security Card, which I did the same day.
Once immigrants have a legitimate SSN and a valid drivers license, they can live like "regular" people. When you apply for a job, that's what you show to prove you are allowed to work. Don't show your work permit or Green Card because the expiration dates on them make employers freak out. Always remember, employers are not allowed to ask for papers above and beyond those that already fulfill the legal requirement.
At the end of my first INS interview, I was told that I would be notified when to come in for my second one, probably in about four months. In the meantime, I was not supposed to leave the country UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
Btw, the ICE people are not kidding when they say that. If you leave the country during that the time period between the first and second interview, they will not let you back in. They totally mean it. That's how a lot of people get in trouble. They are married to a US citizen, and everything is fine until a family emergency back home occurs and they just take off. When they try to return, they can't get back into the country.
I personally know two people in that situation. One is stuck in Mexico, the other one in Colombia while the wives are here. If Grandma south of the border falls ill, don't go see her unless ICE gives you in writing that you can.
During the four-months waiting period, several friends and in-laws reported that they had been called by the INS. However, there were no home visits. The bookstore job, btw, had not waited for me. Instead I first worked at an equestrian therapy barn and later in a church office. Two years later, I finally got a job offer to teach English and German at a community college.
After the second interview, I received a conditional permanent resident card, valid for two years. At the end of the two years, my case was reviewed again, and I received a "real" Green Card, the kind with which you can do everything except vote, run for office, or serve on a jury.
My marriage lasted five years. I would have left sooner, but I was hesitant to become the first divorcee in my family. Fortunately, at the same time my cousin came out as lesbian, and all the attention was on her.
I didn't get married solely for the Green Card, but it was a factor in the timing of it all. If we had dated longer, I might have realized in time that he was an abusive asshole and not married him. Since I had a decent job at the time of my divorce, I stayed, rather than crawling back to my parents with my metaphorical tail between my legs. Two years ago, I became a naturalized citizen, which turned out to be a lot easier than the Green Card process had been.
To make a long story short, I was able to get a Green Card because I was already here on an unexperied visa and able to adjust my status. Since I had a boyfriend who was willing to marry me, I had a relatively short "line" to stand in. I already knew English fluently, was able to read fine print, and did not depend on a lawyer or some other kind of immigration advocate who could potentially screw me over. Last but not least, I am white and have nice clothes, which is a big advantage at the ICE office.
I also didn't listen to people whose information was irrelevant to my situation, outdated, or plain wrong. ICE rules change over the years, and it is important to stay up to date. The internet makes it so much easier than it was twenty years ago; still people listen to advice that is no longer good.
The kids on hunger strike weren't as fortunate as I have been. Their parents brought them here, thinking they would give them a chance at a better life and inadvertently screwed them over. None of them can go "to the back of the line" since there isn't a line for them. In many cases, their younger siblings, born here, are citizens. Often, they had no idea what their immigration status (or lack thereof) was until they wanted to get a job or a drivers license. They thought their parents/relatives/lawyer had "fixed their papers" until they found that no one had done anything.
Now they have the choice between living in the shadows and not being able to use their education or going back to a country they no longer remember. In some cases, their country of origin (such as Yugoslavia) does not even exist anymore. What should we tell them? "Sucks to be you"?
None of them want to be on welfare. Most of them are already paying taxes, on way or another, and they are willing to pay more. They are not criminals, unless one counts their parents' fence jumping as the children's crime.
If the DREAM Act should pass, they won't become citizens right away. As Green Card holders, they won't be able to sponsor bazillions of distant relatives, only spouses and children. Their parents and siblings are already here anyway.
If you go on hunger strike in hopes that Kay Bailey Hutchison, of all people, will vote on your behalf, you have to be desperate. Those of you not saddled with senators such as Princess Sparklepony should call them and ask them how they are going to vote.
For those of you who consider moving to another country: a) learn the language, b) know the laws of the land and your rights, c) know what you are getting yourself into.