point of view: DREAM GIRL
An undocumented student urges America to judge her for her hard work and desire to contribute, not just her legal status. Legislation known as the "DREAM" Act could help her give back to her adopted country.
> By "G"
KoreAm Journal December 2007 p.1, 26, 27
THERE I was standing before a crowd of 100 people - their faces, I could not see because of the bright lights, bur-l could hear their thunderous applause. I was the lead and first chair of my high school orchestra and had just finished my solo on violin performing "The Theme From Schindler's List." As I bowed before the appreciative audience, I couldn't help but think: The United States of America is a place where anyone can earn a position of distinction with hard work.
It was in stark contrast to an experience I had as a fifth-grader in Korea, my birth country where I grew up until age 12. My peers had voted me vice president of our class, and I was so excited. But that day, the principal called me into his office and asked me to give up my position. He told me that if you're vice president, that means you have to help support the school financially, and he knew my family was not in a position to do so.
So he gave my title to one of my friends, whose parents were well-off and had called the principal campaigning for their daughter. All I remember is crying all day. My mom told me, "It's OK. It's not your fault."
Five years later, I was in a country where I could earn and keep the title of first chair of my orchestra, though my parents were not rich or influential. This is what I love about America, my adopted country.
But, now that I'm older, I have come t see a different side of America, and I feel like I am being labeled all over again, not for my actions, but circumstances that are out of my control. In contrast to what Ernest Becker says in The Birth and Death of Meaning of how "a fundamental task of culture is to constitute the individual as an object of primary value in a world of meaning," I am receiving a different message: "Go back to your country!"
Although I am probably indistinguishable from many of my peers in my actions and appearance, I am what is popularly, popularly, but cruelly, referred to as an "illegal immigrant." I am one of 65,000 undocumented students who graduate from high school each year. Many of us are full of lofty aspirations to attend college and become productive members of society. The only thing that holds us back is a slip of paper with nine numbers, that is, a Social Security number that will allow us to apply for college scholarships, financial aid and jobs.
Some people may say that people like me do not deserve such opportunities, but I am not asking for a handout. I am looking for a way to contribute to this country.
When I first immigrated from a small, homogeneous Korea to this large and diverse country in 200 I, I wanted to learn more about my adopted home, so I enrolled in the Los Angeles Police Department's Law Enforcement Explorers Academy. Through that program, I became aware of the plight of the homeless and became a volunteer, making sandwiches for 90 homeless people every Sunday morning.
When my parents first told me that our family of four, including my brother, would be moving to the United States, I was really happy. Although my parents worked hard in Korea - my father as a small business owner and my mother at a bank - we were not considered middle-class people. We were poor, and that blocked many opportunities - a lesson I learned even as a fifth-grader.
In Korea, parents are expected to pay for their children's private and pricey Hagweon classes, which are necessary in order to compete for limited slots at high schools and universities. And although there have been positive changes in Korea (a society that once had many problems with corruption, bribery and elitism) over the last several decades, many Koreans like my parents still feel that we have a greater chance of bettering our lives, especially that of their children, in America.
That's why, after arriving here, my parents did not mind taking on jobs as laborers, with my father working up to 14 hours a day. They would even allow our visitors' visa to expire and risk the consequences of being "undocumented." Their children's future was worth the risk.
We are not alone. An estimated 190,000 undocumented Korean immigrants were living in the United States as of 2000, according a study done by the Urban Institute, University of California, Irvine, and Bowling Green State University. The number of undocumented Koreans has increased fivefold in the past 10 years, said the study.
I didn't always know what the deal was with my family's immigration status. Unfortunately, I learned the hard way how being "illegal" sets up many barriers. Despite my academic honors, passion for soccer and violin, and commitment to community service, I could not apply for any financial aid for college. Most scholarships require proof of citizenship. That didn't stop me, though. I worked two jobs under the table and with my family's help, we saved just enough for me to attend a public university.
At first, I worried that there would be no way that we could afford college since, in most states, undocumented students have to pay nonresident tuition, regardless of how many years they have lived at the same in-state address. Fortunately, California is one of 10 states that allows eligible undocumented immigrant students to apply for in-state tuition, thanks to legislation passed in 2001.
I am now living one of the great American dreams of attending college. Not all are as lucky.
Last month, other undocumented students and I thought we might be a step closer to removing barriers to our higher education and ability to give back to our adopted country. The Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act was up for a vote before the Senate on Oct. 24. First introduced in 200 I, the
bipartisan legislative proposal provides a path to legalization for young undocumented immigrants who grew up here.
Unfortunately, although the bill did receive a majority of the vote, the DREAM Act - supported by the National Restaurants Association, National Educators Association and United States Student Association - did not get the 60 votes needed to move it forward.
I still have hope. It may not have passed this time, but it is undeniable that years of student activism, much of it spearheaded by Korean American youth, brought it this far.
Entering the election season, presidential candidates will debate how to lift the country up. However, when some candidates blame immigrants for the nation's problems, that does not offer anything substantive to the discussion. It only spreads hate, fear and ignorance. This was the same scapegoating technique employed against each wave of immigrants in early American history.
What we need are real solutions. I can't help but think what will keep America competitive and strong is its human capital and potential. I want to let everybody know that a green card will not help me graduate or be a successful person. It is "I" who is determined to become an effective, committed and contributing member of and leader in American society. Holding a green card would only bridge the gap between drive and opportunity that is out of my reach right now.
I am confident I will achieve my dream. After all, I, a diehard soccer fan, am a "goal keeper." I urge you who are reading this to lend your support to the DREAM Act, so that together we can build a brighter future for all. [KJ]
"G" is a first-year Korean American undocumented student attending the University of California, San Diego. To protect her identity and family, we have not included her name.
[delicious]DREAM+english[/delicious]