Undocumented Gratitude: An Immigrants Reflections on Thanksgiving

This very well could be my last Thanksgiving here in America. And so, in the spirit of gratitude for everything this country has offered me and my family, I feel inspired to carve a few moments to retrace some of the memories for which I am most thankful. It has been almost eighteen years since my family landed in the United States, leaving behind years of uncertainty, economic instability, violence, and political oppression. Of course, our departure was as much hopeful as it was nostalgic. Emigrating from Peru meant leaving behind close friends, the smell of the Pacific Ocean's morning mist, the family celebrations from my childhood and the food that accompanied them, and the comforts of a familiar language and people. It should go without saying, then, that the first aspect of the United States my family was thankful for was the warm and nonjudgmental disposition with which many Americans welcomed us in our new home.

I remember our first Thanksgiving in Texas--we sat around a buffet of Peruvian food and Inca Kola. Looking back, that first Thanksgiving was the epitome of an immigrant family adopting and adapting the traditions and culture of their new country. That day, we gave thanks to God for so much: Mrs. Turtle, my sister's and my teacher at Vickery Meadows Elementary School in Dallas, TX, who with patience, games, and stories taught us our first words in English; Dad's plentiful work; our apartment and the furniture we had been able to secure through donations or our hard work; our health; and so many other small yet meaningful events that had happened during our first year in the U.S. You see, when you're an immigrant, you feel gratitude for every step you've taken towards building a new life.

Over the years, my family has celebrated and given thanks for so many accomplishments and blessings: our first house, the friendly neighbors, my acceptance to Harvard, seeing my ninety-one-year-old grandmother become a U.S. citizen, my sister's program that offers children dance lessons at a low cost, and the car my father purchased in 2000 and still drives today. Every event marked a step in what my parents deemed the American Dream. The journey was never perfect. In fact, our lives were also marked by struggles and sacrifices, but this is an article about giving thanks, so those stories are for another day, perhaps another audience.

Yet, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that this year, as I prepare to drive to Vermont to celebrate Thanksgiving with friends, I have felt anxiety at the thought of going around the dining room table and mentioning that which I am thankful for. Back in 2012, without hesitation, I felt extreme gratitude because President Obama had announced the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program (DACA), an executive action that provided temporary relief to my lack of immigration status. After thirteen years of living in the United States without proper documentation, President Obamas executive action allowed me to feel a little more secure. Since I received DACA, the anxiety that kept me up at night began to fade. The questions of where I would find myself after graduate school were no longer a source of worry but instead of possibility. The hard work would pay off, and I could finally contribute to my community by working in a field I felt so passionate aboutdomestic and sexual violence prevention and intervention.

Fast forward to 2016, and the sleepless nights come back to haunt me. The truth is, I am fearful and nervous. President-elect Trump has promised to end DACA, and with the stroke of his pen, terminate my dreamsand those of eight hundred thousand immigrantsto call the U.S. home. And so, when I think of going around the dining room table to give reasons I am thankful for, I am afraid I will draw blanks.

Yes, of course Im thankful for my friends and family. But are those easy and cursory answers meant to make everyone else feel comfortable? Not really. I am thankful for the eighteen years Ive been welcomed in the United States, for the many times my friends have invited me into their homes to celebrate Thanksgiving because I couldnt afford the time or the expense to visit my own family and thank them for the sacrifices they made. I am thankful that regardless of what happens next politically, Ill take a piece of America anywhere I go. I might not be able to celebrate another Thanksgiving in this country, but I know this: even if President-Elect Trump decides to take away my DACA, the positive and formative memories remain impregnated deeply in my mind. Today, I am thankful that the vitriol and hatred towards immigrants has not clouded my memory of those who welcomed my family eighteen years ago and those who continue to value my contributions to my community today.