Our Families Are Not Temporary A Photo Album by TPS Recipients Massachusetts TPS Committee | September 20, 2020
Drawn by SofĂa, daughter of TPS recipients, at age 9. Family & friends gathering at the birth of Valentina.
Massachusetts TPS Committee masstps.com 857-293-9411 comitetpsma@gmail.com
This zine is a collaboration of the Comité TPS Massachusetts and the Elma Lewis Center in the Social Justice Center at Emerson College.
Photo (left) by José Palma. Family & friends gather at the birth of Jose's daughter, Valentina. Cover by Sofía Landaverde, drawn at age 9. Drawing of family celebrating the birth of Valentina. All the children in Sofía's drawing are at risk of being separated from their parents and families if TPS is cancelled. Sofía, in both images, is holding Valentina. Most pictured here are writers and artists in this zine.
On September 14, 2020 the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals allowed the Trump administration to end Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for immigrants from Haiti, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Sudan, Nepal and Honduras. If nothing changes, TPS will end by March 5, 2021 for all countries except El Salvador, for which TPS will end by November 5, 2021. The end of TPS will put 400,000 people at risk of deportation and 300,000+ U.S. citizen children at risk of being separated from family members. With so much at stake in this 2020 November election, we TPS recipients, family members and allies continue our work to keep our families together. This zine is part of a grassroots effort to achieve Permanent Residency.
Our Families Are Not Temporary A Photo Album by TPS Recipients
Massachusetts TPS Committee September 20, 2020
The Comité TPS Massachusetts, a member of the National TPS Alliance, is a group of individuals and families who are TPS recipients. The Comité is independent of community organizations, political parties and religious groups. Founded in 2017 by TPS recipients in Massachusetts, the Comité now is made up of people from many countries granted TPS, including El Salvador, Haiti, Sudan, Nicaragua, Nepal and Honduras. Congress created Temporary Protected Status (TPS) in the Immigration Act of 1990. It is an immigration status provided to nationals of designated countries who are confronting ongoing armed conflict, environmental disaster or extraordinary conditions. TPS provides a work permit and stay of deportation to foreign nationals who are in the United States at the time the U.S. government makes the designation. TPS does not provide beneficiaries with a path to permanent residence (a green card) or citizenship. Every 18 months, TPS recipients must pay an average of $485 to renew their TPS status through a federal background check. Under the current U.S. government administration, this cost could double. Most TPS recipients have lived in the United States for 20+ years and are raising their U.S. citizen children here. For many children, the United States is the only home they have ever known. This zine is written by parents and children who are fighting—through sharing their stories— to keep their families together. The zine is dedicated to all of the 400,000 people from 12 countries who live in the United States as TPS recipients and U.S. citizen allies who can help. Will you help us? For more about what you can do, please see masstps.com
You can also check out our YouTube channel, Radio Jornalera, photos, videos, the National TPS Alliance On The Road To Justice bus tour, and theatre production and documentary film The Last Dream. 5
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José's Story This picture is my youngest daughter Valentina’s drawing on the wall. For the rest of the family she is ruining all the walls at home—to me, it is art.
Drawing: Permanent marker on her family's living room wall, #2. 2020. Valentina Palma, 2 years old. José Palma, Coordinator of the MA TPS Committee, TPS Recipient
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A Letter from JosĂŠ Dear Readers, It touches me that the people who have written in this zine have been deeply sincere in sharing the truth about who we are. We are just like any other group of people. We have dreams, aspirations, fears and love. Here on these pages we are letting you see inside our lives. Through our intimate portraits, we invite you to enter our homes and listen to our stories that we rarely tell. For example, Doris almost never shares in public what has happened to her and why she feels uncomfortable gathering in groups, especially when a man comes close, even if it is just to greet her. There are things that one does not share with just anyone. However, on these pages people are allowing themselves to be vulnerable through the act of writing because they want to achieve the best outcome possible. For us, this outcome is being able to remain together with our families. We need your help to create a path for permanent residency. In this zine I can personally relate to Julio's story, the passion, the love he shares for education, because we grew up in families where our parents did not know how to read and write, but who saw that those who went to school had better opportunities. Also, I relate to Karla's story because she chose a photo of her father and her grandmother who came to the United States to survive their country's civil war. Also, in my everyday life, I see the pain of my neighbors, friends and coworkers, who during COVID are suffering because they cannot travel to see their families in the last six months. 8
They are U.S.-born, U.S. citizens now separated from their loved ones. They are not TPS recipients or in TPS families and I, as a TPS recipient, can feel this pain with them. Personally, I had to endure 14 years without being able to see my mom. My father I never saw again after leaving El Salvador, because he died one year later. This zine also tells stories of our children who were born here but have had to go through this terrible moment. I hope that more than being a terrible moment it will be something that makes them strong and more humane in the future. Like the stories of SofĂa, Francisca and Lisbeth, daughters of my dearest family friends. They are daughters to me, I have known them since they were born, since they were less than 48 hours old. I am touched every day by the stories the youth share here about what their parents, their neighbors and their friendships mean to them and how hurt they all will be if they are forced to separate. We have a group of allies here who also share their stories and, in some important ways, can relate to people from various places and who are not afraid that people of a different color than them are extra terrestres, aliens. They see we are human. I think this is very beautiful. We want to open the minds of many who perhaps only see the news stories about the terrible things that happen in other countries but never share what good also comes from there. We also have the story of Vahdat from Iran. It’s beautiful to bring together stories that show someone who was growing up in Iran going through the same story as some of us were going through growing up in El Salvador, Haiti, Sudan and other countries. And this zine also shares the stories of people who were born in the United States, like Jared and Tam. In this zine we are sharing with you our stories and also our sacrifices, hard work and what we have accomplished and want to accomplish in the future here in the United States. In my case, I want to be an attorney. (Story continued on page 42)
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Doris' Story This picture was taken in 2006 in East Boston. I was pregnant for the first time. The doctor told me I could never have a child because I had a tumor in my uterus. In 2002, I had a surgery that lasted 10 hours. Thanks to God the doctor was able to save my uterus. When I found out I was pregnant with Virginia, I was very happy! It didn’t even matter that I couldn’t find out if she is a boy or girl until she was born. This picture continues to keep me strong, to continue fighting for permanent residency. Also, how happy I am to be a mother! My family is not temporary!
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(Doris' story continued from page 10)
In my country in El Salvador, I suffered a trauma. This trauma caused me to stop school in 8th grade. I could not bear to be around people. In crowds or among strangers I would just shake. When I came to the United States, I worked as a custodian part time in a medical school and mostly alone. I was happy doing that as it was less stressful for me. One day, I accepted an invitation to work full time in campus services (janitorial) at Harvard. I began working with people. At the same time Trump was elected and people were organizing among the workers and students on campus. I was deeply moved by ways my Black colleagues were treated the most harshly. Even worse than me. For my children and for my co-workers and for myself, I knew I needed to speak. I became frustrated I did not speak English well enough and some people did not take me seriously. So, I returned to school to get my high school diploma through the Harvard Bridge Program. When I told my teacher about TPS, she told me I could focus my assignments, called experiential learning, around my work with TPS. So, when we were assigned in class to write to someone in power, I wrote to a Congress member about TPS. Like this, doing my homework during breaks at work and late into the night after cooking and putting my kids to bed, I completed four years of high school work in six months. That is why my bio picture is me in my cap and gown.
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Julio's Story This photo is in 1995. With so many dreams on my mind, it was the beginning of a new life for me. I was by myself in a different country. I did not have my parents, my siblings or any other relatives here. Specifically, I arrived in the United States in June 1994. I had been in this country for less than a year and I was with my mind still in my country El Salvador, thinking that in five years I would go back. However five years later, I had been able to settle my life. I had a job and I was attending school to learn English. I had fallen in love with Boston. I received the TPS, in 2001 and I felt that I had reached one of my dreams.
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(Julio's story continued from page 13)
I started working at Harvard University in campus services (janitorial) in February 2012. I would never have thought that the university would have me studying in one of its classrooms. The professors prepared me to finish my high school through the Harvard Bridge Program. They sent me to the public high school in Somerville, Massachusetts to take the MCAS (Massachusetts Comprehensive Assessment System), required of all public school students in the state grades 3-8 and 10. I passed each one with a higher score than required. This was the first time I had been tested for my grade level! It was a grueling process. After my classes and working at my job to support my family, I studied at night, sometimes until 3 a.m. This process was for a year. I graduated in June 2013. With the diploma in my hands, I learned that another dream had been accomplished. Unfortunately, the cancelation of TPS blocked me from going to college. Now I donate my free time to work in the TPS campaign to achieve permanent residency.
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Karla's Story This is a photograph that I took on March 19, 2020 on my father’s birthday and one of the first few days of quarantine. My father was turning 52, as displayed by the candles on the cake and the beautiful lines of expression on his face, and his 80-year-old mother was by his side. Looking at their faces and thinking about this moment makes me really happy. I was so excited when I captured this moment in a photograph because I feel like it is such an accurate representation of my abuelita and my dad. My abuelita is visiting us here from El Salvador. She has taken care of him and his children all of our lives.
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She changed our diapers, made us food. My grandmother worked very hard every day to raise her family in El Salvador despite having a difficult life and being a single mother after her husband’s tragic death. I always ask my grandmother to tell me more stories, with her wonderful sense of humor, about my mom and dad and their wedding. I also ask her to tell me about the civil war in El Salvador and her life there now. My abuelita and her stories make me feel more connected to my roots. She is usually pretty quiet, but she loves to tell stories. It’s amazing to hear how hard she worked to keep her family moving forward. My mom and dad do the same for their family here in the U.S. They work practically every day! My mother owns her own store and event decorating service, which is amazing considering that she is an immigrant who came to the United States speaking little to no English. I would love to also raise children of my own one day (in the distant future when I’m all done with school) and watch them grow up with the same values and ethics that my family has kept for many generations. I feel grateful and safe that I have all of my family together here during this time. This photo represents home to me. 17
Virgina's Story I feel loved when I look at these photos. It’s the thought that someone put in all this work and wrote down all our favorite memories together and gave this to me as a gift for my birthday. It means a lot more than anything else someone could give me. 18
These are really huge birthday cards—for my birthday in 2019 and 2020. One of my best friends Stephanie made it for me. We have been friends for six years. She’s more like my sister as opposed to a friend. Of course, we always went through everything together. Whatever I was going through, she’d be going through something too. You could say it is a codependent relationship. She relies on me and most people tell us one day we aren’t going to have each other so we need to be more independent. But we choose to believe that best friends forever isn’t just something you say as a kid. And, for years, I never told Stephanie that my Mom is a TPS recipient and that I am part of a TPS family. Her family are all U.S.-born, U.S. citizens. I had practically lived at Stephanie’s house and she at mine and if we couldn’t hang out, we usually Facetimed all day and I’m pretty sure our moms were sick of us staying up all night talking. Her mom (Raquel) is like another mom to me and Stephanie considers my mom her mom too. TPS does not just affect TPS recipients. If we, TPS families and non-TPS families are separated, it will be hard on everyone we are close with, everyone we love. Last year, I wrote my 8th grade English essay in school about this and for weeks I struggled to finish it. Because I could not figure out the conclusion. I have no idea how this will all end. I wrote about how I do not know how to tell my best friend that my mom is a TPS recipient and we might be forced to leave the country. I wanted to protect her from the stress she would suffer wondering if I would suddenly be gone. Finally, I told her. And to conclude my essay, I wrote that I need my friend to decide for herself whether she can handle things like that.
P.S. Since I told Stephanie about how TPS impacts my family and so many others, she and I have held even more tightly to each other! 19
Angela's Story This is me and my best friend Francisca.
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Since the day I was born, we’ve been inseparable. We’ve done everything together, from learning how to ride a bike to singing in choirs and playing sports. I can't remember a weekend I haven't spent with her. We’ve had each other and our families by our side. We always had happiness. Then suddenly, four years ago, we got the news that TPS would be taken away from our parents. We felt a sense of fear and sadness in our hearts. We were being told to throw all our memories and lives away. We can’t just pack our stuff and leave our homes! We need a permanent solution and we need one soon!
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Lisbeth's Story The basic idea of a family is people that are related to you by blood. But sometimes you can choose your own family. 22
In this photograph only two people are blood related to me and everyone else pictured here still makes up my family. This picture was taken as a goodbye photo because I was moving to Texas that week and they were the family with whom I wanted to spend my last weekend in Boston. A family goes through all sorts of problems together and TPS is no exception from these problems. Some of the people in this picture might not be recipients of TPS, but they still care because others in their family, their friends, are going through it and they are still going to be touched by it. We are more than just numbers. Statistics only show how many people have TPS and how many kids TPS recipients have. But what they don't show is how many coworkers they have, how many neighbors they have, or how many loved ones they have. Statistics can never really show how hard TPS is actually going to affect the community because it will be affecting everyone at one point or another. It might not be their parents or their siblings, but it will be that best friend’s mom who has always been like an aunt, or that little girl who you see as a niece who will have to move away with her parents. A coworker could lose the only other person with whom they can accomplish all the tasks with minimal problems. A boss will lose their favorite employee because they are the ones who are never late to work. Or in many cases an employee will lose their employer because TPS recipients have made such an impact on this economy that a large group of TPS recipients own companies. For many, the biggest loss will be to the government, as TPS recipients in 2018 gave $209 million in taxes in Massachusetts alone. Perhaps we can consider that also one of the biggest losses will be the community cost, the cost in love. 23
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Francisca's Story For a Hispanic girl, her 15th birthday is one of the most memorable days of her life. On the day of my 15th birthday I was happily surrounded by my friends and family. This group of very different people are my family: Kevin, Brian, Ezequiel, Angie, Jacqueline, Sofia, Lisbeth, Valentina and I. Even though we aren’t related by blood our parents created a friendship that would last a lifetime. They have become my aunts, uncles and cousins. For every birthday they are there for me. For every event or achievement they are the first to cheer me on. They are not only my friends anymore, but my family. In this sacred place you see in this photograph we have had so many memories. We’ve celebrated my birthdays since I was three years old at this same kitchen table.
Here, at this table, my parents and my three sisters have shared laughs and tears. I remember finding out that TPS was being canceled while sitting at that table and I celebrated so much happiness at that table— birthdays, Thanksgiving dinners. This table holds many memories, and these people, my people, hold a special loving bond. We are not only connected by our friendship but by TPS. All our parents are TPS recipients and we have been going through this fight together. We are all a part of The Last Dream. My 15th birthday was a day full of joy, and I would’ve never been able to arrive as whole and healthy as I am at 15 without my parents. Everything I have accomplished before turning 15 was because of my parents. They have done and continue to do so much for me. I could never imagine my life without them. I deserve to stay with my parents who have given me everything! (I'm center holding birthday the girl.) 25
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Kathy's Story This is an image of a wall in my bedroom adorned with pictures of my brothers. To me, this wall is something that always makes me smile and turns on a switch of emotions in my head telling me to keep fighting, if not for me then for them. I'm 16 years old and my three brothers are under the age of six. My parents are TPS recipients and I can't imagine the cancellation of TPS happening and me having to be separated from my brothers because I won’t be old enough to legally remain with all of them to take care of them. I chose to picture here the center of the image - the connection of the walls, because to me it symbolizes the way they are the center of my life.
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Tam's Solidarity Story I first met people in the Comité TPS Massachusetts in October 2019. The youth and elders in this photo had come to speak at the 4th Annual Teach-In On Race at Emerson College about their theatre play and documentary film about it, The Last Dream. I had invited them after meeting José Palma at a conference at Harvard University that Mario Ernesto Osório, my dear friend and Proyecto Carrito cowriter invited me to attend. Vahdat and Jared, the play's co-directors, in one day, organized everything. The youth re-arranged their after-school schedules to come. Ashley and I held the showing at the Elma Lewis Center at Emerson College in downtown Boston. More than 60 people flooded into our space and with each new arrival we made room to crowd together in the conference room, down the narrow hallway and spilling into the small front room. We peeled off sweaters and breathed, as the increasing heat emanated off of our collective bodies. The Last Dream youth, elders and allies told us why—through art and stories—they are fighting to keep their families together and safe. They co-wrote and performed The Last Dream in their fight to prevent their parents, loved ones and all TPS recipients from being deported if TPS was ended. This is work that children should never have to do. And in that moment, I knew I would do everything I can to learn by their side and collaborate in their work to create a path toward Permanent Residency. This photo is a month after we first met at The Last Dream showing. We had just gathered in my kitchen to share dinner and ways we could continue to collaborate. How could we share their stories with everyone we knew and those who hold power to keep them together? 29
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Jared's Solidarity Story This is an image of a dress rehearsal we had with the TPS youth before our performance of The Last Dream at a church in East Boston. Our rehearsals for the theatre performance were always bursting with the life the kids brought to our work. In this picture Donya and I were meeting with the kids before our final runthrough. Emily, my wife, took the picture. All of the performers in front of us were from families of TPS recipients, the Palma family, the Landaverde family, the Hernandez family, Kathy, and Brian Pineda and Joseph Urias. Sofi, in pink, was a true actress and Cristian, on the far left, would ham up his performance, especially during his dance scenes. All of the kids constantly put their personalities into their performances. My wife and I always get so much joy from working with the people in this photo. We have loved getting to work with, celebrate and struggle with these young people for three years. Throughout our time getting to know them and the TPS community, we’ve gotten to attend quinceañeras, birthdays, births, graduations and gotten to support the TPS families through difficulties. The kids even call my wife ‘Tia Emily’. We went from being strangers to being welcomed into their homes and hearts. That process has shown us that the fight to save TPS isn’t really about “immigration law”; it’s about preserving that spark in our community that is human, loving, welcoming and bursting with the kind of life these kids have brought to our lives. It has shown us that these kids, through their vulnerability, honesty and hope are trying to preserve the humanity of our American condition, and we have to do everything in our power to help them in that struggle. 31
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Vahdat's Solidarity Story I moved to the U.S. in 2002 as an Iranian refugee. Ever since, I have loved this country deeply and it has become my second home for helping me to live freely, pursuing my dream of doing theatre and starting a family. I worked very hard in the past 18 years and it was only with support of my friends, colleagues and mentors in the United States and my wife Donya Pooli-Yeganeh that I was able to live the American Dream. I founded my theatre company, produced about 20 productions, won directing and producing awards and I have been an active member of my community. When for the first time (Summer 2018) I met some of the U.S.-born children of TPS recipients in Boston, Massachusetts, and heard their stories, I realized that this country has a totally different meaning for them than it does for me. They are in danger of being separated from their parents and families, in danger of having to postpone or never realize their dreams and in danger of not being able to study in college because they will have to work (even) harder to survive and provide for themselves and their younger siblings. TPS being cancelled will mean that some of these youth will face their very lives in danger, forced go live in a country they do not know. I marvel every day at how strong and loving these youth are, going to school, working in jobs, playing sports, learning dance and caring for their families -- all while facing a deeply uncertain future. For the love of these children and their families and for my belief in American values I decided to join their TPS campaign and fight for them by using my art to help share their stories, frustrations and nightmares with you and many other Americans. Always, always I share their stories with an intention to inspire action, with a question in my mind and heart: Will you help them?
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The Writers This publication as been created by the Massachusetts TPS Committee and allies working in collaboration as part of the ongoing effort to achieve Permanent Residency.
José Palma Valentina (far right) is José Palma’s and Maira Palma’s youngest daughter. José (far left) and Maira (second from right) are TPS recipients. They have four children and a nephew.
Doris Reina Landaverde (In cap and gown.) I am a TPS recipient. I have three children: Virginia (14, far left), and Dani (8) and Fátima (6) (pictured on page 11.) I have lived in the United States for 20 years. I am a member of the Massachusetts TPS Committee.
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Julio Pérez My name is Julio Pérez , I was born in El Salvador , and raised in the State of Cuscatlán. In 1994 I left my parents, siblings and my country and arrived to Boston, MA. I got married in 2004, and my son Moisés was born in September 2005. He will be 15 in September 2020. In October, 2018 when the first cross-country Journey for Justice, the Bus la Libertad, came to Boston, I had the privilege to drive her. A second caravan, On The Road To Justice started September 21, 2020. And once more I have the privilege of driving the Bus la Libertad for eight weeks, until November 15, 2020.
Karla Morales I was three years old and my sister two months old when we came to the United States. I am now in university studying to become a medical doctor. If TPS were cancelled, even if I could stay here as a student, I wouldn’t want to feel like I’m leaving my parents behind. That is what would happen if I had to stay without them. My entire family, including my little sister, all are TPS recipients. As I study and work and dream of my future this thought of being separated breaks my heart, every day.
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Virginia Reina-Landaverde Age 14 I am a part of the National TPS Youth Group trying my hardest to support my mom and keep all families in the same situation from having to be separated from their loved ones. I am the daughter of TPS recipients. If TPS is cancelled, I would be left in a small town in Massachusetts, having to full-time mother my two younger sisters, nine and seven, who will lose their mom so young. Our only other option is to go with my mom to a country where our lives are not safe, without continuing the education/life my mom fought so hard to give us. (Virginia is on far left.)
Angela Palma Age 15 Daughter of TPS recipients If TPS is cancelled I will lose the life and safety I have always had with my neighbors, family, and most importantly my parents. I will be left here with my 20-year-old brother and separated from my two younger siblings.
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Lisbeth Azucena Landaverde Age 18 I am part of the TPS youth group because I want to support my parents and my relatives the same way that they have supported me through my life. Both my parents and most of my aunts and uncles have TPS and I think that it is unjust for them to live in such an uncertainty. If they were to leave I would be have to drop out of college and take care of my two younger sisters and support them financially because going to a country that has so much violence is not an option for us.
Francisca Landaverde Age 16 Daughter of TPS recipients, actor in The Last Dream, part of the delegation of youth who in 2018 went to meet with Pope Francis to ask him to help protect TPS families.
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Kathy Santos Age 16 Daughter of TPS recipients. For me, these are the terrible and terrifying consequences of TPS being cancelled: I would be left here in Massachusetts alone and possibly, at the age of 16, become a “mother” to one of my brothers who is seven years old. I would be separated from my other two brothers and my parents, who would be sent back to El Salvador. My father would lose his dream job and my mother the opportunity to have become something more in this “Free Land”. (Kathy is standing on the far right.)
Sofía Landaverde Age 11 Cover artist. Both of my parents are TPS recipients. I also took part in the play called The Last Dream and we have performed it many times including in front of Congress. I have also traveled to different states like Nebraska, California, and Washington, D.C. to spread awareness about TPS. If TPS is taken away both of my parents will be sent back to El Salvador and I will stay in the United States alone with my sisters. I also wouldn’t have any parental support coming from my parents whenever I want to do something or when I have a really hard test at school, my parents wouldn’t be there for me.
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Solidarity Writers Tam Marko I am an ally and friend of TPS recipients and collaborate in pro-immigrant movements within an anti-racist, feminist frame. Mario, my longtime friend and TPS recipient, first taught me about TPS. I've known his daughter Gesselle (9) since she was born. I've worked as a journalist, historian, teacher, memory worker and story weaver in social justice story circles. I'm currently the Executive Director of the Elma Lewis Center in the Social Justice Center at Emerson College. If TPS is cancelled, I will have to help Gesselle and her father, my dear friend, live through being separated as she grows up. This would be one of the hardest stories I have had to live. (From right: Mario, Gesselle, Tam, Samuel.)
Jared Wright I am an ally and friend of TPS recipients. If TPS is cancelled, I will lose my friends, community and the kids I've had the opportunity to mentor. I am an artist and educator in the Boston area. I grew up in Jamaica Plain in a diverse community of immigrants, refugees and good human beings striving together to live and flourish. I graduated from the Harvard Graduate School of Education and have taught newly arrived immigrants for eight years, using ideas of Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Theater of the Oppressed to help empower immigrants and their families. I co-directed The Last Dream, a play that was co-created and performed by children of TPS recipients. This play was produced by the Boston Experimental Theatre Company, where I continue to collaborate. (Jared is on the far left.) 40
Vahdat Yeganeh Iranian-born refugee Vahdat is the founder and artistic director of the Boston Experimental Theatre Company (BETC). Through the BETC, Vahdat practices The Dialogue Among Civilizations and Toward the Theatre of the Unknown. Vahdat produced The Last Dream, a play that was co-created and performed by children of TPS recipients throughout towns and cities along the U.S. east coast, Boston City Hall, Boston University, Harvard University, before Congress in Washington D.C., and at the Imagination Stage in Maryland. Inspired by this play, the Boston Neighborhood Network (BNN) produced a documentary entitled The Last Dream, which was nominated for the 43rd Boston/New England Emmy Award.
Ashley Tarbet DeStefano Ashley is an activist-scholar and a master's candidate in critical ethnic and community studies at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. She works in solidarity with local, grassroots organizations led by people directly impacted by oppressive systems in order to continue her commitment working towards a world where all people care for one another and have the support and resources they need to thrive. 41
(JosĂŠ's letter continued from page 9)
These are not fictional stories created by someone else for their career or a cause. These are real stories of how many of us are living in this moment. We hope that the people who read our stories can come to see that immigrants are not people from another planet. We are human beings who laugh, cry, sing, suffer and enjoy the beautiful moments just like any other person. And maybe this sounds nationalistic, but it is a reality that at least I feel in my heart that sometimes one appreciates things more when one has not had much. Many of us appreciate the opportunities we have had in the United States. Politically speaking and philosophically speaking we can say that there are things in this country that can be better. But we cannot dispute that many of us have been able to achieve things here that in our own countries we could not. At least for that, one gives extra love to a place where one lives. Yes, things here in the United States could be better. And that is what we want to do. We want to contribute to make the United States even better than it is. So, my hope is that when people read this, they understand that many of us have so much love for this country. And due to our experiences we can even be living proof that some decisions have been deeply harmful and, also due to our experiences, if we work together we can help to heal them.
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I believe we need to see the humanity of each person. Immigrants, in this case those of us with TPS, have to prove that we are following all the legal rules—or we are out. TPS has allowed us in some cases to study and to be able to work without fear and even in some cases to have salaries that permit us to have a little free time so we are able to contribute to our communities. Many people with TPS are volunteers in many community organizations in the neighborhoods where we live. And this is the truth. We want to continue living here. We want to continue contributing, because in the end, this is where are children are going to grow up. And like any other U.S. citizen, we also do not wish danger for our children. And like any other U.S. citizen we want a good future for our children. Our children are studying together in the same schools. At least kindergarten through high school. Speaking of college, there is more to discuss about equality and access. But generally, we believe that our children are going to grow up in the same places and same cities alongside U.S. citizens. And sometimes people look at us as if we are a different species or do not have value. Speaking sincerely, we have to speak openly in my family about what could happen if TPS is cancelled. Like many TPS families, we have had to organize various plans, depending on different possible outcomes. Here is what we know for sure. This is an emergency. We are going to fight, until the very last day, so that TPS is not removed. If they give us residency or whatever passes, we will be able to say that we have used all the tools necessary and available to advance our campaign.
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This zine is one meaningful tool. It is an opportunity to tell our stories, something you can hold in your own hands. This is for people who don’t see who we are in the news, because let’s say their preferred TV channel is not Univisión, Telemundo or NBC or other sources, but instead they prefer Fox and other channels. This zine is an opportunity to show another source of information coming directly from us, from the community. And we hope it inspires them to read this and that we can arrive to a moment when they say, “Wow, in my usual news they say they are bad and they do this and that, but in these stories, I am seeing something different, I see fellow humanity.” We also often need to explain our situation as TPS recipients to other immigrants. TPS does not have a path for permanent residency. In truth, it is very difficult to obtain permanent residency. For people from many countries it is impossible. For example, 50,000 families every year win a visa lottery to come to the United States. Many of them believe that every immigrant in the United States has the same opportunity. Some will say, "Hey, I came to the United States 10 years ago and now I am a citizen. So, why are there these people who have been here 20 or 25 years and are not citizens?" The truth is, we TPS recipients have never had a path for permanent residency and some of us never qualified anyway. The visa lottery path does not exist for Mexicans, Salvadorians or Guatemalans, to name a few. It is here, we can see the intention to divide the immigrant community, saying, "Well, if people from x countries achieved permanent residency, especially those from Europe, why did you not fix it?" People, including some in immigrant communities, assume we are lazy. Many people do not know that the same immigrant system is racist and discriminatory against many communities from certain countries. The intention is to divide us.
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This zine is an opportunity to share our stories in a different way. We usually talk in our political movements, focusing mostly on strategy, laws, politics and the fight. Here, in this zine, we slow down and talk about stories of human beings. I hope what I have said here inspires you to turn the pages and learn more about my compaĂąeras/os and friends. I think the whole group of us working in the TPS movements is trying to do everything we possibly can to help each other and to inform as many people as possible. Thank you to everyone for working on this zine and coming to my house to celebrate it. We have to celebrate every single achievement, no matter how small.
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Suddenly there is a soft knock on the door where José is speaking in a live video conversation on Zoom with Tam. They are each at work in their homes during the COVID-19 pandemic. Knocking on the door is Ezéquiel, José's four-year-old son.
José:
Tam, permíteme un segundito. Please give me a moment.
Ezéquiel:
(Speaking very softly on the other side of the door) Papí, vale hizo pipi en el toilet.
José:
(Responding softly) Oh yeah? Una victoria.
Ezéquiel:
(Saying softly and proudly) That's the first time.
José:
That is the difference when you work from home. All day long there is news. The news today is that Valentina made pee pee on the potty. And it's the first time.
Tam:
That's deep.
José:
That's the news. Essay by José Palma, Coordinator of the MA TPS Committee, TPS Recipient. An edited conversation with Tam Marko, Executive Director of the Elma Lewis Center in the Social Justice Center at Emerson College.
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Drawing: Permanent marker on her family's living room wall, #1. 2020. Valentina Palma, when 1.5 years old. 47
Coming to your town soon! Please join us and meet TPS recipients, such as the writers in this zine!
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Sept. 21-Nov. 13, 2020 8 weeks, 15,000-miles
National TPS Alliance On The Road To Justice Let's build together paths toward Permanent Residency for all TPS recipients!
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If nothing changes,TPS will end by March 5, 2021 for all countries impacted by the Ninth Circuit Court decision issued September 14, 2020. Except for El Salvador, for which TPS will end by November 5, 2021. This will put 400,000+ people at risk of deportation and 300,000+ U.S. citizen children at risk of being separated from their families. We collaborated with our allies to share our stories here and invite you to support us in our work for permanent residency to keep our families together. Will you help us? Please see our website for ways you can help in even just five minutes.
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