Now, the threats to our family that I faced as a child have returned…I felt that familiar fear.

By ANONYMOUS
EL NUEVO SOL
(Leer en español)

The first time my family got separated, I was protected by ignorance. I could see how devastated my mother was, even though I was too young to understand. I wondered why we had to drive to Mexico every other weekend. I wondered why my father had moved so far away from us. We were a good family in a nice house and we had everything ahead of us. But one day I came home from school and my father was gone. I asked my mother where he was and she told me he had to go, but nothing she could say would make me understand why he wasn’t here.

I ended up enjoying the car trips to Mexico and made the most of the time when I could see my father because I knew he couldn’t always see me. I was different from the other kids, but I enjoyed playing with them. As much fun as I was having, I lived in ignorance. After my visits with my father, I just couldn’t understand why he couldn’t come back with me.

Now that I’m older, I get it. Why our family split up. Why my father couldn’t return after trips to Mexico. Even though it shouldn’t make sense, I had no choice but to make sense of it at a young age.

After years of effort, my father returned to the United States and began his process to become a citizen. But all of our hard work would mean nothing when everything could be lost.

Now, the threats to our family that I faced as a child have returned. When President Trump announced his immigration plan for 2025, I felt that familiar fear.

Suddenly, my father wasn’t just a hard-working person looking to put food on the table: he was a target. The news was filled with stories about workplace raids, deportations, and families being torn apart. My father was always looking over his shoulder at work. My mother worried constantly. Even basic things, like going to the grocery store, seemed risky. I didn’t want my younger siblings to experience what I went through as a child.

Then came the night that made it all seem real.

We were eating dinner when there was a knock on the door. My mother’s hand tightened on the fork. My father motioned for us to stay still. My little brother’s eyes filled with tears.

The knock came again. Louder.

We didn’t move. I stood completely still, my mind racing. Was it ICE? Had they come to take my father? What would I do if they did? I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

Minutes passed. Finally, the knocking stopped. My mother slowly stood up and looked outside the door. It was just a neighbor who had dropped off a package.

No one spoke for a long time. We knew it was nothing, but the fear didn’t go away. That night, I realized my family lived in constant fear.

I don’t want to live like this.

If my parents can’t talk, I will. If my siblings are too young to understand, I will fight for them. A knock on the door shouldn’t feel like a threat. But right now, to us, it still is.

As of 2023, there are 17.8 million minors who have at least one immigrant parent, representing one in four children in the United States, according to figures from the Migration Policy Institute (MPI). The majority of these minors (86 percent) are citizens and 8 million of them live in California.

Many of these children and young people face the same anguish as me and my siblings. Therefore, it is important to identify mental health resources that help these young people and their parents. The Cal State system provides resources and guides in English and CSUN has a site that provides useful information and resources. The Immigrants Rising website also lists useful resources in English.

The Inmigrantes Informados website provides several resources in Spanish.