Love Has No Borders

At my wedding I made a promise to my husband, before God, our priest and the entirety of our family and friends, declaring that the only force strong enough to separate us would be death. It is now six months later, and I have learned that even Death is no match for the U.S. immigration system.
My husband, we’ll call him John, crossed the border illegally when he was seventeen, which was about five years ago. He never wanted to stay here this long, as is the same with most illegals living here. He was to work himself to the bone for a few years, send the money back home, and when he had saved enough to build his house, he would return to Mexico and continue his life there. Well, after he’d been here for about two years he met me and both our plans changed dramatically. After dropping out of college I got a job as a secretary at the plant that he worked at. We became friends, and two years later the wedding date was set. Though we’ve had our ups and downs in the beginning of the relationship, as most couples do, I had no idea just how much we were going to have to endure.

The common misconception is that marriage is an automatic ticket to getting a green card, or even citizenship for that matter. I was under the impression that we would have to go through a bunch of interviews and provide proof that our marriage was legitimate, but after doing all that, he would receive a visa and all our problems would be solved. In preparation for this, we visited a lawyer in Washington DC in June of 2005. Though we had just gotten engaged a few months before, I was trying to be prudent with this matter and make sure that we did everything right so that we’d only have to wait maybe two years for the visa, instead of seven or how ever long the wait happened to be. I was feeling pretty confident when we went in for the meeting, and thought that she would give us forms to fill out, and explain the process of what we’d need to send in to the government. Her office was very high class, leather sofas, large cherry conference tables and different works of art that appeared to be from India. I started to become nervous, and after the formalities of greeting everyone, we got down to business. Everything she explained was as expected until she said, “Well unfortunately since he’s been in the country illegally for more than 180 days, he will have to process his visa in his home country. And once he crosses over the US/Mexican border, the ten year ban on re-entering will come into effect.”

“What?” I said in disbelief. John and I exchanged worried glances. That part wasn’t in our plan.

“Don’t be discouraged though,” the lawyer responded, “There is a hardship waiver you can apply for which would allow him to return sooner. But since you aren’t even married yet, there’s no need to worry about that now. Once you have the marriage certificate, send me a copy and then we can get the ball rolling”

I thanked her for her help, though she really wasn’t very helpful, handed her a check for 375 dollars, and we were on our way. It was a very quiet ride home.

We didn’t talk much about lawyers or immigration for the next several months until I started planning the wedding. Then it seemed like it was the only thing I could think of, and I know it was on John’s mind as he had become quite depressed about the wedding since his mother and father, who are still in Mexico with his three younger sisters, wouldn’t be able to attend. Even though he wouldn’t come right out and say it, I think he was a little bit excited at the thought of going back to see his family. I however was heartbroken and I am still angry that I wasn’t able to enjoy the planning of the wedding as I was more occupied with obsessing about when John would have to leave. I spent more time on websites that discussed immigration laws and online forums than I did looking for wedding favors or decoration ideas.

After we were married and the honeymoon was truly over, I began a feverous search for the perfect lawyer, or in our case it seemed, miracle worker. After sending out over fifty emails, we finally decided to go in for a consultation. This lady spoke Spanish, so we thought that she should be an expert in cases like ours, since she probably had a large number of Hispanic clients. I was wrong again. After all the research I had done she had nothing new to tell me, and wasn’t very optimistic about our circumstance.

“Well it’s definitely not a good thing that you are trying to do this so young. It’s different for couples who have been married for forty years. Separating them would be severe hardship. But you two are still very young. It’s not that difficult to start your life over at the age of twenty-three.”

At that moment my heart broke into a million pieces. How can someone who is supposed to be trying to help us, say something like that? Perhaps she was just trying to prepare us for what is ahead, and make sure that we really want to go forward with things, but talk about harsh. And what right does the government have to tell me that the hardship of being separated from my husband for ten years isn’t severe enough? So instead they are suggesting that he lives here undocumented for another twenty years, and then they’ll help us out. Just another prime example of how ass-backwards things are.

She continued to speak, I was on the verge of tears and my husband appeared to be just as shell shocked as I was. You see, we had been told previously that ninety percent of these hardship waiver applications were approved. This lawyer however painted a totally different picture.

“Moreover,” she said “its not like Mexico is a third world country. True your standards of living would be a lot lower than here in the US, but lots of people love to travel to Mexico. Maybe things would be different if he was from Honduras or Guatemala where living conditions are much worse.”

What does this lady think? She seems to think that John risked his life in the Arizona desert just for the hell of it. Sure the resort areas of Mexico are nice, especially if you are there spending American money. But he is from a very rural part of Mexico where his father hasn’t had a steady job in over six years and even his mom has to carry a gun when she goes out alone to tend to the cows. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal to her, but I don’t want to give up my life here and forfeit my opportunity of getting an education, in exchange for picking strawberries in the hot sun for ten dollars a week. You may say that that equals about 100 pesos, which converted back to dollars, is $100 a week, but it doesn’t work that way. We wouldn’t starve to death but it’s not a life I would want to bring our children into. A pair of Nike shoes cost about 450 pesos which is around $45 American dollars, but when you are only making 100 pesos a week, how can you afford clothing or shoes when it would take months of work to save enough money? That is why there is such an influx of immigrants to this country. They need to find work to provide for their families back home. And I’m surprised that the attorney wasn’t aware that very few Mexicans are visitors at the resorts, they are employees there. If they’re lucky.

So where does this leave us, you may be wondering? Well as I see it we have two very dismal options. One being that we go ahead and file the visa application, wait till the appointment is set and John will be sent back to Mexico to file the hardship waiver. We could be separated for over a year just waiting to receive notice if the waiver has been approved or not. The second option is to wait and see if Congress is going to get off their butts and actually decide something about the current immigration policy, hoping that something changes in our favor. However with all the recent news stories on ICE raids and mass deportations, it’s a very scary waiting game to play. There are no hardship waivers once you’ve been deported. And not only that, imagine living in constant fear that any day you could be discovered. John isn’t able to get a license, which means cars he drove before we were married weren’t registered.

It’s amazing to see just how strongly people feel about the illegal immigrants here in our country. “We have to protect our country and secure our borders from terrorists,” That seems to be the favorite slogan of many. But if I’m not mistaken, the terrorists that have been caught here in the US all crossed through the Canadian border. So we have to ask ourselves, is it really terrorists we are afraid of, or is it the fear that within a few decades the white race may no longer be the majority in America? Are the lawmakers in DC unwilling to change the laws so that families don’t have to be torn apart because they believe that ten years is a suitable punishment for these “criminals” who did nothing more than cross some invisible border in the hopes of bettering their lives? Or maybe is it more likely that they are scared of people like me who are marrying interracially and slowly blending away the distinction of race and its power in our society.

I’m not asking for amnesty, in fact I think that would only create larger problems. All I’m asking is that there is a little more compassion, and for these politicians to put themselves in my situation and those of many other US citizens who are going through the same struggle. If only they could put aside their campaign strategies and egos for one minute and try to understand the agony this is causing, then I don’t see how there could be any disagreements on the issue. It could be decided within minutes to reverse the law that was passed in 2001 and allow us to process his application here in the States. All suffering avoided. No one would die from this decision; our national security would not be compromised. But I guess that concept is too simple, and in order to make themselves feel important, things have to be complicated. And that is what is so frustrating. We are helpless in deciding the course of our own lives. Every night I pray that something will change, that someone will restore my faith in America and give us the chance to live like everyone else. I have to wonder though if my prayers are nothing more than a fruitless effort, because from what I have seen, God and the government cannot coexist.