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Late last month during a Friday night dinner rush, 20+ ICE agents in military-style gear descended upon one of my favorite restaurants in San Diego. Masked and armed for full-out warfare, the agents handcuffed several workers and took them into custody, detonating flash-bang grenades at one point to scatter the crowds. The South Park community where this happened immediately rallied in support of the targeted individuals, organizing a protest and GoFundMe campaign for legal fees, lost wages, and living expenses for the employees and their families. Heartbroken as I was to see this happening in a community that means so much to me personally, I took a lot of pride in how that community showed up for its people. If only this were an isolated incident.
There have been raids all over Southern California in the last few weeks, many of them in Los Angeles, raids that have targeted places of employment (but they’re lazy and don’t pay taxes!), immigration court hearings (but they’re criminals! Why don’t they do it the right way?!), churches, and even schools. Every headline is more infuriating than the last: a pregnant woman detained; documented U.S. citizens taken into custody; Los Angeles residents weighing the risk of attending their high schoolers’ graduations; travel bans and arbitrary quotas.
These raids didn’t begin with this recent wave or even this administration, nor are they isolated to my home state of California. But the tactics employed this time are horrifying, ratcheting up in the cruelty and disregard for the rule of law. I get tongue-tied and emotional thinking about my people living in constant fear, and what this means for anyone and everyone who doesn’t fit the desired racial profile of the people in power. When I see the same misinformed talking points (and some new ones) about immigrants and the undocumented being parroted at anyone pointing out the draconian nature of these policies, I want to scream and curse in both of the languages I speak.
So yes, I am going to recommend some books by and about undocumented Americans. No, books alone won’t save us. Read them, yes, then let them move you towards meaningful action, whether that’s attending a protest, donating to organizations providing legal aid or mental health support, or sharing these resources with others. As the saying goes, I don’t know how to convince someone that they should care about other people, but maybe the messages in these books will do what I can’t.
Just Like Us: The True Story of Four Mexican Girls Coming of Age in America by Helen Thorpe
This book is the story of four young Mexican women—two documented and two undocumented—coming of age in Denver. All four want to pursue higher education and the American dream, but it soon becomes clear that both are really only attainable for the documented girls. Their friendships begin to divide along these lines as their fates are decided by their citizenship status.
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The Undocumented Americans by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio
Karl Cornejo Villavicencio wrote this brave, beautiful book after the 2016 election while on DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) herself, a program established in 2012 by President Barack Obama that allows undocumented individuals who entered the United States as minors to seek temporary protection from deportation for a renewable two-year period. She wrote her immigration lawyer’s phone number on her hand in permanent marker and then traveled across the country to tell the stories of other undocumented Americans. These narratives are raw and powerful, a blend of investigative reporting and poetic narrative.
The Distance Between Us by Reyna Grande
Award-winning author Reyna Grande shares the story of her childhood torn between the U.S. and Mexico, including her struggles after being left behind when her parents immigrated to “el otro lado” in pursuit of the nebulous “better life” everyone always spoke of. She eventually crosses that same border herself to be reunited with the parents she hasn’t seen in years, faced with the new struggles of life as an undocumented citizen. She eventually goes on to find the sort of success that only ever felt like a pipe dream, and her story is both heartbreaking and inspirational. I want to shove this book into the hands of people who don’t understand the impact that being undocumented has on children.
You Sound Like a White Girl: The Case for Rejecting Assimilation by Julissa Arce
That subtitle will ruffle some feathers, but Julissa Arce said what she said. When someone told her she sounded like a white girl in high school, Arce took it as a compliment (#RelatableContent), having spent years flattening aspects of her identity to blend in as an undocumented citizen. In time, she came to unpack the lie that assimilation leads to belonging and success, calling for a rejection of this assimilation in favor of embracing one’s cultural identity, language, and heritage. As someone who’s also been told I sound l like a white girl my whole life, this book read me for filth but also cracked open my heart.
Hatemonger: Stephen Miller, Donald Trump, and the White Nationalist Agenda―An Examination of Radicalization and Right-Wing Extremism by Jean Guerrero
This book is a bonus recommendation by award-winning investigative journalist and essayist Jean Guerrero and not specifically about being undocumented, but it’s an eye-opening and relevant read. This sobering examination of right-wing extremism and the hateful human thumb crafting Trump’s immigration policy is maddening, tracing Stephen Miller’s evolution from a provocative Santa Monica high school student to the chief architect of these raids and deportation policies. I’ve had the privilege of meeting and working with Jean on the release of her first book, Crux: A Cross-Border Memoir, when she was based in San Diego. Her reporting is clear-eyed, pulls no punches, and always beautifully crafted, even when the words she wields tell a devastating story.
For more reading on immigration and the refugee experience:
