Undocumented and unafraid: Greisa Martinez Rosas fights for her American Dream

Griesa Martinez Rosas arrived to the U.S. from Mexico when she was eight years old. She grew up in Dallas, Texas with her mom, dad and three younger sisters. From a young age, she was aware of her undocumented status and livid in fear something terrible would happen to her family. Martinez Rosas lost her parents, who she calls the original "Dreamers." Her father was racially profiled by cops, pulled over, detained because he didn’t have a driver’s license and deported back to Mexico. “It's been 13 years since I’ve seen him,” she says. Her mother lost her battle with cancer two years ago. “Because she was undocumented, the access to medical care to fight this awful disease of cancer were limited to her,” Martinez Rosas explains. In 2012, when the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program was passed by the Obama administration, Martinez Rosas got the chance to obtain a work permit and was offered protection from deportation. That same year she joined "United We Dream," the largest immigrant youth-led group in the country. She is now the executive director of the organization. “We are powered by young undocumented people,” Martinez Rosas says. “We are here to stay! And we are here to bring about a history that will truly astonish the world.”

Video Transcript

GREISA MARTINEZ ROSAS: My name is Greisa Martinez Rosas. I am the daughter of Luis and Elia Martinez. I have DACA. I'm undocumented, unafraid, queer, and unashamed. And this is my story.

DACA is Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. It means that it's a policy that was put into place by President Obama that provides protection for young undocumented people like myself that grew up in the US and that follow certain criteria.

The DACA protection is based on two components. The first one is protection from deportation. There are agencies like ICE and CBP whose job are to detain, deport undocumented people in the US. And so if you have DACA, it is less likely for the agency to deport you. The second one is a work permit. I'm really lucky that I get to have a work permit to serve the movement and to be part of this work.

DACA is temporary. It does not give us protection from deportation forever. It cannot give us citizenship.

The reality is is that DACA is an important milestone for our work. But we know that it's not enough. It doesn't protect all of us. There are millions of us undocumented young people that are not part of this protection.

Some people might call us "dreamers." And "dreamers" is a term that, for me, it also is connected to my mom and my dad. They are the original dreamers. They dreamt that I could come into this country and be able to have opportunities that they could only think about in their wildest dreams.

My family and I crossed the Rio Grande water when I was very young. I still feel the cold water on my skin sometimes. And we arrived in Dallas, Texas, where I grew up with my mom and my dad and my three younger sisters.

I remember one Sunday afternoon my family and I were going about our day. I saw a man. He was a white man with hate in his eyes. I saw him looking at us like subhuman.

He called my dad a wetback. And in the eyes of my mom and my dad, I saw shame and confusion. And it wasn't the last time that I would see that.

There were moments in our lives where we were really ashamed of being undocumented. My dad-- he was detained and deported back to Mexico. It's been 13 years since I've seen him. He's missed graduations, weddings, life's joys.

And sometimes I catch myself talking about him in the past tense. Because the reality is is that in a lot of ways social deportation is social death.

My mom was diagnosed a couple of years ago with a non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. She was undocumented. We were poor and limited resources. And because she was undocumented, the access to medical care to fight this awful disease of cancer were limited to her. Sometimes, we couldn't even get any appointments for her to get medicine to at least stop the pain. She died two years ago.

So I do this work on their behalf. Because they gave up everything so that I could have a chance to have it all. And they made me believe in the American dream. And though now I know that sometimes that dream is not real, my commitment is to make sure that that dream is realized for all of the people to come. And no matter what anyone says and no matter what eyes are upon me, I am here to stay.

I know that my story is not unique. It's actually the story of millions of people. And part of the work that we do at United We Dream is in turning this pain into power and this longing for more into hope. I am proud to be able to lead United We Dream. We have affiliates all across the country, and we are powered by young, undocumented people-- in particular, in the majority women, the majority queer people-- that are saying without reservation that we are here to stay, and we are here to bring about a history that will truly astonish the world. And we're ready.