The US Educator's Role in the Lives of Undocumented Immigrants

There has been increasing federal resistance to supporting undocumented immigrants in the United States (e.g. last month it was the DACA rescission and this past week it was the call to expedite deportations), despite the actions many states have and are taking to challenge these views.

Undocumented immigrants have been vilified by the national rhetoric; however, according to the non-profit, Define American, undocumented immigrants "pay $11.64 billion annually in state and local taxes", contribute "$12 billion annually to the social security trust fund" and when compared to their native-born counterparts, they are less likely to commit crimes and more likely to start businesses. Many of these undocumented families are here because they are victims of circumstance; still, immigration has highly positive social and economic benefits for host countries. So what can/should be done now? Discussions among educators have been both about how this federal resistance might impact the education sector and, more importantly, what the education sector can do to alleviate the problem. Education is a tool and schools its fertile ground to create change for undocumented immigrants while working within existing federal restrictions.

Despite the quasi-legal status of undocumented families, all children have a right to a public education. Fighting to provide children of these families a safe and supportive learning environment means to first be able to keep them in school. It begins by challenging the negative narrative and ending discriminatory punitive discipline practices that pull already vulnerable children out of the classroom and into the criminal justice system. This means training teachers on positive behavior interventions, constantly re-visiting the code of conduct, and working closely with law enforcement (especially by limiting their involvement on campus). To protect all students is a core component of the educator's role, both while they are in school and in anticipation of their lives upon leaving. The ability of undocumented immigrants to enroll in a post-secondary education varies by state; therefore, only 5-10% of undocumented high school graduates enroll in college. For this reason, educators (especially K-12 educators in states that prohibit undocumented students to access college) should also equip their undocumented students with information on how to better navigate the US legal and educational systems.

Creating a supportive school climate requires working both within and beyond school boundaries. Educators should leverage their rapport with families of other students to develop community understanding. Incorporating this information into school curriculum, educators can use anecdotes on the difficulties of being undocumented and explore all sides of the legal discourse surrounding the issue. Districts should invest in the capacity building efforts necessary to train teachers in critical pedagogy and equip their staff with the necessary tools and resources to support their most vulnerable students. Schools should partner with non-profit agencies, immigration lawyers, and potential employers, that students can be referred to on a case-by-case basis. The short-term objective is a more informed student population but the long-term outcomes include a welcoming climate within which all students can thrive.

Photo Credit: stellaresque42.tumblr.com

At the tertiary level, in the same manner that higher education institutions approach racial diversity, value should also be placed on cultural diversity (and diversity of nationalities). Not only can diversity enrich the educational experience of all students but universities today are competing in a global market and should feel a need to be equipped to operate as such. Universities in most states classify undocumented students as international students; therefore, institutions should see the presence of immigrants (no matter their legal status) as a benefit to the social and academic experience of all their students. By framing this as an internationalization issue and not merely a legal one, institutions should fight for pathways to admit undocumented students and allow them to compete with their documented international counterparts for scholarships, grants, and employment/research opportunities.

Now is not a time to feel debilitated by federal decisions but a time to act in spite of them.

Intersec[shun]ality

My Jackson Scholar mentor once told me that the way to take my disparate set of experiences and craft a narrative as a researcher is to always "bring it back to myself." Whether we are explicit about it or not, our work always has pieces of who we are within it. When I take on research projects, I'm seldom thinking about whether or not it will speak to the narrative that I am trying to weave together for the CV I hope to someday  🎤drop on a potential employer's desk. Instead, I mostly just try to follow what feels interesting, what I'm passionate about and, I suppose, subconsciously remain hopeful that my heap of instinctive decisions will later amount to a coherent story that depicts some ~accurate version of me.

However, when it came time for me to pitch myself at conferences or in grant applications, I had to dig deep to find that story. In an effort to take my mentor's advice, I looked at each of the projects I've been involved in to make sense of what part of them spoke to my identity. It is in this way that I identified the two strands of research I now distinguish as my focal areas: educational leadership for development in Africa and immigrant/non-immigrant education in the US. Both of these areas speak to the junction of privileged and oppressed cultural boundaries. (To "bring it back to myself", I'm an Ethiopian and a non-immigrant getting an education in the US.)

Of course, most PhD candidates don't quite operate this way and, as I'm learning now, it's with good reason.

I'm four years into my program and I'm finding myself grappling with things I thought I had figured out a long time ago. My dissertation is on transnational educational leadership within iNGOs working in Ethiopia. As I (literally) pedal through my interview data, slugging along the transcription of colorful conversations with my generous informants in iNGO offices in Ethiopia,  I am reminded of my internal conflict during my fieldwork: a conflict between my membership to the world of Ethiopians and my membership to the world of African diaspora/[non]immigrants in the US.

My study sites were extremely welcoming climates for me and quickly felt like home; however, there were many moments that were sure reminders of the distance that my [physical] return to my home country had not been able to diminish. I remember that one time they introduced me in a classroom as "the American-educated PhD candidate." I can tell from the pride in their voice that they mean to heighten the excitement around my presence but it also almost always served to break the sense of belonging that had been building in me, by othering me. My entire data collection process was riddled by the divergence of my perceptions of my place in Ethiopia from how Ethiopia felt about me.

Photo Credit: ww2.kqed.org

Lately, I've been caught between yet another pair of distinct worlds--one which tokenizes my participation in the race and immigration discourse as an African woman and the other which deems my diasporic sensibilities as not being African enough. A man once told me that African immigrants [should be] concerned with the plight of Africans and not the plight of Black people. His inability to reconcile the two worlds was truly staggering. There are so many moments like this that have forced me to take a stand on issues I hadn't previously thought deeply about. I'm suspended between worlds that see me as either Black, [non]immigrant, African, or Ethiopian, separately--unable to accept that an allegiance to one is not an abandonment of the other. While the world(s) stay(s) busy trying to tell me who I am, I'm grasping for pieces of myself that are familiar to me. I can't fit into any of the categories my conversations box me into.

A few days ago, my advisor reminded me that my lack of full access to any world has in some sense provided me with unique access to many worlds. Anthropologists refer to this as insider/outsider status. The idea is that by having one foot in two worlds, we're able to gain perspective of each without taking any nuances for granted in either. Insider status may give us full access to a world but can make us so close to things in that world that we become blind to that which we take for granted; whereas outsider status may mean having no access to another's world but can also provide the distance needed to recognize what is taken for granted by members of that world.

But how do we get inside or outside of a world? What determines membership to worlds like Black, [non]Immigrant, or African? Is there a common understanding by each member as to what this is? Or does each individual understand their membership differently? I'm leaning towards the latter. Take the world of "women" for example. You may argue that there is a biological requirement for membership into this world but the term "woman" may mean different things to each of us who identify as such. So I wonder then, if I can use this as a starting point to find comfort in my intersec[shun]ality.

Society will assert whether we are insiders or outsiders of any given world but perhaps the truth is that we each comprise of our own.

Law as a Looking Glass

Sometimes law is merely a reflection of a nation’s collective values. Policies are not always an echo of policy-makers’ hidden agendas. It’s important to remember that policy can be--and is meant to be--a product of the beliefs of the people it governs. We are so used to thinking of governments doing a bad job of representing their respective people that we forget that laws can be in place simply because much of the population is in agreement.

Of course, various stakeholders have a hand in the policy-making process so when policies fail, it is neither easy nor appropriate to place the onus on any one entity. This does not mean, however, that outcomes cannot be traced back to key influential (f)actors. And while scholars may not agree on the (f)actors most responsible for societal problems, too little attention is paid to the role played by our collective values.

The US context is a great example. American scholars have highlighted the influential role of elected officials and placed the onus of societal problems on the Supreme Court and, more specifically, key decisions that it made at crucial times in the nation's history. At their core, these scholars are veritably attributing society's shortcomings to the political system and/or the ideologies of elected officials and the majority of the justices, respectively. Let us not, however, discount that there was a community – from which these individuals arose – that also supports said values. Policy-makers may all have agendas that may indeed be a mere consequence of power-play but their decisions are not void of the system of beliefs that exists/existed in the nation.

Others have held responsible, the complicated ways in which issues come to the forefront, such as “purposive organizations” that influence what issues come to the attention of the Supreme Court. Interest groups, for example, have a direct influence on what is brought to the table. There is not enough consensus about the policy-making process amongst these particular scholars, to allow us to come to a conclusion about who/what is most responsible for things like inequity. Still we see one thing for sure: they overlook the backdrop of the public's social values or make the assumption that these values are not in line with that of the government's.

The influence of the public's values remains evident nonetheless. For example, let’s look at people’s actions in spite of the law. De jure segregation, for instance, had just as much to do with the law as it did with American values at the time. Even after Brown v. Education, many states worked hard to challenge and reverse the decision. When a law is passed that isn’t in line with existing values, it will not be supported. And if policy instruments are used to force values, society may abide but the shift in values is highly unlikely. Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (“prohibiting discrimination based on race, color, or national origin”) led to schools using quotas to ensure racial balance. Racial-balance was a political move but never really addressed the social problem--we are five decades out and still having some of the same conversations. When social values are not in line with the law, policies seldom stick.

This is not to say that all law represents the values of society but merely a reminder that some laws do. It is also not to say that law cannot change the values of society but that it is less likely than the reverse. Law representing the true views of the people it governs: a very simple and intuitive concept that we only seem to remember when a nation does well. When we have inequality, however, we blame broken systems and never an immoral society.

Agen[she]

The traditional/historic role of a woman in many societies (think: "the second sex") has often been solely conceptualized as that of a victim. Even the most progressive people I know only ever speak to the ways in which women have been unfairly treated in the home and the workplace both within and without marriage. I certainly don't wish to discount the various ways in which women were and still are victims (along with--and to a greater extent--many other gender identities). Instead, I'm trying to establish that we often take on deficit views of these, indeed marginalized, groups. It is almost a sense of pity that we feel perhaps partly because we are clouded by our discontent that is understandably roused by the injustice.

For me, these (albeit unintentional) condescending perspectives are not far removed from the very ones that oppress women to begin with. Many have discussed the ways in which women fought back--in fact, much is recorded on the stories of countless women who were responsible for revolutionary changes of a global magnitude (think: Wangari Maathai). Still, there are too few conversations about the ways in which women's strength to endure (and not just to fight back) is critically analyzed as an exercise of power in and of itself. I worry that in not having these conversations, we are instead conflating agency and resistance.

Can agency, instead, manifest itself as tolerance?

While some research has explored the trauma that stays with women from societies that box us into these traditional roles, not enough explores how we also possess power and creatively exploit it. This capacity may not rectify the circumstances of the oppressed but an appreciation of it allows society to move away from deficit perceptions of women who, in actuality, wield much power.

The resilience to endure oppression should not be used to excuse oppressive social or cultural practices but it should be appreciated as agency. As such, the contributions of women to society should not only be measured by the success of those who resisted but also those that found another way to fight.


"There are two ways to spread light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." -Edith Wharton        

La Recherche Pour La Recherche

A researcher's role is often driven by the consumption needs of the academic community, other researchers, policymakers, and/or practitioners. Research then becomes an attempt to address a perceived gap in knowledge, which is an externally dictated agenda. Recently, I’ve been witnessing professors pressed to ride the wave of scientific popularity by chasing after topics that are timely and/or lucrative.

Photo Credit: tate.org.uk

I took a Modern Art class in undergrad... it feels like it was ions ago but many things about this class really stuck with me. Prominent amongst which were l'art pour l'art and l'art pour l'artiste: French expressions that mean art for art['s sake] and art for the artist['s sake], respectively. The former is a progressive expression that captures the essence of movements in art built to eradicate the didactic element of art required by communities in the early 19th century (think James Whistler and impressionism). It revolves around the concept of doing away with social obligations and just creating something that is pleasing to look at. The latter is an even further deviation from what was traditional, in that it does away with even the need to please the audience. It is a concept that embraces the artist, and not merely the art. It is the belief that art should have no purpose at all, but just be an expression of the artist, in whatever shape or form the artist pleases (think Vincent van Gogh and post-impressionism). In the 20th century, this became the foundation on which movements like fauvism, cubism, and dadaism emerged... traces of these movements are still very much alive today. 19th century France is given credit for most of the revolutionary transitions that had to take place to lead to this and the game changers are always the ones that braved the fundamental questions: What is the purpose that art fulfills? Does it have a purpose at all?

Today, I find myself reflecting on this thought as a researcher. If we approach research with the same audacity as Marcel Duchamp’s approach to art, what would that do to our research agendas? What would it mean to conduct research for research’s sake? What if we did away with the need for researchers to publish in areas that would further elicit readership and funding? Can we be bold enough to explore agendas we set for ourselves? Can we let our own voices drive our research and not that of other academics and/or funding agencies? I fear that the academic community's incessant need to publish, to respond to calls in order to get in on popular discourse only accessible to academics takes something away from the research experience. And if so, I wonder what research institutions (academic or otherwise) can do to counter the current climate that is competing with this notion of research-dadaism?

Inferno of Intolerance

During my first semester here at Penn State University, two of my dearest friends suggested we go out to grab drinks at a local bar. We were all first semester, international graduate students and did not yet have our state IDs. The only form of identification we carried were our passports.

If you've ever walked down College Avenue, you know you can probably count on one hand the places that look exciting at first glance. Inferno is one from that handful. We had no prior knowledge about any of the restaurants/bars in the area, so the cozy outdoor lounge seating and the general ambience of this beautiful restaurant was enough to convince us to start our night there. Upon reaching the front door of Inferno, the bouncer first asked me for my ID (I was in front). I gave him my passport, which was valid for another 5 years and evidence that I was several years over the minimum drinking age. He proceeded to flip through it beyond the usual required search for my date of birth, as though to be searching for additional information. Noticing this, I asked him if something was wrong. He replied, "Where is your US visa?" My friends and I were thrown for a loop by this question and so asked why he needed to see my visa. He then casually went on to attempt to justify why he needed to see my visa before I entered the restaurant and bar.

Here's a completely unnecessary backstory for you:

My passport had been recently renewed. This meant that my US visa was stamped in my old passport, which I didn't bring out with me that night (because I didn't think bouncers doubled as immigration officers). Even if I had that passport on me, however, he would see that it is not a valid visa. It was valid when I entered the US but I entered the US years ago for a previous degree so my visa had since expired. I hadn't left the country in that time so I had no need (nor legal requirement) to renew it. My legal status is based on my I-20 (a contract with my educational institution) and not my visa. So not only is my visa non of his business but its expiration has no bearing on whether or not I can legally remain in the US.

I hope the question that you are asking at this point is, "why does your legal status even matter?" It doesn't! I'm trying to enter a bar, not cross the US border; and he's a bouncer, not border patrol.

My girlfriends and I tried to explain my situation and assuage the bouncer's legal concerns as best as we could but the bouncer said he was sorry and that "rules were rules." Of course I was furious, as were my girlfriends so we decided to walk away and find a bar that wouldn't ask about our immigration status (shout out to Zeno's, The Rathskellar, and Fuji & Jade Garden).

I wanted to write to the Inferno manager and complain but if the bouncer was acting on bar policy, I felt this would not address our concerns. I considered a more public platform, like Onward State, to have them showcase our experience instead: I wanted to publicly humiliate the bar the same way they publicly humiliated my friends and I outside that bar that night. Until finally, I calmed myself down, told myself it's just a bar, and made myself move past this without taking any action. Later, I also learned that the owner of Inferno also owns several other bars in the area that have actually treated me very well. A part of me was relieved that I hadn't shared my story publicly because I didn't want to implicate employees that might not have anything to do with the Inferno intolerance. Still, I was left feeling mistreated. I wasn't sure what to do at this point so I let it simmer... for a long time.

Since then, I've had several friends approach me with similar stories and about other bars in the State College area. Their accounts brought back the fury I felt that night many semesters ago. For many of my friends, these experiences against the backdrop of the current national rhetoric further exacerbated their anxiety that comes with being an immigrant/non-immigrant in today's America. I wouldn't be so ambitious as to say that my sharing this would resolve any of this; however, I do hope that we can begin a conversation about how we can better educate ourselves and our local community about who we are, and about our rights. That night in front of Inferno, I remember asking the bouncer, "...if you don't understand why this rule exists, how can you follow and enforce it? Why don't you question your manager?" Ill-informed, misinformed, or uninformed communities (local, immigrant, or non-immigrant--a topic for another post) breed dangerous climates for all. This is not about simply being denied access to a bar; it is about how this denial and exclusion is one of many symptoms of a much deeper division in the US. The already highly contentious issue of immigration in this nation has been further polarized by an administration that vilifies immigrants and non-immigrants alike. The narrowing categories of populations that are "welcome" in US society has created a chilling environment for the millions that don't "make the cut"--immigrants are just one of these many marginalized groups.

So I'm asking everyone in the State College community and beyond to speak up about these issues in an effort to address harmful practices by staying informed about our rights--especially at a time when polices are shifting so rapidly. A very dear friend of mine shared an American Civil Liberties Union flyer with me on Knowing Your Rights--this is a great place to start for those of you that just want to take a quick glance. I also recommend you visit the Center for Immigrants' Rights Clinic, directed by Dr. Shoba Wadhia for additional reading. I specifically urge you visit their page on Immigration After the Election. The Center for Education and Civil Rights, directed by Dr. Erica Frankenberg is also a great place to go digging for resources on fostering racial and ethnic equality and staying abreast of the related happy haps on campus and beyond. Global Programs is a decent resource when it comes to non-immigrant rights and responsibilities but they don't cater to the broader community (their focus is students) so I'd keep that in mind when you navigate their site. I'm sure you all have several ideas for other resources so I'll stop here and ask that you please use whatever platforms to which you have access, to begin sharing both local and national resources for folks to turn to.

That night we walked away swearing to never return to Inferno. It's been three years and we've kept our word.

Grey Eyes

You're only passing through: A phase in my long and lonely sequence of men perfected by my imagination.

There's so much that I don't know about you and that I'm convinced I don't want to know about you.

My hopeful desperate mind prefers to fill those gaps as it pleases... adding shine and glamour to the void left by the unknown.

Without the heart to allow me a chance to discover your truth, I'd rather dwell in the peace that comes with imagining you are perfect.

So I dwell.

I dwell in the perfection my mind has made you up to be.

And in those brief moments--those false and non-existent moments that are ever so present but only in my mind--I am happy.

Unbeknownst to you, I have married us off and put one child in your arms, while the other kicks from inside me... eager to meet the father I've created for him.

We are drunk in joy and life suddenly has meaning.

But then you send one of those purposefully short text messages that annoy the crap out of me.

I'm suddenly on a fabricated beach, playing wife with another man and 4 toddlers my mind had constructed in his image. I lay on my back and rest my head in my palms, marinating in my vengeful prowess.

Today you were sweet again.

As I felt my belly enlarge once more with the pieces of you I knew I always yearned, I stopped to think that I didn't miss the beach and those toddlers didn't feel as much a part of me as this belly that my mind drew so perfectly round.

This is what I feel that I should be carrying...

For now.