Immigrating with Papers

The privilege, expectations, and reality of immigrating with "papers."

On January 1st, 2009, I flew to New York City with my one-way ticket from my Brazilian hometown of Uberlândia, Minas Gerais. Talk about "new year, new me." So, as I celebrate 13 years since immigrating, I want to share a bit of my journey: the privilege, expectations, and misconceptions.

You see, I knew I would move to the U.S. at an early age. My mother, Cleusa, immigrated to NYC in 1996 when I was only two years old. I stayed back home with my sister and my grandmother. Upon arrival, she knew her goal and mission were to ensure the best for her family and bring her two daughters to live with her. After years of hard work, sacrifices, challenges, and saudade, she became an American Citizen. Shortly after that, Cleusa applied for her daughters’ Green Cards. And in 2003, my sister and I got the coveted document and began visiting our mom. I didn't move to NYC until after I graduated 8th grade to start High School. My sister came after two years in 2011, a year after receiving her bachelor's degree in accounting. 

We had what many consider the essential tools to a successful path and transition as an immigrant: the "papers," slang for Green Card or American Citizenship, used by other immigrants I know. The English skills, which I started studying when I was six years old. And family support: which was our mother. We acknowledge our privilege and thank her for all she did to bring us, since we wouldn't be where we are today without her strength. Of course, the resiliency and hard work we inherited from our mom helped us reach our goals and milestones.

However, a few misconceptions are associated with immigrants with "papers" or those who get their Green Card shortly after moving to the U.S. 

Don't get me wrong: this post is in no way undermining the privileged experience of being considered an immigrant with legal residency or naturalization status in the U.S. But for many years, I felt bad about feeling bad.

I forgot to mention that I didn't want to move to NYC when I did. My sister and my two best friends—also young Brazilians who immigrated with a Green Card—felt the same way. We came here because it was decided for us, and we had no choice. Or at least it felt that way at the time. We were told by family members and friends: "Be thankful! So many people would do anything to be in your position! You MUST succeed and do well!" 

While our family and support system had good intentions behind these statements (and we have succeeded and overcame challenges and stereotypes), they didn't realize that this pressure could turn into guilt, lack of self-confidence, and burnout. Here are some things I expected early on and the reality I encountered myself in. 

Regardless of your immigration status and English proficiency, the feeling of being an outsider will still be there. And that's ok. 

When I moved, I thought I wouldn't feel like an outsider because I knew English and had my documents. But as an immigrant, no matter how long you've lived in your new country, you will face situations in which people will find ways to remind you that you are not from there. Someone might tell you not to worry about it, work hard and improve your English skills, and you'll feel more like part of that society. That's the expectation. I once had a journalism professor tell me to "lose my accent" to be more “marketable”. I told him I didn't think it'd be a problem since I wanted to go for print journalism, but that stuck with me.

But even with good knowledge of the language and culture, I often felt that the stereotypes that accompanied my background would speak louder than my capabilities. That happened in high school, college, and even my master's program. The reality? That's their problem and ignorance, not yours. Confidence helped me get past that and understand that being an immigrant shouldn't make me feel uncomfortable: it's my superpower. It was confidence that helped me speak up against intolerance. It took years to build it, and I didn't expect it would be this hard. But here we are! 

Don't burn yourself out to overcompensate immigrant guilt. And don't lowball yourself, either. 

It's important to acknowledge the sacrifices made by others to get us to where we are today. However, acknowledging it isn't the same thing as letting it dictate how you live and feel. There's an expectation that children of immigrants, especially those with the "papers," need to break generational curses. I felt so bad anytime I wasn't happy in this country. I felt terrible when I couldn't do well in school, and that guilt of not doing well just made me do worst. It was a snowball effect. It followed me in my professional life, where even though I had the opportunity to work full-time and get paid a salary, I was afraid to ask for what I deserved and establish boundaries. 

Thoughts such as: "People would do anything to be in my shoes," or, "My mom had to sacrifice so much and worked so hard to get us here, I shouldn't complain," would consume me at times. The reality was that those feelings made it harder to move forward and clouded my judgment, and some of my friends felt the same way. 

Once I opened up and understood that my feelings were valid (thank you, therapy!), good things started to happen. It was then that I could negotiate salaries at jobs or better conditions in all relationships in my life (personal and professional). 

And lastly...  We're all in this together. 

Immigrants, regardless of legal status, are all in this growth process together. People shouldn't treat a group better based on their status, and every journey is worth it. There's nothing sadder than fellow immigrants putting others down based on their status or backgrounds: I witnessed that a lot in my years studying at an international High School, and after. To be seen and respected by everyone, we should start in our communities.