A scene from the nine-day march to the Wisconsin State Capitol in 2022. Marchers, organized by Voces de la Frontera, demanded immigration reform from the federal government. (Photo | Joe Brusky)

As an undocumented American I have been holding my breath throughout this campaign season. I am fortunate to have Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) status, but like millions of other immigrants, I’m not just worrying about health care reforms or economic policies. We are fighting for our lives, our loved ones, and the dream of one day belonging to the only place millions of us call home. This election feels like a perilous moment in time where everything is hanging in the balance. 

Each campaign rally, debate, and potential policy change announcement feels personal. Each candidate’s words either threaten or bring solace. 

There is a blend of excitement and fear but overall dread. The deep lingering fear of deportation on the horizon and the impact of living in constant uncertainty, but on the other hand there’s a spark of possibility that finally one of these candidates will do right by us. That maybe, just maybe a pathway to citizenship is within reach. Every time that hope grows, it is shadowed by the possibility that things might never change or worse, regress.

We can’t take a day off from  the dreadful reality of living day-to-day as an undocumented person in a country that has increasingly polarized views on immigration regardless of who’s in office. Many of us have been here for years, working hard, contributing to Medicaid and Social Security funding with no security for ourselves. Yet in some corners of this nation we are still viewed as outsiders. We live in constant fear of our families being separated, and the grumbling feeling that we are somehow “illegal” and as if our existence is a crime.  We hope to finally be seen  as human.

The heaviest burden is waiting for the next administration to change everything for us, not knowing if whoever is in office  will truly follow through for better or worse. There’s a part of us that wonders if we’ll ever be able to celebrate a concrete win. And so we wait, quietly and carefully, trying to believe that hope will be justified. 

Watching from the sidelines, we know that a path to citizenship would not only change our lives but would be an affirmation that we are finally a part of American history. And so we wait, with a knot in our throats, our future hanging on the outcome. Knowing that no matter what happens, we will keep fighting to belong in a place where we call home.