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In 2023 about 41 percent of people living in Santa Clara County and 36 percent of people living in San Mateo County were born outside the United States. But despite the high proportion of people who are here from other countries, close connections between immigrants and non-immigrants are still relatively rare. That’s not surprising—most of us tend to form bonds with people who are most like us.
But the downside of these separate circles is real. Especially in these politically charged times, many people born in the U.S. don’t fully understand what immigrants—even those here legally—are feeling right now.
I wrote this story to help change that.
I’ve worked with immigrants in our community for many years. During that time, I’ve heard many immigrants’ stories. The story I’m going to share here is about a former student I’ll call Raquel. To ensure her anonymity, I’ve changed some details about her life, but the threads that run through her story are similar to those of many immigrants I’ve spoken with. They came to the United States to escape dangerous and often life-threatening situations. Once here, they worked long hours for low pay, but they also found what they wanted most: safety. Now all semblance of safety has vanished from their lives, and they’re terrified.
Raquel’s story
Raquel has lived in the Bay Area for more than twenty years. Like tens of thousands of Bay Area immigrants, she is from Michoacan, a state on Mexico’s West Coast. Raquel met her husband Luis when she was 18. She was selling popcorn and aguas frescas in the plaza at the center of her small town, and Luis was a starry-eyed customer.
The couple met during a horrific time in Michoacan’s history. On September 7, 2006, the Familia Michoacana, an organized crime syndicate, threw five human heads onto the dance floor of a discotheque in Uruapan, a mid-sized city in central Michoacan.
It wasn’t long before drug cartels infiltrated Raquel and Luis’ town. Phone service was interrupted, electricity cut off, and roads blocked. Residents didn’t have gasoline for weeks at a time. People were prohibited from leaving their homes after dark. “Whatever they wanted to do, they were doing it,” Raquel says. But her life changed even more dramatically when Luis was “asked” to join one of the cartels. If he didn’t comply, his life would be in danger.
“The U.S. was a safe place for my daughter and me to start again. But if the drug dealers weren’t doing what they were doing, if we weren’t forced to get out, we would have stayed.”
Raquel
“The U.S. was a safe place for my daughter and me to start again. But if the drug dealers weren’t doing what they were doing, if we weren’t forced to get out, we would have stayed.”
Raquel and Luis didn’t apply for asylum because they didn’t know it was an option.
Learning English
In Mexico, Raquel only went to school through sixth grade––her family couldn’t afford to pay the enrollment and other fees required to attend middle school––but she always liked learning. Soon after she arrived here, she enrolled in ESL classes at an adult school, then took more ESL classes in community college. She remembers being confused when one of her professors mentioned writing an essay. Not knowing the meaning of essay, she looked up its meaning in Spanish, only to discover that she also didn’t know the meaning of ensayo. She had a lot to learn, but eventually Raquel earned a certificate signifying that she knew enough English to enroll in college-level classes, though she hasn’t done that yet.
Learning English made it possible for Raquel to talk to her kids’ teachers, talk to doctors, and understand her kids’ conversations. She had been working for a housecleaning service but, after learning English, gained the confidence to venture out on her own. As a result, she earns more, sets her own schedule, and can work at her own pace. While Luis’ English is more limited than Raquel’s, he has left the gardening service he worked for and started his own business.
Growing their family
Raquel and Luis have three children: their daughter who was born in Mexico and a son and a daughter who were born here.
Raquel’s oldest daughter graduated in June from Cal State Fresno but, according to her mom, is so dispirited by the President’s immigration policies that she has no interest in celebrating. While finding a job if you’re undocumented is difficult, it’s even harder now due to employers’ concerns about being cited. Currently she is helping her mom clean houses and is looking for work as a tutor.
Raquel’s son is a senior in high school. He’s an excellent student and plans to go to college, possibly out of state. But Raquel says that he recently has become anxious and worried and often asks her what he should do if anything happens to his parents and older sister.
Raquels’ youngest child just finished sixth grade. She also has changed since immigration raids have started, with Raquel describing her as nervous and sad. Raquel avoids discussing the situation with her daughter to not worry her, but she has no control over what her daughter hears at school and often asks her mom questions like, “Why did you come here? And “What happens if we go to Mexico?” She also doesn’t want to leave home, asking, “What if they take you when I am at school?”
Legal but fearing for your life
Three years ago, Raquel’s sister-in-law’s two brothers who were living in Raquel’s hometown were shot. Fearing for their lives, Raquel’s brother, his wife, and their children crossed the border and settled in the Bay Area. They were granted asylum, which gives them the right to work here legally. But they still are not immune from ICE detention. Her brother, who works in a factory, never leaves home except to go to work.
Raquel says she feels nervous every time she leaves her house. “I feel like I am needing to go to work to support my family, but at the same time I feel that I don’t know if I’m going to come back for dinner that day.”
“I feel like I am needing to go to work to support my family, but at the same time I feel that I don’t know if I’m going to come back for dinner that day.”
Raquel
The situation in Michoacan remains treacherous, with the United States State Department continuing to recommend that people not travel to Michoacan and that “crime and violence are widespread.” Raquel’s relatives confirm that their town is unsafe, particularly for Mexicans returning from the U.S.
When asked how she would feel about returning to her village, Raquel says, “It’s hard just to think of that because I still have that fear of going back and fear of the dealers still doing whatever they want. And then what would happen with my kids? This is their country. This is all they know.”
Postscript
I asked Raquel whether her clients had expressed concern for her and other immigrants. She said that two clients had, but that the others “only want their house clean.”
I’m not suggesting that employers ask employees who are immigrants about their personal situations, but I did ask Raquel how she’d feel if her employers said something like, “I want you to know that I support the immigrant community.” Raquel said that hearing that would make her feel less alone and less like she’d done something wrong simply by being here.
If, like me, you are one of the lucky ones, there’s not much you can do to impact the President’s immigration policies. But that doesn’t mean you’re powerless. You can demonstrate. You can donate to organizations that support immigrants and offer legal representation. And you can let immigrants know—whether you know them well or hardly at all—that they are part of our community and that you are outraged by the inhumane and unjust actions our government is carrying out.
