Immigration Stories from Madison and Milwaukee High Schools: Green Card Youth Voices - Softcover

Green Card Youth Voices: Immigration Stories from Madison and Milwaukee High Schools is
an honest and inspiring anthology of 30 personal essays written by Wisconsin immigrant high school students attending James Madison Memorial High School in Madison and Pulaski High School in Milwaukee. Each essay is accompanied by a full-color portrait of the author as well as a QR code that links to online video narratives demonstrating these students’ wisdom and insights. Coming from 20 different countries across four continents, in their own words the young authors reveal the breadth and complexities of contemporary immigration. This collection highlights the broad range of experiences and hopes of young new Americans. Authors include Selma, who moved from Syria in 2015, Alirio, who moved from Venezuela in 2018, and Aziz and Nur Fatema, who were forced to flee the Rohingya persecution in Myanmar.

These written and digital narratives are a unique and powerful resource for those seeking to gain a better understanding of the diverse journeys America’s newest and youngest immigrants experienced en route to their new home. The student voices collected in this anthology build empathy and connection across communities, demonstrating the importance of building a country in which all voices are heard, amplified, and celebrated. This is the fifth anthology in the Green Card Youth Voices Series―previous collections include Minneapolis, Fargo, St. Paul, and Atlanta.

During my fourteen years of life in Honduras, I realized that the privilege my dad and my mom had in going to college and having good jobs allowed them to isolate me and my sister from what Honduras really was. At the time it was a really beautiful country, but as time passed, security got really undervalued and many people started stirring up violence due to the corruption in politics. Even though we were really well taken care of―I would even argue spoiled―we could not live there. When my family left, I recalled a lot of beautiful moments that were stripped from us because we desired a better future.
In Honduras, I would wake up in the room I shared with my sister. I would go to school around 7:15 a.m., which was really early compared to the United States. Then I would be in school all the way up until 4:00 p.m. Despite the fact that volleyball was the only sport for girls, I decided to try out for basketball. We couldn’t compete because it was co-ed. I also remember I couldn’t choose my classes or the peers I could be with. It was really kind of disappointing that you would always converse with the same people having the same idea. After school I would go home and normally do my homework if my parents told me to, but I didn’t really have an interest in school. I just thought teachers made you memorize books and terms, which didn’t really encourage me to learn unfortunately.
On the weekends I would say we were happy and warm because the family would always be reunited. On Saturday we’d go to mass and then have Chinese food at my grandma’s house. Everyone always brought more and more food afterwards, too. I know we gained a lot of weight because of it. Still, I really liked having my family reunite to talk about life and simply be together.
On spring break my entire family would always go to a beach in Omoa because it was only a two-hour drive. I remember that it was so hot! As the years passed, I realized how much trash was brought in by the ocean. That’s when I started realizing how we were affecting the environment, and it built up my awareness. For birthdays people would bring gifts, but not a lot of them, and you just wanted to spend time with your family. Thanksgiving is not really a holiday there, but we had family in the United States and thus knew what it was. Even though my mom called it turkey, we really ate chicken. At Christmas me and my cousins would doubt the legitimacy of a Santa who was dark-skinned and spoke Spanish because we knew Santa generally looked Caucasian. Still, I just happily remember all those memories.
I had no idea my parents planned to leave Honduras. The day I found out, I had already come back from school. I think I had my homework done―but probably not―when my parents came home. They said, “We have to talk you,” and brought my sister and I to the room, sat down, and stared at us. My sister and I thought, “Oh my gosh!” We were looking at each other like what did you do this time? Then my dad said, “I have completed twenty years working in the US Embassy, and I have the opportunity to ask for residence for us as a family to move to the United States.” Immediately, I just stared and said, “What an amazing opportunity!”
I thought it would be such an eye-opening experience even though I had to leave everything behind, including my identity. Some Hondurans in America ask if I am ashamed to be Honduran because they say we are not viewed as a trustworthy people, but I would always respond, “It does not matter what type of people belittle you but instead what you do to change it.” When you come here and you realize you are a minority, you kind of embrace it. That’s really the beauty of what being an immigrant here is.
Before we moved we sold our cars, our stuff, and our clothes to get here. At the end we only had two t-shirts and a pair of pants. It was really a struggle because we had to pack our whole lifetime into a forty-pound luggage bag. So we couldn’t bring a lot of clothes or memories. It was pretty sad, but I’m still grateful for it.
The day we left Honduras, we woke up at 4:00 a.m. We got to the airport at 6:00 a.m. I remember it was not my first time riding in an airplane, but it was definitely the first ride that was just one way. I knew we were not coming back, so it was not a vacation. I was aware about the fact that we were not going to buy a lot of stuff until we had more stability.
We traveled from Tegucigalpa to Chicago. My aunt picked us up in a car. All the way back there, I asked her things like, “Is there such a thing called a dishwasher here?” I thought dishwashers were incredible since I had to wash dishes by hand on a daily basis in Honduras. I also told her I was so excited to try out new sports. They have female sports here―more than just volleyball! Moreover, I was excited I could choose my classes and who I would hang out with. Because of that, I was really excited all the way there!
When I first came to Madison, I noticed that there were no fences around the houses. I saw no security, no guards, no people wandering around with their dogs trying to protect their household or their belongings. They had their garages open, which just seemed so weird. I also remember drinking from the water fountain and thinking that this was not how you drink water. In Honduras you had to buy water first because it was privatized.
Initially I went to Toki Middle School because I had yet to finish eighth grade. When they came in, they said, “How old are you?” I said, “Well, I was born September 1, 2001.” Then they said, “You’re good to go to high school.” I did not even complete an entrance test to see where I was at, which was pretty hard. My whole family was really hoping for me to transition at the middle school first to improve my English and then go to high school because they knew that you start preparing to apply for college there.
So, I went into freshman year, and it was really hard. Even though I took algebra and geometry in Honduras, they said I had to retake it. I was really struggling to understand the methods because some methods are taught differently in Honduras. In algebra it was so weird to see my teacher solve problems a different way from what I was taught, and I didn’t always understand it. I also saw how some kids would disrespect teachers, which is such an infamous thing to do in Honduras. You would get sent to the dean, and that would be the end of your world―that was the scariest part of school.
I also saw how we had to be so dependent and, at the same time, independent―dependent in the sense that we depended on our parents to give us food, money for lunch, and know where we were going next year for college. Unfortunately, my parents failed to guide me in this process because they were not knowledgeable of the American system. They did not know what the ACT was or about applying for colleges.
In contrast to Honduras, I was independent here in the sense that I got to choose my classes. I could choose if I wanted to do easy classes, which my parents wanted me to do, but I said no because I really want to challenge myself. I know it will affect my GPA, but I’m not here to memorize. I started to realize that school is where we really start learning how to connect what we learn to the future and how to use this information to make a better outcome.
I also saw how differently the students dressed. We had uniforms in Honduras, but here you can express yourself. You can go out and say that you’re part of the LGBT community, which was such a no-no thing in our Catholic school. It was not talked about. You could not dye your hair; you could not wear makeup; you could not have a relationship. In Honduras it was like being incarcerated in a box. Here I felt like I was released into a new world with new opportunities.
At Memorial I started doing a lot more clubs. I was involved in Women’s Club and AVID Student Council, which is a club where students make decisions about AVID, a college preparatory class. It’s meant to close the achievement gap for students of color and those who are otherwise disadvantaged. Throughout high school I did soccer, which was finally open to girls, tried out for basketball, and participated in cross-country for the first time. Soccer was really special for me because I got to meet people and understand how their experiences were different from mine. I also realized that people would go out to restaurants all the time, which was something you would only do for your birthday or special events back in Honduras. Yet, despite a lot of culture shock, I realized that I now understand where they are coming from and why they are coming from a different perspective. That means I have no right to judge anybody on what they think about my country or my background because they were raised differently here.
Currently I’m in my senior year. I really started narrowing down the activities I was doing to prepare for college. I got in to the seven colleges I applied for. I’m happy to announce that I will be attending UW–Madison next year. Right now I’m involved in Green Club, which is a club I founded to promote environmental awareness here at Memorial. I’m involved in so many things: forensics, drama, Women’s Club, AVID Student Council, and Book Club. For Green Club and Book Club, I’m a coordinator.
In Book Club, we read very analytical books that are very challenging in a moral sense. We talk about a lot of different books with each other, and we love it.
I’m also involved in Scholars of Color whose members are people of color doing AP or honors classes and don’t feel really represented there, which is something I experienced. My sophomore year, when I went to AP World, I saw that nobody looked like me. It was so intimidating; I thought I was not ready. It was hard. At the end of the year, my teacher told me, “I don’t think you’re going to pass the AP test because your English is not at the same level as the other students. It would be really hard for you to write an essay in forty-five minutes.” But in the end I went there, took it, and got a three, which is a passing grade. I was so excited and so happy. I realized that a grade, even though it doesn’t define you, can tell you that your work will pay off.
This experience has made me want to be a model―not in the sense of shopping or clothes―but a role model for young girls. Once I realized that there’s a lot of people that look like me going through the same thing, I wanted to help other people who don’t feel represented. I really want them to realize that, even if your parents are not telling you to challenge yourself, do it anyway. Even if they’re not telling you that you have to get into a certain college to be really proud of you, do it anyway. I really hope that the readers of this book will realize that there are people out there that look like you, and that you can do this regardless of your background.
As of now I’m just working and trying to earn money for college because I don’t think my parents have realized that college is expensive, especially if you extend your four years and attend law school. I really want to pursue a career in environmental science because I want to change the world. That way I’m not only contributing to the environment here in the United States but also in Honduras. I want to let them know about the dangers of palm oil and monoculture. I want to change the stereotypes around race and affluence, which is a really big problem here in the United States. That’s why I’m going to the University of Wisconsin– Madison to pursue a career in environmental science. Then I want to go to law school and start talking to politicians. I intend to ask them, “What are your long-term plans about impacting our environment?”
Still, despite the fact that I sound like a really well-rounded student, being too involved was very detrimental to my mental health. If you’re looking at this and you’re a high school student, just narrow it down and do the things you’re passionate about―not just because someone else is doing it and you think that’s going to help you get into college. If you aren’t passionate about it, then don’t do it. Just narrow down your choices―take the classes you want and just be happy and enjoy life. (Stephanie Saldago)