It was the mid-nineties, and Mexico was submerged in one of the worst socio-economic and political periods in recent history. Corruption at the highest level of government, the assassination of a political candidate who promised to defend and restore democracy, the devaluation of the currency, and the fight of indigenous people for land and justice would soon shatter not only the image of stability and prosperity that Mexico was so desperately trying to portray, but the dreams of prosperity and survival of millions of people. In the forgotten corners of the country, millions still hoped that someday the promise of prosperity would become a reality, among them my young father.

Fortunately, a ten-year battle to allow undocumented youth in California to access public college education at an affordable rate proved successful with the passage of Assembly Bill 540. Thanks to a young California legislator by the name of Marco A. Firebaugh, I became an AB 540 student. I fed on the hope that the immigration process my parents had filed a few years earlier would finally set me free. But that birthday banner that hanged in front of the family-owned restaurant where I worked in the summer of 2005 was a bittersweet reminder that for the ever-lengthy and complicated immigration process I had aged-out. That summer, I turned twenty one. That proved to be a major setback, but I was still determined to put myself through college. And while my classmates enjoyed their weekends at the beach, I was also at the beach – working long shifts at that restaurant not far from where my father had sold sunglasses before. The reality for people like me who hold college degrees but lack a nine-digit number is that we are limited in the career paths we can pursue.

In December of 2009 I took the LSAT, and based solely on merit I was offered partial and full scholarships from several law schools. To be honest, I could have done better with the LSAT, but the scholarship offers are an indication that schools in the US think that I have what it takes to make a good law student. This year, I am determined to apply to law school and while I know that when the schools find out about my legal status they will take those offers off the table I am hopeful that the DREAM Act will soon become a reality.

Since 2003 I have advocated for the passage of the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act, a bill that would allow students like me to regularize our status. The dire need for a safe space for immigrant students prompted me and a few other friends to form Dreams To Be Heard, a support and advocacy group for undocumented students at Cal State Northridge. We began educating our fellow classmates and our professors, but soon realized that a change in legislation will be the ultimate solution for our plight, and so I began to speak out. Truth be told, I was afraid that if I didn’t speak out I would forever remain in the shadows of a country I had hope would embrace me as one of her own. I was afraid that the voices of an entire generation would go unheard. I took my voice to the state capital, to the nation’s capital. I told my story in front of television cameras and participated regularly in a local radio station. I became a student senator and took part in statewide campaigns to ensure that immigrant and low-income students could have equal access to affordable education. And despite the inability of Congress to pass immigration reform in 2007, I remained determined and hopeful.

With the support of my family and friends and by working over forty hours per week, taking up to four buses to get to school, and after countless sleepless nights, I became the first in my family to graduate from college. And as the debate for immigration reform intensified, I realized that I had to be at the forefront of this national debate. I didn’t only join United We Dream, the leading advocate network for the DREAM Act, but I co-founded Dream Team LA, a youth-led organization of students, educators, and community members that seeks to empower immigrant youth to become effective organizers and advocates for their rights and that of the larger immigrant community. In these past few months I have dedicated my free time to educate the public about the reality and the struggle of America’s adoptive children.

I am deeply grateful that the education I’ve received has opened many doors for me. And if someday I make my way to the halls of law school, I hope to be able to fulfill my own promise – to uphold the example of strong work ethics and undying perseverance that my parents have instilled in me. Furthermore, I remain determined to be what a friend once called me, “the walking American Dream.” My name is Lizbeth, and I am undocumented.