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We were both headed to Bogot from JFK in a massive, empty airplane. No older than 10 years old, the boy sitting across the aisle from me was flying alone, proudly clutching his American passport in one hand while he gripped an iPhone in the other. Together, we flew over oceans, seas, and borders. I didnt know if he was coming home or leaving; all I knew was that he was able to look forward and backward. Its a subtle point that often gets lost in the tumultuous political debate these days: Undocumented immigrants dont get to look back. The American dream is a one-way ticket that offers captivity in the land that always promised mobility.

This little boy reminded me of myself. As the daughter of separated parents who lived lives separated by the Atlantic Ocean, I spent my entire childhood ping-ponging between Miami and Madrid. Even though I wouldnt see my dad for months, I always knew I could eventually come back to the United States for Christmas or spring break. Likewise, I knew my mom would be waiting for me at Madrids Barajas Airport upon my return. I remember there being nothing more soothing than hearing the flight attendant announcing our descent; the ability to returnto a loved one or a meaningful placeis one of the most comforting feelings we experience. On that international flight towards Bogot, it dawned on me: When was the last time an undocumented immigrant felt that?

I know. It seems like such an ordinary, superfluous questionespecially during such trying timesbut thats exactly the point: Weve deprived immigrants of the gift of being ordinary, the most human trait.

I actually recently asked Javier, an old family friend, that question while we were in the car in California. At this point, hes been in the United States for so long that he goes by Jimmy. Jimmy fled the poverty and violence of Guatemalas western highlands more than 30 years ago, at the age of 16. Hes almost 50 now, has two U.S.-born children, and is a proud Uber driver in Los Angeles. With his eyes set on the highway ahead of us, Jimmy unexpectedly cracked when his mind traveled back to Guatemala, where he left his mother, Dominga, behind. As he talked, his voice suddenly felt younger. The idea was always to come back and see her, to hug her, he tells me, but unfortunately, it didnt happen. After all these years, Jimmy is still undocumentedgoing back means possibly never being able to reenter the United States. My children are here. I dont want to abandon them the same way I abandoned my parents.

Read more from the original source:
What We Shouldnt Forget About Immigration Reform - Vogue