Langston Hughes once questioned what happens to dreams that are never realized in his moving poem "Harlem," which went on to inspire the plot of "A Raisin in the Sun." Written in 1951 while watching his fellow African Americans struggle to achieve the American Dream under the weight of segregation, the poet's musings on whether delayed dreams dry up in the sun, fester or explode is especially poignant as "dreamers" of another kind face equal uncertainty.
Earlier this month, United States Attorney General Jeff Sessions announced the Trump administration was rescinding the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program.
For many undocumented immigrants protected under the DACA program, the news came as a blow — but not a complete shock.
"You get used to the fickle nature of a faceless bureaucracy," said Eastern Kentucky University student and DACA recipient Omar Salinas-Chacón with a shrug of his shoulders. "Your fate is literally in the hands of people who had trouble passing the Harvey relief bill and are notorious for saying one thing and doing another."
This week, Democratic leaders Sen. Chuck Schumer and Rep. Nancy Pelosi as well as President Donald Trump announced they were working toward a deal on DACA which may include a pathway to citizenship in exchange for a proposed border wall with Mexico.
As policies and sympathies waver in Washington D.C., one thing Salinas-Chacón knows for certain — dreamers like him are not content to "dry up in the sun" as in Hughes' famous poem.
Instead, dreamers and their allies around the country have taken to the streets and state capitals in protest while also making their presence known to their local representatives.
On Friday, Salinas-Chacón was in Frankfort meeting with lawmakers and telling his side of the story.
DREAM ON
Before Salinas-Chacón was involved in what he jokingly refers to as his "abusive relationship" with his adopted home, the 21-year-old political science major had a very different life.
According to Salinas-Chacón, his family were once prominent business owners and quite wealthy in his home country of El Salvador in Central America.
The immigrant said his family was originally torn apart by the Salvodoran Civil Wars which ravaged the country from 1979 to 1992. Salinas-Chacón said many members of his family fled the country and applied for asylum in whatever country they could find. The 21-year-old has family spread across the globe in the U.S. and Austrailia, among other locations.
After peace was finally brokered, Salinas-Chacón said his family was able to buy up land and start their own small businesses to help rebuild their community.
However, as his family's wealth and influence grew, they and their businesses became targets for the country's vicious gangs.
The country is considered the epicenter of the gang crisis, along with Guatemala and Honduras, and human rights organizations such as Amnesty International have continued to draw attention to the country's gang crisis and failure of law enforcement to investigate and prosecute crimes. While the smallest country in Central America, El Salvador also has one of the highest murder rates in the world.
Salinas-Chacón said the attacks on his family became so frequent that his parents hired staff who could also serve as protection for himself and his brother.
The 21-year-old said violence was an everyday occurrence for his family, culminating in the kidnapping of his grandfather and father.
"They were kidnapped by gang members and held for ransom," Salinas-Chacón said of the incident. "My parents were worried they would one day come after my brother and myself."
Salinas-Chacón said his family's wealth was quickly drained as the family were forced to pay out ransoms and repair their businesses and homes that were vandalized and destroyed by gangs.
"My parents didn't see a future in El Salvador, especially for us," Salinas-Chacón said of his parents' decision to come to America. "It was too dangerous and we had to leave."
Salinas-Chacón had relatives in Tennessee who later became naturalized citizens who had escaped to the United States during the Salvadoran Civil War. His parents hoped to make it to the country and, with help from family, start over without fear.
However, Salinas-Chacón said when his family pleaded with the American embassy for asylum, they were turned away because they did not meet the stringent requirements.
"We were not being persecuted by the government, or for our race or religion. So they would not grant us entrance. We were being targeted and could be killed, but because we didn't easily fit in a defined category, we were denied," Salinas-Chacón said.
One thing his family did have, Salinas-Chacón said with a laugh, was good credit.
"We didn't have a lot of money anymore, but we did have good credit. The United States will only grant tourist visas to people who have a good credit standing, so my parents told them we were going to Disney World for vacation," Salinas-Chacón said.
Ironically, the place where dreams come true.
"My favorite part about this story though, is that, to this day — I still haven't been to Disney World," Salinas-Chacón said with a grin. "I've never been to Florida."
Instead, his family settled in Nashville after flying into the United States.
Salinas-Chacón said his family was lucky to come over before the attacks of 9/11 when security at airports became more stringent and luggage more carefully scanned.
"We packed our suitcases with whatever we could," Salinas-Chacón said of his family preparations. "I remember being 5 years old and the little backpack I was carrying was full of our plates and silverware. We knew we wouldn't have anything here, so we took what we could. I can't imagine what someone would've said to us now, if they had seen a bunch of silverware in a child's backpack."
Later that year, Salinas-Chacón started kindergarten and his family stayed long after their tourist visas had expired.
But it wasn't easy.
"You remember that movie 'V for Vendetta?' In that movie the government just take people and they disappear and you have no clue why or what happened to them. That wasn't a fantasy for me — that was my reality," Salinas-Chacón said.
The 21-year-old said it was not uncommon for him to arrive at school and see one of his classmate's desks empty or for neighbors to suddenly never appear again.
"Someone would tell me, 'Oh, they got deported. They are gone, we will never see them again,'" Salinas-Chacón said. "My uncle was one of them."
In Nashville, Salinas-Chacón said he lived in a neighborhood consisting of a vast network of undocumented immigrants from various countries who lived and worked together despite language barriers and cultural differences.
"After 9/1, the crackdowns got really bad," Salinas-Chacón said. "They would raid entire neighborhoods or set up roadblocks just outside the entrance under the premise they were checking for driver's licenses. So we banded together for survival."
SWEET DREAMS ARE MADE OF THESE
Like other undocumented immigrants, Salinas-Chacón's family were trying to survive in the shadows in an unknown country and were unable to ask for help.
"It's a myth that undocumented immigrants immediately get welfare," Salinas-Chacón said. "You have to be a legal permanent resident and have a green card to receive any federal or state benefits, in most cases. Even then, green card holders have to wait five years before they can get any benefits."
Many of the stringent requirements for lawful permanent residence status were due to an overhaul of immigration law under the Clinton administration, Salinas-Chacón explained, which sought to eliminate "enticing" benefits for immigrants.
The United States has some of the strictest immigration policies among developed nations.
Most people immigrate to the United States through family ties with current citizens or through marriage.
But the wait times are long, even for relatives.
As of May 2016, for most countries, unmarried children of US. citizens must wait more than five years and siblings of U.S. citizens must wait more than 10 years. People from countries with high levels of immigration to the United States, such as Mexico, China, India and the Phillippines — generally have longer waiting times.
Even if granted a green card, immigrants must remain in the United States for a minimum of five years — three years if the green card was granted through a marriage with a U.S. citizen — before they can apply to become a naturalized citizen.
For undocumented immigrants, a path to citizenship is almost impossible under current immigration law.
"You can't become a citizen unless you've obtained LPR," Salinas Chacón explained. "You can only get that if you apply through an embassy and to do that, you have to leave the country and if you leave the country you are barred."
The U.S. bars any non-citizen who leaves the U.S. after more than 180 days of unlawful presence for three years. If the noncitizen departs after more than a year, the restriction increases to 10 years.
Many undocumented immigrants remain in the U.S. rather than risk being stuck in their country of origin, which for people like Salinas Chacón is a foreign land.
"I was raised here, this is my home," Salinas Chacón said. "Yes, I enjoy my tacos, but I also love my sweet tea and Ale-8. When I've traveled in northern states, I've had people tease me about my southern accent. I am very much an American."
DREAM A LITTLE DREAM
While raised an American, before the Obama administration began DACA in 2012, Salinas Chacón said he had very few avenues to achieve the American dream.
"I couldn't even get a driver's license," Salinas Chacón said.
President Barack Obama's executive order has since granted more than 787,580 people a chance to chase their dreams, according to the latest government figures.
Under DACA, "dreamers" were able to apply to defer deportation and legally reside in the U.S. for two years at a time. After that, they could apply for renewals to remain in the program.
The term dreamers and the DACA program came on the heels of the proposed DREAM Act, which offered legal status to undocumented immigrants in return for attending college or joining the military. It was first introduced in 2001, but was never passed. The latest version also was voted down in the Senate in December 2010.
The program grants dreamers the ability to legally secure employment, enroll in college and receive driver's licenses.
However, the program did not include a path to become U.S. citizens or even legal permanent residents, something immigrant rights advocates have criticized, claiming it left people in limbo.
In order to be eligible for the program, DACA applicants had to provide evidence they were living in the United States at the prescribed times, proof of education and confirmation of their identities. They also had to pass background, fingerprint and other checks that look at identifying biological features.
"We are very carefully vetted," Salinas-Chacón said of the process. "And it is done each time we reapply. Another background check, another fingerprinting and I have to list all of my previous addresses."
The hardest part in applying for DACA, Salinas-Chacón said, was having to prove to the government you were in the United State every month since 2012.
"For those of us that were in school, at the time, it was a little easier because of attendance records, but for others it is hard trying to find all the documents to prove you were here. Even for me, the school year was easy, but the summer months were very difficult to prove," Salinas-Chacón explained. "We looked through everything we could — doctors appointments, anything that would prove I was here."
The fee to request deferred action for childhood arrivals, including employment authorization and biometric services, is $495 and must be paid each time an undocumented immigrant reapplies for DACA. Salinas-Chacón said there are no fee waivers granted, and he estimated that he has paid approximately $1,400 to the Department of Homeland Security.
Remaining in the program can also be difficult, as applications for renewal can be denied for any reason.
"I've known people who were denied because they received a DUI," Salinas-Chacón said. "So when people call us criminals or say that we are dangerous, it is completely untrue. We have to stay out of trouble; we have to walk a very thin line."
That's why the cancellation rate for DACA recipients is relatively low.
About 1,500 people have had their deferral canceled due to gang-related activity or admission, according to Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
That's less than .2% of the total number of people accepted into the program.
Another myth about dreamers, Salinas-Chacón said, is the belief among some that they do not pay taxes or they receive free tuition.
Under DACA, undocumented immigrant students are ineligible for federal financial aid, grants, or loans through the FAFSA form.
They also cannot receive benefits like food stamps, welfare or social security.
"I pay into the programs like social security, that I will never be able to use," Salinas-Chacón said.
One report from the Kentucky Center for Economic Policy (KCEP) estimated that the 6,000 young undocumented immigrants in Kentucky participating in DACA pay more than $9 million in state and local taxes.
The Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy (ITEP) revealed dreamers pay an effective state and local tax rate of 9.1 percent of their income.
That's higher than the wealthiest 1 percent in Kentucky who pay just six percent.
ITEP puts the total amount of taxes undocumented immigrants of all ages contribute to Kentucky in state and local taxes at $36 million annually.
But for dreamers, DACA is more about being able to live outside the shadows than numbers.
Osvaldo Flores, Berea College's student body president and one of the college's first DACA students, said DACA allowed him to come out of hiding.
"Before I graduated high school in 2012, I was told that could not attend any college or university because I lacked an infamous 9-digit number," Flores said during his first convocation at Berea College. "I came to a point in my life where being third in my graduation class and everything I worked for was lost in the turmoil of politics and injustice. As I saw every single one of my friends go off to college, I desperately attempted to hide from the public humiliation of not attending college. This fear isolated me and created a hole which eventually became too big for me to crawl out of. "
Flores, who was born in Mexico but lived in Georgia from the age of 3, said the United States was the only home he had ever known, but one that would not accept him.
"This is the country I was raised to love and uphold as my home. I chose to pledge allegiance to this country because it is home," Flores said.
Flores said being undocumented was a struggle and he spent countless hours organizing, participating in hunger strikes, protesting and applying to colleges every year for a chance to chase his dream.
When he came to Berea College under DACA, Flores said he finally found a place where he could be himself.
"Something gave me the courage to reveal myself to others," Flores said. "Telling people for the first time I was openly gay and undocumented was nerve-wracking."
However, Flores said his fears subsided when some of his classmates followed up to ask questions and he found support within the campus community.
"Berea College is a place of appreciation, acceptance and love. My existence and my voice became my resistance. I never told the story about where I come from, not even in high school. Now, everywhere I go, at work, or at the convocation where I spoke, I tell my story. That is how you educate people about who you are and thaat is how you start giving your trust out to people because you are telling them things yo wouldn't tell them in person."
A HEAVY LOAD
The Trump administration said earlier this month that it will give Congress a six-month window to act before any currently protected individuals lose their ability to work, study and live in the U.S. without fear of deportation.
Nearly 300,000 people could begin to lose their status and be at risk for deportation in 2018. And more than 320,000 would lose their status from January to August 2019.
For students like Salinas-Chacón and Flores, the waiting game is one filled with nerves and preparation — their dreams becoming the "heavy load" of Hughes' poem.
The students are sharing their stories and organizing, while also preparing for the worst.
"I have friends that are already looking into how to apply for Canadian citizenship," Salinas-Chacón said. "That's the shame about this whole thing. I fear the United States will have a 'brain chain,' which you usually hear about happening to undeveloped countries."
Salinas-Chacón pointed out that many DACA participants are pursuing degrees in fields like medicine, technology and engineering, which the U.S. is in need of to fill jobs.
"These people will take their skills elsewhere if something doesn't change," Salinas-Chacón said.
However, the immigrant did admit he isn't hopeful a solution will be forthcoming.
"DACA was an executive order, not a law, it only grants us temporary protection. The program itself is fickle. If we leave it doesn't guarantee that we can return. It has happened before. The president can end the program at anytime. I just hope we can convince our lawmakers to act," Salinas-Chacón said.
However, Kentucky lawmakers have expressed their displeasure with the DACA program, many calling it an overreach of power by the Obama administration.
“DACA is an unconstitutional overreach that failed to meaningfully or permanently address the status of undocumented child immigrants," Congressman Andy Barr said in a statement to The Register. "This problem is a direct result of our broken immigration system and the failure to secure our borders. The president is right to rescind this program while giving congress and the administration time to find a permanent, legal, and fair resolution for these children who were brought into this country involuntarily and at no fault of their own. Having recently spoken at an inspiring naturalization ceremony in Lexington, I believe we should show our compassion for these children in a way that does not dishonor the millions of new citizens who immigrated to this country through lawful means."
In the past, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell has expressed sympathy for the dreamers, but in statements McConnell called the DACA program a "mistake" made by President Obama.
“President Obama wrongly believed he had the authority to re-write our immigration law. Today’s action by President Trump corrects that fundamental mistake," McConnell said. “This Congress will continue working on securing our border and ensuring a lawful system of immigration that works.”
Earlier this week, after a call from President Trump, McConnell released this statement:
“As Congress debates the best ways to address illegal immigration through strong border security and interior enforcement, DACA should be part of those discussions. We look forward to receiving the Trump administration’s legislative proposal as we continue our work on these issues.”
In a statement to The Register, Senator Rand Paul, R-KY, said the executive order creating the DACA program was illegal, but acknowledged dreamers should have a way to remain in this country.
"President Obama's executive order was illegal. However, this is a real problem we should solve in a bipartisan fashion. There are ways to make sure people who have been here for many years since childhood are allowed to stay. We should include efforts to reduce and reform immigration in other areas at the same time. Congress will need to address this problem."
HUMANITY ISN’T ILLEGAL
As politicians continue to debate the legality of executive orders, Salinas-Chacón said he is working to change the public's mind about the legality of human beings.
"No human is illegal," Salinas-Chacón said matter-of-factly. "The terms illegal alien, illegal immigrant are just horrible. A human being can't be illegal."
The 21-year-old said he hopes his story will inspire others to remember that immigrants, undocumented or not, are still people.
"People have forgotten that we are human — that there are people behind those numbers," Salinas-Chacón said.
The EKU student said one of his greatest fears is that Congress will require dreamers to exchange their undocumented family members for legal status.
"I hope it doesn't come to that," Salinas-Chacón said. "You hear all sorts of things, and people who believe a crime has been committed want someone to be punished. I will not, and many others will not, give up our parents in exchange for our freedom."
Salinas-Chacón said he often asks people, who tell them his parents should be punished, what they would do in his situation.
"When your family is starving and you're afraid for their lives and your children don't have a future. You do anything, including an illegal thing, for survival. The alternative is to try and live and pray to God you won't get killed. I would've done the same thing. It was the right thing to do and I think others would've done the same for their families," Salinas-Chacón said.
The immigrant pointed out that all it takes is a little pushback to remind people of the right thing to do and to dislodge them of their reliance on labels.
"For decades we created laws that were terrible," Salinas-Chacón said. "Not too long ago it was legal for a person to own another human being in this country. Just because something is legal or illegal now doesn't make it right. We need to look past that and move forward."
In his Berea College opening convocation remarks this year, Flores noted how he will become the college's first DACA cohort to graduate this spring.
"It's another first for the college and another layer to my story," Flores said. "Life isn't just black and white. I wouldn't be here today if people didn't give me the opportunity to share my story."
Flores noted how unity can transform a story and how people often band together for good.
"We cannot afford to be divided, we can and must do better," Flores said.
Salinas-Chacón said despite the outcome, he continues to hold fast to his dreams — making time to continue to fight for immigration reform while studying for his law school admission test (LSAT). He said he hopes to obtain his juris doctorate and provide legal council for low-income families one day.
"I'm not going to give up," Salinas-Chacón said. "I am a human being and I have a goal and a lot to offer. I hope that people can look past the rhetoric and see us as humans."
For now, the dream remains deferred.
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