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[ Music ]
>> My name is Kerry Fuso [phonetic].
I'm the coordinator [inaudible] speakers
who are doing a [inaudible] work
with homeless shelters [inaudible], as well as work
with [inaudible] in [inaudible] education.
One of the projects that I'm really proud to be part of is
that we [inaudible] centers taking out the [inaudible]
to create something called the Safe Zones.
The Safe Zones project is a project to educate faculty
and staff around issues [inaudible] and LGBTQ students.
A lot of times students who are [inaudible] who do not fit in,
who sometimes they need a friend, are looking for support,
and the Safe Zones project seeks to find and create a campus
where all members of our community,
regardless of socioeconomic status,
regardless of religious status,
regardless of your *** orientation,
regardless of your own race, gender, whatever,
that you have a safe place to be,
and supportive people [inaudible].
So I'm really happy to say
that we're starting our Safe Zones projects,
tomorrow is our first Safe Zone meeting.
If you're a faculty member or a staff member in the audience
and would like to participate, it is still possible to sign up.
Once you go through Safe Zone training, you'll get --
you will become [inaudible] power,
and you'll have an ally [phonetic] sticker
which you can then display on your office.
That's letting students know that this is a safe place
that they can go to discuss and get help.
So if you're interested in Safe Zones,
please see [inaudible] back table [inaudible] signed up.
If you can [inaudible] tomorrow [inaudible].
So the conference staff [inaudible] let me know.
A couple of announcements I'd like to make.
We have copies of Emily's book,
it's available [inaudible] bookstore, that's [inaudible].
So she will be available to sign a few books afterwards,
if you're interested, it's 24 dollars.
[Inaudible].
I'd like to thank a lot of people.
Something like a conference
of this size does not happen on its own.
Some of you may just be here for the keynote,
but really what happens afterwards is
that there will be three more panels
as students present papers, all around the issues
of their research and [inaudible].
A lot [inaudible].
The first person is [inaudible] who's all the way back there.
[Inaudible].
[ Applause ]
[Inaudible] prepare [inaudible] for all of us.
Marjorie Smith [inaudible] here?
>> Yeah.
>> Hey [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
And [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
We'd also like to thank [inaudible] generous support
of the [inaudible] campus [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
And Doctor Scott Bayer, he's the lead of student [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
>> [Inaudible] who also really helped put this together.
It's my [inaudible] volunteers
of [inaudible] agents, volunteers?
There they are, way in the back.
[ Applause ]
Those folks [inaudible] who are here helping us put this on,
because obviously it's a big endeavor,
so we really do thank and appreciate that.
So, without further ado what I'd like to do is I'd
like to introduce you to Ms. Silvia [inaudible].
She's a professor at the [inaudible] department,
and she also teaches Chicano and Chicano studies.
[ Applause ]
>> Good afternoon.
If you still need a seat, there are still some seats up here
in the front, if you can make your way forward.
And I also would like to ask everybody
to please silence their cell phone,
because [inaudible] are really, really, really excellent topic,
and I'm sure you don't want to [inaudible] by a cell phone.
So please, out of respect to the [inaudible] committee here,
please silence your phones.
And it really is a great honor to me
to introduce our keynote speaker.
I've known her now for a couple of years, and was first exposed
to her book in a class I was taking
at [inaudible] LA in 2009.
And when I asked her to come and speak to my classes,
she graciously -- very, very graciously accepted.
And I was hooked on Evelyn ever since.
So I'm just wanting to give you a little bit
of background on Evelyn.
She is the author of December Sky -
Beyond My Undocumented Life.
It's the true story of her experience
as a Central American child transplanted
to suburban Los Angeles, among the 1 million who took part
in the Salvadorian [inaudible] of the 1980s.
Her story accounts of her [inaudible] trip through Mexico
to free a civil war, and her years as an undocumented student
with American ideals,
who realized her vision of a college degree.
December Sky is one of the thousands
of unspoken success stories made possible by the Amnesty Act
of 1986, which allowed so many
to reach far beyond their underground life
as undocumented immigrants.
And as the posters here can attest, this is --
Evelyn's story is one of millions.
[Inaudible] earned a bachelor of science degree
in civil engineering at UCLA in 1992.
She is a proud US citizen, and practices engineering right here
in southern California, where she lives
with her husband and daughter.
So please help me welcome Evelyn Cortez.
[ Applause ]
[ Silence ]
>> Evelyn Cortez: Thank you everybody.
I'm -- I'm overwhelmed by the amazing effort that gets put
into this conference, so I want to start by thanking everyone
who was involved with it, who invited me
to participate in this.
And I have some things that I'd like to say.
The United States of America is a nation of immigrants.
To paraphrase President John F. Kennedy,
most Americans are either immigrants,
or descendants of immigrants.
The contributions of immigrants purvey every aspect
of American life, whether or not we choose to recognize them.
I'm honored to be here today to share my personal experience
as an immigrant to this country.
For those of you listening today who are immigrants yourselves,
some of what I have to say may have a familiar ring to it.
For those of you who are not immigrants,
whether you are first generation
or fortieth generation American-born citizens,
my hope is that my remarks will lend some insight
into at least one experience, and one very humble,
but very biased opinion among the estimated 12 million
undocumented immigrants living and working
in the United States today.
I stand here today as a proud citizen of the United States,
and as a former undocumented immigrant.
I'm also a wife, a working mother.
I'm a taxpayer, an advocate for the environment,
a college graduate, a civil engineer, a public servant,
and an aspiring writer.
I'm an independent voter, and I participate in every election --
local, state, and federal.
I am a walking paradox.
I'm not a criminal, or a job-stealing unskilled worker,
or a terrorist, or a tax dollar thief, or any other character
of the undocumented immigrant fed to us
by the mainstream media.
According to those blatant stereotypes, I should not,
cannot, and do not exist.
And yet, here I am with all of you at Pasadena City College,
trying to bridge the gap between living the life I once lived
as an undocumented immigrant -- that underground life,
to being understood, accepted, and recognized
as a contributor to society.
To be understood, not as an anomaly, and not as an exception
to the rule, but as a demonstration of the potential
that can be reached when an opportunity is afforded
and realized.
So how do we bridge that gap, particularly in the midst
of the xenophobic rhetoric and relentless scapegoating
that is inevitably triggered by election year politics?
Well, I can only shed light on this
from my personal point of view.
I'm not a professor, I'm not a social scientist,
or a political pundint [phonetic].
I'm simply an ordinary person,
who was granted an extraordinary opportunity
to live the American dream.
I speak to you on the authority of my personal experience alone.
Based on that experience, I will suggest to you one possible step
for all of us, citizens or not, to help immigrants in general,
and undocumented immigrants in particular,
to go from underground to understood.
Find your voice, and use that voice
to share our common ground.
[ Foreign ]
Sorry, I had to slip that in.
No matter what situation or struggle you may face each day,
as a first generation college student, as a working parent,
as a person of color, as a gay man, as a job seeker,
as an English learner, as an immigrant, as a liberal
or as a conservative, as a human being, you are not alone.
No matter -- no matter what struggle it is, there are others
who can form your voice with you.
Finding our voice,
and acknowledging the common ground we share with the rest
of the world is the first step to being understood.
In order to project the voice that truly speaks to others,
and demands understanding, we need to recognize it,
and embrace every part of who we are.
I think we can all agree that we have
to really understand ourselves before we can expect
to be understood by anyone else.
The job of redefining the commonly accepted misperceptions
about who immigrants are,
in particular undocumented immigrants, is a tall order.
Until we're able to find that voice,
and articulate the fundamental values, qualities, joys,
and everyday struggles of immigrants as human beings,
I believe that immigrants will continue to be seen
as the others, the aliens,
and the gap in understanding will remain.
The journey to find that voice can be a tricky one,
I won't lie.
I have known firsthand how it feels to live without a voice,
my life ruled by silence and fear.
When I was 12 years old, my parents, my sisters,
and I fled El Salvador to escape a civil war
and economic despair.
Like hundreds of thousands of other Salvadorian families,
my parents faced the heart wrenching choice, do we stay
and face the danger of the civil war that had taken a hold
of the place we lived?
Or do we leave our entire lives behind,
and start over in America, with less than nothing?
Even with the prospect of a life underground,
living in the United States offered a glimmer of hope
for a better future, away from the violence.
We did not have visas to come to the US,
but that did not distract from the urgency of my parents' need
to keep my sisters and me safe.
We had a glimpse before our move of what might lay ahead for us.
See, when I was 4 years old, my mother moved
to the United States for work, and spent the next 8 years
of my life working in the United States for years at a time.
She made three different trips between 1974 and 1981,
sending us money to help my family stay afloat.
My mother worked as an undocumented housekeeper
and nanny for years, caring for other people's children,
while her own were thousands of miles away.
As a working mother myself now, I find myself just a few miles
from my own daughter, just for a few hours every day.
Knowing what I know now,
my mother's sacrifice is my involvement, even today.
She separated herself from my sisters and me
so that she could help provide a better chance for us.
Through all those years, we had seen the United States,
and its endless promise, through her eyes, through her letters,
through her heart, and the occasional phone call.
So the choice was clear.
And when my mother traveled back to the US
in 1981, we came with her.
Finding my own voice was a long and complicated process.
It took a long time for me
to finally embrace every part of who I am.
Once here in the US, our new lives depended
on maintaining absolute silence about our immigration status.
My sisters and I lived under the strictest orders not
to disclose our situation to anyone,
not even the closest of our friends.
I enrolled in the seventh grade -- middle school --
in the San Fernando Valley,
without knowing a word of English.
And so the silence began.
In class it was actually very easy
to just blend in the background.
One of my eighth grade teachers though --
Mister Charles Gerardy [phonetic],
I will never forget him --
was the first person ever to challenge me to get used
to the sound of my voice.
He taught English as a second language
at Christopher Columbus Junior High School in Canoga Park.
My unsure teenage voice, with the heaviest of Spanish accents,
lacked the confidence I used to have
as a star student growing up in El Salvador.
I had no desire to raise my hand, or participate in any way.
But that Gerardy, he didn't let me off the hook.
He called on all his students, often made us stand up to speak,
and praising us at every possible opportunity
when we did share our thoughts.
Building our confidence was as much a part of his curriculum
as vocabulary tests and reading practice.
I caught a glimpse of a possible future when the students
and the mainstream English classes would no longer mock my
accent, or laugh when I made a mistake,
and eventually the laughter did stop.
So wherever you are Mister Gerardy,
thank you, thank you, thank you.
I remained an undocumented student when I was accepted
to UCLA, the only college campus to which I applied in 1987.
At that time, there were no support networks
for students like me.
Living underground, living a secret life was simply a fact
of life for me.
Concentrating on my academic courses was difficult.
My reality was limited by the ever present fear
that anyone could take away my dream with a single call
to immigration authorities.
While my classmates focused on our engineering assignments,
I worried whether the next financial aid counselor I met
with, with access to my personal information, would report me,
and by default my entire family, to immigration.
While my fellow UCLA Bruins pledged sororities,
and enjoyed intramural sports, I attended clandestine meetings,
where counselors and fellow students attempted
to share information about our new situation
as underground undergrads.
As my friends splurged on basketball tickets
and the latest fashions and gadgets, I stretched every penny
of my financial aid checks, with the hope that I would never have
to go to my parents and ask them
for money I knew they couldn't spare.
The summer after my freshman year at UCLA, I got worried
that the grants and scholarships
in my financial aid package would be significantly reduced
for my second year, and replaced with loans.
So financial pressure continued
to be an everyday companion until I graduated.
I could have found a million excuses to goof off,
a million distractions to take me away
from my focus and the job at hand.
But I knew I had a job to do.
I was the first person to attend college in my entire family.
I couldn't squander that extraordinary opportunity
that I had been afforded, and I was determined
to excel, no matter what.
I would eventually -- eventually find my voice
through the Immigration Reform
and Control Act of 1986 of amnesty.
This law was made possible by the work
of countless people whom I will never meet,
and signed by President Ronald Reagan.
Two years into my stay at UCLA, my family was granted amnesty,
along with 3 million other people.
We got our permanent residence, our green cards, our papers.
I had found the voice I needed.
I was determined to speak for those
who could not speak for themselves.
So, much to some of my relatives' dismay,
I marched on campus, I spoke at rallies,
I wrote to the Daily Bruin, anything to shed light
on a topic that in the early 1990s no one wanted to discuss.
At the time I attended UCLA, I had no idea there was a law
that made it possible for me
to receive the financial assistance I
so desperately needed.
Later I found out the law was a 1985 Leticia A decision,
which allowed students who had resided in California
for one year to pay [inaudible] tuition fees,
and make them eligible to receive state
and federal financial aid.
This law was enacted just a couple
of years before my arrival at UCLA, and it was overturned
in 1992, the year I graduated.
This Leticia A window of opportunity bearing down,
and I was not even aware that it existed.
But I would never have been able to take advantage
of that opportunity, and put it to good use
if I had not prepared myself academically in high school,
before I knew the opportunity would be there for me.
This narrow window would have been useless if the teachers
who saw potential in me had not insisted
that I pursue my education to the fullest extent possible.
This narrow window would have been missed
if my parents had not been willing to risk deportation
through the ordinary decision to file a college application --
an application that would tell the state of California exactly
who we were, exactly where my parents worked,
exactly where we all lived --
everything we had been working to hide for so long.
But it was a risk well worth taking.
Even with the opportunity to attend college though,
my future would have still been in limbo without the path
to legalization and citizenship
that was opened by the 1986 amnesty.
I am proud to say I have been a working professional
since my graduation from UCLA nearly 20 years ago.
Access to higher education has increased my contributions
to the economy by significantly increasing both my earning
potential and my direct contributions through state
and federal income taxes, and since becoming a home owner,
property taxes as well.
Since graduating with my bachelor of science degree
in civil engineering, I have repaid every cent invested
in my higher education over six times
through income taxes alone.
[ Applause ]
Trust me, I'm an engineer, I checked that math.
I am living proof that investing in the education of youth,
regardless of immigration status, makes financial sense
for our state and for our country.
I mentioned that the Leticia A window
of opportunity closed shortly after I graduated from UCLA.
For 10 years after that, the possibilities to attend college
for many promising bright students was essentially
out of reach.
California's Assembly Bill 540 passed in 2002,
and restored some of this access by allowing in-state tuition
for California residents without required immigration status.
But AP540 did not offer financial assistance.
More recently, Assembly Bills 130 and 131,
known as the California Dream Act, have once again made access
to higher education more financially feasible
for highly motivated immigrant youth who were brought here
as children, and for whom many, many faces,
this is the only country they have ever known.
As we head into a Presidential election this year,
you'll be sure to hear more about Dream Act,
so I thought I might give you a heads up today
in case you have not heard about it yet.
The Federal Dream Act -- the development, relief,
and education of alien minor's dream, would offer a path
to citizenship for undocumented immigrants who were brought
to the US before age 16, who attend college or serve
in the military, and are of good moral character --
in other words we don't have a criminal record.
The Federal Dream Act has been introduced and defeated
in Congress several times over the last few years.
As the immigration debate heats up over the airways,
it's likely that this topic will come --
come up again, and the one question I hope gets answered is
this, how do we tap into this highly motivated group
of bright young people, who might include some
of our future doctors, engineers, and entrepreneurs?
Years after graduating UCLA, I decided to write
and publish my family's immigration story.
In writing my story, my hope was that we would not forget
where we began, and why we're here in the first place.
The name of my book is December Sky,
Beyond My Undocumented Life.
I believe some of you may have read it.
I completed my first project one lone paragraph at a time,
over the course of about 10 years.
At first I launched my book project as amnesia insurance,
to ensure I didn't forget the details of my family's story,
'cause I sure was starting to forget.
At that time, my hope was that my young nephews, nieces,
and cousins, and my own unborn children some day might have
access to our family history, without needing
to know what questions to ask, or without relying
on the fading memories of the older generation.
As a young adult at the time,
that might have been the first time I realized I was part
of that older generation, and I had responsibility to remember.
Never did I dream that others might be interested
in my family's experiences, or that the elusive voice
that it took me years to find would be one with which
so many could identify.
I've spoken with students from China, from the Philippines,
from Armenia, from Africa, from El Salvador, once, twice,
three times removed from the immigration experience at times,
and they could connect with what I had to say,
and that is overwhelming to me, and that speaks to the power
of sharing one's story, finding that voice.
And since I'm being frank, I might as well tell you,
never did my parents or my family members anticipate
that I would so willingly and so publicly want
to share our very private challenges and struggles.
So I'm grateful that they allowed me the freedom to do so.
Some of them are here today, so I hope I lended justice
to our family's story.
Before I could search for my voice, I had to start
by finally giving my mother hers.
She had tried for years to tell me all that she experienced
over the years, but I wasn't ready to hear it.
It went in one ear and out the other, you know?
All stories that our parents tell us when we're little.
But once I was ready, I sat with my mother for hours on end,
interview after interview over the course of about six months.
This was done the old-fashioned way, in person and with pen
and paper, long before iPads and Skype.
All we needed was time and patience,
to wade through all my unanswered questions
about my parents' motivations,
about my mother's own underground experience,
about the details of her life here when she was alone,
about her bouts with discrimination, and the pain
of her separation from her daughters
and her husband for years at a time.
I was able to capture some of the details
of my mother's journey in my book.
She was only 27 years old when she came
to the US for the first time.
I was only 4.
When we traveled together across [inaudible]
of Mexico during nine fateful days in December of 1981
that brought us to California, she was only 35 years old.
As a woman traveling with four young girls, ages 10 to 18,
without papers, in two countries and three borders,
the risks were unimaginable.
Some people who have read my book have commented
that my mother comes across as an extraordinary person.
When I hear this, I truly feel like I did my job as a writer.
My family's story, it's not unique.
Mothers and fathers from all over, from Guatemala to Haiti,
to China, to Bangladesh find themselves forced to separate
from their children in order to provide a fighting chance
for them, whether by leaving to find work elsewhere,
or by sending their children away
so they can find a better opportunity.
Many of these children end up raised by grandparents
or extended family, some are even left to their own devices,
often for years at a time.
So this situation creates children
who hardly recognize their own parents' voices,
their own parents' faces.
How many of you are parents [inaudible].
Okay. I presume most of you had or have parents, so you --
many of you can still connect to this.
Can you comprehend the level of desperation
that would be necessary for a parent
to leave their child behind?
Can you imagine how it might feel
to be the child left behind?
If you would indulge me, I'd like to ask you to participate
in a little exercise with me.
You up for it?
>> Yep.
>> Evelyn Cortez: Alright.
I would like for you to imagine --
if you want to close your eyes, do,
but please don't fall asleep.
Imagine, think back and remember yourself at 12 years old.
You were probably only in the seventh grade.
What do you look like?
What stylish clothes are you wearing?
Where do you live, and what school do you go to?
Do you recall the sound of your voice at 12 years old?
Your favorite music, and all the things you though you knew
about life and the world?
Can you see yourself?
Now think about the person closest to you at that time
in your life, the person who supported you the most,
loved you the most, and that you loved the most in return.
Perhaps it was a parent, or a grandparent, or a sibling,
or another relative or friend.
Think of the fondest memory you shared with this person.
Think of how you felt when this person smiled at you.
Do you see?
Now try to imagine your life and how it might have been different
if that person were suddenly thousands
of miles away from you.
Remember, this is you at 12 years old.
At that young age would it comfort you much to know
that this person left so that you could have food
to eat every day?
What would you do, if anything, to be reunited?
What would you be willing to risk to be back at their side?
What sort of motivation and fearlessness would it take
for a young child to set off on a journey of thousands of miles,
and unthinkable dangers, by him or herself, to find the parents
from whom they've been separated?
This happens more often than you would think.
There's a recent documentary that tells the story of several
of these children, traveling alone on their journey
to the United States, looking for their parents.
If you get a chance to see it,
the name of the documentary is Which Way Home.
But I've got to warn you,
even for those hardcore documentary folks, this is going
to be a hard one to watch.
Men, women, and children risk their lives every single day
for a chance to come to the United States.
We hear about people caught crossing the border,
being rounded up by authorities
on the 9:00 news all the time, don't we?
We seldom hear about what these individuals had to go
through to get to the border in the first place.
This journey is long, and treacherous.
Many have little food or money.
They're exposed to corrupt police, crime,
gang violence, and the elements.
For Central American immigrants,
the trip involves multiple border crossings.
Women on this trip are routinely *** and murdered.
The border fences are up.
State after state is passing legislation reminiscent
of Arizona's Senate Bill 1070 that allows police
to demand papers on anyone they suspect might be undocumented.
Anti-immigrant groups line the border armed with rifles
and American flags, and yet despite all
of this, they keep coming.
The people keep coming.
Why? Can you think of any situation so extreme, so dire,
so impossible that it would force you
to risk your life to get away from it?
This must be very difficult to comprehend
until you've lived it.
And yes, people live it every day, and people choose
to escape it every day.
But why would anyone choose this treacherous,
risky path to the US,
rather than applying for legal residence?
Seems like a perfectly logical question.
We hear about the so-called back of the line, particularly
in political debates about immigration reform.
Tell me if you've heard this.
We believe in legal immigration, so everyone should just get
in the back of the line.
I know I've heard [inaudible].
Let's talk about this line.
According to the US Department of State,
families can be separated for over 10 years, many, many,
many of them much longer, because of visa backlogs.
As of November of 2011, there were over 4
and a half million visa applicants
on record whose applications are being sponsored
by family members who are US citizens
or legal residents, or by employers.
There's a maximum number of visas issued each year
to applicants from any one country.
So the line will take many, many, many years to process,
and the backlog will never go away.
So what happens if you happen to be one of those people
who doesn't have a family member who is a US citizen,
or a legal permanent resident,
or if you don't have an employer who's willing to sponsor you?
Well, you could try to get in the back
of the diverse city visa application line.
Approximately 50,000 diversity visas are available each year
from countries with historically lower levels
of immigration to the United States.
A computer-generated random drawing selects recipients
of these coveted diversity visas.
People from countries who have sent more than 50,000 immigrants
to the US over the past five years, however, are not eligible
to apply for the diversity visa program.
So, if you are from -- get this list going --
Bangladesh, Brazil, Canada, Mainland China, Columbia,
the Dominican Republic, Ecuador, El Salvador, Guatemala, Haiti,
Jamaica, Mexico, Pakistan, Peru, the Philippines, South Korea,
the United Kingdom, or Vietnam, you do not get a place in line.
Getting in the back of the line would sound
like a perfectly logical suggestion,
until you realize the limitations placed
on who is allowed to stand in the line in the first place.
According to a study by the Pudis [phonetic] Family Center,
45% of undocumented immigrants
in the US really have entered this country legally,
and they overstay their legal visas.
They never crossed the border fence, or across the desert.
They were never smuggled in.
When you think of the estimated 12 million undocumented
immigrants in the US today, who do you see?
Well, if you subscribe to the stereotype
of the Latino immigrant, the image that comes
to mind is probably quite narrow.
You probably might see a single Latino man
as a dark man climbing the fence, maybe standing
at a corner looking for construction work
as a day laborer, maybe selling oranges at a busy intersection,
mowing lawns, or maybe picking strawberries in a field.
If you happen to imagine a Latino woman,
the stereotype dictates that she must clean houses,
or raise the children of wealthy -- wealthy neighborhoods.
And of course she has to have lots
and lots and lots of babies.
Neither of them speak English, or pay any taxes,
even the sales tax
that everybody knows we all have to pay.
I could go on, but I think you get my gist.
I wonder, is there any room
in that misguided stereotypical image
of the undocumented immigrant
for let's say a young high school valedictorian,
who has been in this country since before she could walk,
who dreams of a college dream?
How do we use our voices
to begin shifting these limiting images, and allow our youth
to achieve their maximum potential?
Everyone finds their voice in their own way.
Not everyone will have a single miracle change their lives
as permanently as amnesty did for my family and me.
Not everyone will choose to reveal their personal stories
as publicly as I have.
But whether or not you're an immigrant yourself, rest assured
that every one of our voices matters
in this public debate about [inaudible].
Perhaps you will find your voice
when you hear a derogatory remark about immigrants
that bothers you, and you'll decide to do something about it.
What do you do when someone in your closest circles uses a term
that you deem offensive?
Do you pause and call them on it?
Do you post the occasional tweet or Facebook message
to express how much it bothered you?
Perhaps when you point out how their words affect you,
at the very least you will find out whether they are aware
of the potential negative impact of their words,
despite their intent,
and ultimately having both discovered the power
of your voice.
Perhaps others yet will find their voice at the voting booth.
In 2011, nearly 700,000 immigrants became naturalized
citizens of the United States.
For those of you who are able to vote, and do,
I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
For those of you who are unable to vote,
I have a message specifically for you.
Your voice should not be limited by whether
or not your citizenship or your age precludes you from voting.
Your lives, your contributions, your struggles,
your voices matter, and you are certainly not alone.
You can call on those of us who are free to speak.
You can write letters to elected officials
to explain why change might be needed.
You can find strength in numbers.
There's some student support groups, like the Dream Network,
or 8540 Students Organization.
You might choose to join the next march,
be it for immigrant rights, or any sort of human right,
or volunteer for a working organization.
Your choice to engage just might inspire someone
who has the power to vote to actually do it.
For those of you who are eligible to vote, and don't,
I have an entirely different message for you.
But I want to remain civil, so maybe I could speak
to you individually afterwards, I'll be in the hall.
In any case, I plead with you.
For everyone who is eligible to vote, please register and vote.
Please find that voice, one way or another, and exercise it.
The process of finding one's voice will be different
for everyone.
It could be subtle.
Most [inaudible] thoughts [inaudible] is
necessarily required.
Perhaps you'll hear a certain story
about an anti-immigrant crime,
and you will be compelled to share it.
Sadly, I hear about them all the time.
Just a few weeks ago, Shaima Aliwardi [phonetic],
a 32-year old Iraqi immigrant and mother of five, was murdered
in their San Diego suburban home,
shaking an entire community.
The note taped to the front door
of their house reportedly said this is my country,
go back to yours, terrorist.
Authorities are treating this as an isolated incident,
but are not ruling it out as a hate crime.
[ Silence ]
I don't know about you, but with a note like that,
I can't imagine any other feeling [inaudible]
that might have inspired it.
In 2009, [inaudible] Flores,
a beautiful 9-year old American citizen, was brutally murdered
in her Arizona home as she pleaded for her life.
She was shot in cold blood by an anti-immigrant vigilante,
who mistakenly believed that [inaudible] family was linked
to the drug dealers in the area.
Did you know about [inaudible]?
Have you heard the name?
Have you ever seen her picture?
Do you think you might have heard her name
if the same horrific crime had been committed
at the hands of a person of color?
Or if the innocent life taken had not been
that of a young Latina?
The PPS program need to know recently aired video footage
of over a dozen US border patrol agents beating
and tazering Anastacio [inaudible],
a 42-year old Mexican immigrant two years ago in May of 2010.
The disturbing footage shows how Anastacio laid in the dirt,
hog-tied and defenseless, begging for his life at the top
of his lungs, as border patrols continued to beat him.
He later died at the hospital from his injuries.
Anastacio had previously entered the United States for 25 years,
and was the father of five US-born citizens.
Two years after his death, the Department of Justice reports
that it's continuing to investigate this incident,
but no charges have ever been brought
against the agents responsible.
Some of us hear about these disturbing stories all the time,
but perhaps more of us need to hear about them
to achieve the level of awareness
that we need for change.
On the other hand, perhaps a story you choose
to share will be an uplifting one,
one of remarkable achievement and hope,
a story that highlights those contributions by immigrants
that I eluded to earlier, perhaps the story
that helps break down some of those stereotypes that are
as persistent as they are damaging.
Have you heard a positive story about an immigrant lately?
Well you're about to.
[Inaudible], a 27-year old undocumented immigrant put
herself through college, and received a bachelor
of science degree in electrical engineering.
As the president of the Arizona Dream Act [inaudible] passed her
citizenship for undocumented immigrants
who like herself was brought to the US as a child.
[Inaudible] was recently selected as one
of Time magazine's 100 most influential people in the world.
Young Chin [phonetic] is the executive director
of ancient immigrant [inaudible],
a worker's rights organization in northern California.
A Korean immigrant, Young earned a law degree
from [inaudible] State's College of Law, and launched a group
to empower Asian immigrant women in California factories
to create healthier working conditions, both in the garment
and the other products industries.
Have you used garments lately?
Or [inaudible].
Then this has to do with you.
Recognized locally and nationally,
Young is using her voice to advocate for the rights
of workers and immigrant women alike.
Doctor Alfredo [inaudible], also known as Doctor Q,
is a 43-year old internationally renowned neurosurgeon,
professor of oncology and neurosurgery
at Johns Hopkins University Medical School.
When he was 19, Doctor Q was picking tomatoes
as an undocumented farm worker in the fields of California.
He attended community college, and transferred to UC Berkeley,
eventually graduating from Harvard Medical School,
where he received his medical degree *** laude.
The same hands that harvested tomatoes are literally saving
the lives of cancer patients today.
Doctor --
[ Applause ]
Thank you.
[ Applause ]
Doctor Q's story -- this brings me back to one
of my earlier points, investing in the education of all youth,
regardless of immigration status,
makes sense for all of us.
When you think of a case like Doctor Q,
I would ask that you ponder this question, what are the drawbacks
of not offering these highly motivated youth a chance
to better themselves, and contribute fully to society?
You might wonder if anyone will care
to listen once you find that voice.
At one point in my life I sure wondered about that.
Turns out folks did want to listen.
Once you find it, I suggest to you
that the most impactful way is to use that voice
to share our common ground.
If you were given an opportunity to write
about personal experience,
perhaps in your English mid-term,
what would you choose to document?
No matter what voice your personal experience will lead
you to, you will find that you are not alone.
Finding your voice and sharing our common ground is the first
step to being understood.
Until we're able to find that voice, and share the very values
that unite us as human beings, I believe that gap
in understanding will continue to exist,
and will inevitably widen.
I am infinitely grateful for this opportunity
to share my story with you, and so my humble
and very biased opinion.
I'd like to take a moment to recognize my mother,
Rosario Cortez, who is here with us today.
[ Applause ]
My sisters, [inaudible] and Daisy are also here.
So thank you, and happy mother's day to both of you as well,
my beautiful niece [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
I would like to leave you --
I would like to leave you with a couple of final thoughts.
In a nation where so many can trace their origin
to immigrants, should it really be necessary to be reminded
that immigrants are human beings first?
Citizens and immigrants alike, we must find that voice
to help us share the everyday struggles and joys of immigrants
as human beings, to remind ourselves
that immigrant rights are human rights,
and that immigrants are not so alien after all.
We find all of those stereotypical misperceptions
about who immigrants are,
particularly undocumented immigrants,
may seem like an insurmountable past, but I got to tell you,
I believe that redefining the immigrant experience,
and being understood absolutely, positively can be done,
even if you have to do it one single enlightened voice
at a time.
So listen, I've spoken for quite a while, shared many thoughts,
many examples, many ideas.
You might still be processing some of that on the way home
on the freeway, so if you remember nothing else
from my remarks this afternoon, please -- please remember this.
Find your voice.
Find your voice.
Find your voice.
In Spanish we would say [foreign].
For those of you that have already found it, maybe you want
to join me on the second part of that.
[Foreign]
[ Applause ]
>> So we're going to have some time now for a Q&A.
So [inaudible] and I will be walking around with microphones,
so if you have a question for Evelyn, just raise your hand
and we'll try to find you.
>> I don't have a question [inaudible] say
to you [inaudible] and every time [inaudible].
But what I wanted to say
to you [inaudible] recognize the fact [inaudible].
That's the biggest [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
>> Earlier you spoke about [inaudible].
And I know [inaudible] from Tucson,
Arizona has introduced it [inaudible] a couple times.
Are you working with any political active groups
or anything like that to help get more [inaudible]
to approach this act more federal?
>> Evelyn Cortez: I get involved in any possibility that I can.
So if you have a contact name for me, I'll be right there.
There -- there are so many ways that --
so many different groups that are involved in trying
to formulate a version of the Dream Act that can proceed
and get past both houses.
The reality is especially in a Presidential election year
that it is going to be a difficult thing,
a difficult discussion.
But it's not unreasonable to have it introduced and passed.
I sincerely believe that.
So if -- if -- I believe what it will take though is
to have representatives selected by the one
that you are speaking of, who are understanding
of what this struggle actually is.
Many of the representatives that are voting
on this legislation I don't think have ever really
understood the entirety of the issue,
and so it's a good suggestion for all of us.
>> Okay. I have a question, but it's really long [inaudible].
[ laughter ]
[ Inaudible question ]
>> Looking at your daughter speaking to all
of us, how do you feel?
[ Foreign ]
>> Talking about my -- my daughter, I seem so proud
of her working what she has done, make me feel happy,
and I appreciate what she's doing for me.
Because she put my in this position, which I never --
if anybody read the book, you know I never thought I going
to be in this position.
That is very [inaudible] for my [inaudible].
Because after working so hard,
I feel like it's [inaudible] the way I feel.
But I know every mother view like you as a student,
I invite you to go through -- [inaudible], you know?
Don't [inaudible].
That's the key word.
Every single parent tell me this [inaudible].
You need to study, you need to go
for the goals, no matter what.
Think the sky is limit.
[ Applause ]
>> I told her she was extraordinary.
>> Hi, thanks so much for your time Professor [inaudible].
I have a question about your writing process.
You said you wrote a few paragraphs
over a very long period of time, and you introduced yourself
as a -- a budding writing, or, you know,
desiring to become a writer.
I wonder if you could talk
about your writing process a little bit, and maybe writing
down your memoir and how that has affected I don't know,
future writing goals, or your memory about what has happened.
>> Evelyn Cortez: What a great question.
The process for me, because I -- I --
I mentioned when I was speaking earlier that I --
I kind of did it as amnesia insurance,
and that's honestly what I -- I wanted to document, and --
and -- and write about everything
that I could possibly remember for a time
when I wouldn't be able to remember.
And being an engineer, how many --
how many future engineers do we have around?
Anybody? I wrote down something that looked very boring.
I wrote down an itinerary.
That's how my process began, I wrote down notes,
I wrote down the date of [inaudible],
what time it will be, what time [inaudible],
how many hours would we spend on each stop, where would we stay.
And it was -- it was literally an account of the details
of the trip for nine days.
And those were the details that I felt were going to start
to lead me possibly the fastest.
Once I wrote all of that down, I translated it --
the itinerary into narrative.
And once I wrote the narrative about the trip itself,
and I discovered wow, you know, I -- I -- this is a story.
This -- there's an actual story here.
it didn't make any sense,
this story was completely out of context.
There's this story about some family that's moving,
and there's no reason why, there's no what happens
after you got here, there's no explanations.
And so I started to fill in those blanks after I had nailed
down what I wanted to write about the trip itself.
But if you remember, what I said is --
is those details of the trip,
that was a really grueling process.
Because I -- I was on the trip [inaudible].
The one that really remembered everything
and how it all really went down was my mom.
And so those interviews, those hours on end that I talked
to her and I interviewed her, I came prepared
with all sorts of questions for her.
And it -- it really helped to draw
out the kinds of details I wanted.
I wanted to put all exactly,
what we ate, how did things smell?
And that's the kind of memory that I wanted to preserve,
and I'm hoping that that's the kind of memory I did preserve.
Once we -- we got here in -- there were -- there were --
there's probably a few books
about what happened once we got here that I might have written,
but I decided to -- I decided to select some of the things
that I wanted to describe, really with my nephews
and my nieces in mind who were toddlers at the time.
Jessie, Frank, Brian, and Alice --
they were little babies, two years old.
And I looked at them,
and I thought they will have no idea what their moms
and their grandparents did, why we're here.
And so I'm thinking about what would they want to know?
What would -- what would I wish they would ask,
and those were the questions that I went at [inaudible]
and saying why did we leave El Salvador to begin with?
And it turns out that my nephew Jessie was the one
that really sparked the movement from --
you actually published the story.
I wrote it, and it sat on the shelf for a while.
And I had sent the manuscript to a couple of publishing houses.
The University of Houston had actually accepted the
manuscript, they wanted to publish it, and we were not able
to come agreement on the terms of the contract
for them to publish my story.
So I withdrew, and I said well, it's publishable.
I'm happy, I'm going to put it on the shelf,
and when my nephews and nieces are ready
to read it, I have it right here.
And my nephew Jessie was a teenager at the time, and --
a young teenager at the time, came to me
and said I'll read my mom.
He said you wrote a book about her story?
Where -- where is it?
And I said yes, this is it.
I went to the shelf, I got the manuscript,
and I handed it to him.
And he looked at me like I was crazy.
[ laughter ]
He said I'll wait for you until you publish it,
then I'll [inaudible].
So I decided to self-publish.
And the book is entirely printed on demand.
I got my friend, who is a very talented graphic artist
to help me with the cover art, I went online
and got my bar code application on, and -- and I --
I did it basically all myself.
And if you have a story to tell, you've got the tools out there
to be able to get your story on paper if that's what you --
if that's what you want.
Sorry, it's a long-winded answer.
[ Applause ]
>> With the success of your career,
the success of publishing your book, what's next for you?
>> Evelyn Cortez: I'm going to change the world.
[ Applause ]
I said that I -- I made a list of all the things
that I believe myself to be, and I put them
at the beginning of my [inaudible].
And all of those things are -- are very meaningful to me.
I will say in the order that I said them,
and being a mother is the most important thing.
And so what's next for me is to make sure
that my daughter has the -- an understanding of her identity,
understanding of my identity and our identity
as a family as she goes on.
When she hears discussions about immigrants, I don't want her
to feel that she's removed from that, that is her.
And I need her to understand that.
So I -- I -- I still write, I'm still writing.
If -- if you're -- if you're writers out there,
you know that the writing doesn't stop,
it kind of takes over, you know?
And I -- I write poetry, I have stories
that I have started the process for.
But, you know, I'm a full-time civil engineer,
and a full-time mom at the same time.
I volunteer for the PTA, so it --
it's the kind of thing that you have to work in, be passionate
about it, and make time for it.
But I would love to write an article, so.
[ Applause ]
>> I have a great --
great uncle, he's an immigrant of [inaudible].
And I have a great-grandfather of undocumented [inaudible].
And it was a very difficult road for them, but they --
they traveled -- one was from Mexico --
Albuquerque, and one was from [inaudible],
and they were both on my father's side.
And education was one part [inaudible].
And that was kind of what was instilled
on that side of the family.
For me, education is so very hard for me,
and I've been still [inaudible] since 1984 in colleges.
What do you suggest for students like ourselves who are
from a family member who's from -- an immigrant --
undocumented immigrants, and struggling to try to get
through college, and is -- doesn't have a lot of confidence
in trying to get through their -- their college work?
>> Evelyn Cortez: Good question.
And I know that there are many students
who basically fall into this category.
If you're undocumented, I -- I've got to -- I've got to say,
and I -- and I speak about this in my book
that it is a very difficult place that you're in.
And that does not mean that there isn't going
to be a possible future for you.
I mentioned about the Leticia A petition and that law
that allowed me to go to college,
and I had no idea why it was there,
or that it was there in the first place.
And these opportunities are going to present themselves.
The question is, will you be ready for them?
And if you're able to focus on your work and --
and find that network of support that you need,
because you really are not by yourself, there are other people
that are facing these same challenges.
And I think that that was probably the most difficult
thing for me, is to find who -- who are these people?
I mean, you know, I had no idea.
I actually thought I was all by myself.
And, you know, going into a secret meeting of, you know,
Counselor Joe that wanted to tell us about, you know,
what these immigration questions or financial aid questions were
about at UCLA, I, you know, I found myself very torn.
Do I -- do I actually reach out and try
to get help, or is that too risky?
Do I really want to do that?
I [inaudible], I --
I [inaudible] sort of person, you know?
I -- I didn't want to do that, but I had to.
I had to go in search of people that were in my same situation,
and -- and without that, I don't know
that I would have necessarily made it through.
And the thing about -- the thing about the Dream Act --
and I go back to the Dream Act almost at every point,
because the thing about the Dream Act is,
the Dream Act is going to pass -- or not pass --
regardless of whether or not you get an A in English,
regardless of whether or not -- whether or not you get your AA,
regardless of whether or not you transfer to Berkeley,
it's going to do its thing.
The question is, will you be ready for it when it does pass?
Will you be ready to move forward
to the next stage in your life?
And if you have that motivation to make it, there are enough
of us out there, I am -- I am positive, I am confident,
I am optimistic that we're going to get there
and have the Dream Act pass.
But it won't matter if, you know,
the opportunity has not been fully take, you know,
put to work [phonetic] by you.
So if -- if we are lacking resources,
or you're not sure what it is that you need to do, you know,
there are counselors who know about 8540 and other resources
that might be able to help you reach out to other students.
And you just ask questions, you don't have to talk
about your personal situation
if you're not comfortable doing that.
And I would suggest that you don't
if you're not comfortable doing that.
But, you know, certainly to maintain, you know,
keeping that eye on the prize is really, really important.
So a lot of times I think about, you know, what --
what have happened if we, you know, if being at UCLA,
if I had not had the amnesty in 1986 pass,
I wouldn't have a degree in civil engineering
with which I [inaudible] nothing.
I wouldn't be hirable, and I wouldn't --
I wouldn't necessarily be able to go to work and contribute
in the way that I have.
So what would have been my prospect?
I'm not sure what I would have done.
But the passage of the amnesty act,
I had nothing to do with that.
I -- there was -- there was not anything that I could really do
to influence that [inaudible].
I think that there are things we can do to influence whether
or not the Dream Act passes.
If a senator -- Illinois, Senator Durbin, who speaks on --
for our Congress regularly with stories
about Dream Act eligible students all over the country,
it has been [inaudible].
If you have not seen it, go YouTube,
or go to Senator Durbin's website.
It is amazing.
Because these stories again, not unique, just extraordinary.
[Inaudible].
[ Applause ]
>> I know that everyone has a story,
and there's a voice somewhere deep inside
and that just won't come out 'cause they're afraid to.
What was it that you did, or how did you find your voice?
>> Evelyn Cortez: For me it -- it -- it was the amnesty.
It was the amnesty of 1986 that I felt like I --
because I had a piece of paper in my hand
that said I am supposed to be here, and I'm --
and I have a right to be here, and -- and I --
there was no stopping me after that.
What I didn't realize is that there maybe was something
that I could do to find the voice before that,
and I was too afraid.
I was too afraid, and there was --
there was very little information,
there was very little support, there was very little of that.
And, you know, having forums like this, this --
this was unheard of back in 1987, 1988.
I think this is remarkable,
and I think that if somebody here is trying to find a voice,
and is just, you know, not sure exactly how to do that,
you know, take these courses and the instructors -- the --
the professors here are -- are --
are taking an extraordinary step, I think, for [inaudible]
that voice to be developed, to be found.
And I -- I've got to commend the -- the professors.
I've got to -- I've got to give it up.
[ Applause ]
I think I said toward the end of my [inaudible], the next time
that you have an opportunity to write an English mid-term,
or a final essay of some kind, what do you choose to really put
down on paper and communicate about?
Is it really something that matters to you,
something that's important?
Maybe it is personal, but guess what?
The instructor's the only one that's going to read it.
Or maybe not, maybe in a few years you'll be up here.
You don't know where that voice is going to take you.
And so I -- I encourage you to -- to find that moral courage,
'cause it will take that moral courage for you to be able
to put down something that every fiber
in your body's telling you you need to keep inside.
But I think it's worth hearing.
There's a hundred books in this room.
[ Applause ]
>> Hi, good afternoon.
Being undocumented myself,
I came from Mexico City [inaudible].
I actually [inaudible] so -- so my story is not like yours.
We actually didn't have to go [inaudible] like that.
We had no luxury [inaudible] have air conditioning, you know,
so both stories are different.
I actually [inaudible], but [inaudible] myself.
I'm going to [inaudible] major, so to be honest, all --
all the stereotypes you have seen,
I actually own my own business, I do pay taxes,
[inaudible] which, you know, even for scholarships
that require your social security number,
which [inaudible] to be able to [inaudible].
So they are very much stereotypes,
but I want to say that, you know, I am documented, you know,
they are different stereotypes.
Actually on talking we have a [inaudible] giving
that support people require in our situation.
>> Evelyn Cortez: United without [inaudible] --
>> Yes.
>> Evelyn Cortez: -- is the name of the group?
[Inaudible].
Very nice.
Thank you for sharing that.
[ Applause ]
>> You know how you mentioned [inaudible] to use your voice?
Were there -- were there any teachers that [inaudible],
you know, really expect you to I guess [inaudible]?
>> Evelyn Cortez: Yeah, there were a few of those.
>> Like what helped you to like I guess like see --
see past them like, not really listen to them?
>> Evelyn Cortez: Well yeah, there -- there were --
they weren't just teachers by the way, they were counselors,
they were other people from --
from the school system that were, you know, one way
or another sending the message, you know,
setting a very low expectation.
Generally, all students were coming out of ESL,
or English as a second language, and any --
any achievement by students like this wasn't necessarily seen
as a path to a, you know, to -- to better themselves.
So as a senior in high school for example, I submitted my --
my documents senior in high school.
I -- I had gone to my high school counselor
and submitted my schedule request for my senior year,
and I wanted to take a few advance placement classes,
and honors French, and I wanted to work on the yearbook,
and I wanted to run track.
You know, I wanted to do a lot, and I knew that I could do it,
and I had a 4.0 grade point average to prove it.
And the counselor looked me in the face
and said you can't keep this GPA
up with this workload, I won't sign this.
And they went -- after I insisted of course, the --
the counselor said if you want me to sign this, you're going
to have to get every one
of these classes initialed by each teacher.
And so that's exactly what I did, and I went
and I got the initials, and then I got my 4.0 my senior year.
And then I went and said hello to the counselor
at the end of the year.
[ laughter ]
I -- I mean the -- the reality is that there are going
to be people that do not believe it is possible, that --
who do not believe that you have what it takes to excel,
and do not believe that you deserve the chance to excel.
And you can't be worried about those people.
There's going to be plenty of them even after you're done,
after you've gotten your degree, and you're working
and you're successful, there's going to be plenty of them.
But you -- you know that you have the ability,
you know that you have the drive, then focus on the people
who are reaching out to you to help.
Anna Cohen [phonetic] is --
by the way, she's not an [inaudible],
she's a real person.
She was my chemistry teacher in high school.
And I didn't mention her in my talk,
but I talk about her a lot in -- in the book.
She -- she was remarkable.
She's the reason I filed an application to UCLA.
I wasn't going to.
She shoved the application in my hand,
and said this is a homework assignment for you.
You will fill this out and bring it back to me tomorrow.
And she would not let me -- I tried [inaudible],
she would not let me off the hook, and I --
I have to grapple with now how much or how little do I share
with this person who clearly cares about my success,
and couldn't tell her, couldn't tell her why I was hesitant.
I couldn't share with her all of the details of my family.
Of course eventually I did, but I needed to focus on the people
that were trying to help me, not the ones
who were trying to put me down.
>> Evelyn, I would like to thank you for coming
out here and speaking to us.
It's very inspirational.
A personal story, I came [inaudible] a friend
of mine, and I [inaudible].
And our neighbors [inaudible]
and now she's [inaudible] just a job, she's afraid of moving,
she's afraid of changing, I don't know,
she's completely paralyzed.
So [inaudible] she's a 25-year old, she's still writing.
And I just -- I feel for her, there's nothing I can do.
She just has to wait, and she had to renew her application two
to three times, and it costed her thousands of dollars.
So [inaudible].
So I -- I understand, but [inaudible].
>> Evelyn Cortez: Thank you for sharing that,
it is very, very difficult.
So many promising young people, and, you know,
I've been thinking back, thinking about [inaudible]
and thinking about Doctor Q. What --
what potential are we throwing away here?
You know, what could be achieved?
What -- who is the next, you know, saver of lives?
Who is the next Bill Gates?
Are they out there?
I think they might be.
>> Yeah, and thank you very much for writing this book.
It's a very big inspiration for me.
Actually [inaudible] book for my [inaudible].
And my professor, she [inaudible].
She -- she's American, and she [inaudible] ESL student.
She didn't -- she doesn't have any stereotype
for those students, she really help us out,
and she [inaudible].
I -- I have tried a lot of times when we [inaudible],
because my family, we --
we encounter very much familiar [inaudible]
like your family did.
Thank you very much.
>> Evelyn Cortez: Thank you.
[ Applause ]
>> [Inaudible].
How about a big hand?
[ Applause ]
>> How many of you still would
like to have your book signed by Evelyn?
There's still a few, okay.
So [inaudible] for that as well.
Any final?
Anybody else want to ask a question
or make a comment before we switch?
Okay, well thank you again, Evelyn.
[ Applause ]
>> You didn't get a chance
at being [inaudible] bringing [inaudible] and also [inaudible]
for her continues to support [inaudible].
[ Applause ]
[ Music ]