http://www.dailybruin.ucla.edu/news/art ... p?id=36445

Facing the threat of deportation

By Adam Foxman
DAILY BRUIN STAFF
afoxman@media.ucla.edu

Mario Escobar's boisterous laughter dies out as he tells his story. As other students focus on their final exams this week, he also has to cope with the possibility of being deported to a violent country.

"It's crazy; it's a hell," said Escobar, a fourth-year English and Spanish student.

Escobar is one of dozens of UCLA students who are undocumented, meaning that they do not have the papers necessary to be legal residents of the United States. While there is no official count of such students, an on-campus support group for undocumented students has nearly 60 members.

Like many undocumented students, Escobar came to the United States at an early age: He fled to the United States from El Salvador after that country's civil war, which lasted from 1979 to 1992. His father, grandmother and cousins were killed in the conflict.

Escobar has applied for political asylum, but he has already been denied once, he said. The denial came nearly a year ago. His second hearing with the immigration court is scheduled for March 28, and if this petition is rejected, he could be deported to El Salvador.

The prospect of deportation fills him with frustration and fear. And while otherwise confident and articulate in conversation, Escobar lapses into heavy silence at the mention of his case.

"I refuse to think about it because if I do, then I know it will bring me down," he said.

Escobar, 28, has spent much of his life in the United States.

In addition to working his way to within a year of finishing a double major at UCLA, he has started a family; founded a fledgling publishing company called Cuzcatlan Press; published a volume of original poetry in Spanish called "Gritos Interiores" ("Cries from Within"); and started a literary magazine to give a voice to what he calls the Central American diaspora. He published his book in 2005, and the first issue of the magazine, called "La Nueva Tendencia" ("The New Tendency"), should be in stores by April.

As his court date approaches and he faces the possibility of being thrown out of his adopted country, Escobar said he feels dislocated and trapped.

"I feel like an outcast, I feel marginalized," he said.

He is also frightened by the prospect of returning to El Salvador, because more than a decade after the end of that county's civil war, it remains a violent place.

In a 1999 report done for the World Bank, Amnesty International found that more than 100 people out of every 100,000 are killed in homicides each year in El Salvador. And in 1998, more than 200 in 100,000 Salvadorian men ages 15-34 were killed in homicides. By comparison, California had 6.8 murders per 100,000 residents in 2003, according to the New York Times Almanac for 2006.

Escobar's situation is uncommon at UCLA, but it resonates with many immigration issues being discussed on a national level.

Lawmakers working on a major immigration bill, which is currently in the Senate Judiciary Committee, are grappling with questions of how to cope with the millions of illegal immigrants currently in the United States and what to do with future newcomers.

Questions of residency are also highly charged at California's public universities, where some undocumented students pay in-state tuition as a result of AB 540, a California state law that allows students who have attended a California high school for three or more years to pay resident tuition.

Though some undocumented students qualify to pay in-state tuition under AB 540, they cannot receive federal or state financial aid under current California law. Still, the law has led some to argue that undocumented students are taking resources which should go to U.S. citizens.

A class-action lawsuit filed in December against California public colleges and universities charged that by allowing undocumented students to pay in-state tuition, the universities were discriminating against U.S. citizens. If the lawsuit succeeds, AB 540 could be repealed.



One story among many

While the particulars of Escobar's case are unique, his experience as an undocumented student is common, said Roberto Mancía, a professor of literature at Los Angeles Trade Technical College.

"By telling Mario's story, (one is) telling the story of thousands of other students," said Mancía, who became friends with Escobar when Escobar was studying at LATTC.

As Salvadorians, Escobar and Mancía bonded over their common experiences.

Like several of Escobar's other friends, Mancía described him as gifted and inspirational. But Mancía said the uncertainty of being without immigration papers weighs on his young friend as it does on many undocumented students.

It's like "a cloud that won't go away; a sense of hopelessness," Mancía said.

But Escobar and UCLA's other undocumented students have something Mancía said is unique in his experience: a support group.

The student-run group, called Ideas UCLA, seeks to provide a safe environment for students to talk about a subject often taboo even among friends and family – their immigration status.

The group has about 30 active members, and another 30 on its mailing list, said Saray Gonzalez, the group's co-chairwoman. Ideas UCLA's work to educate high school students about AB 540 is funded by the Community Activities Committee, which oversees funding for off-campus projects.

Most, but not all, of Ideas' members are undocumented. Most are also Latino, but the group has a member each from Poland, Vietnam and Russia. The term undocumented is used generally. For example, some undocumented students may have work permits but not legal residency, or may be in the process of becoming naturalized.

Members help each other with everything from school to transportation, work with UCLA staff members who can advise them about subjects such as scholarships, and work to inform undocumented high school students about the opportunities available to them.

Students in the group rarely face deportation, but at least one group member other than Escobar has faced deportment proceedings, said Gonzalez, a fourth-year chemistry student. The student who faced deportation, now an alumnus, was ultimately able to stay in the United States.

Though few UCLA students have faced deportation, the slim possibility that someone might place a call to immigration authorities encourages many undocumented students to hide their status, Gonzalez said.

But the top concerns cited by members of Ideas UCLA included the negative perception of undocumented individuals and financial difficulties.

"Being undocumented is highly stigmatizing," Gonzalez said.

When Ideas UCLA was founded in 2003, it gave form to a community many undocumented students didn't know they had.

"Now that Ideas exists it actually makes people more comfortable doing a lot of things. It gives people a place to talk about their stories and know they are not alone," said Tam Tran a fourth-year American literature and culture student who is a member of the group.

Mancía, who often encounters undocumented students at LATTC, said the information Escobar gave him about the club has been a boon to his students.

"Knowing that other students are in a similar situation makes them aware that anything is possible. It makes an incredible difference," he said.



Waiting for resolution

For all the similarities and differences Escobar's story bears toward those of other undocumented students, as he studies for finals this quarter he is also just a man who wants to know what will happen to him.

"The war (in El Salvador) ended in 1992, and still being in this situation, I'm tired. I want this nightmare to be over. I want to know what it feels like to be a citizen of a country," he said.

As he waits for his deportation hearing, the literature student and author takes solace in writing.

Books have always been both an escape and a tool to deal with the past, he said.

"Literature has been, as we say in Spanish, "la guarida" – a safe place. ... There, I can create my own world," Escobar said.

Alicia Gaspar de Alba, a UCLA Chicana/o studies professor, once told Escobar that by writing he could gain authorship over his own life, and he believes he has.

Within the 115 pages of his book "Gritos Interiores," Escobar includes poems that he wrote as long ago as 1992, and as recently as last year.

One of his early poems recalls the layered Russian doll, called a matrioska, he carried as a child, wishing he could hide inside it like one of the interior dolls as the sounds of war burst into his home in El Salvador. Roughly translated from the Spanish in which it was written, the poem reads:

"I walked, I walked, I walked, and at last I found you matrioska / Open your body and let me hide inside you."

In a more recent poem, Escobar described his feeling of desperation.

Seated against a pillar outside Rolfe Hall on Friday, he translated it:

"I have walked through the desert, burned, mutilated, and dead / I walk like a shadow, hungry for an eternal / smile / Giving a neglected cry / and rowing against the / breeze."

Mancía said in the nearly five years he has known Escobar, the poet has progressed from an imitator of Chilean poet Pablo Neruda to an author with a powerful voice of his own. And now, as he faces the possibility of deportation, Escobar is working to put out "La Nueva Tendencia" to give other Central American writers a place to tell their stories.

"In a way Mario has been saying what I have wanted to say for a long time," Mancía said. "That we (Central Americans) have a voice."