Undocumented - illegal immigration in NYC

A Degree of Hope

Jean Roberts is a mechanical engineering student at the top of his class, but as an undocumented Haitian immigrant, he may never get to work in America.

Michele Schwartz

Jean Roberts heaves a sigh as he settles down onto a library chair, plopping his black book bag and jacket on to the table next to him. A freshman at City College in New York, Roberts is still adjusting to the pressures of university life. Like his fellow first-semester students, he worries about the typical problems: upcoming midterms and term papers, maintaining a good GPA, and doing well in chemistry, his least favorite subject. But unlike most students, Roberts is constantly troubled by one other thought: “I have to live with the idea that I could be deported anytime.”

Roberts, originally from Haiti, is just one out of thousands of undocumented students in New York City who face a very uncertain future. While he can attend university, it is illegal for him to be in the United States or get a job when he graduates. There are an estimated 8,000 undocumented students enrolled through the City University of New York (CUNY) system, according to the New York Public Interest Research Group, a nonprofit student advocacy organization. Without official papers, Roberts can’t get a part-time job, can’t apply for financial aid or most scholarships, and can’t apply to any college of his choice. He focuses on the present by studying hard and hoping that his prospects will change when he graduates in four years.

On this day in the school library, Roberts, 20, is dressed in the de rigueur gear of jeans, sneakers, and a polo shirt. A thoughtful, soft-spoken young man, he fidgets with a small plastic red straw as he recounts the journey that led him from Port au Prince to New York City. It has been four years since Roberts, then 15, came by plane on a tourist visa from Haiti to live in the United States. “Nothing was really my decision,” he says.

His father, a retired schoolteacher, and mother, a businesswoman, made the decision for him. As the political situation in Haiti worsened, his parents felt it was better for Roberts and his older brother to live in New York. “There were a lot of problems in Haiti, the country is always unstable,” he says. “It felt safer here.”

Since 1999, Roberts’ mother had been operating her own business by traveling to the United States on tourist visas to buy clothes, electronic equipment, perfume, and cosmetics, which she ships back to Haiti to sell. She has been careful to never overstay her visas. In October 2001, she took Roberts, the second oldest of her eight sons, along with his older brother on one of her trips to New York. She rented an apartment, enrolled both boys in school, stayed for the length of her travel visa, and then went back—leaving Roberts and his brother behind.

Roberts quickly learned to balance the headiness of independence with the realities of being on his own. While his mother has made frequent trips in the interim, staying from anywhere between six months to a couple of days, Roberts must depend upon himself in her absence. He began his freshman year at a Brooklyn high school speaking little more than a few basic sentences of English. At first, it was difficult for him. “People look at you like you are stupid or something,” says Roberts. His school, however, had a large percentage of Haitian teachers and students who helped him learn. Soon, Roberts was excelling at school and outpacing many of his classmates. “The other students, they know the language but I got better grades than them,” he says with a shy smile.

He settled into a normal routine: getting up for school, coming home afterwards and preparing dinner, doing homework, and then watching the news before going to bed. He joined the Haitian Club, where he was appointed treasurer, and went on field trips to the Statue of Liberty and Philadelphia. A yearly honors student, Roberts enrolled in the Gateway Program at school, which helps minority and low-income students prepare for higher education. By his senior year, he was taking college preparatory classes in biology, physics, and chemistry at Medgar Evers College in Brooklyn and when he graduated last May, it was with top honors.

Most students in Roberts’ position would have been excited about their college possibilities at this point. But because of his undocumented status, Roberts felt depressed. Applying for schools and scholarships meant answering questions about his citizenship. Roberts says if he had legal status, he would have applied to Ivy League schools or NYU. Instead, he thought most schools were out of the question. “It always says eligibility [of citizenship status], I couldn’t even think about it,” he says. “If I don’t go to school, what will I be doing? I can’t work, what’s the point? You wake up every day and you don’t know what’s going to happen and you can’t do anything about it.” For a moment, he is silent as he struggles to express his frustrations. “It was the hardest thing I’ve had to go through.”

Roberts then learned about CUNY, which allows admission for undocumented students. At the last minute, he sent in a late application, but he wasn’t expecting anything. To his surprise, the college notified him three weeks before the semester started of his acceptance. “When I checked my e-mail, I saw they sent me a letter inviting me to orientation,” he excitedly recalled. He is now majoring in mechanical engineering. “I want to build stuff – good stuff, though,” he says. He points at the table and chair he is sitting at. “I look at something and I think I could do this thing differently.”

While tuition for New York State students is only $2,000 a semester, Roberts still faced the problem of paying for without scholarships or financial aid. A family friend living in the city is helping to pay for this semester and Roberts’ mother has also saved some money. “It’s better than $28,000,” Roberts says, laughing ruefully and shaking his head at the thought of private school tuition. He saves money where he can by borrowing a calculus book from one friend, a chemistry book from another, and frequenting the school library.

Still, he wishes he could get a job and help pay for expenses. “I don’t like people giving me stuff,” says Roberts. “I feel stupid, I’m not lazy.” But without the necessary paperwork, Roberts is relegated to picking up the occasional odd job for cash, like helping someone to move. He is leery of obtaining false papers or working illegally. “I try to stay straight. Once you do something illegal, it’s a crime. Once you do a crime, you’re a criminal and I don’t like that idea. You have to lie and once you start, there’s no going back. I don’t want to get into that,” he says.

Despite such obstacles, Roberts is pinning his hopes on a piece of legislation that, if passed, would dramatically improve undocumented students’ future. The Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors Act (DREAM Act), was first introduced in 2003 by Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-UT), calls for new provisions to help students who came here as undocumented children find better access to higher education and the ability to work, without fear of deportation.

The act would cover all students who came to the United States more than five years ago at the age of 15 or younger and who demonstrate good character. Upon completion of high school, they would be eligible for a six-year conditional residency status that would allow them to legally work and attend school. During the six-year period, students must graduate from a two-year college, complete half of a four-year degree, or serve up to two years in the U.S. military, at the end of which time they could apply for permanent residency.

A nearly identical bill, S. 2075, was finally introduced in the Senate with bipartisan support this past November. If passed by both houses of Congress and signed by the president, it would become law by the end of 2006. Once enacted, the DREAM Act would affect an estimated 65,000 undocumented students who graduate from U.S. high school each year, according to the center, according to Jennifer Hojaiban of the National Immigration Law Center, Washington, D.C., an organization that promotes immigrant rights.

For his part, Roberts may give a personal testimonial to City College’s Immigrant Center, a campus organization that provides free legal services for students and is working to garner support for the bill. “You can go to high school but after that, you’re on your own,” says Roberts. “Its really unfair, the system, immigration law right now, and it’s not in the interest of the country.”

Under the current laws, Roberts feels students are punished for actions they had no control of. “They are not given the opportunity to succeed and most of the time, it’s not their fault,” he says. He knows students who no longer remember their birth country. “They came here as children, I don’t see what they’re guilty of.” If given the opportunity, Roberts says students like him have much to offer. “Immigrants built this country in the first place, especially New York City,” he says. “They can be somebody.”

Roberts tries to remain optimistic. “I’ve got an education and that’s one thing no one can take away from me. If you’re educated, you have more chances, less limitations – if you’re not an immigrant of course,” he says with a laugh. After a wistful pause, he adds, “Well, you never know.”