An unclear future: undocumented students share their story
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Jahir Muñoz and Saul Alegria have a lot in common. The pair are both seniors at the University of Delaware, set to graduate in May. Both are originally from Mexico and have lived in the United States since they were toddlers. While their lives and college experiences have followed similar trajectories, their post-college paths are now about to diverge due to one significant difference: legal status.
Muñoz, a software engineering student, was born in Veracruz on Mexico’s Gulf Coast. When he was two years old, his parents made the difficult decision to leave their native land in pursuit of better opportunities. Crossing El Rio Grande and passing through deserts, their journey led them to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where they have lived for over 20 years.
Alegria, a biology student, was born in Morelos state in south-central Mexico near the country’s capital, Mexico City. While he does not remember the treacherous journey, he was also two years old when he and his family migrated to Columbus, Indiana.
“My mom tells me it was a long and difficult trip, but we had no choice. Times were tough in Morelos and life was supposedly better in America,” he recalls.
Growing up, they never saw themselves as any different from their peers. “I never really understood I was undocumented, or what being undocumented meant, until later on in high school, when I was applying to get a scholarship and I realized I didn’t have Social Security,” Alegria says.
Muñoz, similarly, didn’t realize the hardships he would face because of his citizenship status until he was looking for a part-time job in high school. “I picked up a job application at McDonald’s. I read the first two questions, and that’s when I realized I may not be able to ever get a job,” Muñoz says. The two questions that clarified his reality were, “Are you authorized to work in the U.S.?” and “Do you have a social security number?”
By their senior year of high school, after actively looking for opportunities and having no luck, the pair resigned themselves, assuming that they would not be attending college due to the policies in their home states.
South Carolina prohibits undocumented immigrants from enrolling in public colleges and universities. Despite Muñoz’s 4.0 GPA throughout high school, he was unsure how he would pursue higher education in South Carolina. Indiana allows immigrants to attend public colleges and universities but treats them as out-of-state students. Alegria, who had lived in Indiana for around 15 years at the time, was prohibited from enrolling as an in-state student. Since attending college there would have been exorbitantly expensive, causing financial strain for his parents, he made plans to enroll at a considerably cheaper community college until a better opportunity arose.
Washington, D.C., and 24 other states have immigrant policies that allow undocumented students to attend college and pay in-state tuition; 19 of those states, along with D.C., provide financial aid. But several other states have more restrictive policies that make it expensive or impossible for undocumented youth to get a college degree at a state school.
During his junior year of high school, Alegria applied for and received Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA). Shortly after being accepted into the program, he knew his opportunities had expanded.
“DACA facilitates almost everything,” Alegria says. “Even for a driver’s license, you need a social security number. With DACA,” he says, “I am able to rent cars or houses, I can apply for credit cards or for a 401(k).”
A program established by President Barack Obama’s administration in 2012, DACA grants a two-year, renewable legal status to eligible young adult immigrants, providing them with work authorization and temporary protection from deportation. DACA guidelines state that applicants must have arrived in the U.S. before the age of 16 and been under age 31 as of June 15, 2012. They must have continuously resided in the U.S. since June 15, 2007, be enrolled in or graduated from high school, and have no criminal record. As of September 30, 2021, there were a little over 611,000 active DACA recipients. By September 30, 2024, that number had dwindled to around 530,000.
While DACA expanded Alegria’s options, Muñoz was unable to apply for DACA before Federal Judge Andrew S. Hanen of the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Texas issued a ruling in July 2021 that blocked new DACA applications, calling the program unlawful. Immigrants like Alegria, who already possessed DACA before the ruling, were allowed to keep their legal status, but young people with similar backgrounds were shut out as a result of Hanen’s ruling.
Heartbroken by the news, Muñoz’s mind became clouded with doubts.
“I thought to myself, ‘My chance is over, that was it, I’m not going to get a chance to go to college,’ until my high school counselor told me about TheDream.US, encouraging me to apply,” Muñoz says. The program helps undocumented students, with and without DACA, pursue higher education.
[Full disclosure: I, too, applied and received a scholarship from TheDream.US, which allowed me to attend Delaware State University, where I met Muñoz and Alegria.]
With renewed optimism, Muñoz applied for The Opportunity Scholarship, which provides financial aid to undocumented students who live in “locked-out” states where they are either prohibited from attending college or considered out-of-state students. Recipients receive a full scholarship to one of the five partner colleges: Christian Brothers University, Delaware State University, Dominican University, Eastern Connecticut State University and Trinity Washington University.
With DACA, Alegria could have attended college in Indiana, but would still have been considered an out-of-state student. “I decided to apply for The Opportunity Scholarship because it would cover my tuition,” Alegria says. “I didn’t want to put my family in debt.”
The two Opportunity Scholars crossed paths at Delaware State University. Sharing similar upbringings and values, Muñoz and Alegria became great friends and advocates for one another.
Muñoz, passionate about computing, decided to major in computer science with the dream of becoming an app developer. Alegria majored in biology, hoping to become a scientific researcher. They both say they felt a sense of relief being surrounded by other students who related to their struggles. The university also provided a strong support system.
Today, Muñoz advises struggling undocumented students to never give up.
“Don’t let your immigration status stop you from trying to do what you want. Keep trying and you will find your way, just how Saul and I have done,” he says. “It may be difficult to be hours away from home, but make the sacrifice and it will pay off in the end.”
For four years the pair worked hard, making the dean’s list multiple semesters and becoming well-known faces amongst their peers. Alegria spent part of his student experience as the president of the biology club, while also earning a spot in the university’s honors program. Muñoz created an educational game for university students that teaches “logical operators,” a computer science concept. The game helped other students learn and study the subject.
Now, as graduation approaches, Muñoz is again gripped with the uncertainty of the future. Without DACA, he’ll have few job opportunities after graduation.
“With my status, I can’t get a job,” Muñoz says. “I’ve talked to the head of the computer science department and he said it’s a really tough situation, too. So I’m not really sure what my options are.”
In contrast, even before graduation, Alegria has secured a position as a lead laboratory technician.
As of June 2024, more than 4,000 undocumented students have graduated from college with the help of TheDream.US. Founded in 2014, the organization’s mission is to give immigrant students equitable access to a college education and opportunities to enhance their future careers. Now, it has become one of the nation’s largest career and success programs for immigrant students.
Delaware State University Dreamer advisor Carlos Holmes hopes more undocumented students will apply to organizations like TheDream.US. For students who may be afraid of what the future holds, he has some advice.
“When many of you faced uncertainty regarding your post-high school years, you all continued to work hard and achieve excellent grades, and through those industrious efforts you created an opportunity that opened the door to TheDream.US,” he says. “Right now, you, among others, may feel discouraged, but you should never lose your priorities. Don’t get caught up in the uncertainty of a future you cannot foresee.”
These are stressful times even for DACA holders. During President Donald Trump’s first term, he attempted to end the DACA program but was blocked by the Supreme Court. Now in his second term, Trump issued several executive orders on immigration, but the orders do not directly address DACA, leaving Dreamers in a state of limbo and worry.
With Trump making immigration the focal point of his administration since taking office in January, the country has seen an unprecedented wave of anti-immigrant sentiment and fear in immigrant communities. Muñoz and Alegria frequently ask themselves why so many people express so much hatred of the idea of them seeking a brighter future.
“We pay our taxes, we do everything right,” says Alegria. “And yet they still see us as criminals or even worse, monsters.”
– Story by Consuelo Ramirez
– Copy edited by Cory Perez and Kami Waller
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