7. When did you find out about your illegal status and, if different, when did it "hit" you? (For example, you might have known from a very young age, but you didn't truly understand what it meant until years later). What was your reaction/feelings at these points?

I knew from an early age but It hit me when I wanted to get my driving license and I was going to apply for an id the first time but hurricane Ike came, and in that time Mr. Perry had passed the law requiring ssn. It hit me worse in the Us financial crisis when I was not able to find a job because of the economy and my friends that had jobs told me to work with them that they could recommend me

I guess I've always kind of known? Never had a big moment where it "hit" me.

I have always said I knew I was different than the rest. I started to realize how different during the Bush/Gore elections (I was in 4th grade) kids kept asking each other who their parents voted for. That was a pretty awkward moment. When it really hit me what it meant was high school. I honestly thought I wasn't going to be able to even go to college because at my school they would offer college classes and I tried several times to apply but they always told me I needed to have an SSN. It was until I think my senior year that I went to a college forum that I found out about the Dream Act and they told me there that I didn't have to have a SSN to go to college or take those classes. I was so excited to know that. Unfortunately since I was super scared to be seen in there I left and didn't get to hear about TAFSA until quite recently. Even when I heard about it I tried getting someone at the CC to help me and they all didn't know or made me feel uncomfortable. I also believed that I shouldn't apply since it would be seen as bad since it's basically a type of welfare. lmao I don't think like that anymore and I'm going to send my application soon.

honestly, my parents made it known to me I was illegal since I entered this country when I was eight years old. But it really didn’t “hit” me until I graduated from highschool when I was forced to take a job that paid 50 dollars for 12 hours of work just to be able to survive.

I was 13 and wanted to go on vacation with friends. I just thought that it wasn't fair.

I always knew about my status. I remember being in 3rd and 4th grade and my mom telling me that if anybody asked where I was born to say the name of the city we lived in at the time. In 6th grade there were immigration raids where we lived. It was a small city and I remember the white vans driving around and the ICE agents going door to door on bikes. I knew not to answer the door when knocked. I didn’t truly understand what a hindrance it would be in my adult life until I was in High School. I believe it was 9th grade. But it wasn’t until 11th and 12th grade where I felt my emotions were really at their peak. I felt sad, angry, disappointed, suffocated. I saw that anything and everything that I had dreamt would not be like I thought.

I believe I started to first really start understanding details about my status and how “not normal” my life was going to be around the 911 terrorist attack. This happened about 6 months before I was able to get a driving permit. Before 911, FL gave driver's licenses/ID to undocumented people. I was told because of 911, I wasn't going to be able to start driving like a normal teenager. It was shocking and confusing at the time, but at the time I didn’t realize that this would be an ongoing battle and inconvenience for several years to come. At that age, it wasn’t too unusual for someone not to drive or have a car. I had a few USC friends who were also late to first start driving and I just associated myself as one of those that were just too “lazy” to go to the dmv and that I didn’t have money for a car. Being undocumented did not really “hit me” and start affecting me in a bad way until I was about 18 years old and graduated high school. This was when my friends started going out to bars and I could not go. I could not even watch a Rated R movie since I did not have ID. Also, as I was getting older, it was getting more difficult to explain why I did not have a driver's license and/or car and why they always had to pick me up. When I was 20 years old, (not going to get into too many details, unless you need them) I was finally able to get a temporary driver’s license. I finally felt normal for a short 2 years, but then my license had expired and I was no longer able to renew it. At this time, at the age of 22 was when it hit me the hardest that I was undocumented and my life was going nowhere. I slowly started isolating myself from everyone I knew so that I did not have to explain to them why I couldn’t go somewhere and to avoid awkward situations. I also was slowly fearing driving without a license more and more and was not getting out of my house much. I felt very very bad about myself at this point.

high school when i couldnt get dl or scholarship. Disappointments

I found out when we were still in Mexico, that we were coming illegally, but it didn't really "hit" until I was 15 and had to go get a driver's permit.

I've known since, probably, junior high, but it doesn't really affect you much until you're a junior in high school who can't drive.

Once I started High School, is when I truly knew what it meant. I would say specially sophomore year when most of my friends were getting their drivers licenses, part time jobs, etc. I was very confused and angry, but I knew I couldn't do anything about it so why be angry. I eventually got a job and my friends always drove anyway so it wasn't too bad.

My parents dropped hints from my tenth birthday on, but growing up (ages 8-12), I never really thought about nor did I fully realize the gravity of the situation I'd found myself in. It wasn't until I was 13 that it really hit me that I wasn't legal. That's when I first heard of the DREAM Act.

I knew that I was an illegal when I first came to America, but didn't understand what I was in for in reality. It hit me hard when I obviously couldn't get a license. It hit me even harder when I couldn't work. My parents did go through financial crisis, and still do, but manage. Which was like seeing a sinking ship without saving people on board.

I always knew, my mom lived in fear and it was always present in our home. I didn’t quite understand the fear or the consequences until I was in HS. Until, my older brother and sister graduated and I began to see what it meant to be an illegal. What it would mean in a few years once I also graduated. My senior year was depressing. Watching everyone apply to college and receive their acceptance letters and scholarships and not being able to personally feel that same joy was heartbreaking. Being called down to the counselor’s office because they do not understand why you haven’t applied and having to explain your sob story. Watching everyone compare their plans once the acceptance letters rolled in and college decisions were posted in the front office for everyone to see and your name not being listed. Ohhh the joy!

I didn’t really understood that I was illegal until I was around 10 but it never really hit me until my older brother couldn’t get his license which meant I wouldn’t be able to either. Then, not being able to get all the scholarships I qualified for or apply to colleges. It was just depressing.

I knew some time when I was like 12/13 but it didn't hit me until high school when I was like shit, I won't be able to work or drive. As I mentioned, I also thought I might not be able to attend college. I honestly never let it get me too down. I always had hope that something would come around. I didn't want to believe that my life would be like that forever.

I was kind of directed hinted it since about 4th grade... but I only knew about it around 7th grade "kind of". It was only at the beginning of high school when everything around me was slowly closing in and restricting me. I thought I wouldn't be able to go college... and I'm actually still kind of debating going now because the load of BS with legal status, work authorization, and really high debt that would just be a really huge pain to pay off... I mean if Americans are complaining about the cost of college now.... with the security of being a citizen and lifelong legal employment, ability for any type of loan, scholarship, or financial aid.. it kind of really sucks to be undocumented. I'm just really fortunate I'm not like some of the other people on this forum who basically have "years wasted"... I'm one of the lucky few out of the unfortunate ones who came to the US as children. I'm 17 and I have work employment (2yr), a permanent social security card, and the ability to get a license, at years before they're critically needed.

In middle school, some friends and I went down to the main office to get work permit forms to get jobs. I wanted to work because I wanted to pull my own weight at the house. I watched a lot of telly and what I saw on tv were kids who had part-time jobs to pay for their own things. I hated asking my aunt or uncle for money. If they did not offer it, I felt awkward asking. So we went downstairs and got the forms. It was then that I saw that it required a SSN. I asked my aunt and she said I did not have one, so I did what I always did: I looked it up online. One of the great (and not-so-great) things about my life is that I learned to be independent. I started using a computer immediately I got to the United States. The questions I was too shy or afraid to ask, I looked it up. So I looked it up and started reading. I did not quite know what I was but I knew I was not a citizen, but was I a “foreign national”, “an asylee” “an immigrant” “an alien”. I did not understand but that was my first foray into my legal status. In freshman/sophomore year of high school, I fully understood that I was an undocumented student. I followed the very first proposal of the DREAM Act. I added tags about “Dream Act” and “Immigration” to my yahoo alerts. I knew what I was and I was scared but I was hopeful. I had read about schools that accepted students like me as long as their grades were top-notch, so I worked hard to keep them up. When I first took the PSAT and did well, everyone told me how many scholarships I would qualify for and I just kept mum because of that little asterisk on the paper; I wasn’t a citizen. There is this particular hallway in my school where the guidance counselors post the names of students who got accepted and where they got accepted into and how much they got. I was really hoping my name would be on there by senior year. I applied to the schools that accepted those like me: private schools. I got rejected and I cried because I knew, I just knew it had to be because I was illegal (who really knows)? At that point, it became very unbearable to walk down that hallway. I would avoid it on my way to lunch and I would try to avoid my teachers who asked, “so where did you get into?” They didn’t know they were causing even more pain, but it hurt. I protested in the geekiest way I could. I was late to class, didn’t bother with assignments, and my little nerdy self still couldn’t handle it, I actually made those assignments up. My AP Statistics class was what really held me together. It kept me sane. I loved math and in that class, all I had was data to analyze and make sense of. When I truly understood that I was illegal, I was scared, angry, hurt and betrayed. I felt like my teachers and guidance counselors and everyone else had told me this huge lie that all you had to do in school was study and work hard and college would come to you. I was scared because I did not know what exactly I could do that would not have me deported. I feared that the most because I realized I was not the same kid who came here; I had grown a lot and I most likely would not fit in back home. I was angry that my aunt did not do what she was supposed to do. I attributed it to her not knowing but I was just so angry that my life had now been disrupted. I was hurt that I would not be able to do the things I wanted, no proper job, no driving, and I was especially afraid of not going to college because that meant being my aunt’s personal slave for life.

I've kind of always known. I don't remember crossing over or anything but adults talk about it and kids pick up on it. It "hit" me when I took drivers ed. Luckily I didn't need a social to get a driver's permit so I was able to learn how to drive. I passed the course and got my "blue slip". Against my wishes, my mom dragged me to the DMV. When asked for the paper work I handed them the blue slip and my mom handed them the fakest SS# card ever. My mom doesn't speak english so I had to translate to her. The lady told us the number was fake and if she wanted to she could have us arrested. She let us go and my mom yelled at me the whole way home... Apparently, it was my fault they didn't accept the SS#. I didn't try hard enough -_- After that, my status "hit" me the hardest after dropping out of college. That's when I lost all hope.