DACA gave me hope, but 13 years later, I’m still waiting for certainty

I never imagined I’d be able to drive, let alone hold a job, but everything changed when I turned 15 and applied for DACA.

When President Obama introduced Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) in 2012, it became a lifeline for countless young people like me — children who were brought to the United States and grew up here, knowing no other country. DACA didn’t just give me legal status; it gave me hope and the tools to begin building a future.

This Sunday marks the 13th anniversary of the DACA policy. For me, as a DACA recipient, this milestone is both deeply personal and profoundly bittersweet. On one hand, it’s a reminder of the immense value of allowing people to work legally and live without the fear of deportation. On the other hand, it underscores the persistent uncertainty we face, living our lives in two-year increments, waiting for a permanent solution that remains elusive.

I came to the U.S. in 1999 as a one-year-old. My family settled in North Carolina, and later, when I was 10, we moved to Texas, where I’ve lived for the past 15 years. Growing up in a predominantly white Appalachian town and later in a predominantly Hispanic neighborhood in rural East Texas shaped my identity in complex ways. I often felt caught between two worlds, never fully belonging to either. My parents’ undocumented status was a quiet but constant presence in our lives, and though I didn’t fully grasp its implications as a child, I always knew we were different.

DACA allowed me to step into the sunlight and breathe a sigh of relief for the first time, but it didn’t fully erase the challenges of being undocumented. I faced harassment growing up, and even as I built a life for myself, the fear of losing everything has never truly gone away. However, my journey hasn’t been defined solely by fear or hardship. During my freshman year at the University of North Texas, I discovered a supportive community that embraced me for who I am. It was there that I found the courage to share my story and began advocating for undocumented youth, turning my struggles into a source of strength and purpose.

DACA has empowered me to achieve goals I once thought were out of reach. I graduated from college in 2020, I work with organizations that advocate for immigrant rights, and last year, I became a homeowner. But as I reflect on these accomplishments, I’m aware they’ve been possible only because of DACA. 84% of DACA recipients are employed, many in frontline roles like education, health care, and food production. The end of DACA would be devastating to the country’s workforce and economy, as hundreds of thousands of hardworking members of our communities would not be able to contribute in the way that they have for the past 13 years.

Still, legal attacks against DACA continue to move through the courts, putting the policy’s future in jeopardy. For now, I can renew my protections from deportation and my work authorization, but the uncertainty is exhausting. Living in a constant state of limbo is no way to build a life. We need a permanent solution, and we need it now. Dreamers don’t need pity. They need what America promises: freedom, opportunity, and a place to belong.

To lawmakers and the public, I say this: DACA has proven its value time and again. It has allowed over 835,000 young people like me to contribute to our communities and our economy. Ending it would not only devastate families but also cost the U.S. billions in lost economic contributions. The American people overwhelmingly support a pathway to citizenship for Dreamers and DACA recipients. It’s time for Congress to act.

If a permanent solution were passed, it would be life-changing. I could finally live without the constant fear of losing my status. I could build a future for my family. I could fully embrace the American dream I’ve worked so hard to achieve.

To my fellow DACA recipients and Dreamers: Don’t lose hope. Let’s commemorate the DACA’s 13th anniversary by pushing for the permanent protections we deserve. Our home is here; we are Americans in every way but on paper, and it’s long overdue for Congress to provide a legislative solution.