Ana* didn't find out she was undocumented until she began applying for financial aid for college at age 17. That's when her dad took her aside and told her the visas he had used to bring her and her mother to America from Mexico when she was an infant had long ago expired.
"He said, ‘You can't tell anyone because if somehow Immigration finds out, we can be deported, and what are your sisters going to do?'" remembers Ana, now 25. "I definitely developed anxiety after that."
Ana is a "Dreamer" — an undocumented youth who qualifies for the proposed DREAM Act, which would provide a path to citizenship for some immigrant children. It's estimated that about 1.8 million of the nation's 11 million undocumented immigrants are like Ana: brought to the United States as children and now unable to become citizens because they are in the country without adequate documentation. As undocumented immigrants, they can't vote, often have difficulty finding jobs, don't qualify for public health benefits or assistance, often are blocked from getting drivers' licenses, and may face legal and financial barriers in attending college.
In 2012, President Barack Obama took executive action to authorize the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program (DACA) to give young people like Ana temporary protection from deportation and the ability to get time-limited work permits. In November, the president expanded the program's criteria through an executive order, potentially opening up protection to another 300,000 people who entered the United States as children.
All told, the provisions in Obama's executive order will shield about 5 million undocumented people from deportation, including certain undocumented parents of U.S. citizens, while requiring background checks and fees to be paid, according to the White House.
While these executive actions may alleviate some stresses for some who qualify, they don't remove the fears and frustrations that can expose DREAMers to a host of psychological issues, says J. Manuel Casas, PhD, professor emeritus at the University of California at Santa Barbara, who studies the psychological impact of immigration. While the action is certainly welcomed, says Casas, "there is still the unknown of what's going to happen down the line."
Executive actions, after all, can be as easily taken away as they were given since a new president can reverse them. In addition, there is still no path to citizenship, and undocumented parents can still be deported, as the latest executive action doesn't protect parents of undocumented children, only parents whose children were born in the United States.
Ana's parents gave birth to two children in this country, who are U.S. citizens, which means they can qualify for protection under the new executive action. But Ana says she is hesitant to encourage her parents to apply, because doing so means revealing themselves to authorities.
"Who is to say that in a few months or even when Obama leaves office that this law remains in place?" she says. "It's scary to ask people to come forward and have faith that this decision will not put them at risk in the future."
These are the kinds of fears and stresses that can create psychological issues for undocumented immigrant children and youths. Nayeli Chavez-Dueñas, PhD, associate professor at the Chicago School of Professional Psychology, says that for DREAMers, "the implications for mental health are closely tied to their legal status."
Studies have shown DREAMers are subject to depression, higher risk of suicide attempts and anxiety, says Chavez-Dueñas. Although most research about undocumented immigrant mental health has focused on adults, a 2013 study by Roberto G. Gonzales, PhD, and colleagues surveyed 250 undocumented youths and young adults who had migrated to the United States as young children. The researchers found these youths dealt with a host of problems related to identity and coming of age in a society that is increasingly hostile to "illegals," while experiencing greater-than-average levels of poverty and lack of social support. Some acted out, such as with substance abuse; others turned inward, with self-harm and suicide attempts. Participants reported anxiety, chronic sadness, depression, frustration and stress (American Behavioral Scientistopens in new window, 2013).
For Ana, learning she was undocumented was a life-altering bombshell, affecting her college and career choices, friendships, finances and job opportunities, as well as her state of mind. As she finished high school, her dream of studying abroad changed, and she chose a small, nearby college that didn't require a Social Security number. She had to turn down an educational grant she'd won.
Driving was another challenge. Ana couldn't get a license and, on occasion, drove without one — knowing that any traffic stop could result in her and her parents being deported.
She "came out" to only a few people. "One person said, ‘Why don't you just become a citizen?'" says Ana, with a sigh. "It gets so tiring having to explain everything" — how difficult it is for an undocumented person to get a green card; or, even if that were possible, how you wouldn't want to notify authorities you exist and risk exposing other family members to possible deportation; how expensive the process is and how long it takes.
And of course DREAMers cannot "go home," points out Judith Glassgold, PhD, director of government relations in APA's Public Intereste Directorate. "Most were raised, educated and have roots in this country. They may not speak the language of their parents' country fluently or at all and may not be culturally attuned to their parents' homeland."
After Ana earned her bachelor's degree, she moved home, unsure what her future might hold and unable to get a job. She became depressed enough to enter therapy, but says the therapist didn't seem to understand DREAMer issues, so Ana talked about other things in her life rather than the limbo in which she felt lost.
Now, Ana is in the first year of a counseling psychology PhD program, where she hopes to research the mental health concerns faced by undocumented people in the United States.
"When you are undocumented, I think most of us become depressed," says Jong-Min You, another undocumented immigrant whose story is similar to Ana's. He was brought to the United States by his parents at age one and didn't find out he was undocumented until he was 17. Obama's executive order is a relief for Jong-Min, now 33, because he now qualifies for protection from deportation. He plans to pursue a law degree and hopes one day to become a judge, if he is able to become a citizen.
Before the executive action was announced, Jong-Min spoke of the stress and frustration he has endured due to his status.
"You live in this invisible prison, stuck behind these invisible bars. I can't drive, vote, study abroad or get a great-paying job," he says. "You think about what your peers can do and you can't, so you sit in your invisible prison and get depressed."
Obama's action will help, says Jong-Min, but doesn't address the larger question of how to achieve citizenship. "The depression issue is mostly in the past for me, but I'm still frustrated by the immigration system."
The fate of immigration reform measures remains uncertain, while an immigration reform bill passed the Senate prior to the election it has yet to be voted upon by the House. A path forward on immigration is uncertain given policy differences between the two parties.
Lorna Collier is a journalist in Chicago.
* Ana asked that her full name not be used to protect her family.
