The Double Life of an Undocumented Student

Pressure From Family and the Law Bear Down

Once, when I was seven, I fell asleep in Michoacán and woke in Boyle Heights. No joke. Now I am a bewildered 26-year-old undocumented college student, whose life may become a slightly less surreal dream if the DREAM Act ever passes, but only slightly less so.

Sometimes I feel like a stressed-out comic book super hero, juggling multiple identities. Public opinion vilifies my kind, because people imagine that my kind spits venom or have two heads. The so-called public fears what it can’t comprehend. It’s as if people, collectively, have their …