Mexico, Sinaloa; It was July 9th 2013, Independence's Day in Argentina.
Before the sun rose I woke up with my two world traveller buddies, P and L, and we left all of our bags behind, we headed towards the border. Our path was full of dreams and our life's were endangered. We knew we'd be better off on the other side, even facing the xenophobic consecuences of crossing a border without papers. We had nothing to loose. Each one of us had a very special reason to risk our life's and freedom, mine was love.
I had fallen in love with my now husband earlier that year in Oaxaca, Mexico after a series of healing experiences, travels and gatherings of like-minded people.
I remember praying for a vision, my heart was certain, I had to cross the border to be with my love, we both were so innocent on the matters of immigration, and we were fearless, after all we have a powerful spiritual bond.
P, L and I walked and walked in the dark, eventually P who was the one leading the way was nowhere to be found, we were freaking out, yet in the middle of the desert and we had to move fast, it was one of the most nerve wracking moments in my entire life, L and I knew we could NOT separate, we had to stay together no matter what, we kept walking until we found the border, it's crazy because people tend to think there was no wall before Trump's era, but that was not the case, not at all, standing in front of us, a 5 meter(ish) wall of metallic cylinders stood, we had arrived at the USA-Mexico border. Without a "coyote" to guide us we had to figure it out on our own, eventually we climbed it and we, again had to be fast, agile and silent. We knew the area was going to be raided, I felt like the worst person in the whole world. I couldn't believe I was crossing a border without permission. All I wanted was for the situation to be over, it was hot, we were hungry and dehydrated, our friend was lost, we were not wearing appropiate gear, the whole thing was a mess. Eventually the border enforcement found us. I was scared, sad, yet relieved. I knew what was coming was far from being easy yet I had chosen that because I wanted to be with my love.
After that we were detained, and sent to the police station, the staff was not humanitarian at all, except one or two officers who treated every person with basic decency... L was there too Eventually P arrived next day. He was found dehydrated somewhere in the desert ... we were so happy to find out he was alive. There I met 6 girls, one of them was pregnant, one of them had been raped, all of us were scared yet we made friends with each other, we were from different countries, different ages, different stories, but we all had something in common: a dream that had brought us here. Three days went by and we were all sent to an immigration detention center, it was incredibly lucky that the seven of us who had made friends were together, I remember we were taken to the facility and I was so happy to shower, wash my hair and wear clean clothes. The detention center wasn't easy either, the stories from the other girls were devastating, yet we had faith. One of us left, then the other, then the other, and so on, I was the last one to leave the detention center, I was released a month later, to fight for my immigration case, my love had stood up for me and sponsored me so I could be released while fighting to not be deported. In a couple of days it's going to be seven years since I was freed.
I was left with my dreams still there yet my mind was broken, I had faith and hope but I had already developed a some mental issues such as PTSD, depression, anxiety and stress. I'd think all the time of the girls left behind, of the Indian girls whom taught me valuable skills such as drawing traditional flowers, mantra singing and playing the game "sorry". I would dream about them almost every single day, I knew I had to pray for them and I hoped that was enough.
I remember painting for hours and hours, the flowers the Indian girls taught me were always on mind, eventually my art started being a channel to all the harsh emotional trauma to be released... I still feel so many depths of trauma and a part of my personality that had joy and trust in people is forever lost. I must say the experience had brought me to know a lot of beautiful souls and I had ultimatelyreached my goal: to be with my beloved partner, but the system failed me, my own country of origin has not been able to help, the embassy only made my passport after I lost it at the border and when I asked for help the consulate's answers were that they had other properties and that I've chosen my destiny. The system of this country that houses me now hasn't helped either: I can't leave the country until my case is solved, with millions of cases looking forward to be solved I'm, again not a priority. So while I live in the land of the free I'm not able to leave, neither work. It's like having my wings cut off. I KNOW I'm not the only one and that there are so many more important immigration cases such as the children whom are being separated from their parents.
I wish we as immigrants could have basic human rights. It's so sad.
Today I felt like sharing my thoughts. Raw, unfiltered and unapologetically.
Please be kind in the comment section. It took me years to be able to express myself like this and to be able to speak out for me and for others.
May God bless you all.