Maria has been working illegally in the United States for 21 years.
“I’ve never hidden from anybody,” the 41-year-old Spanish-speaking woman told me through a translator.
“I’ve used my own name the whole time I’ve been working,” she said Friday. “I pay my taxes. And I’ve never taken health care from the government. … I’ve come here to work, not to take.”
Maria works in a Denver office building, typically from 2 p.m. to 10 p.m.
“I gather trash,” she said. “I vacuum. I clean offices. I clean bathrooms. I am a janitor. This is my work, and I am very pleased with it.”
She is a dues-paying member of the Service Employees International Union Local 105.
Union officials, who granted my request for a meeting with an undocumented worker, say they do not know, precisely, how many are in their ranks. Like the many companies where they organize, union reps don’t ask workers about their immigration status.
But the union is pushing for national immigration reforms that would begin to legalize 12 million or so illegal immigrants – many of whom came here for work and had little trouble finding it, thanks to the great hospitality of American business.
Maria, like so many others, has been swept up in this economic tide, doing whatever she can to improve her life.
Here’s what she told me:
She was born in Mexico and forced to leave school at a very young age, partly because her parents were poor and partly because teachers hit her. At age 10, she began working with her parents, picking corn, beans and peppers in central Mexico.
“They worked in the fields day and night,” she said. “So did I.”
Her parents frequently handled pesticides and fertilizers without gloves or masks. Maria suspects that’s why they both died of cancer when she was 16.
Maria married the same year her parents died. She soon had a daughter, who became ill as an infant.
“We couldn’t even buy one IV for her,” Maria said. “We had nothing.”
So in 1985, Maria’s husband crossed the border illegally to take a job in California and soon sent for his family.
Maria also crossed the border illegally, primarily seeking health care for her daughter, whom she brought with her.
She toiled for years in a California clothing factory and worked several other jobs. Sometimes, she’d see immigration agents demanding identification from Latinos at bus stops. She said she learned a way to carry herself in these situations, a way of not showing fear, so that the agents never stopped her.
Maria’s daughter got better. Eventually, Maria gave birth to a second daughter, who is an American citizen because, this time, Maria’s womb was north of the border when her daughter arrived.
With little formal education, Maria has tried to learn English. She can read a little and can speak well enough to navigate a grocery store but says she is ashamed she isn’t fluent.
Despite all her years in America, she has never sought citizenship.
“My first goal was always to work and provide for my family,” she said. “I just didn’t know about those things.”
In 2000, Maria’s husband returned to Mexico to visit his parents. “I never got to see him again,” she said. He was killed in a truck accident. Maria could not attend his funeral, fearing she would not be able to cross back into the United States.
“When my husband passed away, I didn’t even have enough money to buy my kids a hamburger,” she said. “But today I feel very proud because I’ve always depended on my work.”
Shortly after her husband’s death, Maria moved to Denver, seeking a more wholesome environment to raise her daughters. “Los Angeles is very nice,”she explained, “but there are lot of problems with the youths there.”
Her older daughter is now 23 and still not a citizen. Her younger daughter is 17, has always been a U.S. citizen and is about to graduate from high school.
“This is why I have two flags in my house,” Maria said. “I have one daughter from Mexico and one from the United States. … How could I ever say anything bad about this country? I have a daughter from this country.”
Maria has demonstrated among the thousands at recent rallies and vigils. Until this public outpouring, Maria wasn’t sure if becoming a citizen was possible.
What she laments most about her undocumented status is not economic or even political. It’s just that it has separated her from siblings, nieces and nephews in Mexico – for all these years – as she’s tried to improve her life.
“What we’re hoping for is a path to legalization,” she said. “But whatever happens, we’re going to continue in this country because we love it too.”
Al Lewis’ column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Respond to him at denverpostbloghouse.com/lewis, 303-820-1967 or alewis@denverpost.com.
Al Día: Para leer este artículo en español. denverpost.com/aldia
