The youths left behind by DACA

Alex immigrated to the U.S. as a toddler and has long felt haunted by his undocumented status.

- BY ITZEL LUNA

Photo illustration by JIM COOKE Los Angeles Times; source photographs via Tayfun Coskun/Getty Images

In 2017, when he turned 15, he was finally old enough to apply for the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, only for it to slip from his grasp right before he started the paperwork, when it was rescinded by the Trump administration.

Then, in 2020, Alex was set to graduate at the top of his class and had racked up a slew of college acceptances, including a full ride to Harvard University. He ultimately declined because of his status, worried about travel restrictions. Instead, he enrolled in a nearby University of California campus.

“It was almost like the system was taunting me,” said Alex, who is now a Cal State University graduate student and chose to use his middle name for fear of being targeted by immigration authorities. “No matter how you excel, the system always comes back to haunt you, to remind you that you did all of that, and yet you really don't have a choice.”

A promise of work authorization and deportation protection pulled a generation of undocumented youths out of the shadows when DACA went into effect in 2012. Yet, hundreds of thousands of today’s students like Alex are largely left out because of the ongoing legal battle that has for the most part frozen applications since 2017.

These students' lives are further upended by the Trump administration's aggressive immigration enforcement strategy this year. DACA recipients and international students have been targeted, which has cast a cloud over higher education attainment for undocumented youths with even less protections.

Gaby Pacheco, who was undocumented while in high school and helped spearhead organizing efforts that led to DACA in the 2000s, said the current undocumented youths are “experiencing the same kind of heartbreaks” and limitations that her generation did.