San Diego State biology sophomore Teresa Camarillo was 6 years old when her mother and 4-year-old brother illegally crossed the Mexican border to America in 1998. With the shadows of their past behind them and the sun warming their hearts with hope, they embarked into the unknown.
The family fled its small pueblo in the Mexican state of Guerrero. Bearing scars as a display of survival, Camarillo’s mother braved the journey as a recently separated parent. Only two days before their departure, her husband held a gun to her head while Camarillo and her brother Francisco hid in a nearby bush.
“When we saw he was about to shoot her, we ran out towards him and told him not to do it and he just hit us,” Camarillo said. “He slapped me really hard.”
The road to America was complicated. The Mexican natives had no choice but to cross the border illegally. The process began in Tijuana, Mexico.
Camarillo said at the time, she was both scared and hopeful. For two days, she moved with her younger brother from house to house in Tijuana—inhabited by strangers offering promises like Christmas gifts. These people told her to wait and soon she would reach the U.S. Camarillo never questioned, trusting her mother, who had left to cross the scorching desert and the river that divided the open land between Mexico and the U.S. Many people die crossing this forbidden land, but Camarillo’s mother reassured her nothing would keep them apart for too long.
Camarillo held onto her mother’s promise and stayed calm while adapting to the role of temporary caretaker for her brother. When the time came, the children were supposed to cross the border with fake papers and new identities. But things didn’t go as planned. Camarillo and her brother had to cross separately and find each other after they crossed.
When it was Camarillo’s turn, those helping her cross, also known as coyotes, gave her a new name. They told her if she kept quiet and pretended to sleep, she would be home in a short time. When they met the border agent, she closed her eyes as hard as possible and forced herself to freeze up. But as she did this, a thought filled her mind: What was home? She did not know anymore.
Everything ran smoothly and Camarillo found herself in the U.S. The arrangements continued and she was soon reunited with her brother at their aunt’s house. After two weeks, Camarillo’s mom made it across the border. Although she was exhausted and malnourished, the whole family rejoiced in their reunion. The next obstacle was to build a new home in a foreign land.
Once settled, Camarillo and her family faced new struggles. Camarillo remembered how she and her brother had trouble eating American food.
“At first, I thought it was horrible,” Camarillo said. “I couldn’t eat the food here without throwing up. My brother had to go to the doctor to get pills so he could eat.”
Furthermore, Camarillo said San Diego couldn’t be more different than her family’s pueblo in Mexico. There, the roads were dirt paths, restrooms were outhouses and the glassless windows of their small brick house only had bars covering them.
“It was way different,” Camarillo said. “One thing I clearly remember from living in Mexico is going with my mom to the river to wash our clothes.”
Their new lives were just as hard to digest as the new food. Camarillo’s mom worked two jobs to sustain the family. The only time she would come home was to cook food for her children.
“We were practically living in the apartment by ourselves,” Camarillo said. “My mom even taught us really early how to use public transportation.”
The absence of her mother made the integration into American schools difficult. The first school she attended was Franklin Elementary School. Camarillo could not speak English, so she was moved around a lot in grade school.
“I would cry because I didn’t understand anything,” Camarillo said. “My mom would tell me to stick it out and I would learn.”
As she attended different schools for about two years, Camarillo was tutored before school, during lunch, after school and sometimes on weekends. Camarillo was back-tracked an entire school year.
The challenges of her education tested Camarillo’s strength. As soon as she learned to speak English fluently, she pushed herself constantly to do her best in school, but was met with complications.
“My fourth-grade teacher used to tell me how I was doing a great job and praise me, but then in the parent/teacher conference meetings, she told my mom she wasn’t sure I was going to pass the fourth grade or even make it to middle school,” Camarillo said. “That crushed me. I wanted to prove her wrong. It pushed me even more.”
Camarillo didn’t spend much time pondering her shortcomings. Instead, she thought about the future—college. For many undocumented students, college is another unknown territory they must cross. Many of them are first-generation college students.
“Your parents don’t understand how college is,” Camarillo said. “My mom only got to eighth grade, so I never knew who to go to for help.”
But growing up, Camarillo knew she had to go to college.
“The reason that we came over here was to get a better life … I always wanted to make my mom proud for taking the huge risk she took to come over here,” Camarillo said. “Anything could have happened while she crossed the desert.”
In her last three years at Mira Mesa High School, Camarillo joined the Advancement Via Individual Determination program, an elective offered to prepare students for college. It wasn’t until her senior year that AVID gave Camarillo the key to opening up the door for college. Camarillo didn’t think she could attend college as an undocumented student, but she learned from AVID she could sign up to be an AB 540 student, which would allow her to pay resident tuition instead of the non-resident tuition.
Despite the decrease in tuition, Camarillo still needed extra help paying for college. During her first year at SDSU, Camarillo worked at a restaurant on weekdays from 4 p.m. – 1 a.m., sometimes picking up double shifts on the weekends. Working long hours made juggling her classes difficult. Camarillo struggled to finish her homework during the few breaks she had between classes and work. In her second semester, Camarillo faced academic probation.
“There are times when I am really motivated and times when I just feel like giving up,” Camarillo said. “It is so hard not being able to get help and manage everything.”
Teresa is like a boxer though. At every round in her life, she blocks some hits and others get her straight in the face, but she always gets back up. Her drive stems from her goal to improve her family’s life; it’s pain now but a sweet healing later.
“It is difficult, but why not keep going and working for a better future?” she asked.
Camarillo’s struggle with rejection, frustration, fear, lack of help and constant wounding of her spirit have made her life difficult, but she continues to move forward. She recently received her visa and in three years, she can apply for residency.
“Things are looking good and we can be here safely without having to worry all of the time,” Camarillo said.
Camarillo looks toward the future she has fought for every single day since she crossed the border at the age of six.
