United States of America
For many in the United States of America, a strong part of the country's identity is being a nation of immigrants, beginning with, some will say, the early Americans who crossed the Beringia land bridge from Asia 20,000-30,000 years ago. Immigration has fundamentally shaped the USA, whether newcomers were driven by the search for refuge from war, violence and persecution; for a post-secondary education; or for a job to support oneself and one's family. At present, close to 14 percent of its population of 331 million is foreign born, and, in 2018, more than one in five members of the U.S. Congress were either immigrants or children of immigrants.
The USA has often been perceived as a land of economic opportunity for would-be migrants, and though China is closing the gap, the U.S. economy remains the largest globally. A fifth of the world's income is earned and generated by U.S. inhabitants, even though they make up less than 5 percent of the global population. However, economic inequality in the USA, already the highest of G7 countries, continues to rise. Eighteen percent of U.S. residents live in relative poverty and over a third in financial insecurity. Recent financial crises have highlighted the precarity of those on the short end of the labor market stick — notably those in low-wage jobs.
Studies in the first decade of the twentieth century revealed that nearly half of low-skill laborers were immigrants and nearly a quarter, migrants without documentation. Hispanics make up an increasing percentage of both the immigrant population — approximately a quarter each from Mexico and from other parts of Latin America — and the low-wage labor market. The immigrant-led ministry Pastoral Migratoria of the Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago notes that the number of Hispanics in the USA is expected to double by 2030.
Immigrant workers such as these face particular challenges to exercise their basic rights and to find decent, dignified work. They often receive unfair and unjust salaries for work in precarious, unsafe jobs. Low levels of formal schooling, poor English language skills or irregular migration status creates additional vulnerability. Discrimination and harassment are common, as are negative consequences for attempts to organize collective action to effect change. Hispanic migrants have some of the lowest income levels in the nation and figure prominently among the working poor. Pastoral Migratoria observes that, despite the presence of a larger migrant community, many immigrants are quite isolated, which accentuates feelings of despair and fear.
The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, many Catholic Church-inspired organizations, and local diocesan and parish groups advocate for policies that ensure safe and regular migration; the right of all people to migrate to find decent, dignified work; and an approach to migration that puts the human person at the center of migration discussions and that takes into account the impact of globalization on decisions to migrate.
Seventy percent of Hispanic migrants in the USA are Catholic, and Pastoral Migratoria has seen that they, like other migrants with a faith tradition, often turn to their local faith community for support as they strive to integrate into new circumstances of life and work. The parish-based ministry created in 2008 is working to address labor rights, documentation, and other issues that are central for migrant communities. As well as providing educational resources, training, and support for immigrants and their families, Pastoral Migratoria advocates for policy reform and is developing a national network of immigrant-led ministry of service, justice and accompaniment.
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Mass for migrants at Holy Name Cathedral organized by Pastoral Migratoria, a parish-based, immigrant-led ministry of the Archdiocese of Chicago.
Chicago, January 2019
I arrived in the United States, from Uganda, a few years ago because my husband lives and works here. When I arrived, the first thing I had to do was go to school, and, after I had got my diploma, I could begin to work. My job is home care for people with health problems. When I decided to move and come here to the USA, I expected a lot of things. I had very high expectations of the American dream. I thought that work here would be better and that everything was like I saw in the films. Then, when I arrived, there were some shocks. The first was the climate. I was not used to the cold at all and often fell seriously ill. Then the language, which I had not thought would be such an enormous barrier, turned out to be a wall difficult to get over. I had to do courses to get used to the accent and learn the right pronunciation. And, finally, I had to accept the American way of life which, in some ways, was totally different from that of my country of origin.
Here, time flies, everything happens in a rush, whereas, in Uganda, I was used to slower rhythms, took my time for everything. Here, everything is in a hurry: the food, the street, everything. When I arrived, I expected that everyone would be rich and that poverty would not exist, but no, I was wrong. I remember my strange feelings in seeing the homeless, my confusion in comparing those sights with the images I had in my head. In my imagination, the USA was a lucky place where everyone was happy and secure, but I saw that it was not so. Here you have to learn how to get around, and the rules are different.
I am often afraid that these stereotypes could affect the world of work. Fortunately, it is not like that. If you study, are given tasks and if you do exactly what others expect of you, people see your potential. This can overrule the preconceptions and the stereotypes. In my job, what counts is the service you give and how professional it is. The rest does not matter. Sometimes, people look at me differently, it's true. I think they do this because I am a migrant. But after a bit, everyone gets used to and accepts me. I think everyone should see me as a person, as a daughter of God. Because this is what we are. In my line of work with people who come from the most diverse places in the world, different backgrounds and stories, I believe it is a huge enrichment. To be able to meet so many people with many different cultures enriches us all.
What we lack most in my country is the almost total freedom that I need to live in a simple, genuine way, with the solidarity of the family structure. I miss the climate that is always warm ‒ the sun shines even when it rains ‒ but I know that I will never return because home is nevertheless here where I have my family.
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Chicago, January 2019
Member of Pastoral Migratoria
I arrived in the United States in 1994, with my husband. We saw an opportunity in migration: the possibility of living a better life and a better way of bringing up our children. We saw that it would be possible to help our families, and so we left. And that's how it was. Right from the beginning, we were able to send money home to help our families live a little better. We arrived across the border on foot, walking in the desert as far as California. From there, we came straight to Chicago. No sooner had we arrived than we found a community awaiting us: distant relatives, friends and friends of friends who helped and supported us. In those days finding work was easy. There was a great need for manual labor, so no one asked any questions... We found work and good living conditions. The Church helped us, and the community supported us.
Despite all the difficulties, I feel that my home is here in Chicago. There are always sacrifices throughout life. Even if we are not naturalized and it is not my country, it is my home. That's how I feel and God willing, we will stay here. My brothers and sisters still live in Mexico in the village I left many years ago. I don't think I want to go back there. At one time, I hoped to be able to return to see my mother. Unfortunately, she has passed away, and now there is no pressure to return. The thing that I miss the most is being able to talk to my sisters. My daughters are 11 and 12 years old, and we must wait until they reach 21 before they can apply to naturalize us their parents.
Since we arrived, my husband has worked painting cars. He is an expert, and this job has supported us. At first, I worked as well in the plant's office. But later, we decided together that I would stay at home to look after the children as they grew up. And it has been a good thing.
We have a big community, and I have never felt discriminated against because of being a migrant. This country is made up of migrants. I have a dream, which I guess is the dream of all mothers and fathers in the world: that my daughters live an easy, peaceful life, that they are able to do what they want and that we can all be happy together here in the USA or in Mexico, or wherever the wind takes us. My elder daughter says that she would like to find a job that allows her to travel. And who knows, perhaps one day we will move together to some other part of the world. My greatest dream is to be with my family.
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Chicago, January 2019
Migrant community leader and member of Pastoral Migratoria
In Mexico, I worked as an accountant. I had a job, and I was fine. Then my son transferred to the United States to follow his dreams, and so, when his wife became pregnant, I decided to move to Chicago, to help them with the little newborn. Both he and his wife worked, and neither was in a position to leave a job. I already had sent an application for a visa to come to the USA many years ago. I knew that, one day, it would be useful. So, my arrival was easier than could have been foreseen. The first thing that I did was to go to school to learn English. Language is the first great obstacle to be faced when one arrives in a new country, and it is of fundamental importance to speak and manage it well.
I looked after my grandson whilst I studied and, bit by bit, I began to do what I knew I could do best. In my spare time, I began to take on little jobs in accountancy/payment of taxes. When my grandson grew up and went to university, I began to work full-time. I know that I am lucky. Most people who come from Mexico to the USA come from situations of extreme poverty and live in difficult situations. I therefore decided to try and give a hand and do what I could to make a contribution to Pastoral Migratoria of the Archdiocese of Chicago.
The thing I miss most from my Mexican home is the language and my friends. In my experience, I have understood one thing that I basically reject: At the beginning I felt discriminated against. But then I realized that my own attitude had a fundamental influence on how others perceived me. In the end, this place is founded on migration. Everyone in the USA is a migrant; the only real North Americans are almost gone.
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Chicago, January 2019
Migrant community leader and member of Pastoral Migratoria
[Woman speaking] We crossed the Rio Grande and then the desert. When you live through these experiences, what you see and feel remains within you for the rest of your life. When you arrive here, above all, if you are small and timid, the shock is great: the culture, the houses, the architecture in general, the language, and the people who attack you because you do not speak their language. We have learned English thanks to our children and their homework.
We are proud of what we are: migrants. Seeing many challenges, we realized that we had to help our community, create a network to support our brothers and sisters. So, we are involved in Pastoral Migratoria. We like to call it our second job, and it's more important than the first. My husband works in construction as a bricklayer while I am engaged full time with citizenship procedures. We help our compatriots to obtain citizenship.
When we left Mexico, we traveled with people we did not know; in dangerous places, we were defenseless, maltreated. We slept in improvised places or, worse, did not sleep at all. Migrating can be traumatic. You are moved around all over the place without food to eat; or, indeed, you sometimes eat what you find. However, the experience of the journey often is not the most traumatic part. The worst part is separation from your family, the distance between you, not seeing them anymore. This trauma changes the way you live. So, it is important to urge the community to support each other. You have to put down grains of sand to build something greater. We are all equal, we all come from this Earth, and I believe that the most important thing is to understand ourselves as human beings.
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Chicago, January 2019
Migrant community leader and member of Pastoral Migratoria
My daughter was born with spina bifida, along with other serious health problems. In Honduras, the doctors could not offer us the necessary support for her to live a dignified life and improve her condition. We spent more than three months in the hospital, but, at a certain point, the doctors advised me to come to the United States to try and take advantage of a migration program offered to parents with children. So, we didn't think twice. I packed our bags and departed, leaving my eldest son in Honduras. We have been separated from that moment on.
The journey was not easy. The people on that road do not treat you well. We were stopped for five days without food and water in a secluded place to protect us from the gangs. We arrived at the border and presented ourselves to the immigration people without really knowing what to say or ask. I had half an idea about the asylum application, but my information was sketchy and too inaccurate.
They let us in. I still haven't understood with what status. The only proof that I offered was about my daughter's condition and seeing that what I was saying was true, they let us through. And, since the medical team that specialized in spina bifida was in Chicago, we simply came here. When I came to the migration office here in Illinois, the problems began. My uncertain status made me an atypical asylum seeker, and they themselves suggested that I get a good lawyer because, if my case were to proceed like this, I would soon find myself deported back to Honduras with my two daughters.
I am looking for work even if I do not have the permit. My first employer was in the construction trade, but he refused to provide me with documents. So now I am working in a restaurant which is helping me to finally regularize my situation. People think that we come here to steal or take something that belongs to someone else, but this is not true.
We come here out of necessity, for love. I came here out of love for my daughter because I want her to be healthy. I want the best for her. Every one of us has reasons of love that drive migration.
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Chicago, January 2019
Pastoral Migratoria beneficiary
Every Friday morning, the Catholic community meets at dawn in front of Chicago's deportation center. Inside the building, migrants without documents are detained awaiting deportation, which usually happens two or three days after their arrest. The faithful meet here to pray together in protest against the deportations.
Chicago, January 2019
Migrant of Mexican origin at his workplace. Immigrant workers often are denied basic labor rights and experience harassment, unfair pay and unsafe conditions.
Chicago, January 2019
Migrant from Mexico at the metalcraft company where he has worked for five years. All of his colleagues are migrants, from various countries around the world.
Chicago, January 2019
I was born in the state of Durango in Mexico, and, when I was 12, my family migrated to the United States. In our village there was no work. My father was a farmer, and, for economic reasons, our livelihood collapsed, so he came here to the USA in search of a better future for his family and above all for us children. My brother came with him immediately, while my mother and I joined them later.
For me, to jump from Mexico to the USA was difficult. I went from a place where I played in the street day and night to a city where I could do nothing but spend time at home after school. Even though we arrived with the correct documents, the journey was difficult. I came with my family on a commercial passenger bus that took three days from Mexico to Chicago. Then, the city that people had described as beautiful didn't appeal to me. The walls were high, and the possibilities few. The freedom of the village had disappeared out of the blue. It was very difficult to get used to this situation.
One of the biggest challenges for a migrant is racism. Despite having lived here more than 20 years, still today, I see many disparities and discrimination, sometimes more evident, sometimes more hidden. But the fact that you do not see them does not necessarily mean that they don't exist. From a certain point of view, however, it is interesting to observe racism from an outsider's point of view, trying to attribute to it characteristics common to all human beings.
I would like everyone to aim at the same thing, namely, love. I think all of us should realize that we are created for a wonderful purpose of loving one another, each with their particular differences. I work for the Archdiocese of Chicago and I feel that this is part of my mission for evangelization. It means professional and spiritual growth. If you were to ask where "home" is, I wouldn't know exactly how to reply because I have two homes: one in Mexico, where my family is and where I return at least once a year, and the other here, where my whole life is.
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Chicago, January 2019
Pastoral Migratoria employee
In Mexico, my parents insisted on sending me to college, and, during my studies, I never thought that I would come to this side of the border or of "the river." Then, in 1993 when I finished my studies and was looking for a job, I realized that it would be very difficult to guarantee my wife and my children a good standard of living. So, I saw an opportunity and left for California where they were looking for people to work in the fields. The pay was good, and I was earning a lot. Then, a number of reasons took me back home to my family. And after various moves to different cities, I arrived in Chicago. Here, I began to work in restaurants and realized that I was earning more than I would have earned in high-level work in my own country. Thus, I settled here, got married, and my wife moved from Mexico with me.
Naturally, not everything has always been perfect. In 2004, my wife was arrested and sent back to Mexico, even though she was the mother of three American citizens and wife of a naturalized American. It was a moment of desperation, but fortunately we managed to have her return. This is happening all the time to thousands of people every month. With the latest U.S. administration, the practice has increased.
I believe that most migrants are exploited, in many cases underestimated and above all badly represented. In fact, we are people who migrate only for work and to contribute to our family and our community. Our migration is an act of love. Our investment is our children; everything is done for love. The education that we give them is then the center of everything. And I want to stress this again — studying is the key to everything, to a better future. Despite the fact that I have studied, it was not enough, either for me or my children. So, I did all I could to enable them to study even more to live a better life than mine. I am convinced that, if everyone embraced this idea of solidarity and culture, we surely would change this nation and, hopefully, even the world.
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Chicago, January 2019
Pastoral Migratoria beneficiary
[Man speaking] When I left, I was 16 years old. I was born into a family of 16 people. I have lots of brothers and sisters. At that time, things were not going well, so I left. It was the only way I could help my family. I went through Tijuana and arrived in Los Angeles; from there, I took a flight to Chicago. In those days, finding work was not as difficult as it is today. After a week, I already was working in a restaurant, and, right from the start I began sending money to my family.
As for many others, my first job was dishwashing. I always have been a determined person, so I began to learn, step-by-step, and became a cook. This allowed me to change restaurants a lot. Every so often, I returned to Mexico to visit my family. During one of these visits I got engaged. [We had a] long-distance relationship [for] a few years, then I went back to Mexico [so we could] get married, and together we came back to Chicago. I feel as if I have lived the American dream. I have helped my family. When I was little, it was hard, even to have a pair of shoes. It was difficult to begin life like this, but then, thank God, things got better, and today we are happy. My status has been "irregular" for a long time. However, the amnesty granted to migrants was a great opportunity for many of us, and many doors were opened unexpectedly.
Now I work as a cook in a company that makes desserts. The company respects my rights. We have five weeks of vacation leave, and our employer respects our religious traditions as well. All this has changed, thanks to being a legal resident of this country. One important part of my life is the Catholic community. The people that form our community are special. They made me feel important. They made me understand that we are all equal, that there are no walls or divisions because we all have the same rights.
Chicago, January 2019
Pastoral Migratoria beneficiary
[Man speaking] I worked for Venezuela's State-owned oil company. I left because the situation in the last few years got worse: the economic situation, health care, security on the roads, and many aspects of daily life in Venezuela. Unfortunately, Venezuelans are suffering at this time, and there seems to be no solution in the near future.
In my situation, it was too much for me. I was an engineer for 23 years, the manager of a big oil plant that closed for political reasons. After the closure, we began to look for other opportunities. But taking account of the condition of the firms, the politics, and my health, which was deteriorating, in 2017 we decided to emigrate, with our children, to the United States, where we already had a daughter who was a citizen. We had the intention of staying here until we would have the security of being able to return home. For now, we have lost all our property in Venezuela as well as the sacrifices of a lifetime.
We have been here in Chicago for 15 months, and we are requesting political asylum. We have sent the procedural documents and hope the process finishes soon so we can begin to rebuild a future. When we arrived, we had no house here in Chicago but, thanks to the Church and the community, we were put in contact with a Mexican restaurant owner who offered us the opportunity to work for him in exchange for lodging and a decent salary, until we could obtain regular status. This kind of solidarity has made us feel at home. We are all like a big family. Here, we are waiting, hoping for a better future. We carry on, and I thank God every day for having had the opportunity to come here. My hope for the future is to be able to work and look after my family again.
Chicago, January 2019
Pastoral Migratoria beneficiary
Immigrants at their worksite. The majority of Mexican migrants like these men find employment in the construction sector or in restaurants and bars. They may be undocumented or otherwise have an irregular status and thus are at risk of detention and deportation by immigration authorities.
Chicago, January 2019
Chicago, January 2019
A migrant woman from Latin America works as a chef at the restaurant run by her family. Ethnic communities in the USA have grown rapidly in recent decades, with a foreseen doubling of the Hispanic population by 2030.
Chicago, January 2019
Ivory Coast
