‘A minority within a minority’: DACA recipients in limbo

This is the third part of a three-part series on immigration and refugee changes under the new federal administration.

Following a slew of executive orders and directives from the Trump Administration, along with a Supreme Court ruling, many DACA recipients worry about what the future holds.

Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) is a U.S. immigration policy that offers temporary relief from deportation and work authorization to undocumented individuals brought to the United States as children. 

Introduced in 2012, DACA allows recipients to remain in the country and pursue education and employment.

Since then, many DACA recipients, also known as DREAMers, have lived in the U.S. with many of the same opportunities as U.S. citizens. According to U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, there were 4,040 active DACA recipients in Arkansas, as of March 31, 2023. Across the United States, more than 500,000 people are in the DACA program.

Since the beginning of DACA, the Church has consistently supported recipients, emphasizing their dignity and the importance of providing a path to citizenship. In 2020, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops praised the Supreme Court’s decision to reinstate DACA.

Jennifer Verkamp-Ruthven, director of Catholic Immigration Services and the Refugee Resettlement Office, has been busy since inauguration day Jan. 20, responding to the growing needs of the immigrant and refugee communities. She hopes DACA isn’t added to that growing list of concerns.

“As of right now, nothing with DACA has changed, while many other topics within immigration have changed for the worse,” she said. “I hope this does not happen to DACA. Fortunately, those with DACA are not at risk of deportation so that is one thing that is unique. … I do have concerns about the upcoming case at the Supreme Court on this topic. If DACA is taken away and nothing better replaces it, then it will be a tragedy for many people and their families.” 

Matthew Phillips, an immigration specialist with Catholic Immigration Services, said changes to DACA will not come from the White House.

“Rather than the White House, DACA recipients ought to keep their eyes on the courts,” he said. “In 2022, the Hanen decision ruled that DACA was illegal and stayed all new applications. Since then, no new cases have been adjudicated, but anyone who already has DACA may file to renew. In January of 2025, an appeals court ruled that the injunction was too broad and limited it to Texas while maintaining the stay across the nation. Litigation is likely to continue throughout this year, and the future of DACA depends entirely upon what is decided. For now, though, nothing has actually changed; DACA recipients may continue to live, work and renew their statuses without fear of deportation.”

On Jan. 17, the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that DACA is illegal but allowed renewals for current recipients to continue. For now, DACA recipients can still renew their protections, but no new applicants are being processed, and DACA’s future remains uncertain. 

If the Supreme Court rules against DACA in the future, more than 500,000 recipients could lose their ability to work legally and face deportation.

Meet Jenny

One of the Catholic DACA recipients is Jenny Calvario, 31, who has been the administrative assistant of St. Augustine Church in Dardanelle and St. Andrew Church in Danville since 2018. She said she moved to the U.S. with her family when she was 4 four years old in 1997.

“Originally my dad was the first one to come to the U.S., and then it was a little hard for him to be away from his family. Just wanting to give us a better life, he decided that my mom and I should come,” she said. “I don’t think I realized that we didn’t have documents until when I was getting ready to go to college. I realized that I couldn’t apply for scholarships, that my resources were very limited. My counselor was very kind enough to say in the most kind way that it was going to be difficult for me to apply for scholarships due to my immigration status.”

Calvario said that with her parents’ hard work over the years and saving up, she was able to enroll at a community college in Morrilton. Achieving her degree was not easy for Calvario, and the challenge helped her faith bloom.

“It took a very long time just to get an associate’s degree. It took me about four years, so about the time that it takes to get a bachelor’s degree,” she said. “During my college time, my first year of college, I started to live out my faith fully. I think if it weren’t for my faith, if I didn’t have someone that I believe in who’s bigger than me, I wouldn’t be here. It has been a very difficult journey.”

Calvario said every two years, DACA recipients have to pay around $600 to renew their work permits. 

“It’s something very uncertain … and it’s a financial struggle. And there’s always the uncertainty of, will it be renewed?”

Another one of Calvario’s fears is her family being separated.

“I come from a big family. I have four siblings. And just being separated and just (fearing) that … ICE is coming to knock on your door … the feat that you’re going to get home and you wonder if your family will be there. Just the fact that you are not free to drive around because you don’t know if you’ll make it home. That’s my biggest concern — the separation of family. And I have smaller siblings. … If we get separated, what happens? Will we be treated well, with kindness?”

Calvario said there is much misinformation about why and how families immigrate. She said her parents came from a very poor neighborhood in one of the smallest towns in the state of Guerrero in Mexico. 

When she was as young as 5 or 6 years old, Calvario’s mother would go from door to door to work for money or food to help her single father — Calvario’s grandfather — since her mother — Calvario’s grandmother — died shortly after giving birth to her. When her mother met her father, Calvario’s parents moved to Mexico City to make a better living, but crime was rampant. Calvario’s parents made the decision to immigrate to the United States to provide a better life for their children.

The trip was a difficult one for her family — Calvario is too young to remember anything, and her parents don’t speak much about the journey or life in Mexico. Calvario took a trip to the border wall with Catholic Extension in 2022.

“I was so close to the wall at the border, and it broke my heart into a million pieces. Because I looked at that border, and I realized that my parents had to leave their parents, their country, their language to give me a better life, without thinking that they would probably see their parents ever again or return to their home country. 

“I am so grateful, and it breaks my heart at the same time because they gave up everything for me — for their family. And it’s not easy for them. Even though they don’t say much, I can see it in their eyes how it’s been hard for them to leave everything behind to give us a better opportunity to be able to have a good education and to live in a better condition than they were living in.”

Calvario said her faith has kept her grounded.

“I think a lot of times, I’m so scared of speaking out and saying I’m a DACA recipient because of the way people are going to look at me. A lot of times, I just look at Jesus and the Blessed Sacrament. I go to adoration, and I say, ‘My immigration status does not define me, Lord, but your love defines me.’ And that has helped me so much and to walk these uncertain times, but with a lot of faith and hope that things will get better and that God will make it better as well.”

Calvario said she often worries about this life — but her family encourages her to take hope from the promise of the next life. 

“My dad gives us words of hope. That’s what a father does. He doesn’t want to give us more anxiety. He doesn’t want us to carry burdens. They have hope and they’re like, ‘We just have to look at Christ and hold onto his hand and hope that there is something better — that he has something better for us.’ … Maybe there’s no better here. If nothing good ever happens here, we do have hope that there is something better in the next life, which is with Christ. … My parents have given me the faith to continue hoping for something good.”

Meet ‘Sebastian’

“Sebastian” is a 26-year-old DACA recipient who attends Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Springdale. He is referred to by this alias for safety in order to share his story.

Sebastian, who had been Protestant alongside his family for most of his life, was confirmed and received into the Catholic Church in December.

He said he immigrated with his mother, aunt, siblings and cousins when he was almost 2 years old. His family immigrated due to the poverty in their neighborhood in Mexico City.

“My dad convinced my mom to move to the states with us, because I think he already was here in the United States for like a year or so, so my dad kind of brought us over here just to start a new life.”

Sebastian said that while he doesn’t remember the journey, his mother said it was a frightening one.

“When I was crossing the border … I think we were crossing the desert with a coyote … and my mom always shares that that was a very scary journey for her because she was in a room full of men and she had to be like the protector of all these different children from any situation that could happen. Luckily, nothing happened, but that was a scary experience for her.”

As Sebastian’s family went to different Protestant churches throughout his youth, looking for somewhere to fit in religiously, Sebastian realized he didn’t seem to fit in culturally either. 

“It’s not that I’ve never been bullied or maybe discriminated against for being an immigrant. It’s just more I felt like I was lost between two worlds. I always felt like I never fit in with my American friends, and then with my Mexican friends, I always felt like I didn’t fit in with them as well. I tried my best to make the best of being stuck in two worlds. … I didn’t know where I belonged, and it was confusing.”

It was when Sebastian began to look at options for college that he realized just how big of an impact his family’s status had on his life. It wasn’t until 2019 that the Arkansas legislature passed HB 1684, which allowed DACA recipients and certain immigrants living in Arkansas to attend public higher education facilities at the same cost as in-state students. Prior to this law being passed, Sebastian was attending a community college and working full-time. After HB 1684 passed, he transferred to the University of Arkansas and continued working while completing his degree.

After graduating, Sebastian’s girlfriend at the time was interested in becoming Pentecostal. Ever the supportive partner, Sebastian joined her. But he began to realize that there were some things he believed differently. 

“Her pastor started giving us Bible study at the church … in one message he gave us at one of the Bible studies, he said Peter was given the key to Jesus’ Church … so then I started doing more research on Church history. If Jesus established his Church through his apostles and disciples, what does that Church look like?”

Sebastian spent the next year researching Catholicism while still supporting his girlfriend’s faith journey. 

“And the more I started looking into it, I was like, ‘Wow. If I was to remain Christian, I don’t know if staying Protestant would be enough for me.”

Not long after Sebastian and his girlfriend ended their relationship, he joined the Catholic Church, which he feels is more accepting of immigrants and individuals in his position.

“It made me feel bad around 2016, because I know there were a lot of evangelical Christians that were not understanding of our story as far as undocumented immigrants. It made me kind of feel like maybe what we did was wrong and like maybe what my parents did was wrong and maybe we don’t deserve to be here. … When I converted (to Catholicism), I started to feel more empathy and compassion for people in my community. The Catholic Church has a good stance on immigration. … They are like champions treating people fairly and like they’re humans, even if they are immigrants.”

Sebastian’s advice for immigrants like himself is simple.

“Spend time with your family. Enjoy the time you have with them. At the end of the day, everything is in God’s hands.”

Meet Kevin

Kevin Azanza, 26, is a policy strategist for the American Civil Liberties Union of Arkansas and a DACA recipient. When he is home in northwest Arkansas, he attends St. Vincent de Paul Church in Rogers, and when he is working in Little Rock, he attends St. Edward Church.

Like Calvario and Sebastian, Azanza’s parents made the journey in search of a better life.

“My mom and dad met in Mexico and ended up having me. When my mom ended up getting pregnant with my sister … they had decided that … although they loved Mexico, they wanted more opportunities for their children, and we ended up coming over,” he said. 

He was only 1 year old when his parents made the journey in 1999.

Azanza is concerned because previous politics have dealt with words around immigration. Now he is seeing more action, and that has many communities afraid.

“We are concerned about immigration, but we’re also concerned about the economic aspect,” he said. “I go to these Latino-owned businesses, barber shops, supermarkets, community centers where they used to be packed on the weekends, and you’d see a thriving community. Now you just see no one — it’s a bare oasis. 

“So seeing the economic aspect also hurts. And it’s something that’s been mentioned a lot in the Latino community lately — that people are scared because they are … not contributing to the economy, they’re not going out and living their lives like they should be, or like they have been on a regular basis. So I think immigration and the economy are two of the big ones, but not to overlook the fact that people are really just nervous about the impacts that this can have on their family and the community.”

Azanza is also scared for many children who will be swept up in abrupt changes that they neither can control nor likely understand.

“I’m lucky that I have DACA, and I’m lucky that my parents are currently residents and that my extended family, for the most part, has documentation. However, I do have friends and other family that are not documented. So some of the things that really scare me are … I’m really scared for the kids. Especially the kids like me, us growing up. I experienced what it is to be undocumented. And so growing up, seeing these kids grow up right now where this fear and anxiety is amplified is what makes me worry for them. I don’t think we’ve seen yet the repercussions that such effects can have later on in the kids’ lives.”

Like Sebastian, Azanza said many DACA recipients occupy a gray area.

“I knew growing up that I was … different, for lack of a better word. But I didn’t know exactly how that impacted my life until I tried to apply for college. That’s when I noticed that I am not necessarily undocumented, but I’m not necessarily documented. It was like feeling like a minority within a minority. I was lucky enough to have the benefits of having a driver’s license, a work permit, protection from deportation. 

“But at the same time, I was not granted the same privileges of being documented, which is being able to apply for some scholarships, some grants, some loans, some federal aid, work-study programs. And so it really was just being a minority within a minority. I think that was amplified even more as a first-generation student. … I was super lucky and really grateful that I had people that invested in me and that helped me get into college. And I know that wasn’t necessarily the case for everyone who was in my situation.”

Like Calvario and Sebastian, Azanza’s faith has helped him greatly. He, too, has put his worries in God’s hands.

“I can only do what I can do, and the rest, I’ve got to leave it up to God,” he said. “And even as my head starts thinking about all the things that can happen to my family, my friends, my community, I always think, well, God’s plan is bigger and it’s all in his hands at every time. So it will be OK in the end, and if it’s not OK, it’s because it’s not the end.”