I was a bratty child—I would cry about everything, often annoying my parents, especially my dad. When I was three, I put on some pink boots that I saw at the store and refused to take them off until my dad agreed to buy them for me. On another occasion, while shopping I saw a doll that I really liked—looking back, it was an ugly doll, but I cried at the store until my dad gave up and bought it for me. Regardless, I always knew that my dad loved me, at least that’s what I thought. Until one day my parents and I went to Mexico, and my dad didn’t come back.  

The first day back home without my dad felt surreal. I could tell my mom was sad, although she did a great job at keeping it from me. Even at four years old, I knew something was off.  

Maybe it was the fact that my bird had flown away that day, or maybe it was that my dog, Oso ran away that same afternoon. Or maybe it was simply the fact that my dad wasn’t there to take care of me anymore and I didn’t know when I would see him again.  

I remember asking my mom why everyone was abandoning me, was it my fault? That seemed like the only logical reason to why my dad hadn’t come back. I had probably cried too much and he had finally decided he had enough of me.  

I saw him in September 2007 and didn’t see him again until January of the following year. My cousins would make fun of me all the time, telling me that I didn’t have a dad and that he had abandoned me.  

My mom had to sit me down and explain to me that he hadn’t abandoned me, and that if he wasn’t there with us, it was because it was out of his control. My mom had to explain to her four-year-old daughter that my dad had been deported and that he wasn’t allowed back into the U.S. for the next 10 years.  

My dad had been in the U.S. for 10 years prior to being deported. He worked in agriculture, paid his taxes and most importantly, did his best to give my mother and I a great life. He had applied for a Green Card on September 2006. On September 2007 he was denied and wasn’t allowed back into the U.S.  

Like other immigrants who come into the U.S., my dad came to this country to help his parents, who he had to leave behind in México. This country is supposed to be the country of opportunities, the country where dreams come true but is it anymore, or was it ever?  

No child is prepared to leave behind the only life that they know and no parent is prepared to leave everything that they built behind. 

The results of this election season have been something that I have been dreading. Knowing that one of the candidates is a convicted felon, yet he is always calling the hard working people that came into this country criminals.  

When I hear Donald Trump say, “On day one I will launch the largest deportation program in American history to get criminals out,” it makes me question how he doesn’t realize that he, himself is a criminal and that he is no better than anyone else just because he is a white American man. 

There are not enough words in the world for me to describe how I, a person who suffered from such a traumatic experience of having their parent be deported at such a young age, feel about the fact that this same experience is the reality for millions of children, and that Trump has the power to make it a reality for a million more children in the U.S.  

What disgusted me the most, was finding out that my own people, voters of the Hispanic and Latino community, had voted for such an openly racist candidate. To those Hispanic and Latinos who voted for Trump, I want to remind you that you are not better than anyone. Turning your back on your own communities doesn’t make you different, or give you any privilege. Voting for Trump does not change where you came from or who you are.  

I have the privilege of being born in the U.S. and growing up as the first born daughter of two hard working agriculture workers. The people that have always told me to follow my dreams no matter how big they seem, to not give up no matter what others say, because nothing is too big to accomplish. They always told me that if I wanted to do something, then I have to work hard for it. Today I attend college thanks to all the sacrifices my parents have made throughout their lives in hopes of giving me a better future.  

I hope that none of you ever have to experience anything similar to what I have been though. But for those who have had similar experiences, know that you are not alone and there is always someone willing to listen.