Journeys across borders
Isabella Fernandez* spent much of her childhood living with those she shared her blood in Mexico. Mexico, her origin, culture, the annual late nights full of celebration and festivals with her tight family of 17, and a place that, despite its lush green fields, felt like a land weighed down by hardship.
She remembers those years as a constant struggle and fighting for the few jobs offered, especially in her neighborhood. Each day, from when the sun wakes and sleeps again, was spent working hard – helping the ones she held close to her heart survive in a world that seemed to give little in return.
When she married, life only became even more complicated. Her husband had already crossed the border into the U.S. once, illegally, and his heart was set on going back, determined to build a better future.
Though fear clutched at her heart, Fernandez knew she had to follow him.
The journey to a new country was uncertain and even terrifying, but love and the hope for a better life for her child pushed her forward.
“I am from a tiny ranch. There are not a lot of job opportunities, and even the money you make goes back into farming. You don’t have anything for yourself. You can’t build a home. You can’t make a life for yourself,” Fernandez said.
In hopes of an understanding with the individuals who were so similar yet different from her, she uses her broken English to express her struggle to get to the U.S. without her daughter translating.
“Crossing over the border is hard. It was very hard and I was very scared,” Fernandez said.
They first contacted the coyotes, smugglers who guide people across the border. Shortly after making contact, a smuggler — commonly known as a coyote — in Tijuana offered to help her and her husband cross the border into San Diego, California. Tijuana, a city located right on the border between Mexico and the U.S., is the closest Mexican city to San Diego. Her husband’s siblings planned to meet them in San Diego and drive them to Los Angeles.
“We took an airplane from our ranch to Tijuana, and after we crossed, family members were waiting there to take us to Los Angeles,” Fernandez said.
According to the Pew Research Center, the number of unauthorized immigrants in the U.S. has grown significantly over the past two decades, rising from 8.6 million in 2000 to an estimated 11 million by 2022. Among these immigrants, around 4 million are immigrants of Latinx origin who come to escape the economic instability and a lack of job opportunities in Mexico that leave little hope for a better future. In search of opportunity, these migrants often find guides to help them across the border. They turn to coyotes — smugglers who promote themselves on social media platforms like Meta, making false promises of safe journeys and easy immigration processes.
When she was pregnant with her first daughter in the U.S., Fernandez and her husband had no money. They relied on family members for housing, food, and necessities. Fernandez’s husband struggled to find work but settled on working at a gardening business after four months of living in the U.S. Fernandez was still pregnant and thus unable to work. She struggled with depression when she first arrived because of how lonely it felt being away from the family she held close to her heart.
Through her struggles of living in an unfamiliar place, Fernandez was resilient. She didn’t have many childcare options due to her status and lack of money she started her own cleaning business when she moved to Redwood City. She was determined to give her children the life that they deserved.
“It was very hard for me to start a business. I started a business because I wanted to care for my children but didn’t have enough to give them what they needed. But even when I started my business, it was very hard to communicate with my clients,” Fernandez said.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, about 7.1% of the nation’s 5,681,118 employer firms in the U.S. were Hispanic-owned in 2021. Many of these small businesses include immigrants who have traveled to the U.S. hoping to find more opportunities to open pathways for their children or create a better life for themselves.
The journey to the U.S. is one that many undertake, yet the stories of individuals like Fernandez are often overlooked, misunderstood, or silenced.
“I know what it’s like to want a better life for yourself and not be able to find it in your own country,” Fernandez said. “Even though it’s tough to leave everything behind, you do it because you believe things will improve elsewhere.”
The challenges continued when Fernandez arrived in the U.S. With increasing regulations and growing numbers of immigrants seeking refuge, she has faced waves of discrimination. Fernandez acknowledges some fears about immigrants but wishes people understood the truth. Immigrants, she explains, are here to refrain from exploiting the country’s services or wealth. Instead, they seek opportunities to work, contribute, and build better lives without harming anyone.
“We all want the chance to create a better future for ourselves,” Fernandez said. “Everyone deserves that right.”
Jasmine Ahmadi’s* heart thudded so violently she thought it might betray her. Every muscle in her body ached from hours of stillness in the dark of the night, yet she pressed herself tighter beneath the grimy cloth that barely hid her and the 14 others. The air under the cover was stifling, thick with sweat and fear, but she didn’t dare move.
The truck — its headlights off — jolted as it drove on the bumpy desert ground, and Ahmadi’s breath hitched. Through the openings on the side of the truck, she caught a glimpse of the looming guard towers with their light in the distance, promising a fate that she would be gripped by trepidation if the guards found them. Her pulse raced, her body trembling with fear, but she bit down hard on her lip to silence the terror threatening to spill over.
Despite the suffocating dread, a fierce determination anchored her. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she focused on one thought: freedom. This was her moment, her chance to escape the life that had become a prison. No matter the cost, she was leaving Iran. She had to.
“They, the smugglers, put 15 of us in the back of a pickup truck, and we were squished together. They put a tarp over our heads so that when driving through a city, we would look like trucks of maybe potatoes. When we were driven out of the cities, they turned off the light on the pickup truck and started driving through the desert off the road,” Amahdi said.
This was only a portion of her experience escaping from Iran in 1989 — around ten years after the Iran revolution in 1979.
Ahmadi reflects on her life as a Jewish resident in Iran before 1979 when she was just nine. The Iran Revolution lasted for almost 10 years until 1988. Many people lost their lives on the streets. According to Britannica, It began when Iraq, under the leadership of Saddam Hussein, invaded Iran, aiming to seize control of disputed border territories and weaken the newly established Islamic Republic of Iran.
The war influenced regional dynamics and sparked significant waves of displacement and refugee movements, which included Ahmadi.
The Jewish population in Iran decreased significantly since 1948, with there being 100,000. According to the Jewish Virtual Library this number decreased to 9,300. This decrease of Jews in Iran is prominently due to emigration which means migration out of a certain place.
After the revolution, Iran fell under the control of an Islamic regime, and Ahmadi’s life was transformed. The freedom she once knew felt suffocated, as though she were cloaked in a black veil, symbolizing the restrictive regulations imposed on her as both a Jew and a woman.
Discrimination followed her from a young age. Ahmadi recalls her school days vividly, where she faced persistent efforts to pressure her into converting to Islam. Teachers and classmates alike tried to sway her, but she stood firm, refusing to abandon her beliefs despite the isolation it brought.
Her identity as a woman also became a daily battle. Within a year of the regime’s rise, mandatory hijabs and modest uniforms were enforced, stripping women of their individuality and freedom of expression. School uniforms and clothing were redesigned to obscure their figures, reflecting a growing patriarchal dominance that reshaped not only how women dressed but also how they moved through society.
“We could no longer wear our typical skirt or top. We had to cover our bodies with long sleeves and baggy pants so no curve was showing. The society pushed women to cover their bodies because it’s a patriarchal society, and women had full responsibility for what happens to them,” Ahmadi said.
The stark change in her status as a woman weighed heavily on her, altering even the most minor aspects of her daily life. This led to her decision to leave Iran.
Ahmadi described this decision as the most significant decision of her life. She mentions how the most challenging thing about immigrating out of Iran was leaving her family and familiar culture behind to a place that seemed like an entirely new world. She loved the art of Iran, from simple words to poetry and the language.
“Iran has a beautiful culture. It has a beautiful language and poetry; everything was familiar to me. All my friends and family. It was heartbreaking to leave it all behind,” Ahmadi said.
At 19, Ahmadi applied for a visa to leave Iran but was denied. She explained that the Iranian government was reluctant to grant Jews access to foreign countries, fearing they would never return.
Undeterred by the refusal of a visa and determined to create a better life for herself, Ahmadi looked at other options. Her father was able to connect with a smuggling organization that specialized in helping Jews escape Iran, providing her with a pathway to pursue her dream of freedom and opportunity.
It was a hazardous process.
Ahmadi knew she was putting her life on the line if she were to be caught with a smuggler. She said that she heard stories of many people facing the consequences of getting caught leaving Iran, many being thrown in jail or raped by the guards. Though she was afraid, she was even more determined to find the better life she wanted.
She found herself on a long drive through the desert in the dead of night on the back of a pickup truck in the direction out of Iran to Pakistan. The road was barely a road, and guard towers, an intimidating presence, constantly embraced Ahmadi with fright that they would be caught.
“We could see the guard towers of the border guards. Their light was a distance away, and we had to be quiet. This went on for hours and hours as we drove,” Ahmadi said.
Ahmadi had no contact with their families for the eight days they were driving to a safe spot in Pakistan. Ahmadi’s family of eight days was alert for any sign of Ahmadi’s whereabouts or condition.
“The first eight days that I was traveling, there was no news to my family about my whereabouts, and they were apprehensive about me until they got a confirmation from the smuggler that we had reached the safe spot in Pakistan,” Ahmadi said.
Ahmadi’s journey was shared with other Jewish immigrants on the truck, many of whom went through similar struggles that motivated them to leave Iran. Like Ahmadi, eight of the 14 passengers were women who fled not only religious persecution as Jews but also the social constraints put on them as women in a harsh environment. They sought freedom and opportunities they couldn’t find in Iran.
The remaining passengers were a mix of older couples looking for a better quality of life and men driven by the promise of more opportunities. Despite their varying reasons for fleeing, they were united by the hope that they clung to of finding refuge and creating a new life in a place where, though different, these immigrants had the freedom they needed. Their shared experiences of displacement and aspiration created a bond as they navigated the uncertainties of their journey together.
Once they arrived in Pakistan, they were still unable to consider themselves free. Ahmadi and the 14 others were still smuggling material into Pakistan, so if they were to get caught in Pakistan, they would be put in jail and given to the Iranian guards.
At first, in Pakistan, she and her 14 companions lived in the city of Karachi for 2 months, during which they had to carefully navigate through the city since they were still in danger of being caught. To become legal, she and the 14 other Jews had to drive another few days to arrive in Vienna, Austria, where the United Nations, or UN, office was.
In Vienna, with the help of different organizations, they went through a seven-month wait while the paperwork phases were completed to get their legal status and immunity. Once the organization and authorities finished their documentation, Ahmadi and her companions applied for a group passport to the U.S., paving the way for their new lives in a land of freedom and opportunity.
But their journey does not end there.
Ahmadi landed in Los Angeles 35 years ago, where she had family waiting for her. Ahmadi mentioned that her Aunt and Uncle had helped her navigate the U.S., which had contrasted significantly with Iran 35 years ago.
Ahmadi’s journey of adapting to life in the U.S. reflects the complexities of cultural assimilation and personal growth. Her desire to quickly immerse herself in American culture by obtaining a driver’s license, pursuing education, and starting a career highlights her determination to build a new future for herself and her family. However, this rapid adjustment came with challenges, particularly in reconciling her Persian heritage with her new American identity.
In her early 20s, Ahmadi grappled with questions of identity and belonging. She faced the delicate task of deciding which aspects of her Persian culture to retain and which elements of American culture to adopt. This period of self-discovery required her to confront difficult choices for her personal development and the legacy she wanted to create for her future family.
“I was faced with the challenge of figuring myself out. Because I’m the first generation and everything starts with me, I was unsure of how much I wanted to remain Persian and how much I wanted to become an American. And if it was something in between, what parts did I take of each culture? It took me a couple of years to figure it out,” Ahmadi said. “It was an exciting process.”
Ahmadi advocates for the respectful treatment of immigrants, emphasizing that the journey to the U.S. and building a new life there is incredibly challenging, even with the help of government services and organizations.
One phrase she often hears is people telling immigrants to “go back to where they came from.” She points out that this is a profoundly disrespectful remark, especially when the person saying it has no understanding of the hardships involved in immigrating or the personal stories behind why these individuals are in the U.S.
The immigration process is often complex, filled with obstacles, and driven by circumstances like safety, opportunity, or family reunification — circumstances that those who make such remarks likely don’t fully appreciate.
“I think that needs to be highlighted to everyone else that it took us an arduous journey, not just for me, but for all of us,” Ahmadi said. “We came here. We didn’t know the language. We had to assimilate and go through a complicated process, not only to get here but also to live here, to become who we are, and to become a productive part of society. That should not be disregarded or discounted. It should be elevated.”
Zhangzi Wang* is a Chinese immigrant. He was among the number of immigrants from mainland China in the U.S. Over the decades, the number of immigrants from China has been on a trend line that has risen significantly. It nearly doubled from 299,000 in 1980 to 536,000 in 1990 and again to 989,000 in 2000, reaching 2.1 million in 2016.
Wang reached the U.S. in the year 2000 with only a small suitcase, a business visa in his hand, his undying passion for cooking, and a dream of giving his mother the life she deserves.
When he entered the bustling airport, waves of different languages swallowed him whole. Overwhelmed, Wang quickly shifted through the crowds; something caught his eye and caused him to stomp on the brakes: the practically glowing array of sweet pastry he had only seen once in his life made him drool as his eyes sparkled with wonder.
“When I first saw those pastries, I wondered, ‘How could there be so much food in the world?'” Wang said.
Just hours before he arrived in the U.S., he was crying in his mother’s arms at that very dinner table, freshly cooked jiaozi, dumplings traditionally eaten when a loved one leaves on a journey, placed skillfully on their best china plate. Wang promised his mother that he would give her the life that she deserved — a life where the amount of they had food wasn’t a constant worry, where their stomachs were full, and her heart was filled only with happiness.
“It was hard leaving my mom. I remember that I couldn’t stop crying while eating the jiaozi my mom had made before I got on the train to the airport. She used the best plate we had to put the jiaozi in. I never stopped hugging her. I felt like a little kid that scraped their knee again,” Wang said. “I promised I would give her the best life. A life without worry.”
Wang’s life in China had been difficult. His mother worked tirelessly in a factory located in Beijing, often starting her day before dawn and returning late in the evening, her hands raw from endless labor. He knew that every penny she earned went into feeding their family and paying for his schooling, hoping one day he would be able to attend the best university. Despite her smiling face, Wang would catch her eyes at the dinner table. They were windows to her tired soul, her soul that had seen too much, and her soul that would never stop loving her child.
“She had given up so much for me. And so every day, I would push myself harder at school,” Wang said. “I remember I told myself every day before bed that I had to succeed; I had to make it for my mom.”
Determined to make a better life for his parents, Wang worked hard in his job in China to scrape up enough money to go to the U.S.
Wang’s life in Boston, U.S. started not as great as he imagined. He quickly found a job as a busboy at a restaurant near the small apartment he rented. He worked in Boston with a business visa (B-1 visa) that gave him six months of immunity.
Before his B-1 visa expired, he applied to a language school for an education visa (F-1 visa). Since he focused on work to send his parents money and provide for his living expenses, he struggled to attend many classes that he was enrolled in at the language school. Thus, he was only given a year of immunity without his knowledge.
“I had no idea they only gave me a year before the visa expired and needed to be renewed. I was too caught up in my work and pursuit to earn money for my mom,” Wang said.
During that period, Wang’s F-1 visa was acting, and after it expired, Wang continued working at the restaurant, climbing the ranks. He became an assistant chef, then later took on more responsibilities as a line cook. Wang loved cooking, and it became his escape from the stress and anxiety of his situation. Despite this, he found ways to continue his passions in the kitchen, focusing on the craft he had learned so diligently. It reminded him of his mother — the smell, sight, and taste, though every dish is missing the special ingredient his mother always puts.
Wang also began to make a few close friends in the restaurant industry who are other immigrants like him, struggling with similar challenges. They shared stories of their immigration, fear, and the daily work of trying to stay in a country so different from their own without legal protection. These friendships, while built on shared hardship, gave Wang a sense of community and support that helped him.
Wang sent his hard-earned money to his mother every two weeks along with a 10-page long letter detailing every action he did in the time he didn’t write. The letters always end with paragraphs about the space in his heart that his mother filled every day with his favorite steamed fish dish, douban-bianyu, that he seemed to never be able to remake himself even after his rigorous chef training. However, Wang missed his mother’s sweet, yet savory love the most.
For three years, Wang’s life was going down the path he had always imagined until things took a turn. Four years after he arrived in the U.S., he visited the school where he had received an F-1 visa. Wang discovered that he had been living in the U.S. undocumented for more than two years. A rush of shock and anxiety washed over him when he stepped out of the school doors, unsure what his next step would be.
The next few months passed in a haze, clouded with worry of being caught by authorities and his dream of giving his mother the life she deserved being crushed.
“I could barely remember what I did those months. I couldn’t sleep at night, and every day I was trying to think of a way to become legal again,” Wang said.
Finally, with no other choice, he made repeated efforts to secure legal status by claiming refugee status based on his affiliation with Falun Gong. This religious movement had been persecuted in China.
Falun Gong is a Chinese spiritual movement established by Li Hongzhi in 1992, according to Britannica. The group’s rapid rise to prominence in the late 1990s raised alarms for the Chinese government, which subsequently labeled it a “heretical cult.” Throughout the 1990s, there were multiple protests and movements made by the Falun Gong, in which many people participated.
Many immigrants had used this route to seek asylum, claiming religious persecution to gain entry into the U.S. Wang Although he was not an active practitioner, Wang saw no other option but to say he was, believing that this was his best chance to stay in the U.S. Before, Wang had taken a picture of these protests, which he used to prove that he was a part of Falun Gong.
“Before I tried using Falun Gong to get an Asylum visa, I tried many other ways of gaining immunity. It was a hard process and a process that made me feel worried every single day,” Wang said.
Months later, in a moment that felt surreal, Wang received the letter he had been waiting for: his Asylum Visa application had been approved. The relief was overwhelming. For the first time in years, he no longer lived in fear of being discovered by immigration authorities. He could now work legally in the U.S. and begin to pursue permanent residency. With his visa, he worked on getting a green card, which he obtained not long after he got his Asylum Visa.
Wang says his story is a reminder of the sacrifices immigrants make, the challenges they face, and the profound impact they have on the communities they join. He describes his experience as highlighting the complexities and struggles of immigration, the importance of perseverance, and the unwavering bond of family that transcends borders.
“Immigration and the motivations for it are complicated and not always as some people believe they are,” Wang said. “I think that preserving these stories and always thinking of your family drive the progress of immigration, and I wish everybody to know that.”
Jesus U (Crimson News Magazine Staff) • Feb 21, 2025 at 3:10 pm
This article is amazing and it showcases a plethora of perspectives. Amazing job with the map infographics and overall design as well. Will be looking at Harbinger more often!!!