Jose Antonio Vargas - Dear America: Notes of an Undocumented Citizen

There is nothing greater than gratitude, and my profound thanks to the people who made this book possible, especially the people who bring life to book publishing.

Thank you, Jennifer Rudolph Walsh and Jay Mandel, my agents at WME, who propelled me to start the writing process, which meant asking myself hard questions. Thank you to my editor Julia Cheiffetz, who for years believed that I had a book in me, even when I didnt think I did. Thank you to the incredible and indefatigable team at Dey Street Books, including: Lynn Grady, Benjamin Steinberg, Heidi Richter, Kelly Rudolph, Kendra Newton, and Sean Newcott, all of whom guided me through this process.

Editing comes in all forms, but for this book, the most helpful editors were trusted friends and confidants who insisted that I listen to the sound of my own voice. Thank you, Nathalie Wade, Christina Bellantoni, Paola Mendoza, Maria Gabriela Pacheco, Diana Espitia, Arvind Murthy, Mony Ruiz-Velasco, David Buchalter, Lara Drasin, Alejandra Campoverdi, Luisa Heredia, and Marcia Davis. A very special shout-out to Barbara Feinman Todd, whom I met nearly a decade ago when I helped teach a multimedia journalism class at Georgetown University. After I read her book, Pretend Im Not Here, I knew she would be the ideal sounding board (and therapist) as I dug deeper into my psyche. This book was written in Airbnbs, in hotel rooms, and in the spare bedrooms of Elise Haas and Cristela Alonzo. I finished it while sleeping and working in Nicole Ponsecas living room. Thank you, Bob Haas, for telling me that it was okay to take time off to think and write this book.

I am a product of three families: the family I was born into, the family of friends and mentors I found here in America, and the family that makes up Define American. Many members of my families are recognized throughout this book, and you can meet my entire Define American family, including our board of trustees and advisory board, at defineamerican.com/team. My eternal thanks to the earliest supporters and champions of Define American, particularly Barbara Picower of the JPB Foundation, Taryn Higashi of Unbound Philanthropy, Cathy Cha of the Evelyn and Walter Haas Jr. Fund, and Liz Simons of the Heising-Simons Foundation. Thank you to Ryan Eller for your leadership and the grace in which you exhibit it. Thank you, Jonathan Yu, for putting up with me at all times.

Thank you to Lola, my beloved grandmother, for your love.

JOSE ANTONIO VARGAS , a journalist and filmmaker, is the founder and CEO of the nonprofit Define American. His work has appeared internationally in Time , as well as in the San Francisco Chronicle , The New Yorker , and the Washington Post , where he won a Pulitzer Prize as part of a reporting team. In 2014, he received the Freedom to Write Award from PEN Center USA. He directed the documentary feature Documented and MTV special White People , which was nominated for an Emmy Award. An elementary school named after him will open in his hometown of Mountain View, California, in 2019.

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Contents

The author will donate a portion of his proceeds from Dear America to Define American, his nonprofit organization. For more information, visit DefineAmerican.com.

DEAR AMERICA . Copyright 2018 by Undocumented LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

FIRST EDITION

Excerpts from the Broadway musical Ragtime, as performed on the 1997 Tony Award broadcast:

Lyrics by Lynn Ahrens. Book by Terrence McNally. Music by Stephen Flaherty. Music and Lyrics 1997 Pen and Perseverance and Hillsdale Music, Inc. Book 1997 Terrence McNally. All Rights Administered by WB Music Corp. All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission.

Cover design by Kelly Blair

Cover lettering by Jose Antonio Vargas

Digital Edition SEPTEMBER 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06285136-9

Print ISBN: 978-0-06285135-2

Version 08082018

To Mama in the Philippines,

and to every American who has made me

feel at home in the United States

To the worlds migrant population,

258 million and counting

America is not a land of

one race or one class of men...

America is not bound by

geographical latitudes...

America is in the heart...

CARLOS BULOSAN

Mine is only one story, one of an estimated eleven million here in the United States. In the past seven years, Ive met several hundred undocumented immigrants from all parts of the country, who greet me at coffee shops and grocery stores, approach me while I visited college campuses and spoke at events, and contact me through social media and e-mail.

Although the details of our stories differ, the contours of our experience are much the same: Lying, Passing, and Hiding.

I come from a family of gamblers.

And my future, it turned out, was their biggest gamble.

Everything about the morning I left the Philippines was rushed, bordering on panic. I was barely awake when Mama snatched me from bed and hurried me into a cab. There was no time to brush my teeth, no time to shower.

A few months prior to that morning, Mama had told me the plan: We were going to America. I would be going first, then she would follow in a few months, maybe a year at most. Until that drive to the airport, Mama and I were inseparable. She didnt work, because I was her work. She made sure I was doing well at school. She cooked every meal: usually a fried egg with Spam for breakfast and, if I was good, her special spaghetti dish with chicken liver. On weekends, she dragged me to her card games and mah-jongg games. Our apartment was so tiny that we shared a bed. I was Mamas boy.

It was still dark outside when I arrived at Ninoy Aquino International Airport. For reasons she wouldnt explain, Mama couldnt come inside the terminal. Outside, Mama introduced me to a man she said was my uncle. In my ragtag family of blood relatives and lifelong acquaintances, everyone is either an uncle or an aunt.

After handing me a brown jacket with a MADE IN U . S . A . label in its collara Christmas gift from her parents in California, the grandparents I would soon be living withMama said matter-of-factly, Baka malamig doon. (It might be cold there.) It was the last thing I remember her saying. I dont remember giving her a hug. I dont remember giving her a kiss. There was no time for any of that. What I do remember was the excitement of riding in an airplane for the first time.