For Jazmina Mamani of Kettering, coming to the U.S. was literally a matter of life and death. Severely burned on her chest, neck and face from a kerosene lamp accident at age 6 in her native Bolivia, missionaries from Ohio arranged for her to get needed surgeries in Cincinnati and later brought her to live with them in the Dayton area.
Now 30, she has a full-time job, volunteers at her church and proclaims herself a patriotic American despite facing possible deportation.
“You have to learn how to survive, Mamani said. “You live in constant fear.”(Katie Wedell)
DACA gave Adriana Lopez, 21, an opportunity she thought she’d never have when her family came from Mexico when she was 6 years old.
“We were hiding,” she said. “People are afraid to go to the doctor.”
She grew up in New Carlisle but dropped out of Tecumseh High School during her freshman year. She said she didn’t see any point in finishing school if she wasn’t going to be able to work a good-paying job or go to college.
After DACA became law, she re-enrolled and finished on the honor roll while studying cosmetology at the Clark County Career Technology Center.
She now works two jobs — at Sprint and at a hair salon — and she just had a baby girl.(Katie Wedell)
Fernando Valdez founded his own trucking company, Valdez Brothers, after DACA status paved the way for him to get a CDL license. That meant he could embark on a real career for the first time in his life.
“I always wanted to be someone,” he said. “DACA made me become someone.”(Katie Wedell)
Fernando Valdez, left, and his family Kimberly, Jordan, Fernando Jr. and wife Miriam. Valdez, of Fairborn, has deferred status through DACA and is hoping for a path to citizenship.
Shane Mangroo and his sister Sasha came to the U.S. as kids from Trinidad. Since getting DACA deferred status he's been able to work for Kettering Health Network and recently got a promotion. He wants to see action on a path to citizenship so he can keep working and possibly go to college for engineering.
Maria Roque-Rivera was 7 years old when she and her two younger siblings were loaded into the back of a vehicle with a woman they didn’t know and headed toward the border between the U.S. and Mexico.
When they got there, the woman told her, “I need you to pretend you’re asleep.” Maria had no idea she was about to enter a country she’d call home for the next 17 years, or that on that very day — Sept. 11, 2001 — that country was under attack.
“I had no clue what was going on,” she said.
The children were eventually reunited with their mother, who had crossed the Rio Grande, and their father, who was already in the country; they grew up in the Dayton area, where cousins were living.
Now 23, Maria says as a kid she was warned not to tell anyone where she came from because the information could get her parents deported.
College, she assumed, was out of the question, even as she accumulated an impressive high school resume that included sports, student council and the honor society.
DACA was the answer to her prayers.
After attending Clark State Community College and Sinclair Community College, she is now enrolled at the University of Cincinnati in a certificate program for animation.
“I want to be a comic book artist,” she said. “That’s been my dream and that’s been what I’m trying to work toward. Having DACA means the world to me.”