Home. It is always a comforting word to hear, especially after having a dreadful day at work or an exhausting day at work. But where do you call home, when suddenly you aren’t sure if you can call home your home?  

The headlines read “Trump Ends DACA”, my stomach dropped, and a thousand thoughts started racing through my mind. What does that mean for the hundreds of thousands of DACA recipients that are currently in school or working in the fields? No, what does that mean for me? Do I still have a job, how am I going to work, better yet how am I going to continue school? I do not know how much time had passed until I finally got the courage to open it up, I was hoping it was a joke. My eyes began scrolling through every sentence trying to get a grip of what would be my new reality. With a sigh of relief but a ton of guilt weighing heavily on me I realized I was not being affected. Even though it did read “Trump Ends DACA” the article was talking about him ending the program for new applicants for DACA. DACA was a program started by Obama that allowed undocumented children that were brought into American at an early age to work legally. And even though I was not being affected, I felt guilty because I knew of people that would be at a loss now that the program would only be in effect for renewals and not new applicants.  

Scrolling the entire day through Instagram, I couldn’t help but repost and continue to advocate for a change in this immigration policy. I made posts to encourage those who could, to raise their voice towards this injustice, I had to write my feelings out and hope I was being heard. I am grateful today that this is no longer the case, yet I can’t help but think where home would be if things had turned out differently.  

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