He was 16 years old and needed a job with more structure. But he didn’t have the required identification papers as an undocumented resident.
So he turned to identification dealers, who drove him around Santa Ana, Calif. and gave him specific instructions to jump into a different car when they parked. They told him he was going be taken care of.
Francisco Lopez, now a third-year Chicana/o studies student at UCLA, didn’t know where he was being taken to, but he knew what he needed.
“I need an ID and a Social Security number,” he said he remembers telling the dealers.
Lopez knew what he did was a crime, but it was necessary, he said.
“I felt like I was in a drug deal,” Lopez said. “But all I was trying to do is work.”
In the end, he got what he needed – a minimum-wage job at a bowling alley.
Lopez, now 28, holds two jobs on top of his classes to support himself and his 7-year-old son, Mordecai.
Until earlier this year, he was an undocumented resident. But in February, Lopez qualified for Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, a policy approved by the Department of Homeland Security a year ago. Deferred action provided the legal documents Lopez he said he fought years for.
The Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals policy allows some undocumented individuals to legally live and work in the U.S. for two years without threat of deportation, if they meet certain criteria.
Homeland Security initiated the policy to focus deportation efforts on undocumented individuals who pose a public safety risk rather than undocumented individuals who are young and productive, according to the Homeland Security website.
Undocumented individuals can qualify if they arrived in the country before the age of 16, and are currently enrolled in school or have graduated from high school.
Deferred action has allowed undocumented individuals to take jobs that pay higher than minimum wage, said Raul Hinojosa-Ojeda, an associate Chicana/o studies professor.
Because of deferred action, Lopez said he no longer has to lie about who he is.
When Lopez received his approval in February, he said the small work permit seemed physically insignificant compared to his long struggle to find a stable job.
“I felt anger because I have been fighting so long to finally get this piece of plastic that told me I could work,” Lopez said. “But I was happy because I realized I can’t be deported and I can now fulfill my potential.”
Born in Tepic, Mexico, Lopez was 5 years old when his mother took him and his younger brother across the U.S.-Mexico border without legal authorization.
His family settled in Riverside, where Lopez attended school and worked many jobs to help provide for his family. He first took informal jobs that didn’t require documents, like working as an apprentice gardener and construction worker. But he soon realized he needed to take on jobs with more “structure.”
Over time, he said he gradually understood the limitations of his legal status.
When he had to drive, he faced the fear of being pulled over by the police and having to pay expensive fines for not having a driver’s license.
One year, he had to spend more than $4,000 for all the tickets he received for driving without a license.
Lopez did well in high school, took seven Advanced Placement classes and competed in his school’s academic decathlon. He was accepted at UCLA in 2002.
Lopez was in the first class of California undocumented students to benefit from AB 540, a state policy that allows undocumented individuals to pay in-state tuition, which helped greatly, Lopez said.
He had to bring stacks of cash to Murphy Hall to pay for his tuition, because he couldn’t get access to a bank account without documents. The clerk didn’t understand and asked what was wrong with him when he could not provide a Social Security number, he said.
Because of experiences like this, Lopez and his friends created the Improving Dreams, Equality, Access and Success group, or IDEAS, to advocate for undocumented students.
Lopez also received a fellowship to work at the UCLA Anderson School of Management for two years, helping inspect health institutions, such as medical clinics. He also began consulting for the UCLA Health System.
In recent years, UCLA administration has become more aware of the needs undocumented students have on campus, said Paolo Velasco, director of the Bruin Resource Center. In 2009, UCLA established the Bruin Resource Center, which now holds programs and workshops like information sessions and luncheons to support undocumented students at UCLA, Velasco said.
But at the end of Lopez’s second year, the birth of his son changed his life forever.
He took two years off from UCLA to raise his son before returning for his third year.
But Lopez ended up dropping out entirely because of rising tuition and personal issues.
Lopez spent the next several years back in Riverside, where he once again had to use fake documents to secure a job.
He found work, but it varied from making $20 an hour as a consultant to making minimum wage lifting boxes in warehouses.
In 2009, the UCLA Health System offered Lopez official employment to work as an analyst, but because Lopez had no documents he could not take the job.
After Lopez qualified for deferred action in February, he finally accepted the job offer at the UCLA Health System. He had been working two jobs – one at a local fast food chain and one at the UCLA Office of Undergraduate Admissions.
And with the job security of deferred action, Lopez resumed his education this spring quarter, as a third-year student at UCLA.
Although his future now seems more stable, Lopez said he and his family still live in uncertainty.
“Even under (deferred action), it is only a two-year program that I have to renew,” Lopez said. “My family is still undocumented and my mom still lives with the fear of being deported.”
Immigration reform has been a source of considerable debate in recent months.
Because of the growing number of Latinos who are becoming politically active, lawmakers have felt more pressure to address immigration reform.
In the meantime, Lopez plans to work full time for UCLA Health System this summer and is working out employment details for the fall while he pursues his degree.
“(Deferred action) has been a massive and extraordinary change of my life,” he said. “Now my (job prospects) are more secure and I know who I am.”