Daisy:
Everyone keeps asking what a border commuter is…HUH. Funny, considering how often I get reminded. Maybe it’s time YOU started keeping up too.
Daisy:
Mexican nationals who live in the US-Mexico border and wish to attend a border university but cannot afford or are unable to reside in the sister city to their hometown may attend any US institution within 75 miles of the physical border to become a border commuter. Border commuters can choose between part-time or full-time status and are expected to periodically renew their paperwork in order to maintain legal status. This is to be able to cross international bridges from their hometown to their college campus inside the neighboring country and return by the end of the day without spending more than 24 hours at a time on the US side.
…
Any regular student intending to do their basics in EPCC would normally complete 12 hours and transfer to their desired university. But not me.
I had enrolled in mass media in 2013, and decided to complete the full degree, and then transfer to UTEP. By the end of my associate's degree in EPCC, I made friends in El Paso who would be fully aware of my situation and whom I had grown close to. I would go to classes and then head into the radio station and hang in there until 4:00 p.m. It was bananas, I'm telling you.
Or at least, that is how it felt to someone who had dreamed about doing that for so long. Then, the moment arrived and I had to graduate. Now, don't get me wrong, graduations are great. I bawl my eyes out every time I attend one. But for a border commuter who had managed to start socializing, the graduation process, the event itself, and the aftermath were filled with anxiety and uncertainty. Transferring college after basics is not unheard of. So my friends at the radio club would often mention NMSU as their next step in life. I would also contemplate it. I would even just freely allow myself to tell others that I would probably also go there. Even when I was fully aware that I was not. Because I wanted to feel like maybe I was just another regular college kid transferring to another regular university, and the process would not be what it was.
When you're an international student in Juarez trying to make a career in the US, being a border commuter and transferring schools, there would definitely be extra steps. And the extra is not just the steps, but the extra amount of time you spend making sure your legal situation is maintained. What if they can coordinate, and the wait is longer?
That little extra constantly creeps over your shoulder. Lily, who is a fellow border commuter, says that in maintaining your status, sometimes the problem isn't even on you.
Lily:
I just always feel like they were never on top of anything, and I think that's an issue that every international student faces with them. They're always like "you have to do this with this much time in advance, and you have to do this this way, and you have to do it like that, and you have to stick to this timeline these few days. But then, when you do that, they're not doing their part.
Daisy:
The best example I can think of to describe what being a Mexican national who commutes the border is, is when you're going through airport security and even though you packed your suitcase with your own hands, even when you have no weapon training whatsoever, even when you have never even seen a weapon face-to-face. What if, all of a sudden, your brain decided to pack army-level weaponry without you noticing?
I always knew my paperwork was done correctly. I had called 15 times to make sure. But I still felt like the CBP officer would pull me aside and send me back if I tried to cross on my first day. And that is a fear I have never gotten rid of.
When I decided to transfer schools after my graduation, I also decided to take some time off before actually starting school. If this is ever your case as a Mexican national who plans on studying in the US city, make sure to talk to your advisor about the risks of time gaps in your record. When I graduated and started my time off, I was also jobless.
So, I was what in Juarez we call "nini". Ni estudia ni trabaja. Someone who did not study or work. At 21 years old, since I had no job experience at all, I decided to start working in Juarez. It would be less stressful than studying, and I needed it. So I applied at multiple retail stores.
For some reason, I figured customer service would open many doors. I still think this was an expectation I probably saw in some movie. While I wasn't doing anything with my life, during my year off, I did do some preparation for my transfer back to UTEP, like changing phone companies.
I went from my trusty 656 to a 915. Back in EPCC, I used to use a radio walkie-talkie-like device to call my mom. It was called an nextel. They were quite popular a decade ago. But I had already lost one of the phone devices, and for some reason, my family found it easier for me to do that.
It was dreamy to think that I had an American area code, until I remembered the job applications back in Juarez had that number. So, I had to revisit all the places I had applied to and make the change. What a day. When I got my retail job in Juarez, my life started to change unexpectedly.
I was spending so much time with people in my hometown that the time off felt... not enough. Regardless, I had given myself a deadline to transfer, and I did. Time came, and I did all the process to enroll and go back to the border commute life.
Since my student visa had expired because my program had finished, and the SEVIS was still linked to my stay in EPCC, the coordination meant another visit to the Mexican consulate. Another interview, another questioning of Why do you want to study, and what are your intentions?
Another reminder of the fact that my intentions should never be to pursue a future where I want it, but to come back home always. The constant reminders always come from everywhere.
Alfredo has had a few that he is eager to get out of his chest.
Alfredo:
It was at UTEP, when I was able to finally enroll and when I was going through the process of getting my student visa again and my F1, that's when I was told to remember that this is the only permission for you to be a student. And they showed me the writing on an F-1 where it says that once this person, who this has been issued to, uh, finish their studies, they're to go back to their home country. And I was like, "Oh, okay." I feel like I knew that. Um.
Daisy:
I remember after I attended my orientation vacation session for UTEP, I was walking to the bus stop in front of the hospital on University Street.
It was almost summer, and I was feeling rather hot because I wore a hat and a very fashionable black and white long shirt that I was regretting.
Suddenly, I got a call from an unknown number and when I answered, someone was calling to check on my car insurance and wanted to ask about my social security number. At that point, I had had my 915 phone number for a few months, and I was quite new to scam calls, so this unusual call alerted me.
And I decided to call my trusty international advisors in EPPC, since this was in regard to information they knew. Then, while I was waiting for the bus, sitting down on the bench, it dawned on me: someone had called me about my car insurance, but I had no car. I didn't even know how to drive.
My very first semester in UTEP, oddly enough, was a summer class. More specifically, a Portuguese summer class. And with this class came something I had seen in movies, but was reluctant to believe. A cute guy who had no clue on how to speak or understand Spanish kept asking me to bear with him every chance he got.
I never had any classmates pursue anything, and rarely would college people even want to become friends. But that summer, between the dry heat of the sun city and the rush to the bridge right after class, I witnessed my first flirting situation with a guy who was not from my hometown. Summer was a bit of a fever dream since not many people would take the bus in the morning.
This was because of vacations. And my rushing would mostly be after class to head to work in Juarez. My class fling last until full midterms. As my cute summer classmate and his family were dead afraid of Juarez.
And my first experience in dating someone from another country brought a lot of humbling moments because he would want to take me everywhere in El Paso, but refused completely to cross the bridge to meet the place I came from. At first, I saw no wrong, but September came, and with that my birthday. I had specially saved a blue long and flowy dress from my retail job.
I had asked for a specific day off during the weekend. I wore my favorite high heels with laces. And I curled my hair. I spent a great day in El Paso until the weather brought a rainstorm at the end of the day and I had to go back and cross the bridge. Walking while carrying the flowers I had been gifted.
Now, I had walked the bridge in heels, but doing so while carrying gifts, and not letting this ruin the mood, was another kind of challenge.
This part of my commuting journey was marked by the people who would stop flirting as soon as they found out I would commute to the border. "I like you, but I'm not ready to have anything with someone who has to cross the border, because I don't." was the basic context of their argument. It felt a different shade of sad, since living in the States was not in my cards. And I was forced to spend most of my time in Juarez.
Lily, who is currently in a stable relationship, says that the process to get where she is, is a long one.
Lily:
So we have to plan around my time to be like, I can see you, you know, this Tuesday but only for this long. Tomorrow I have to go to I have to go to school. Or I can see you on the weekend and that's it. Or I can see you this day, but just for a little bit.
Daisy:
Speaking of spending time in Juarez, during my retail shift, sometimes customers would speak exclusively English, and my boss would designate me to them. And exploit my bilingualism. He didn't care that sometimes I forgot my…Espanol?
Boss:
Pues este, te acostumbras a abrir a hablar una lengua que que al hora de llegar acá pues se te pueden olvidar algunas palabras, o-o empiezas con el 'hijole, que? cómo se dice?', pero pues a lo mejor yo siento que no esté de mala onda ni, ni por quererte hacer de menos nada, simplemente pues porque lo dejas de practicar. (I mean, you get used to talk in another language and when you need to speak on the other side, you go "umm...gosh, how do you say it?" but I don't think is in bad intentions, you simply stop practicing it.)
Daisy:
Some people would have mixed feelings.
Most would be impressed, but others would feel the need to insinuate that, in my knowing English, I was showing off, and hence felt superior to others. This phenomenon happens in a different shape when you're a border commuter.
Oscar (border commuter)
Muchos amigos me dejaron de hablar.. (
Alfredo:
Como que me creo mucho, no?
Daisy:
In deciding to become a border commuter, you voluntarily choose to expose yourself to a different culture for a limited amount of time, for extended periods. Meaning that you don't notice yourself changing overnight, but people around you will notice that you may have adopted mannerisms, expressions, or trends from the culture you exposed yourself to.
Being born on the border, for me always meant being exposed to a different culture, but never doubting mine. When I decided to pursue a career in the States, I knew I was Mexican. But because I had been exposed and often would be too familiar with the American culture, the word malinchista was often brought into conversations after me.
Remember, I said I knew my place in my culture? Well, that has never changed. What changed was how often I would get comments from strangers questioning my identity or close friends pointing out that I had chosen someone else's nation over mine, because apparently I wanted to be someone I was not.
As a Mexican national, pursuing an education in El Paso, who commutes the border on a daily basis, you learn to not only stay on top of deadlines for school, but also to stay on top of legal matters. You know always to stay informed, as you're commuting depends on political situation that do not even depend on you.
But more important, you learn that your identity as a Mexican will always be challenged because you choose to divide your life between two nations. And that decision carries a class to always bring extra strength with you.
