H-1B Visa
Themes in this story: Choosing public health, fear of rejection, initiating a conversation about sponsorship, practicing self-advocacy, mixed emotions while visiting family in Mexico, going through Customs, the relief of completing the H-1B process
After I got my undergraduate degree, I did a post-bacc program that led me to a job helping to conduct health studies in Spanish. It made me realize that there are not a lot of people that look like me or come from my experience in the field of medicine, and it motivated me to stay.
I love learning but I struggled a lot financially getting my bachelor's. I had to defer school for years to save up money for it. When I got my current job as a researcher at a university and found out they paid for employees to earn degrees, I enrolled part time in the public health master’s program I’m in now.
Currently, I’m working on a project that explores how environmental stressors impact postpartum women. The maternal mortality rate rises significantly during the postpartum period, but what the rates don’t show is that most of those deaths are preventable. I really like doing research. I like working in academia. I like the hours, the flexibility. I just feel like it’s where I'm meant to be.
I first heard about it on TikTok. It’s not uncommon to find sensationalized content on social media so when I saw a video about the updated D3 waiver guidelines, I started Googling. I came upon a Reddit thread for DACA recipients where someone had shared their employment visa success story. Reading it made me realize that the H-1B was something that I wanted to pursue. Prior to that, I didn’t know anyone with DACA who had gotten an H-1B visa. Honestly, I don’t have much of a DACA community where I live so I rely on the internet for information.
I didn't think the university would sponsor me until I finished the degree and I didn't want to be turned down, to experience that rejection. Then the election happened and I had a complete emotional breakdown. It got to the point where I told my parents and siblings that I was going to self-deport.
But after thinking about it for a while I realized, Why am I leaving without fighting to stay? My presence here matters. That's when I decided to take the risk of asking my employer if they would sponsor me. And if they said no, that was going to be my sign that I should move to Mexico.
I asked my immediate supervisor first and she said yes right away. She didn't even hesitate, which made me feel really good. Everybody was also really supportive at the department level. The only challenge was when I talked to the administrative staff who were going to be the ones to handle all the paperwork and actually make it happen. They were saying it was really risky, that nobody at the university with DACA had ever done it before, or if they had, the only people who’d be successful were the ones with PhDs who publish papers.
The university’s attorneys were very confident that the visa itself would get approved but they asked me to do my own research on the D3 waiver and find my own support. They couldn't legally represent me through that part of the process.
I started searching online for lawyers who had experience with employment-based visas. I did a few free consultations, but I always felt defeated afterward because they didn't really know how to move my case forward. I had Path2Papers in the back of my mind. I thought maybe they would refer me to someone in my state or they’d be able to offer me a resource of some kind. I was so happy to hear back from Path2Papers saying they could help me.
I got the visa approval around the 1st of February in 2025. I was strongly advised to have my consular interview in Tijuana because they're more knowledgeable about the D3 waiver there, so that’s where I made my appointment. Once all that was done, I was ready to request emergency Advance Parole.
It was stressful. The officer didn't seem to understand DACA and asked me to explain what it was. I told her it was a kind of work authorization and then she said my Advance Parole was denied because it wasn’t an emergency if I already had a way to work legally. I am actually really proud of myself because even though I was upset, I pushed back. I explained that the emergency was that I needed to attend my consular appointment.
The officer was getting irritated with me because I hadn’t just accepted her decision. Thankfully, the supervisor heard us and came over. He whispered something to her that I couldn't hear. The officer rolled her eyes and told me that my Advance Parole was approved. And then she said very condescendingly, Do you even have the money to pay for it? I was speechless. It was so unprofessional. But she kept going: You’ve been here for 28 years and you had all this time to adjust your status. Why didn’t you do it sooner? She said really hurtful things and it took all my strength to just let them go.
I’d wanted to do emergency Advance Parole to see my grandma back when she was dying, but I was advised that it would be a hard sell because she wasn't on my birth certificate. She was so sick at that point that she wouldn't even have remembered me. I decided not to risk it. I don't like rejection and as a DACA recipient, you face a lot of it. It hurts every time. It breaks your spirit.
Yes. First I flew to Mexico City for my great grandmother’s 90th birthday party. It was emotional because there were so many family members there, but I'd never met them or I didn’t remember them. They were all asking me how I felt about being there. **I didn't know how to express it yet. Seeing my great grandmother’s happy face, surrounded by all her children and grandchildren, it made me think of all the birthday parties I’d missed. I was trying to be grateful that I was there at that moment, but it was bittersweet. A few days later, I flew to Tijuana for my appointment.
When I got to my appointment I went up to the window and the first question they asked me was if this was my second time applying for the visa. I said no and then they asked, In that case, how are you living in the United States? I explained that I had DACA and they switched me to a different window. The next officer didn’t ask to look at the packet I had prepared, she just asked for specific documents and I provided them. She asked me for the visa approval letter, she asked for the job offer letter, and she asked where I got my degree. She asked me if I had ever left the United States prior to leaving for the visa and she wanted to see all of my DACA renewal notices.
She told me she would request a D3 waiver for me so I didn't even have to say that part. Then she said that because of the new administration, it would take at least a week for the visa to be issued. Everything that I was prepared for, happened, it just took longer than I thought. It ended up taking 17 business days, so I was in Mexico for over a month total.
I flew back to Mexico City to see my family and we did a lot of sightseeing. There were some days where we didn't do anything and those were the hardest because all I could do was think about my situation, I had no other distractions. I kept checking the website every day to see if the status of the visa had changed from “approved” to “issued.” It changed on a Thursday but I didn't get the email that it was being shipped until the following Monday. They mailed it to me from Tijuana via DHL. I reviewed everything to ensure it was correct then booked my flight home.
When I went through Customs, I think they assumed that I didn't speak English. They called for another officer and told him that I needed to go to secondary inspection. Then that officer repeated the same thing to me in Spanish. I’d been expecting to be taken aside so I had preventively deleted emails from my phone and anything with keywords that could potentially get me in trouble.
They brought me to a room and I just sat there alone. No one spoke to me. I was getting lots of texts but I didn't want to answer because I was afraid that if I took out my phone they would take it away. I just tried to do breathing exercises instead. I looked around at all the other people who were waiting, many of whom didn't understand English. It was painful to watch. After about 45 minutes someone told me I could leave. I got my bags, and didn't celebrate until I was safely in the Uber. That's when I finally texted everybody back.
I’ve been holding so much tension in my body for so many months now. Throughout this whole process, I was not able to relax at all. It was just always on my mind, all the paperwork that had to be done, all the anticipation of what was coming. Now that it’s over, I'm trying to celebrate it before thinking about what I’ll do next.
I know it feels difficult to even consider doing something like this under the current administration. The fear and the risk of deportation are always there, but I hope that my story gives people hope that they can trust themselves to get through it and that their presence is valuable here.
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