The Paper Wall

By Yartiza Villar

There are many topics that I could talk on and on about. However, two things I’ll always feel strongly about are immigration and the laws surrounding them. There are many arguments one can make, and many of them are somewhat valid. Many people argue that an influx of immigrants will result in a lack of jobs for Americans. The fact is, many immigrants take jobs often overlooked by citizens. They come here, working minimum-wage job, performing manual labor in order to try and build a life for themselves and their families.

People argue that we need to protect our borders from immigrants because they pose a threat to citizens living in the US. We cannot prevent danger by closing out outside forces. We believe that outsiders are our enemies, when in fact your neighbor could be the planner of a mass shooting that will devastate your community. There’s no way of knowing for sure who might pose a threat and so many Americans may pose more of a threat than many immigrants. I’m not arguing that all immigrants are good, but so many of them do not come here with ill-intentions.

There are those who argue that by welcoming immigrants in, we will lose the American Culture. The issue with this logic is that we have seen different cultures introduced into new areas and yet the native culture hadn’t been completely lost. We have seen an increase in diversities, but that doesn’t mean that the American culture will disappear altogether. I am a firm believer that in order for a group of people to grow, they must be open to new ideas and ways of thinking. Cultural blending isn’t the end of the world, and it would certainly welcome many new ideas that could help expand our thinking.

I think the reason that I feel so strongly about this is because of my personal experience. My stepfather is an immigrant, and came here illegally. He met my mother, and they had an immediate connection. Soon enough, he became a second father to me. He cared for my siblings and me like we were his own children. He was a perfect father to us, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more. We were all so happy together. We rented a new apartment and moved out of our older, smaller one. We chose new furniture, decorated it, got our first dog, and we felt like a real family.

He came with hopes of finding new work and a new life. He did both. I loved him for the things he did for not only my mother, but me as well. I loved that he would make me a big bowl of soup every time I stayed home sick from school. I loved that he treated our dog like a child of his own. I loved that we would have cookouts almost every weekend in the summer, inviting a bunch of friends and relatives. I loved his sense of humor, and the fact that he never failed to make us smile. I loved his positive energy, and his desire to make our lives as comfortable as possible. I loved that he made my mother happy, happier than I’d seen her in years.

I loved that despite the fact that we weren’t his children by blood, he cared for us like we were his world. But, simply because he wasn’t born here and didn’t have papers, he was sent home. It didn’t matter that he pulled our family together, or that he was like a father to me and my brother. It didn’t matter that he helped my mother find herself again, or that we were a family. What mattered was that he was undocumented, and so they took him out of our lives. I think about him all the time, and just how happy we all were together.

He didn’t have bad intentions. He wanted to be happy and live with his family, just like any person would, immigrant or not. He wanted to build a life he was proud of. He had a dream, and he came here to pursue it. He was the thread that stitched our family together, and once he was pulled out of our lives, we fell apart again. It was hard seeing my mother cry all the time because she could no longer see him every day. It was hard for me to wake up on days I felt sick and know I would no longer have the bowl of soup he made me. It was hard knowing we wouldn’t have those cookouts I had loved. But it was hardest knowing that I would no longer see his smile that managed to brighten our lives every day. I wouldn’t walk into the living room and see him sitting there with our dog on his lap. I wouldn’t hear his loud laugh that seemed to echo in the halls of our apartment. I wouldn’t see the smile in my mother’s eyes as she stood beside him. Instead, I’d see pictures of him and hear his voice through a phone.

The reason I feel so strongly about immigration laws is because they are what tore my family apart. Seeing my mother lose herself a little as she drowned in her sadness made it hard for me to go through each day of my life. As time went on, she found ways to accept it and cope, and with her acceptance came my own as well. I’ve accepted that I can’t just change immigration laws, however my opinion on them will never change.

Perfection Isn’t Perfect

By Yaritza Villar

As I flipped through the magazine on my coffee table, I couldn’t help but envy the models featured within it. Their bright eyes, perfect makeup, lean frames, flawless skin. I sat there, and I began to think:

Why couldn’t I look like that? I want to be as perfect as they are.

But as soon as that thought entered my mind, another one followed right behind it.

Well, why do you have to be “perfect?”

And I stopped for a moment. Why did I have to be “perfect?” And I realized it’s because everyone told me I “had” to be. Everyone expected me to act a certain way, dress a certain way, and think a certain way. But is that really what I wanted?

I wanted to be myself, and who I was wasn’t those people you see in magazines. And despite how long it has taken me to understand that, I’ve finally come to terms with it.

We are picked apart and inspected by the eyes of society, and we’re told what we’re doing wrong and what we need to fix.

We become so unsure of ourselves that we seek guidance from these people and companies who don’t even know us. At some point in every girl’s life, they will doubt who they are because of what others have told them. You begin to think that the only way to be accepted and praised like these models and actresses, is to imitate them. You go out of your way to eventually become something you’re not, and that’s the problem with society. Society constantly pushes us to “be ourselves,” and yet many of us are shamed when we try to do so.

At a young age, girls are conditioned to act and think in certain ways. As we get older, that doesn’t change. But what can change is how willing you are to reject those ideas and be your own person. You don’t have to accept what everyone pushes onto you if you don’t feel like you should. There will come a day when you’ll realize that although you don’t look like those models and actresses in a magazine, you can still be proud of who you are. Everyone has different standards and ideas as to what “perfect” truly is. So who’s to tell you that you aren’t?

The scarring oppression of society is what prohibits personal growth. It scars you in a way that you no longer feel comfortable speaking your mind. It scars you in a way that you no longer feel confident in the decisions you make for fear of making a mistake. It scars you so badly that you may lose who you are. But what I’ve learned is, it’s possible to heal and become your own person.

I’ve learned  to love my dark brown eyes that I once believed should be blue. My brown hair that I wished was blonde. My short frame that I wished was taller. I’ve learned to love all the physical scars that scatter themselves every now and then over my skin which I once believed had to be smooth and flawless in order to be beautiful. I’ve learned that perfection is what you make of it, and I shouldn’t let others try and tell me what it really is.