Brizzia and Maria Munoz Robles learned from a young age to never reveal their true identity, never talk about where they came from, never tell anyone where they were born.

When they crossed the border on a bus at age 5, they had to remember fake names. Their parents told them to stay inside, even to skip school, whenever immigration police came to town. Never open the door for strangers because it could lead to the whole family being deported back to Mexico.

“My mom said, ‘If you tell anyone, they’re going to call the police,’” Brizzia said. ‘“And they’re going to come knock on the door and we’re going to have to leave. We are not going to have anywhere to go.”’

Maria said she never told her best friend in Gardnerville, Nevada, that she wasn’t a citizen. Brizzia said she couldn’t say the word “undocumented” out loud until this year. They choked down their sadness when people made cruel jokes about immigrants, even when a fellow cross country runner said they should be good at jumping walls and running.

Both learned the art of the dodge. They avoided the subject of where they were born. They lied that they didn’t have time when friends questioned why they didn’t get a driver’s license after turning 16. And last year Maria never told her freshmen year roommate that she and her sister were part of the first group of undocumented students accepted to Notre Dame.

Then, this year — inspired by Rev. Theodore M. Hesburgh, C.S.C., a month before his death — they shattered a lifelong habit of silence in the most public way possible.

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Brizzia and Maria were born in Zacatecas, Mexico. They have few memories of life there before leaving. They both remember their grandparents’ house as being overcrowded with their father’s eight siblings and their families. Brizzia recalls being hungry often and her mother peeling the skins off of beans so her children could eat them before they had teeth. Maria remembers that females were not respected in that environment; the twins had to stay in their room when male visitors came over. Both recall their mother’s admonition not to talk to men when they were sent to buy milk in the store in their small town.

Their father often left to do construction work in America. Their mother didn’t say where they were going when she took her three daughters on a bus to leave Zacatecas. Each was given a toy action figure to keep them playing quietly and told, “This is your new name.” Brizzia remembers how nervous her mother acted and how their scared little sister cried at the border checkpoint. They made it through, an experience the twins said their family does not discuss.

The family stayed for a time in Carson City, Nevada, before moving into the garage of their father’s boss in Gardnerville until he could build his own house. The girls knew growing up that they weren’t welcome in the U.S. because their parents kept them inside for weeks at a time whenever ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) officers did random checks in town.

“I did feel kind of unwanted,” Maria said. “I wasn’t sure how to take it as a kid, until I got older and it became clear why.”

They struggled in first grade because they couldn’t understand anything the teacher said. Through Head Start, the twins took English as a Second Language classes after school and became fluent in a few years. At home, their Spanish-speaking parents insisted they answer in English. They learned to tell people they were from Gardnerville to avoid suspicion.

“I remember one time, we were in art class,” Brizzia said. “This girl asked where we were born. I didn’t want to lie to her because she was my friend. I told her Mexico. She was like, ‘Oh,’ and she understood that was a bad thing. She said, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.’”

By junior high school, the twins had begun to excel at schoolwork. They played instruments — flute and saxophone — until they had to give up Honor Band to make room for AP Chemistry in high school. But trying anything new was always a risk. Going out for the cross country team led to new friends but also to more questions about where they were from.

Classmates and friends did not realize that their jokes or comments stung. The runners and their coach called one stretch “Border Patrol.” A student making a video in government class pretended to question them about their status, solely based on their color.

“We kind of played it off,” Maria said. “But all those things reminded me that it’s bad to be undocumented. Actually the term was ‘illegal alien.’ It implied I was doing something wrong just being there.”

The gift of a Notre Dame education

College did not seem like an option to the twins despite being top students. They figured they might go to a nearby community college because financial aid would not be an option. “I was really motivated to do something to make my mom and dad proud,” Maria said. Their options changed in 2012 when President Obama created DACA status, which they soon received.

DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, status means they can legally work in the U.S., granting temporary cards that must be renewed every few years. DACA status also makes it easier to attend college, which is why these students are often known as DREAMers, the acronym of failed federal legislation to permanently legalize young immigrants.

Maria suggested they join QuestBridge, a program that helps low-income and first-generation students go to college. When their QuestBridge counselor saw that Notre Dame had just adopted a policy to admit undocumented students, she encouraged them to apply. The twins flew out in April of their high school senior year for an expenses-paid program called Spring Visitation that invites top students likely to be admitted.

Both said Notre Dame had a conservative reputation but felt like a real community. “After visiting, we were contacted by several faculty members who knew about our situation,” they later wrote. “It was the only school that directly reached out to us. The guidance we received gave us a sense of comfort and support that we’d never had when it came to our futures.”

They graduated in spring 2014 as the first twin valedictorians of Douglas High School. Both were accepted at Notre Dame and offered enough financial aid to make it possible. They were interviewed by local and national media, and decided not to mention their DACA status, noting that their hometown seemed so proud they were going to Notre Dame.