Five years ago, he couldn’t drive his car without the constant fear of getting pulled over, getting his car taken away, or even getting deported. That’s because Alvin is an undocumented Dreamer. He has temporary protection from deportation under President Obama’s Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA.

But President Trump has sent mixed signals about Dreamers, and Alvin worries his protection could be taken away.

“Not having Deferred Action is like a roadblock for me to even want to drive a car because I don’t want to get in trouble with the cops,” says Alvin.

His parents brought him to the U.S. from Indonesia when he was 2. The family overstayed their tourist visas.

They wanted to escape the poverty that surrounded them back home. Alvin’s dad also wanted to leave the toxic environment he grew up in. He was physically abused by his parents for most of his life. Alvin says his dad sometimes has flashbacks.

When his parents first arrived, they didn’t know anyone. Just a faraway “friend of a friend” who owned a restaurant in Los Angeles and was also Indonesian.

“We actually lived at the restaurant for about three months. My parents worked at the restaurant during business hours and at night we would go up to the attic and sleep,” recalls Alvin.

For decades, the family lived in the shadows. His parents kept their heads down and worked to put Alvin through school.

When Alvin was in high school, he began looking for legal help so the family could try to adjust their immigration status. He says it was hard to find resources for undocumented immigrants who weren’t Latino.

“You go to lawyers and they’re all like, ‘Oh yeah, we have this support system for you and especially we can cater to you if you speak Spanish.’ What about us?”

The attorneys told him there was nothing his family could do. They didn’t have any family members that could petition for their residency. Even if they did, waiting for a visa could take decades. Just like for immigrants from Mexico. But Alvin didn't feel like he could connect with the Latino community.

“It sucked especially because, like, you go through all these struggles, and you can’t really feel like you identify with other folks who also go through that struggle, so you just kind of, like, stay in your own pocket of [the] world,” he says. “It’s like you’re a double minority."

But DACA changed his life.

“To be real, it probably has been the biggest life-changer for me," says Alvin. "It's not just a work permit. It's literally the freedom of being able to go out there and do [things] without being scared to get caught.”

Now in his late 20s, Alvin works as an accountant for a car company and is the sole provider for his family. He says his aging parents have a hard time doing manual labor in restaurants anymore. But he also doesn’t want them to risk a workplace immigration raid now that Trump is in office. DACA protects only him from deportation. Not his parents.

After Trump’s inauguration, he took his parents to a “Know Your Rights" forum to prepare for what to do in case ICE agents show up at their house.

It’s hard for Alvin to imagine what would happen if he and his parents were to get deported. He doesn’t feel like Indonesia is home, and he doesn’t want his dad to go back to the environment where he experienced such trauma.

In the meantime, he finds comfort in car culture.

He hangs out at an auto body shop, tinkering with his car. Most of his buddies there are African-American. When he's around them, he can forget about his immigration woes. Even if it’s just for a moment. Because being undocumented is just one part of who he is.