Itzel Guillen

Opinion contributor

With Nov. 6 quickly approaching, I’m proud to say that I have already done my part to strengthen our democracy. So far, I’ve knocked on hundreds of doors, made hundreds of phone calls, stuffed envelopes, and spoken personally to citizens eager to express themselves at the ballot box for the first time. I’ve attended rallies, walked in marches and put up posters. I’ll pretty much talk to anybody who will listen about how important voting is.

But I have never voted in my life. As a non-citizen in the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program, I cannot.

My mother is undocumented and cannot vote either, but it was her who ignited my civic duty to fight for this country I believe in and love.

I moved from Mexico to the U.S. with my mother when I was 5 years old and one of my earliest memories — one of the only memories of Mexico City — is attending a political event. Led by my mother, we rallied against the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) which held power for more than 70 years. But a political rally in Mexico is a far more dangerous than it sounds; speaking out against a political machine can be a death sentence for many.

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The threat of political violence led my mother in 1999 to look for safety and better opportunities for my brother and me in San Diego. Here, I marched with her again during the immigration protests 12 years ago where I chanted next to her: “¡Si se puede!” or “Yes we can!”

The memories from my childhood are filled with marches for worker rights, immigrant rights, and other struggles for social justice. I learned at a young age that the future I want is in my hands to earn.

So, I knock, I call and I march.

I also cope.

The uncertainty of being undocumented

As an undocumented immigrant, I don’t know what country I’ll live in a year from now. As the highest-stakes midterm elections take place, canvassing and having difficult conversations about our civic process has become a therapeutic salve for my frayed nerves.

Staying in motion, remaining vigilant seems to be the only thing that works when it comes to coping with the uncertainty of being undocumented. If I stop moving, stop working, stop running for a minute to think hard about the gravity of what’s at stake, I can become paralyzed.

So when I heard that thousands of children were separated from their parents and rounded up to be placed in tent cities, I knocked on more doors and I talked to more people.

When President Trump called my people rapistsand animals, I worked harder to remind our community that we will make the difference in the upcoming elections.

When this administration considered making it more difficult to naturalize eligible legal permanent residents, I organized more forums to encourage more people to apply for citizenship.

I remain motivated even when I bump heads with friends and family who are eligible to vote, but choose not to.

Latin America's history of political repression

I believe low Latino voter turnout stems partly from the fact that we come from countries that are war-torn and dysfunctional where people don’t trust the government.

In Mexico there is a history of massacres towards activists, students and communities working for a better future. Latinos flee countries where elections are often rigged, politicians are routinely assassinated, and where legitimately elected leaders are ousted by military coups.

Many have a deep disillusionment with government in general which they often downplay with cliched excuses like “my vote doesn't matter” or “why waste my time if nothing will change?”

Sometimes it’s all but impossible to convince folks that this lack of political efficacy hinders positive change for our communities.

But it’s possible.

I call on members of the Latino community — both documented and undocumented — to shed their cynicism and not let the trauma of past experiences stop them from making a difference today. This is our chance to ensure that we elect candidates and policies that represent our values and needs.

The only way to succeed in November is if we walk, call, and knock on doors. But most importantly, to those that can, go vote!

Itzel Guillen is immigration integration manager at Alliance San Diego. She is one of the beneficiaries of the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program and recently graduated from San Diego State University.