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Congress will approve the ongoing year-round resolution on March 14th, funding a massive deportation while robbing domestic spending. Economic and humanitarian costs disrupt the most vulnerable communities and strip everyone of essential services. Children, American citizens or not, systemic failure continues to spiral, but is hit hardest.
Robert Hernandez, founder of Guanatos Gudorsour in Mexico, supports people who have been victims of similar systemic failures in their youth. He runs a Guadalajara-based shelter that supports deporters and returnees from the United States who previously had affiliated with gangs or spent time in prison. He is a certified addiction counselor who has learned leadership, mental health and crisis intervention, but his greatest asset is his living experience.
Robert was brought to the United States as a child, but after years of living in racial injustice, police violence and gang activities, he was caught up in a gang. After living in the United States for more than 30 years, he was deported for a felony conviction. By then he was a legal permanent resident and a father to a US citizen.
His story shows the generational damage that can occur when the system fails our most vulnerable communities and their children, and the need for the US government to reject the trade-off between domestic funds for deportation.
Compton’s kids
Robert was born in Mexico, but there are no childhood memories there. All his childhood memories are in Compton, California, where his single mother brought him to him at a young age. Looking back now, he realizes his mother did his best, but he remembers the rage he felt for not having his “pop” and knows that if he wants something, he has to get it for himself. Despite showing promising signs as a student, he did not graduate from high school. Like many of his peers, citizens, non-citizens, he was exposed to gang life as a child. He viewed it as a means of protection from police violence he personally experienced, and as violence from other gangs. It also provided an escape from financial difficulties.
If he grew up in a middle class home with another zip code, he might have fulfilled his potential and went to college. Instead, he grew up in one of the most violent regions in the United States at the time, surrounded by economic insecurity and lack of guidance. In the late 90s, his time in the US was over. He was convicted of a felony and served in prison for 10 years. After serving his time, the US government deported him to Mexico.
An excuse awakening
Robert didn’t know what to expect when he returned home, but he felt curious to know that he could finally see the land where he heard of his life. However, his hometown didn’t feel like home.
His tattoo and broken Spanish were a member of a deported gangster who could easily identify him as a constant target of harassment from the police. He is a victim of abuse from criminal groups who tried to get him to participate, a common trend among deportees with limited options. Fearing detective conspiracy, English was banned in the shelter. Worse, he had a hard time obtaining Mexican ID documents. This took five years to complete the process. He longed for his culture, his family, his neighborhood, the weather and the way people spoke. The accumulation of these difficulties and lack of support, coupled with drug and alcohol abuse, led to severe depression. This downward spiral after deportation is common among exiles who struggle to adjust to their new life.
In 2007, Robert slammed the rock bottom and took steps to control his addiction. In the course of his recovery, he had to look back at his past, which bothered him. It was a decisive moment for him. He could have resorted to the old ways, but instead decided to accept his mistakes and seek a new life in Mexico outside of the gang. He also decided at that moment to do his life work to help others find alternative paths in his situation. After lifting himself up from rehabilitation, Robert decided to become a drug addiction counselor and opened his own rehabilitation centre at the age of 40.
A new type of shelter
Opening the shelter was not easy. Robert had to show people that he was a real deal. After three years of drinking and reform, he had gained enough confidence and reliability to believe that former gang members could start shelter for others like him. He opened the door to Guanatos Gdlsur in 2010.
The shelter incorporated much of what Robert learned through his recovery process and training, including a 12-stage programme and mental and psychological reforms. But Robert also brought a unique touch to his program. Instead of hiding their language and Chicano culture, they were encouraged to become themselves. Residents were also encouraged to use other recovery methods, such as sports, arts, mechanics and studying. As he says, no payment was required – “You can’t charge to do God’s work” – but there were several requirements to stay in the shelter, including finding a higher power or purpose, learning to trust one person across your truth, seeking mental health support when necessary, and maintaining physical health with good habits and group contributions.
Robert discovered that the people he was helping faced similar challenges in his childhood. The majority were raised with parents who experienced financial anxiety in single-parent families or were emotionally absent or violent. It is often the case that shelter residents call Robert the first mentor, his father figure, and, in some cases, the only person who has shown love to them.
The point that Robert emphasizes is the importance of meeting people where they are and not telling them that they are wrong. It takes about six months to start watching progress. Meanwhile, shelter residents begin to share more of their past, embracing and trusting responsibility. The goal is never to free residents from obstacles. It’s about slowly accepting them, forgiveing them, and moving forward. As they move forward, they learn they can do more than they thought, dive into healthy habits and enroll in GED classes.
There have been many changes since the shelter opened the door. Robert has found a new way to celebrate the Chicano lifestyle by launching Chicano Fest in 2023. Robert is working with an increase in community partners, such as the Rhizome Center for Migrants, a legal aid clinic that provides post-depaulette legal aid services, as he plans to: As he approaches retirement, he is considering ways to continue working at the shelter for the next generation.
What you can learn from Robert’s story
It may seem unnatural to sympathize with Robert and his shelter residents considering their former gang affiliation. We have been taught to abandon humanity for people like them, despite research showing that gang membership is often a result of human circumstances. When children grow up in economically depressed situations where education and instruction opportunities are limited, they are more likely to leave a bright future.
There is no complete solution to reform the US immigration system, but the first step is not to exacerbate the conditions for all children in the US. Funding for domestic programs is not about making funding safer for large-scale deportation, but rather lays the foundation for generations’ trauma and difficulties that lead to more violence and instability.
Robert and his shelter residents are trying to embrace the past, learn from it, and take a step towards a better future. Policymakers should follow the lawsuit by accepting and learning from the failures of enforcement-first strategies and taking steps towards a better future by strengthening their support systems rather than tearing them apart.
Submitted below: California deportation, Mexico
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