Healing the Wound
Erika Andiola speaks in front of the Capitol in Washington DC, in December 2013, announcing her decision to leave her job in Rep. Kyrsten Sinema's office to focus on preventing her mother, Maria Arreola, from being deported. Photo by Brandon Brown/Cronkite News
Activism, an emotional refuge for Arizona’s immigrant students
Editor’s note: This story is co-published with Arizona Luminaria, a nonprofit newsroom dedicated to reporting that centers underserved communities. This project was produced with support from the Education Writers Association Reporting Fellowship program.
Haga clic aquí para leer el reportaje en español.
Erika Andiola felt invisible in the classroom. She was an immigrant child attending school in a new country. Her teachers and her classmates spoke English, a language she didn’t understand. She turned everywhere for help, but went unnoticed, like she didn’t exist.
In 1998, at the age of 11, Erika found herself navigating Arizona’s school system after emigrating with her family from Durango, Mexico, without legal documents. The language barrier made her feel isolated and insecure.
“I was sitting there, but I really had no business being there, because I didn’t understand what was happening,” she said.
Erika said that she didn't find help at school: “I knew I was a smart young woman. I knew I was a young woman who was capable of a lot, but oftentimes I didn't have the support I needed, when I had first arrived, to achieve my goals,” she said.
A 7-year-old Erika Andiola. Photo courtesy of Erika Andiola
Arizona’s school system left behind immigrant children who didn’t speak English and who, like Erika, did not receive assistance from the school counselors or therapists, or any other type of support.
As a child, Erika also lived in fear that her family would be deported. Years later, she would experience the pain of fighting to prevent the deportation of her loved ones.
Systemic racism and anti-immigrant laws in Arizona have emotionally scarred Latino students like Erika, who today represent nearly half of the state’s student population, from pre-K through 12th grade, according to state Department of Education data.
Many of them have overcome or minimized those psychological scars through social activism. Erika went from being an intimidated child to becoming an important force in the human rights movement. She advocated for Dreamers — young immigrant people who grew up in the United States without citizenship or legal status.
Activism not only paved the way for her to obtain a college degree and join Bernie Sanders' presidential campaign as a press secretary; it also empowered her politically and emotionally to fight for immigrants across the country.
Erika grew up in Arizona at a time when the state's educational and civic systems had some of the country’s harshest anti-immigrant policies. For example, Proposition 203, which eliminated national standards that ensured that students were provided with a strong level of English language learning and had access to bilingual education, had been in effect since 2000. It mandated that classes in state schools be taught exclusively in English. Once they finished high school, undocumented students like Erika had to pay out-of-state college tuition as a result of Proposition 300, which Arizona voters approved in 2006.
‘We can’t just be satisfied with the hope that things will improve. Instead we have to take action, individually and collectively.’
Erika also had to live under the effects of Arizona’s SB1070 law, which went into effect in 2010. Known as the “show me your papers” law, the policies included allowing police to ask anyone they encountered during routine stops for their legal documents showing citizenship.
Under these anti-immigrant laws, Erika knew how hard it would be for her to attend college in the same way her classmates with legal status did. Her excellent grades didn’t change laws, nor did her hard work in the state’s Advancement Via Individual Determination program, known as AVID, a nonprofit organization that supports students as they work towards personal, professional and academic goals.
Despite having graduated from Arizona’s public schools, Erika had to pay out-of-state tuition rates because of her lack of legal status. Unlike students who were citizens, back then, she also was barred from obtaining college scholarships funded by state and federal governments. And she was deemed ineligible for jobs to fund her own studies because she didn’t have a social security number.
Today, she realizes all of that left her with trauma. But back then, without help, she only knew she felt isolated and sad.
“Until now, as an adult, I have had to see a psychologist. I take antidepressants,” she said. She continues therapy to heal past wounds, but no longer feels that fear of being persecuted and intimidated.
Today, Erika is a 37-year-old with a career in psychology. Activism became her lifeline.
More than two decades have passed since she arrived, and in early 2024, Erika was granted permanent residency in the United States.
"I feel like what happened more than 20 years ago was yesterday," Erika said, with sadness in her voice.
Erika Andiola at home in Tempe, Arizona, May 2024. Photo by Ash Ponders for palabra
Mutual support and cultural identity
Germán A. Cadenas is associate professor of clinical psychology at Rutgers University in New Jersey, as well as associate director of the Center for Youth Social Emotional Wellness. He says his research demonstrates that activism is tied to mental wellbeing and better academic performance.
“The reason why activism can be so powerful psychologically is that it helps students find groups of other students who can offer mutual support, develop their cultural identity, analyze and create strategies for taking action that can result in systemic gains and cultivate hope and confidence in our immigrant community,” he said.
Cadenas and other academics conducted a study that demonstrated how immigrants engaging in activism and related critical thinking develop mechanisms for facing adversity and finding healthy solutions in life.
The study found that immigrant students and those without legal status, in response to the various negative impacts of anti-immigrant policies, can develop critical awareness by participating in analysis of systems of oppressions and collective action — like activism — to change these circumstances.
When Erika ventured into activism, she felt supported by other students who also felt isolated and depressed because they worried about their families and they couldn't continue or start their higher education. "I found other young people who were going through similar things. That made a difference for me," she said.
Erika Andiola, left, and other activists pose with U.S. Representative John Lewis. They visited Rep. Lewis after more than 20 activists advocating for the Dream Act, including themselves, staged a sit-in at Senator Harry Reid and John McCain’s offices in 2010 and were arrested for the first time while still not having a legal status in the country. Photo courtesy of Erika Andiola
In 2008, Erika began organizing alongside a group of immigrants who were getting involved in activism. They created a community in the face of Arizona’s anti-immigrant laws.
Erika joined forces with Carmen Cornejo, Luis Ávila, Daniel Rodríguez and other migrants to share their stories.
“For me, honestly, it was an empowering moment,” said Erika, recognizing the struggle of her fellow immigrants in Arizona. Erika became the face of an emerging force of undocumented youth who pressured then-President Barack Obama for the legal right to receive an education and work in the U.S.
After multiple demonstrations that started in 2009, Erika, other members of the Arizona Dream Act Coalition and migrants across the nation succeeded in getting the Obama administration to establish the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals initiative (DACA), in 2012. While it did not provide a path to citizenship, DACA allowed recipients to obtain work permits and driver’s licenses, access health care and educational scholarships and live their lives without the emotional burden of fearing deportation.
At last, together, they had found a path.
Activism that improves emotional wellbeing
When Reyna Montoya thinks back, she remembers the young immigrant girl who attended Arizona schools and the overwhelming sense of isolation she felt. Born in Tijuana, Mexico, Reyna immigrated to the United States with her family in 2003.
She recalled that, when she first arrived, she didn’t know the language, and the only support she received came from a dictionary that she used to translate her homework.
“I would translate word for word,” she said. “The support wasn’t there. My parents — as much as they cheered me on — didn’t know how to navigate the education system.”
Reyna Montoya, Aliento founder, at the Arizona’s Future Fellowship graduation celebration in May 2024. Photo by Ash Ponders for palabra
Years have passed and Reyna has learned to express how she felt as a child growing up in an anti-immigrant climate: “Feeling isolated, at that time, was really hard for me. It triggered depression in me. But as a child, I couldn’t tell you I was depressed,” she said.
Fear dominated the school environment for many immigrant children in Arizona as a result of Proposition 203, the state’s English-only law that eliminated bilingual education, according to an analysis by Amy Heineke, a professor of multilingual teaching and learning at the Loyola University Chicago School of Education.
Heineke examined Arizona’s bilingual education policies in her 2016 book “Restrictive Language Policy in Practice: English Learners in Arizona.” She points out that, while Arizona laws did not prohibit students from using their native tongue, language instructors could encourage teachers to punish students for speaking Spanish.
At the time, the English Language Development (ELD) classes segregated students who did not speak the language from the rest of their classmates — who could have supported them in learning English — to the point that they were often stigmatized as the "stupid class," according to Heineke.
Like Erika, Reyna also experienced hardships under Arizona's SB1070. Reyna's father was in deportation proceedings from September 2012 to May 2013, when she was 21. This motivated her, along with her fight for higher education for students without legal immigration status, to get involved in the struggle for immigrant rights and become an activist.
In 2016, Reyna's fight for equitable education led her to found Aliento, a nonprofit organization led by young people that advocates for the rights of Dreamers, immigrant families with mixed status, and those without documents.
Seated at the head of the table, Reyna Montoya leads an Aliento meeting. Photo by Diego Lozano, courtesy of Aliento
Reyna recalled that discussing immigration in schools was fraught: “We had to live in the shadows. That fear was very real and present.” And she added how it all began with the support of other young people: “They just encouraged me. They told me, ‘You speak up. It seems like you want to be a leader.’”
That was how she discovered the power of words and the strength of community, and realized that activism boosts self-esteem. She built support networks that helped her and other students move forward.
All of this was and continues to be part of her healing process, as is helping more young people so they don’t feel isolated. Today, at 33, she holds a degree in political science and transborder studies with a minor in dance from Arizona State University, as well as a Master of Education from Grand Canyon University and an executive education certificate from Harvard's Kennedy School of Government.
Reyna gained recognition for building a strategy in 2022 that led to a broad non-partisan educational and economic coalition in favor of Proposition 308. Approved by voters that year, the law allows high school graduates without legal status who have lived in Arizona for at least two years to pay in-state tuition at universities and community colleges, overturning the 2006 law that required them to pay out-of-state tuition.
Reyna recalls shedding "tears of joy" when they achieved changes for young immigrants seeking an education.
"With state tuition, which caused so much anxiety and depression in our students, we decided not to stand idly by,” she said. Nearly 409,000 students without documents are enrolled in colleges and universities in the United States, representing 1.9% of all college students in the country, according to the study “Undocumented Students in Higher Education,” published in 2023.
The 2021 report, published by the American Immigration Council and the Presidents’ Alliance on Higher Education and Immigration, revealed 10,000 students without a legal status in Arizona were enrolled at institutions of higher learning, compared to 83,000 students in the same situation in California, where they were able to pay in-state tuition.
Reyna’s mantra is “hope in action.” “We can’t just be satisfied with the hope that things will improve. Instead, we have to take action, individually and collectively,” she said.
Reyna Montoya and students advocate for Prop 308 outside the Arizona State Capitol during Aliento's "Education Day," 2019. Photo courtesy of Aliento
Activism as an engine for empowerment
Cadenas, the professor of clinical psychology who specializes in youth mental health at Rutgers University, emigrated from Venezuela to the United States with his mother when he was 15. He too was a young immigrant who fought for higher education in Arizona.
Like thousands of Dreamers affected by SB1070, Cadenas and his family also lived with the consequences of that law.
“I remember that my family was very afraid of driving without a license, especially if they saw someone from law enforcement,” he said.
He found that activism gave him energy and strength. He began volunteering with organizations such as the Arizona Dream Act Coalition, Reform Immigration For America, Promise Arizona and United We Dream.
“That allowed me to develop a way of thinking within our community that was much more positive, and to get involved with activism efforts and the creation of programs that have had a positive impact on thousands of people,” he said.
Cadenas also had to face the repercussions of Proposition 300. “The rejection I felt when I tried to go to college without being able to access in-state tuition or state or federal scholarships had an impact on me,” he said.
Today, Cadenas is hopeful that the barriers students face in U.S. school districts can be addressed through more ethical laws, practices and culturally-responsive programs.
“We found that there are programs, like DREAMzone, that train educators and other students, and they are effective when it comes to fostering empathy and competence in people who are not immigrants,” he said.
Since 2012, this program has offered training to faculty and staff at various universities throughout the country including DREAMzone Arizona, to raise institutional awareness and increase the support students without legal status and DACA recipients receive in college.
Students, parents, and professionals from Vote4Dream, a project of Aliento, at the U.S. Capitol in Washington D.C. They met with senators and members of Congress to campaign for solutions for immigrants without legal status. Photo by Diego Lozano, courtesy of Aliento
Cadenas said the program also serves as a model for leaders and health experts to promote inclusivity in schools and universities.
When the future is uncertain, young people experience more anxiety, depression and emotional turmoil, according to the 2023 study “Charting the longitudinal trajectories and interplay of critical consciousness among youth activists.”
Organizations with young people who fight for social justice help participating teenagers understand the social factors that affect them, which is why they become invested in changing their situations, empowering themselves and improving their mental health, states the study published by the Society for Research in Child Development.
The analysis featured interviews with 518 adolescents who lived in various cities in the United States — 39% of whom identified as Latino/Hispanic — and concluded that community activism functions as a crucial system for awareness that helps young people identify, negotiate and defy oppression in their lives.
‘It is common for young people to experience depression, stress or sadness… In our workshops, we invite them to explore all of these feelings, because behind each one there is great power.’
It’s been nearly 15 years since SB1070 went into effect and Cadenas feels that the immigrant and Latino communities are now stronger and adept at organizing for their rights. These days, Cadena’s own work is dedicated to developing strategies for training mental health services providers to better support immigrant and Latino communities.
“Social justice allows us to understand that mental health issues are not inherited, but rather associated with social settings and the stress that we sometimes experience,” he said.
And he pointed out the need for more mental health workers who engage with social justice and multiculturalism. “(They are needed) to support our communities in healing from the problems created by anti-immigrant laws,” Cadenas said.
Reyna Montoya embraces Noelia Flores, a student part of Aliento’s Arizona’s Future Fellowship, at the graduation ceremony in May 2024. Photo by Shantal Diaz, courtesy of Aliento
“Changing minds and systems”
Recently, her former English teacher saw Erika Andiola the activist in the news and contacted her through social media. She wanted to invite Erika to give a motivational talk to English language learners.
And it was symbolic because it was precisely the language that had made Erika feel invisible when she arrived in Arizona, just two years before Proposition 203 was passed, which eliminated the bilingual education system and put an end to instruction in Spanish.
Erika remembers going to school and facing strict language standards: “At the time, it was an ESL (English as a Second Language) class, now it’s called something different. It was an hour a day; the other classes were in English.” That hour when her classmates and the teacher communicated in Spanish, was the only time when Erika did not feel invisible.
When her English teacher reached out, Erika didn’t hesitate: “I went to tell them my story. I could see in their faces the feeling of ‘she was where I am,’” she said.
Now, she was recognized as a powerful and authoritative voice to talk with and teach children, thanks to her knowledge and her advocacy on behalf of others.
Erika continues to believe in the strength of the Latino community, despite her opinion that the Arizona education system is "broken" for immigrant students.
“If we organize — if we arm ourselves with courage, raise our voices strategically, with something that comes from our hearts — we will be able to change minds and systems,” she said.
Erika Andiola is the director of communication at The Young Center for Immigrant Children’s Rights. Photo by Ash Ponders for palabra
Healing through community and art
Some of the young immigrants who come to Aliento seeking guidance introduce themselves by saying: “I suffer from depression.” “I haven't been able to get out of bed.” “I feel like something is holding me back.” “Could you connect me with a therapist?”
Reyna, who understands those feelings, explained that in addition to activism and social justice, students experiencing these mental health crises need psychological or therapeutic support. Aliento provides it.
An analysis of the student-to-school-counselor ratio for 2022-2023 conducted by the American School Counselor Association ranked Arizona as the worst state in the country for having the fewest school counselors: There were 1,698 for 1,132,223 students, or approximately one counselor for every 667 students. That is almost three times less than the ratio recommended by the association: at least one counselor for every 250 students.
“Our students, children of immigrants or immigrants (themselves), put so much pressure on themselves to be the best they can be (that) they don't consider how this impacts their mental health,” Reyna said.
Aliento staff and Arizona’s Future Fellowship students pose for a photo at the graduation ceremony in May 2024. Photo by Shantal Diaz, courtesy of Aliento
Aliento has launched the Arizona’s Future Fellowship, which fosters leadership among immigrant youth. Fellows work within their schools to practice self defense abilities using knowledge of the law and to make their school districts and communities more equitable and inclusive, through their knowledge of current Arizona political and educational policies and immigrant rights.
Aryam Garcia, coordinator of Aliento’s Arts + Healing program, organizes workshops for students who have been affected by deportation, detention or the threat of family separation.
The workshops are offered in predominantly Latino school districts for children ages 7 and up, students who are DACA recipients, the children of immigrants and young people from mixed-status families.
“It is common for young people to experience depression, stress, or sadness,” Aryam said. “In our workshops, we invite them to explore all these feelings because behind each one there is great power.”
Aryam Garcia, arts and healing coordinator, at Aliento headquarters in Phoenix, May 2024. Photo by Ash Ponders for palabra
Aryam was born in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico and immigrated to Arizona as a child. She endured the state’s education system, learned a new language and lived in fear of SB1070.
She’s 25 now, and said she was able to move forward thanks to the bonds she formed with other students who fought together for their rights. She recently graduated from Benedictine University in Mesa, Arizona with a degree in psychology. She helps heal other students who, like her, were suffering in silence.
A call for unity to achieve change
Erika calls on young people to: “Keep trying to change the narrative of who we are, so that people like Trump or Biden don’t tell us who we are. But rather we tell our own stories and who we really are as human beings.”
Lodged in Erika's memory is the painful recollection of the day when Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents raided her home in 2013 looking for her mother, Lupita Arreola, to deport her to Mexico. That was one of two occasions when the authorities attempted — unsuccessfully — to deport Lupita. Years earlier, Erika recounted, officers had raided her home looking for her mother. They only found her uncle, whom they deported, she said.
Erika Andiola at the Phoenix ICE office for her mother's annual check-in in 2015, three years after their home was raided. Photo courtesy of Erika Andiola
A national team of education and health researchers surveyed 547 Latino children aged 11 to 16 in Georgia who had experienced the detention or deportation of a family member in the 12 months prior to the interview. These young people were at higher risk of suicide and alcohol consumption, according to the 2020 study, published in the Journal of the American Medical Association Pediatrics.
The study suggests that changes to immigration policies since 2017 that coincide with former President Donald Trump's term in office may be associated with critical outcomes that endanger the emotional health of Latino adolescents. Some are also at greater risk of experiencing disparities in access to mental health services.
It’s been years, and Erika wishes she could recapture the idealism of that young Mexican woman who was arrested during an act of civil disobedience at the United States Capitol in Washington D.C. in 2017. That young woman who didn’t waiver during a hunger strike in jail to demand a vote on the DREAM Act, which would have provided a path to a permanent legal status in the U.S. for Dreamers.
Today, Erika is a bit tired, disillusioned with politicians, and managing the responsibilities of an adult woman. She is the communications director at The Young Center for Immigrant Children’s Rights, an organization that protects immigrant children who arrive in the U.S. unaccompanied by an adult.
Erika Andiola, a seasoned activist, currently works for The Young Center for Immigrant Children’s Rights. Photo by Ash Ponders for palabra
At times, Erika looks back and sees herself reflected in those fearful children who arrive in a new country to face a system that persecutes them for being immigrants. Then, she reconnects with that little curly-haired girl from Durango who felt invisible.
She is aware that there is still much work to be done so that immigrant children and young people in Arizona can have equitable support for their mental health, a fair education, and the rights that everyone deserves.
“I have hope that another generation of young people will rise up again,” she said.
Erika did her part, planting seeds alongside Cadenas, Reyna, and many others. Now, the mantra — hope in action — lies with today’s children and young people.
Beatriz Limón is a freelance journalist with extensive experience in the field of communications. During her career, she was a correspondent in Arizona and New Mexico for the international news agency EFE, as well as for The Arizona Republic, where she contributed to the Latino publication La Voz. She has been a reporter and editor at several newspapers in Mexico. She earned a B.A. in communication sciences from the Universidad Autónoma de Baja California and a master’s in history. She has received fellowships from the Solutions Journalism Network and has contributed articles for the SJN Labor Cohort. She is currently a Education Writers Association fellow working on a series of articles on the topic: “The worrisome mental health situation among Latino students in Arizona.” Additionally, she is an accomplished professional photographer and a columnist for the newspaper El Imparcial. She also actively contributes to outlets such as Arizona Luminaria, palabra, Factchequeado and Conecta Arizona. @BetyLimon16
Other palabra articles written or edited by Beatriz Limón: Arizona Students Struggling in Silence, Estudiantes en Arizona luchando en silencio, “The Long Walk of Carlos Guerrero”, Children Drawing Deportation, Dibujar la Deportación, Seen. Heard., Vista y escuchada, The Mexican Option
Ash Ponders, a Panamanian tisoy multimedia artist, lives in the Sonoran Desert making visuals rooted in the history of both the environment and the people that live there for newspapers and art galleries. Their art has been covered by the New York Times, BBC, CNN and Teen Vogue. Their journalism has been commissioned by NYT, National Geographic, WSJ, WaPo, San Francisco Chronicle, The Intercept, NPR, PRI, PBS, HCN, Smithsonian, Audubon and La Prensa. Ponders is a member of NAHJ, NPPA, FFR, Diversify Photo and Juntos Photo Coop. They're also an award-winning poet and translator. They desperately want you to follow them on bluesky. @ashponders