It’s now been seven months since I made the life-altering decision to leave the United States. Honestly, there are still some days where it hasn’t fully sunk in. I’m still processing the plethora of emotions. As someone who lived as an undocumented, then DACAmented immigrant in the U.S., this was not something I took lightly as it would mean I would not see my family and friends for an undetermined amount of time.
People have their own reasons to stay or leave places. For me, I couldn’t fully decide. I kept going back and forth even when our tickets were booked and our bags were packed. My partner, Brice, and I made a “pros vs. cons” list to decide since there were so many factors to consider.
I always dreamed about the day when I would leave, but I never imagined it would be before there was a pathway to citizenship. I guess I came to the decision that I had other dreams I wanted to pursue more.
It was also the right time for me to leave. For starters, I finished my undergraduate studies and gained valuable internship and work experiences. Second, I was already accepted into a wonderful Master’s program at an internationally recognized school, Sciences Po’s Paris School of International Affairs. Third, I could not wait to see whether Trump would be reelected.
Brice and I were both immigrants with rocky situations in the United States. We were constantly being pushed apart in a million directions. As a French citizen on his final extension of a non immigrant J-1 visa, Brice could no longer renew it. His options were limited to an H1B visa or Green Card, which were virtually impossible with COVID-19. I had DACA, which did not guarantee my stay either. Once the Supreme Court made the decision that the Trump administration had not legally terminated the DACA program, it was a small win, but it still made me uneasy to think that the administration could strategize further and end it legally. All of this in the midst of a global health pandemic was too much. My mental health waned. I felt so trapped. I needed to get out.
The days leading up to our departure became harder. The day before, we had a small celebration for my brother and cousin’s birthdays. It was a beautiful last day. That night, we decided who would go to the airport. We finished packing. We went on a final late McDonald’s run.
The 45 minute drive to the international airport at RDU was almost silent. Whether it was because it was so early or because we were all sad, no one said a word. I stared at the moon wondering if it would look the same across the border.