my fellow Americans

Numbers are easy to argue against; the unknown has no gaze to meet as you make your case, theoretical consequences are easily dismissed. But when a statistic becomes an individual, and that individual becomes your friend-- your friend, or your student, or your neighbor, perhaps, a real person who's part of your world, doing, like you, the best that he can--well, then, it's different. The sharp truth of experience can puncture puffed-up principle, but what happens next is the tell.

Noe Guzman, is, by most measures, a thoroughly American kid. He has lived, worked, and gone to school here for nearly all of his life. His English is surely fluent, his interests the same as his neighbors'. Noe had no idea, he says, that he was not an American citizen until the Marine Corps discovered the Social Security card his mother gave him was, in fact, a fraud. So much for enlisting, so much for college money, so much, it seems, for his American dream. Enough people vouched for him that his deportation was thwarted, but at this point, he's just here, not legal--the same non-status he'd unknowingly had since he crossed the border at the age of 4, the same non-status as so many others.

"That's not fair!" said his friends.

"He should have a chance!" was the community consensus. I do not disagree. I share their indignation, but I aim it a little wider. Noe is just a name to me, no one I'll ever meet. But I do know dozens of others who, save for the shock of belated discovery, share that same complicated story. They live in Missouri because their parents moved here, or because they were sent to an aunt or an uncle to strive for a better life. They live, and they work, and they go to school. They are part of our communities, and largely, they are stuck.

The realization that doors were closing on Noe has rallied his community around him; to them he was not an unknown and threatening alien, but their neighbor, their coworker, their friend. They want him to succeed, to be a Marine, to go to school. They believe he deserves it, regardless, not because of, his documents. Even their Republican state representative has been recruited to the cause:

Said state Representative Charlie Schlottach, "We have a young man who wants to fight to become an American; a young man who has met and surpassed the American standard ofwork, willing to obey this country's laws. A young man who has the support of every teacher, school administrator, fellow student and community member I have encountered. … I offer my whole-hearted support to Noe and his quest to gain American citizenship."

Ironic then that Rep. Schlottach voted for the current Missouri law that denies Noe and others like him the "benefit of post-secondary education." While federal law does not prevent undocumented students from going to any state college they can afford, Missouri HB 1549 does. A year ago Noe could have paid the inflated international rate as a down payment on his dream, but that's not an option today. If he tried to do what he's been raised to expect, what he planned and hoped and wished for--what his community thinks he deserves--he would be turned away. I imagine that Rep. Schlottach may not have known of Noe when he voted; even today he may try to claim one situation is not like the other. The catch is that it is.

Noe is not the only kid trapped by circumstances. He's just the one whose newspaper connection and agitating friends may give him a shot at a private bill granting citizenship. It's a long shot, but it could happen. Still, it's no solution; it's only a patch. If I were to go to New Haven, Noe's current home, or Rep. Schlottach's office, and share the stories of people I know, match up each accomplishment and effort, could they now see the connection? Could they admit that the system is broken, that the issue is not the exceptions, but the rules? From here, that seems the first step. My dream is that we take it.