The fates of 1,475 migrant children came into question when the Department of Health and Human Services reported them as "missing" in a report to Congress.
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| A small group of people protest the "missing" immigrant children and Trump administration policies June 1 in Los Angeles. Photo by Jim Ruymen/UPI |
By Stephanie L. Canizales, Texas A&M University
The fates of 1,475 migrant children
recently came into question when the Department of Health and Human
Services reported them as "missing" in a report to Congress in April.
These children are not missing in the sense that they have
disappeared. They simply remain unaccounted for in the follow-ups
conducted by the U.S. government with the families into which the
children were placed.
Since 2012, I have conducted research with undocumented youth and young adults and their families in Los Angeles.
I have spoken with hundreds of undocumented youth who crossed the
U.S. southern border without a parent or legal guardian between 2007 and
2016 -- often referred to as "unaccompanied minors."
When apprehended at the border, they are processed by the Department of
Health and Human Services and placed with a "sponsor" in the United
States, typically a family member, who is responsible for their safety
and well-being.
While my research may not explain why the government has failed to
keep track of these individuals, it reveals the various challenges
facing the 180,000 children who have been placed with sponsors in the United States since 2013.
My time with unaccompanied youth in churches, support groups,
immigration courtrooms, summer and weekend camps, community cultural
festivals and family gatherings reveals that children may end up leaving
their sponsor's care for reasons ranging from financial need to their
pursuit of their own idea of a better life. I use pseudonyms to respect
confidentiality.
Feelings of responsibility
In my conversations with recently arrived migrant youth, they have
expressed feeling like a financial burden to their sponsors. In many
cases, their sponsor is someone from whom they have been separated for
many years, such as a parent or older sibling, or someone they have met
for the first time.
Many have told me how basic requests like needing a new toothbrush,
deodorant, socks or calling cards to communicate with family abroad make
them feel as if they're burdening the poor families with whom they are
living. For example, I met a young Salvadoran man who was placed in his
aunt's care, who reported feeling more comfortable asking his legal case
manager about where to get food at local food banks rather than
requesting more food from his aunt.
Along with feeling responsibility for themselves, many young people feel a sense of responsibility
for others, primarily to their home communities and the families they
left behind. That sense may trump the responsibilities and expectations
of sponsoring families in the United States.
For example, Mario recalls arriving at his aunt and uncle's home in
Los Angeles from El Salvador at the age of 16. Mario's aunt and uncle
were financially and emotionally supportive but mandated that he attend
high school full-time in exchange for their support.
This conflicted with Mario's motivation for migrating to the United
States, which was to work and support his mother and two younger
siblings back in El Salvador.
Mario's decision to work rather than attend school meant he would also leave his aunt and uncle's home.
He said, "Well, it wasn't that I had to leave school, but I wanted
to. I was being supported when I was here [his aunt and uncle's house],
but I felt bad 'cause of my brothers and my mom back over there. Nobody
was helping them. I decided I wanted to work so I could get out of
there. And that's what I did."
Unmet expectations
Some young people I spoke with said they felt disillusioned with life in the United State.. They may leave their sponsors' home when expectations don't match reality.
This was the case for Alejandra. She grew up with her grandparents in
Guatemala until the age of 14, when her mother in Los Angeles sent for
her.
Alejandra was told by her mother and grandmother she would be
visiting her mother in Los Angeles for the summer of 2011, but was "just
devastated because later they told me that all of it was just a lie."
Alejandra's mother had actually arranged for her to permanently live in
Los Angeles. Alejandra explained she felt deep distrust at realizing her
mother's dishonesty and resentment about being separated from the
grandmother who raised her.
Unable to come to terms with her mother's decision, Alejandra
eventually ran away at age 17 and lived in a local youth shelter until
she finished high school. When I interviewed her two years later, she
had still not spoken to her mother.
Edgardo arrived in Los Angeles from El Salvador at the age of 11 in
2007. He was met in Los Angeles by his aunt, whom he described as very
strict. Edgardo was disappointed by his aunt's requests to help out at
home with things like babysitting his cousins so that she could work
more hours as a housekeeper.
Edgardo left his aunt's home at 17 and began working in a furniture
warehouse. He said: "I was trying to go back to school and so I never
got to finish school, and I am still trying to work on that right now...
I want to go to college."
Not having yet realized his goals, Edgardo also spoke during our interview about wanting to help his unaccompanied peers:
"There's a lot of people out there that are younger than me and still
make it through, you know? But it's really hard and that's why I want
to like help out other kids that are like had that same mentality that I
had when I got here."
"I
don't really have anybody to guide me through my whole life except for
like school book. School only taught me like so much you know... teach
me like, life skills or like life lessons that would help me out."
Stephanie L. Canizales is an assistant professor of sociology at Texas A&M University.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
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