American Civil Liberties Union

Create obstacles to access higher education? Check. Require outrageous tuition rates? Check. Make immigrants live in fear of being deported for simply driving to work or school? Check. Ban DREAMers from the roads? Check.

It seems that officials like Arizona Governor Jan Brewer must carry this checklist of anti-immigrant policies with them at all times. That's certainly how I felt growing up in Arizona as one of many immigrants who came to this country as children known as "DREAMers," named after the Development, Relief, and Education for Alien Minors (DREAM) Act."

Alabama officials have announced that young immigrants who came to the country as children—also known as DREAMers—will be allowed to apply for state driver's licenses. The decision affects an estimated 10,000 to 20,000 DREAMers who stand to benefit from the federal government's Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals ("DACA") program.

The decision is a huge victory for young immigrants like Victor Palafox, a community organizer and aspiring history teacher who lives in the suburbs of Birmingham. Born in Mexico City, he was raised in Alabama, and is actively involved with helping organize communities throughout the state. Alabama's decision will help Victor and DREAMers like him get on with their daily lives—drive to work, go to church, buy groceries, and attend school—and make even greater contributions to their communities.

The love of a parent is immeasurable and immigrant parents are no different than any other parent. Families will do anything for their children and they often move to another country to give them better lives. My family migrated from Ecuador in 1996 while I was in fifth grade. Though the transition was rough, I found hope when my ESL teacher told me about the American Dream and the benefit of a good education.

By Daniel Galindo, ACLU of Northern California

(Originally posted on the ACLU of Northern California blog.)

As we prepare to celebrate Pride by marching in the SF Pride Parade as this year’s Community Organization Grand Marshal, I’m reminded of what it means to be able to walk down a public street with thousands of people watching me strut my stuff, free of shame or judgment. The feeling stands out in comparison to growing up gay and in the closet in a small town in West Texas, pretending to be “normal,” and trying to get by without being rejected for being who I am.