“I’d always worked in kitchens because without papers that’s all I thought I could do.”

I took cooking classes in high school. I loved experimenting with different flavors and creating something with my hands, and I knew it would be useful for finding a job at a restaurant. One of my teachers, who knew about my undocumented status and that I might not be able to afford college, suggested I join a culinary program at a nearby technical school.

I graduated from high school and from the culinary program at the same time and eventually found a job in a hotel restaurant. I worked through a staffing company. The restaurant pays the staffing company, which overlooks that you’re undocumented. Most of us who worked for the staffing company were undocumented. I earned minimum wage but had the chance to work with great chefs and learn their techniques.

Before DACA, my options were very limited. There wasn’t a lot of hope for the future. I lived in constant fear of being deported.

I applied for DACA in 2012 but didn’t get [deferred action] status until more than a year later. I was able to get my driver’s license and got a car. Things were looking up, and I was thinking more about my future and what I could do with my life.

I enrolled in college—with DACA I was eligible for in-state tuition—and realized that I’d always worked in kitchens because without papers that’s all I thought I could do. I changed my major to nutrition. After seeing a few documentaries—What the Health was one of them—I began to see [the origins of] misunderstanding surrounding labels. And I realized that, as a chef, [I] was giving people food that was really bad for their bodies. I felt remorseful and that I needed to do something about this. Then I learned about the world of GMOs and pesticides, and thought that whether or not I individually had an impact, I could at least help people.

I now work as a community facilitator at a community garden in Apopka, Florida. Most of the farmers here are from rural areas in Mexico, Central America, and South America. Working here is a way for them to get back to their roots and teach their kids their values and about where food comes from. Back home, most of them didn’t use pesticides, chemical fertilizers, or herbicides. They didn’t realize that by American standards their way of farming was considered “organic,” they were just farming as they always had. And we grow things naturally here, without the use of chemicals. In my role here, I meet with farmers, coordinate what days people work, source seeds, and spray the garden with non-chemical pesticides.

After college, I’d like to work as a nutritionist at a sports facility and eventually open my own farm-to-table restaurant.

When Trump first announced his candidacy, calling Mexicans rapists, my family thought he was a joke. When he became the official candidate for the Republican Party, we realized this was actually serious. That we might be in trouble.

I stayed up all night watching the election results come in. I couldn’t believe Florida—with its large Hispanic population—voted for Trump. I cried that night. From that moment I felt my life was in jeopardy. My future in this country, everything I’ve worked for, all my dreams and expectations, were shattered. It’s a nightmare.

A lot of us [DACA recipients] have built lives here. We’ve bought cars and some of us have bought houses. We pay taxes and contribute to the economy. And our personal information is out there. [Editor’s note: DACA applicants were required to submit personal information, including addresses, fingerprints, and photos, to government authorities.]. A lot of people are nervous that immigration officials might come for them and take their parents in the process.