"There will be another day."
It hurt to hear these words from Sen. Dick Durbin, D-Ill., as he explained his colleague Sen. Patrick Leahy, D-Vt., why he should withdraw his amendment for the comprehensive immigration reform bill (SB 744) regarding equality for same-sex couples, last May. Durbin along with other senators from both parties explained that if this provision were to be added to the bill, the 'good faith' collaboration amongst the parties would fall apart.
As New York Sen. Charles Schumer, D-NY, put it, "As much as it pains me, I cannot support this amendment if it will bring down the bill. I'm a politician. That means that I have chosen my life's work within the constraints of the system to accomplish as much work as I can. I accept the tough choices; the painful, necessary imperfection of compromise, which is at the heart of government."
Leahy ended up withdrawing the amendment, saying that he understood the reasoning presented, and the immigration bill went forward without equality for same-sex couples. This, of course, is a moot amendment post-Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which includes access to federal immigration benefits.
But Leahy's words felt like such a perfect encapsulation of how I feel my queer self has been forced to stand opposite and against my undocumented immigrant self (along with community, family), particularly as it comes to policy and politics.
So for example, when this Leahy amendment was being discussed, I was disgusted at the idea that the senators were arguing in favor of a homophobic bill. Any bill that excludes people based on their sexual orientation is homophobic. Plus, it specifically denied rights to my partner and me, so it felt personal. But I also wondered, can I put my rights as priority, if this means that the bill will not pass, and that my family will not have the opportunity to stop being undocumented. I remember telling my partner, "How can they ask me to choose between us, and my family."
After the Supreme Court decision on DOMA, my partner and I have had conversations about what it could mean for my legal immigration status. If we get married, I could become a legal permanent resident faster than any immigration bill promises, and regardless of whether an immigration bill passes. But this makes me feel like I would be leaving my family behind, and so I've refused to make a decision until I know what happens with immigration reform this year.
I know immigrant rights advocates have been having conversations about compromises for months now. The theme of inclusion—who gets left out—of immigration reform, has been a big one going beyond same-sex couples. Among the groups being singled out are people with certain misdemeanors (or more than three misdemeanors of any kind), those who cannot prove continuous employment for 60 days, people who have been deported in the past, etc. Various estimates say that anywhere between 5-7 million people, out of the 11 million; will actually qualify for legal status under the Senate bill.
Then, in its final version, the Senate bill included approximately $38 billion on equipment and personnel to secure the Mexico-U.S. border. For some, this part of the bill was too much, and several national organizations have made declarations against the bill. The Border Network for Human Rights released a statement entitled "This bill doesn't represent us any longer." In early July, a congressman from Rep. Filemon Vela, D-Tex., quit the Congressional Hispanic Caucus after their endorsement of the Senate Bill.
There are those who support the bill as well. Most of these organizations usually acknowledge the negative aspects, express how disappointed they are that this had to happen, and continue the discussion on how now it needs to go to the House, and the struggle continues. They want legalization, and the bill is the way to get it.
Between the time I am writing this and when you read it, there may have been many changes to the bill (if it is still alive), but we know that it will not get more inclusive, or less focused on enforcement. And I don't know if I want to compromise this time. If there is one thing that I have learned living and organizing undocumented and queer, is that organized communities can fight together and win outside the law. I say this not in an abstract way, but rather thinking about the successful organizing against individual deportations when lawyers have failed, for example.
In a recent conversation with my mom, she said about the bill, "They have already decided. We can only organize for what will come either way." For now, that's my compromise. We organize either way (and some of us, get married).
Tania Unzueta is co-founder of IYJL and an organizer at the National Day Laborer Organizing Network. Follow her on twitter at @_LaTania.
