Abstract
Knowledge on the transition to adulthood of undocumented immigrants arriving in childhood primarily derives from the experiences of minors arriving below the age of 13 years—or the 1.5 generation. The transition to adulthood of the 1.25 generation—those who immigrate between the ages of 13 and 17 years—has been largely missed. This article examines the salient challenges legal exclusion, or “illegality,” created as the Mexican and Central American 1.25 generation launches into adulthood and the extent that “illegality” disrupts their envisioned futures. Drawing on interviews with 40 undocumented 1.25 generation young adults in Illinois, three distinct patterns were identified: (a) 1.25 generation participants who enrolled in U.S. K–12 schooling, (b) 1.25 generation men who never-enrolled in U.S. K–12 schooling, and (c) 1.25 generation women who never-enrolled. These patterns were shaped by the reasons for their migration, whether the migration process was gendered, and their expectations for adulthood. This article contributes to a more complete picture of the challenges childhood arrivals experience at a critical point of transition in the life course and the sources of variation. Moreover, attention is brought to the timing of immigration—the life-stage when a minor immigrates—as a source of differentiation warranting further consideration.
Keywords
Approximately 40% of the U.S. foreign-born population arrived in childhood (Rumbaut & Komaie, 2010). These childhood arrivals—composed of naturalized U.S. citizens, authorized immigrants, and undocumented immigrants—traverse “divergent pathways” as they transition to adulthood in the United States (Gonzales & Roth, 2015, p. 1). Among the factors influencing their disparate pathways, immigration status profoundly shapes the developmental outcomes (Yoshikawa et al., 2016) and coming of age experiences of those entering unauthorized (Gonzales, 2016; Gonzales & Roth, 2015).
Undocumented childhood arrivals (UCAs) consist of immigrants who enter below the age of 18 years, either unauthorized or who overstay their visas, and lack permanent authorization to live and work in the United States. In transitioning to adulthood, Gonzales (2011) explains, UCAs also “transition into illegality” (p. 605). “Illegality,” left in quotes to denote that it is sociopolitically created, are the constraints, uncertainty, vulnerability, and deportability produced by exclusionary immigration policies (De Genova, 2002). “Illegality” limits UCAs access to postsecondary education, relegates them to low-wage work, reduces access to social welfare programs, and creates fear and distress as they come of age (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016; Gonzales & Roth, 2015; Yoshikawa et al., 2016).
Knowledge on how “illegality” impacts the transition to adulthood of UCAs primarily derives from the experiences of minors arriving below the age of 13 years—also known as the 1.5 generation (Rumbaut, 2004). We know little about the challenges created by “illegality” for those who immigrate between the ages of 13 and 17 years, or what Rumbaut (2004) refers to as the 1.25 generation. Important differences, however, exist between the 1.5 and 1.25 generations. The 1.5 generation is often too young to be involved in the decision to immigrate (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016), but adolescents are in the midst of figuring out their role in society and developing autonomy from parents (Collins & Steinberg, 2006; Erikson, 1963; Muuss, 1996). Accordingly, we might expect the 1.25 generation to exercise more agency in the decision to immigrate and have greater voice in the activities that structure their lives in the United States. Moreover, the 1.5 generation develops their aspirations within the U.S. school context which promotes academic achievement as the route to success (Gleeson & Gonzales, 2012). The 1.25 generation, conversely, completes most of their K–12 schooling elsewhere and begins developing their expectations for adulthood outside of the U.S. context. In light of these differences, the 1.25 generation, as they come of age, may face different challenges compared with the 1.5 generation.
Addressing the gap on the 1.25 generation, this article has two aims. Drawing on the life course approach, the article elucidates patterns in the challenges and disruptions created by “illegality” as the 1.25 generation launches into adulthood. Second, this article highlights life-stage at arrival—what I call the timing of immigration—as a factor shaping the trajectories of UCAs. Based on interviews with 40 Mexican and Central American 1.25 generation immigrants who are undocumented, I identify three distinct groups: (a) 1.25 generation participants who enrolled in U.S. K–12 schooling, (b) 1.25 generation men who never-enrolled in U.S. K–12 schooling, and (c) 1.25 generation women who never-enrolled. These patterns, I will show, were shaped by the reasons for their migration, whether the migration process was gendered, and their expectations for adulthood. First, I provide background on UCAs’ transition to adulthood and “illegality,” describe the life course perspective, and review studies on adolescent arrivals.
The Transition to Adulthood and “Illegality”
The transition to adulthood in Western societies has traditionally been understood as the attainment of five markers: completing schooling, leaving the parental home, starting full-time work, marriage, and parenthood (Arnett, 2014). These traditional markers, Arnett (2014) emphasizes, matter less to the attainment of adulthood than internal criteria composed of accepting responsibility for one’s actions, attaining financial independence, and making independent decisions. Hence, I conceptualize the transition to adulthood and “illegality” as the complications UCAs encounter due to legal exclusion when exploring and entering adult roles, as marked both by the traditional markers and internal criteria.
In the United States and other industrialized societies, many young people are delaying entry into the traditional markers until their mid- to late-20s and experiencing a prolonged transition to adulthood (Arnett, 2000). An extended transition, however, is not uniformly available to immigrants (Rumbaut & Komaie, 2010). Indeed, the 1.5 generation enters adult roles earlier than their second-generation (native-born) peers (Rumbaut & Komaie, 2010). Among immigrant populations, UCAs face a distinctly frustrating transition to adulthood; “illegality” pushes UCAs toward early attainment of adult roles while also creating barriers to employment, college, and financial independence (Gonzales, 2016; Gonzales & Roth, 2015).
“Illegality,” scholars have emphasized, disrupts the futures UCAs grew up envisioning (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016). Initially included in schools due to their constitutionally protected right to a K–12 education, UCAs form expectations for adulthood that mirror their native-born and authorized peers; these involve college education and high-skill employment rather than low-wage work (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016; Perez, 2009). “Illegality,” however, bars them from accessing federal financial aid for college and places their goals in peril (see for a review Bjorklund, 2018).
The barriers imposed by “illegality” also provoke a harsh awakening, as UCAs often lack awareness of their legal status until adolescence (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016). The awakening involves a reorientation of their beliefs about their futures and emotional distress (Abrego, 2006; Ellis & Chen, 2013; Gonzales, 2016; Gonzales et al., 2013). The awakening leads some undocumented youth to lower their educational aspirations; others, however, persist toward their educational goals with the support of school staff, family, and peers (Ellis & Chen, 2013; Enriquez, 2011; Gonzales, 2016). Regardless, in destabilizing their lives, “illegality” adversely impacts their developmental outcomes (Yoshikawa et al., 2016), including lowering their postsecondary educational attainment (see for a review Bjorklund, 2018) and negatively impacting their mental health (Gonzales et al., 2013).
Although “illegality” presents daunting challenges, the experiences of UCAs are not homogeneous. Indeed, important “salient axes of difference” (Gonzales & Burciaga, 2018, p. 178) have been identified, including class, gender, race and ethnicity, first-generation student status, and place (Abrego, 2014; Enriquez, 2017b; Gonzales & Burciaga, 2018). Available studies on the impact of “illegality,” however, are largely based on the 1.5 generation. Seminal studies, for example, do not include 1.25 generation participants (Gonzales, 2016; Perez, 2009), and studies containing any adolescent arrivals have not considered their unique experiences (Abrego, 2006; Ellis & Chen, 2013; Enriquez, 2017b; Silver, 2012).
The experiences of the 1.25 generation remain underexplored despite their prevalence among Mexican and Central American UCAs. Data from the Mexican Migration Project showed the mean age-at-arrival among Mexican UCAs was 14 years (Donato & Perez, 2017). Moreover, in 2017, 83% of Central Americans crossing the border without a parent—or unaccompanied minors—were members of the 1.25 generation (Office of Refugee Resettlement, n.d.).
The Sociological Life Course Approach
The sociological life course approach offers a useful lens to illuminating differences between the 1.25 and 1.5 generations. The life course approach seeks to understand and situate social pathways and developmental trajectories within the sociohistorical context (Elder & Shanahan, 2007). In other words, it provides the opportunity to explore how “individual life histories” are shaped by the social context (Edmonston, 2013, p. 1). The approach has roots in immigration research with Thomas and Znaniecki’s 1958 classic study, The Polish Peasant in Europe and America, which examined the lives of Polish immigrants across dynamic contexts (Edmonston, 2013; Wingens et al., 2011). The approach remains relevant to immigration research, scholars have stressed, as migration takes place across the life span and occurs in a particular sociohistorical time (Edmonston, 2013; Wingens et al., 2011).
The life course approach consists of five principles: (a) development as a lifelong process, (b) linked lives, (c) the historically situated nature of development, (d) timing, and (e) agency (Elder & Shanahan, 2007). I draw on the timing and agency principles as they undergird my argument that the experiences of the 1.25 generation are distinct from the 1.5 generation and have the potential to vary widely. The timing principle asserts that individuals may be differentially impacted by the same event or experience depending on when in the life course it occurs (Elder & Shanahan, 2007). As Elder and Shanahan (2007) observe, “The meaning of a transition has much to do with its timing” (p. 685).
The notion that timing influences immigrants’ experiences is already deeply embedded in immigration research as scholars often make distinctions between adulthood arrivals (the first generation) and childhood arrivals. Abrego (2014), for instance, explains “One of the most notable distinctions in the undocumented immigrant population is immigrant generation. First-generation immigrants, who migrated as adults, understand and experience illegality very differently than 1.5 generation undocumented immigrants who migrated as children” (p. 145). Yet, scholars have stopped short of considering life-stage at migration (infancy, early childhood, middle childhood, and adolescence)—or the timing of immigration—among UCAs. Human development, however, is more nuanced than the child and adult distinctions employed. UCAs life-stage at arrival, it is reasonable to expect, will shape the social contexts UCAs interact with (e.g., school vs. work) and their developmental needs at arrival.
The agency principle acknowledges that people construct their lives within available opportunities and constraints (Elder & Shanahan, 2007). The principle helps to unpack a central difference between the 1.25 and 1.5 generations. When considering UCAs, the timing and agency principles are clearly intertwined as going from infancy to adulthood generally involves increased ability to construct one’s life. Accordingly, the 1.5 generation is largely uninvolved in the decision to immigrate (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016). Conversely, immigrating at a life-stage when young people are making decisions about their adult lives, it is conceivable that the 1.25 generation may “choose” or opt into migration. Even if the decision to immigrate rests with parents, we might expect greater engagement in family discussions about immigrating and increased capacity to resist or go along with their family’s plans. Connected to agency in the migration process, we might also anticipate broad variation in the reasons for immigrating among the 1.25 generation.
Challenges Encountered by Adolescent Arrivals
Although we know little about the transition to adulthood and “illegality” of the 1.25 generation, various studies have examined the experiences of Mexican and Central American immigrants who arrived as adolescents. These studies do not employ the 1.25 generation term nor sample based on Rumbaut’s (2004) definition (13- to 17-year-old-arrivals). Nonetheless, based on samples of adolescent arrivals (participants range in ages from 9 to 19 years at arrival), the studies shed light on the variation existing within the 1.25 generation and the challenges they encounter.
Adolescent Arrivals in K–12 Schools
Several studies have examined the experiences of adolescent arrivals who enroll in K–12 schooling after immigrating. These show the significance of the family context upon arrival and the academic impact of obligations to provide financially. Hernández (2013) and Suárez-Orozco and Hernández (2012) studied Mexican and Central American adolescent arrivals who reunited with parents in the United States and those without a parent present. Those reuniting with parents struggled with feelings of abandonment and anger toward their parents, and those without a parent struggled balancing schoolwork while providing financially for themselves and their families (Hernández, 2013; Suárez-Orozco & Hernández, 2012). Likewise, a study of four male 1.25 generation youth found that family financial obligations prompted two participants to drop out of school (Hopkins et al., 2013). The above studies are not explicitly focused on UCAs and do not discuss the legal status of participants. In contrast, Allard’s (2016) study focuses on the school experiences of undocumented adolescent arrivals, of which some immigrated to reunite with family and others to work. Allard (2016) also finds challenges with competing obligations and explains that their “lived realities, goals, and imagined futures” conflicted with schooling demands and disrupted school enrollment (p. 378).
Never-Enrolled Adolescent Arrivals
Another set of studies have examined the experiences of Mexican and Central American adolescents who lack legal status and never enroll in K–12 schooling. These few studies are vital as the never-enrolled, because they are missed by school-based studies, are an understudied segment of UCAs (Oropesa & Landale, 2009). These studies show job prospects are a strong motivator for immigrating among never-enrolled youth (Jefferies, 2014; Martinez, 2009; Rodriguez & Dawkins, 2017; Sexsmith, 2017). Even when desiring to attend school, financial needs, school hours, and lack of information keep some adolescent arrivals from enrolling (Jefferies, 2014; Martinez, 2016). The reality of immigrating for work puts them in vulnerable situations; they are pushed to attain adult roles in adolescence (Martinez, 2009) and are exposed to exploitation in the workplace (Sexsmith, 2017). Indeed, Sexsmith’s (2017) study on dairy farmworkers finds that Mexican and Central American male adolescents experienced long workdays, stolen wages, and lacked information and support due to little exposure to communities outside of the dairy farms. Studies have also found that sources of support, such as church (Canizales, 2019) and community-based groups (Canizales, 2015), shape the acculturation and incorporation of never-enrolled youth.
Apprehended Unaccompanied Minors
Studies on apprehended Central American unaccompanied minors, although not focused on adolescent arrivals, also elucidate the challenges encountered by the 1.25 generation. A vast majority—83% in 2017—of apprehended youth (Office of Refugee Resettlement, n.d.) belong to the 1.25 generation. These studies mainly focus on unaccompanied minors’ interactions with the systems developed to apprehend, detain, and release them, and show their struggles accessing resources. While in custody of the Office of Refugee Resettlement (ORR), unaccompanied minors are provided access to medical care, education, and legal rights information (Heidbrink, 2014; Terrio, 2015). For most unaccompanied minors, these resources cease once released to a family member; they go from children (largely adolescents) deserving of services to navigating complex systems with little guidance (Heidbrink, 2014; Terrio, 2015). Even unaccompanied minors slated to receive postrelease services struggle accessing mental health and legal services (Roth & Grace, 2015).
Varied Challenges
Studies drawing on 1.25 generation participants have either addressed the experiences of those enrolled in school, those who never-enroll in school, and apprehended Central American unaccompanied minors. These studies shed light on the challenges encountered by the 1.25 generation, including difficulties balancing school and work, exploitation in the workplace, and lack of access to resources. They also illustrate the heterogeneity existing within the 1.25 generation. Existing studies, however, draw on particular subsets of the 1.25 generation and are not principally focused on the impact of “illegality.” Moreover, these findings have yet to build on each other to provide a fuller picture of the varied factors shaping the experiences and challenges of the 1.25 generation.
The Current Study
This article draws from a study that examined the pathways to adulthood of the Mexican and Central American 1.25 generation who are undocumented. In this article, I examine patterns in the challenges and disruptions created by “illegality” as they transitioned to adulthood, and what shaped their varied experiences.
Method
This study employed the qualitative method of narrative inquiry which operates from the assumption that through stories individuals construct the self, produce identity, and assign meaning; storytelling—by connecting one event to another—creates an ordering process to experiences that would otherwise be random (Chase, 2005; Ochs & Capps, 1996). Hence, “narrative is an essential resource in the struggle to bring experiences to conscious awareness” (Ochs & Capps, 1996, p. 21). Through storytelling narrators also grapple with deviations from societal expectations (Ochs & Capps, 1996). Accordingly, narrative inquiry offers a window to understanding the social world and its impact on individuals.
Sample
The purposive sample consists of young adults (ages 18–35 years) who entered the United States without authorization between the ages of 13 and 17 years. To capture the varying experiences of the 1.25 generation, I included individuals who benefited from Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) or who were in the process of applying for legal relief through asylum or other means. DACA, an executive action by President Obama in 2012, provides renewable 2-year work permits to UCAs who immigrated before the age of 16 years, arrived before June 2007, and completed an eligible education program. Although 15 participants possessed DACA or another form of temporary protection, none benefited from these protections until—at a minimum—their early 20s. Thus, all participants reached the age of majority and launched into adulthood under the constraints of “illegality.”
I further restricted the sample to immigrants living in the Chicagoland metropolitan area who were born in Mexico and the Central American countries of Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Combined, these four countries compose 69% of the U.S. undocumented population (Baker, 2017). Relative to other states, Illinois is considered accommodating due to policies such as in-state college tuition, access to driver’s licenses, and the Illinois TRUST Act which prevents detaining immigrants solely because of their legal status.
To ensure participants were not heavily clustered around one type of respondent (e.g., college students), I purposely sought out varied recruitment avenues. I reached out to personal contacts, attended immigrant rights workshops, and conducted outreach with religious institutions, social service organizations, legal service providers, and advocacy organizations. In addition, after the completion of each interview, I asked participants to share the study information with their networks.
Table 1 provides a summary (see Supplemental Material for details on each participant) of the full sample and the patterns identified. As Table 1 reports, the sample consists of 24 Mexicans and 16 Central Americans. The average age of the full sample was 26 years and the mean age-at-arrival was 15 years. The sample consists of 22 men and 18 women. Thirteen participants were DACA beneficiaries, and two possessed a non-DACA-related work permit; the remaining 25 were ineligible or had not applied. Defined as traveling to the United States without a parent, 29 participants were unaccompanied minors; however, nine were reunited with a parent in the United States. Fifteen participants were married or cohabitating, 17 were parents, 21 completed high school or a General Educational Development (GED), and seven graduated college. Thirty-four of the interviews were conducted in Spanish, and 11 participants self-rated their English competency as low.
Sample Characteristics by Group.
Note. DACA = Deferred Action for Childhood Arrival; HS = high school; GED = general educational development.
Defined as making the journey to the United States without a parent.
Data Collection and Analysis
The data collection and analysis process were sensitized by narrative inquiry. To address the trustworthiness of the narrative data—that within the aims of the research project I was capturing participants’ stories instead of answers to predetermined interview questions—I oriented the interview toward eliciting storytelling (Chase, 2005). Leaning on the unstructured side, the interview instrument consisted of six discussion domains: (a) their life premigration, (b) their journey to the United States, (c) their experiences postmigration, (d) their transition to adulthood, (e) the impact of their legal status, and (f) their current life and future aspirations. During the interview, I posed a broad opening question for each domain (e.g., tell me about your life in your country of origin) and allowed follow-up questions to emerge from listening closely to their story. After first following their lead, I circled back to questions of interest to the study not brought up by the participant.
The procedures for this study were approved by an Institutional Review Board (IRB) and adhered to the guidelines for the protection of human subjects. All participants were interviewed once, and 14 participants were interviewed twice. Second interviews were conducted to clarify information, gather data and details originally missed, and assess the feel of the interpretations. A form of member checking, selective second interviews provided opportunities to deepen and refine the interpretations and support the trustworthiness of the findings (Maxwell, 1996). First interviews took place between September 2016 and June 2017 in public spaces or in the respondent’s home and ranged from 45 minutes to 3 hours. To protect confidentiality, consent was provided verbally and participants selected a pseudonym or were provided one if they preferred. After the first interview, participants received a US$30 gift card. Second interviews took place between October 2017 and May 2018, were mostly conducted via phone, and ranged from 15 to 45 minutes. All interviews were audio-recorded and conducted in either English or Spanish based on the participants’ preference. The recordings were professionally transcribed verbatim in the language conducted and reviewed by the author. I translated any quotes used in the article that were initially in Spanish. Although the quotes used were selected because they provide the best illustration of the findings, efforts were made to include quotes across a range of participants.
Various memos were incorporated to enhance trustworthiness. During data collection, pre- and post-interview memos provided a space to practice reflectivity by capturing my assumptions, biases, and challenges encountered. Post-interview memos also captured a summary of the participant’s story, data not captured by the audio recordings (such as body language and the interview setting), and emerging insights and lingering questions. A methodological memo documented challenges encountered in the field and any changes in the approach. Finally, an analytical memo captured emerging insights, areas of conflict within the data, and my evolving interpretations. Combined these memos documented the iterative analysis process.
Interview data were analyzed via ATLAS.ti and the analysis was approached deductively and inductively. Interview transcripts were coded for concepts embedded in the research question and for emerging insights, patterns, and themes. To develop the codebook, I read and listened to each interview transcript while documenting emerging insights, themes, and patterns. Throughout I drew on the post-interview memos to contextualize the transcripts, glean insights from the nonverbal behaviors observed (e.g., the participant’s emotions), and grapple with the questions noted. The analytical memo and post-interview memos were then used to create the initial codebook. I then strategically coded eight transcripts from participants across a range of differences (K–12 and college enrollment, country of origin, gender) and revised the codebook. This approach, referred to as text sampling by Mishler (1990), enhanced the trustworthiness of the data as it allowed for inductive comparison of emerging patterns. This process provided the foundation for the codebook applied to the remaining transcripts. As needed, codes were added, relabeled, or otherwise modified. Throughout the coding process, analytical memos documented the process and evolving interpretations.
The codebook consisted of 18 categories. To analyze the challenges and disruptions “illegality” created in transitioning to adulthood, I drew on the categories of (a) legal status impact, (b) migration agency and motivation, and (c) identity and expectations. After grouping participants by the patterns identified through the iterative analytical process described, I compared the texts from the relevant categories. In keeping with narrative inquiry, I sensitized the text comparisons by paying attention to how “illegality” was brought up in the story and asked the following questions: (a) is “illegality” a main conflict in this story, and (b) at what point in the story does “illegality” emerge. I also consistently returned to the full transcript to maintain the entire story present, even as I focused on particular aspects of their experiences.
Findings
Members of the 1.25 generation experienced the transition to adulthood and “illegality” in markedly different ways. Indeed, three groups emerged: (a) 1.25 generation participants who enrolled in U.S. K–12 schooling, (b) 1.25 generation men who never-enrolled in U.S. K–12 schooling, and (c) 1.25 generation women who never-enrolled. The reasons for immigrating (see Supplemental Material for details on each participant) differed for each group and were intertwined with whether the migration process was gendered and how each group envisioned their futures. These factors influenced the salient challenges and disruptions imposed by “illegality.”
Before detailing each group, the role of gender in the migration process needs further explanation. In the findings, I discuss male and female enrolled participants as one group but divide the never-enrolled by gender. To be sure, gender is a central aspect of the experiences of all participants across the life course. For the purposes of this paper, however, gender norms and constraints strongly shaped the challenges encountered in transitioning to adulthood and “illegality” for the never-enrolled but not for the enrolled. This is due, I suggest, to what motivated their migration in the first place. When the migration process was gendered—meaning gender norms and constraints shaped the decision to immigrate—then gender continued as a central influence in how they experienced the transition to adulthood and “illegality.” As I will show, while the circumstances surrounding the decision to immigrate for the never-enrolled was heavily structured by gender norms and constraints, this was not the case for the enrolled.
Enrolled 1.25 Generation
Twenty-one participants enrolled in K–12 schooling after immigrating. The enrolled 1.25 generation mostly immigrated as a family unit (with one or both parents) or to reunite with a parent. Jorge’s journey, for instance, was motivated by the “urge” to reunite with his parents. Likewise, Elena’s family immigrated because they were tired of her father “leaving for six months at a time” to the United States and Pablo because “a long time had passed” since seeing his mother. Others were not keen on immigrating but felt the family had to stay together. Daniela, for instance, “did not want to come” but immigrated because of her mother. The role of family unity in the decision to immigrate played out similarly for male and female enrolled participants. In both cases, staying together as a family or reuniting with a parent was the main reason they pushed to immigrate or went along with their parents’ plans. Accordingly, gender did not play a prominent role in the impetus for immigrating.
Among the 21 enrolled participants, 17 had at least one parent in the United States. This provided the financial stability to enroll in school and foster their educational goals. Parents covered major needs such as rent and food. Often the enrolled worked while in school to cover expenses, such as a cell phone, and even to help out financially at home. Yet, as their major needs were covered, they did not feel the urgency to drop out of school. In the minority of cases where they were not living with a parent, they had a primary caretaker in the United States who provided financial support. Pepe, for example, lived with his aunt, uncle, and two adolescent cousins. The stability and financial support provided by his aunt and uncle meant Pepe could put his efforts toward school. Others lived with family members, such as grandparents, who took on a parenting role and supported them financially.
In addition to sharing family unity as the primary reason for immigrating, the enrolled arrived with existing images of their futures that revolved around college and high-skill employment as opposed to low-wage work. Mia, for instance, pictured herself pursuing college since childhood: I think that since I was a child I focused on that [a college education]. I focused on that because I saw poverty around me, more than anything, the lack of education. I saw my aunts that they became teachers and I wanted—at that time as a child—I wanted to be like them . . . “Just like them I want to be.” “I want to have an education.”
Likewise, Christopher had always envisioned college and did not see himself in low-wage work. “Since I was little, I was good at school. I knew it was going to take me somewhere. I didn’t feel like I was going to drop out and get a minimum wage job,” Christopher explained.
In light of these aspirations, the enrolled 1.25 generation encountered legal exclusion around barriers to applying for college, paying tuition, and lack of access to work beyond low-wage jobs. Indeed, the limitations imposed by “illegality” first emerged for Christopher during high school when he realized he “wouldn’t be able to get a job or wouldn’t be able to apply for financial aid.” Similarly, Jorge “started discovering” what being undocumented meant upon realizing he was ineligible “for federal funding,” Marianna when her “friends started to apply for college,” and Daniela when she “could not get a scholarship.”
These limitations—college and career barriers—parallel what has been shown for the 1.5 generation. Yet, while 1.5 generation immigrants often lack awareness of their legal status until adolescence (Gonzales, 2016), my participants were largely engaged in the migration process and aware that their entry was unauthorized. Some, like Christopher, attributed the decision to their parents but understood they were “going around the system” and were “going to be undocumented.” Others, as illustrated by Mia, were involved to the extent that they grappled with the implications of staying or leaving: I did not want to come. What convinced me was that, in fact, all my life, my father and mother had been separated. In fact, the whole family had been separated. Because in reality my brothers and I lived very little with my father. . . that’s what convinced me. That the family had to be together was what convinced me to come.
Yet many others, including Jorge, were intimately involved in the decision: It [the decision] was mine. Yes, I guess mine. . . We tried getting a visa. Well, getting a visa legally didn’t work out. Getting a visa by buying it didn’t work out. Faking someone’s visa didn’t work out. I was like, “you know, the only option is what my parents initially said. We’re going to cross illegally.”
Awareness of the migration process does not mean the enrolled 1.25 generation fully understood the implications of “illegality.” Indeed, while Christopher knew he “was going to be undocumented,” he “didn’t process what that would mean,” and when Mariana faced barriers to college she thought to herself, “Wow, this is not what I was expecting.” In contrast to the 1.5 generation who experience a shocking awakening upon discovering their legal status (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016), the 1.25 generation encountered a more gradual understanding of the implications of their legal status. Even so, they experienced the transition to adulthood and “illegality” as disruptive; “illegality” rattled the lives they had envisioned and exposed them to the reality of low-wage work. Jorge experienced “crushed dreams” when the US$9,000 tuition bill caused him to drop out and enroll in a community college, and Elena “was crying on the floor” when “illegality” cost her a scholarship.
The most sustained disruption was present among the 11 enrolled participants whose college aspirations never materialized. Patricia was accepted into a university but was unable to locate resources for tuition. In the 12 years post high school, Patricia married, cared for her four children, and sporadically worked low-wage jobs. “Illegality,” from Patricia’s perspective, disrupted the life she envisioned as she felt “locked in a world that shouldn’t be.” When I spoke to Patricia, she stated, “What I’m living is not what I desired. I never imagined this. I never desired to live what I have lived.” Likewise, Benjamin initially transitioned to college but was unable to sustain enrollment due to financial barriers. Benjamin’s second unsuccessful attempt to enroll in college prompted him to “put” his “feet on the floor” and redefine his expectations in adulthood. “Well, this is what I am, and it isn’t going to be easy,” he told himself. At the time of the interview, Benjamin continued to work full-time in the fast-food chain where he started working while in high school.
“Illegality” endangered the college aspirations of the enrolled 1.25 generation and exposed them to a life of low-wage work. Possessing greater knowledge of the migration process, they did not experience the same shock associated with the 1.5 generation. Nonetheless, “illegality” created turmoil as they transitioned to adulthood and was experienced as a major disruptor to the adult lives they grew up envisioning.
Never-Enrolled 1.25 Generation Men
Positioned as providers by gender norms, and against a backdrop of poverty and lack of opportunities, never-enrolled men mainly immigrated to work and provide for themselves and their families. For example, when Rafael’s father planned to immigrate, Rafael sensed his father was too old for the journey and determined that it was his turn to immigrate and provide: I would look at my dad. He told me he was coming, and at age 15, I no longer thought about myself. I thought about my parents, and I thought about my sisters. The day comes when someone has to take the reins and provide, provide for the family.
In addition to the backdrop of poverty, in several cases gang violence threatened to disrupt the ability of young men to provide and prompted them to flee in search of work elsewhere. Such was the case with Manuel whose transition to provider began very early. Facing dire poverty in rural Guatemala, Manuel moved to the city and started working at the age of 10 years. The larger city setting, however, exposed Manuel to gang recruitment and eventually led Manuel to immigrate to continue providing for his family: I loved my family very much, and I loved my mother very much. I wanted to help her. I said, “No, I have to work, I have to help, that’s why I left the house.” And I said to her, I arrived, and I said to her, “You know what? They [the gangs] are looking for me and they tell me this and that. That if I do not enter, by force I will have to enter, and that they will come looking for me..”. I say, “No, they know I’m from here.” Sooner or later, at that age it is very difficult. And I said, “No, it’s better that I go work somewhere else.”
Immigrating to lift themselves and their families out of poverty, never-enrolled men exercised agency in the migration process and, at times, went against their parents’ wishes. Jesus, for instance, left Mexico without his parents’ blessings; “they told me no because I was very young,” Jesus explained. When Elmer announced his plans to leave Guatemala, his mother told him “you are not going” and “totally broke” when Elmer moved forward with his plans; every time she glanced his way she cried in fear that Elmer might perish on the journey. Despite her disapproval and distress, Elmer preferred death over forgoing the opportunity to escape perpetual poverty.
Gender norms that men are providers not only influenced the motivation to immigrate but ultimately defined the ways legal exclusion emerged as salient and the extent that “illegality” impacted their envisioned futures. Needing to prioritize work kept never-enrolled men out of K–12 schooling upon arriving. Consequently, they did not benefit from the initial institutional inclusion associated with K–12 schooling. Rather, they immediately entered the low-wage labor market as marginalized workers. The “first day” in the United States, Rafael focused on “paying the rent and looking for work.” In seeking work, never-enrolled men faced the reality of securing a job without legal documents and understood that legal exclusion meant they must “take the worst job” where they would have to “endure abuse” and face being fired at any point.
“Illegality” deeply shaped never-enrolled men’s experiences locating work. To begin with, their youthful appearance made many potential employers hesitant. Moreover, they were easily identified as undocumented; they were adolescents who did not speak English and offered up identification stating that they were in their 20s. Thus, few employers were willing to hire them. In the process, as Elmer explains, normative views that children “belong” in schools were offered: I couldn’t find work. That was a problem for me. And that I think was the hardest thing for me. . . . Because I was very young. . . . And they [the employers] would always say to me, “You should be in school, not here.” Always that, “You can’t work, you don’t know how to do anything.” They would say, “If it [the application] is for you, we aren’t going to give it to you. Because you are a child, and here we need a man.” And I felt disappointed. That was the hardest. And in the ID that I had, it said I was 27 years-old.
Other never-enrolled men faced similar barriers locating work. When approaching potential employers, Luis was told he “should go to school,” and Daniel found that “no one believed” that he was 21—the age on his ID—and “no one wanted” to “offer work.”
Entering the low-wage labor market as highly vulnerable workers led to experiencing discriminatory, exploitative, and abusive working conditions. Rafael, for example, was assaulted by his boss when asking for a raise: Sometimes they [the bosses] are very unjust with you. Because you do not have a social, because you don’t speak English, for many reasons. . . . I had a bad experience at work. A boss pushed me. He assaulted me when I asked for a raise. . . . Maybe at my young age I didn’t know how to do it, but he got mad and pushed me.
Employers also discriminated through lower wages as illustrated by Elmer who was paid significantly less than his White counterparts in the same position: I was working with a Polish guy and two white guys. . . . They were making more than $25, and I was making $13. . . . I think that if you have a social you can say “I can make more,” or you can have insurance that covers you if something happens, or benefits. . . Sometimes you only get one day off.
Overall, exploitative working conditions were common; as Luis notes, “I think that never ends. That is always the case, in any type of work one always receives discrimination. But one has to be patient because one needs to make money.” Moreover, Luis goes on to explain that exploitation comes in many forms; “like in the pay or, maybe, when one doesn’t know the language, they sometimes mistreat you. They say aggressive things.”
Despite the sharp transition to legal exclusion, challenges locating work, and the exploitative working conditions encountered, the never-enrolled male 1.25 generation did not experience the same sense of disruption in transitioning to adulthood as the enrolled. Prior to migrating, these young men possessed a clearer sense of what “illegality” entailed. For instance, Juan knew what “he was going to do.” Likewise, Luis understood that in the United States he would “live with that fear that at any moment one can get caught and be deported.” These messages, as Andres describes, were shared by brothers, uncles, and other male family members who described “more or less how life was” in the United States. As never-enrolled young men learned how to work and live without authorization, their understanding of the challenges created by “illegality” expanded. Across the board, they discovered life as an undocumented immigrant to be considerably harder than initially imaged; however, it was not the complete disjuncture in expectations that has been demonstrated for younger arrivals.
Moreover, the endurance exhibited by never-enrolled men resulted in reaching their goal of providing for their families. “I feel very happy because I am helping them . . . That they don’t lack anything, and that I don’t lack anything either. Although it’s difficult, right? But they are okay,” Esvin explained. Expressing a similar sentiment, Elmer noted that life in Guatemala would have been “overly hard” because he would have faced a “future without hope.” In the United States, however, he managed to provide for his mother and feels positive despite his legal exclusion: I feel good . . . My mom no longer has to be washing, my mom no longer has to be looking for some way to survive. She does not have to worry about that anymore. That for me, makes me feel good.
Never-enrolled 1.25 generation men did not experience the early inclusion provided by K–12 schooling but immediately entered into exclusion; they struggled to find work, took the worst jobs, and put up with bad treatment at work. In other words, they transitioned to adult roles and “illegality” during adolescence. Yet, in this process, they did not experience a dramatic sense of disruption to the lives they had envisioned and even felt positive about attaining their goals.
Never-Enrolled 1.25 Generation Women
Nine 1.25 generation female participants never-enrolled in K–12 schooling after arriving. The reasons for immigrating among these young women varied: several married as teenagers and followed their spouse, others immigrated to reunite with a family member, and a couple came intending to work. Regardless of the reason, the circumstances surrounding their migration was influenced by gender norms and constraints. As they became adults in the United States, “illegality” created challenges that intensified their vulnerability to gender oppression and disrupted their envisioned futures.
Both pre and post-migration, the never-enrolled women in my sample experienced gender constraints that limited their ability to direct their paths. For instance, gender norms pushed three 1.25 generation women into early marriage; they married to attain the autonomy and independence they desired and which is a normal task of adolescent development. After completing compulsory education in Mexico, Arely’s father refused to let her move out to continue studying. Since Arely was ready to venture out, marriage provided an alternative. As Arely recalls, “I knew that I didn’t want to get married, that I wanted to study.” Without the support to study, Arely married, became pregnant, and immigrated—all by the age of 16 years. Likewise, bored and tired of staying in the house witnessing her parents fight, Fernanda saw marriage as an escape. “It [marriage] was like a way out, like I thought, now I am going to go to parties, I’m going to go out,” Fernanda explained.
For the most part, 1.25 generation never-enrolled women possessed some agency in the decision to immigrate. Indeed, Arely and Fernanda convinced their spouses to bring them along. Yet, illustrating the varied ways gender constraints emerged, Daphne left Honduras for what she thought was a vacation to visit her brothers. Once in the United States, Daphne explained, her brothers insisted she stay: My brother told me, “No, you’re already here. Why are you going to leave?” “There are a lot of people who want to be here, and you now have the opportunity.” And I was like, “No, because I want to go back,” because I was going to continue studying there . . . And they didn’t want to.
Even when young women immigrated to work, their autonomy was soon constrained by relationships with uneven power dynamics. For example, Zafiro left Mexico planning to spend a year working and then return. Upon arrival, Zafiro moved in with family members who shared a living space with several men. Within four months, Zafiro entered a relationship with one of the male roommates. She had four children with him before he was deported for sexually assaulting a minor. His deportation severed the tight grip that, as Zafiro describes, he had held: [He was] jealous even for me to go to the store. He would not let me go like anywhere . . . To do anything, I have to ask for his opinion. If I do something, “will he get angry, will he let me?”
In transitioning to adulthood the challenges imposed by “illegality” exacerbated the gender constraints never-enrolled women experienced and heightened their vulnerability to gender oppression. One salient challenge was their inability to obtain a driver’s license. In Illinois restricted driver’s licenses to undocumented immigrants have been available since 2013. At the time most of the participants were coming of age, however, this policy did not exist. Consequently, driving barriers hindered the ability of never-enrolled women to work, which in turn, inhibited their ability to leave abusive relationships. For example, a few months after arriving, Arely’s husband began to physically abuse her. For several years Arely did not drive as she “was afraid of the police” and wondered “what if they catch me.” This left Arely vulnerable; she worried that without the ability to get to work she would “die from hunger” along with her two children.
Driving barriers also kept young women out of school. When Daphne was not able to return to Honduras to continue studying, she attempted to enroll in night school but was dependent on others for a ride. Strategizing, Daphne persuaded her sister-in-law to attend night school; but her brother’s jealousy kept them both out of school: I told him [her brother] about night school. Because I worked, and I said, “You know what, I will go to school at night.” But since I did not have a car, I told him to let my sister-in-law go with me, and we both go to school. He was very jealous, and he said no. “Why would you go at night,” stuff like that.
Fear of the repercussions of calling the police was another means through which “illegality” exacerbated gender oppression. For instance, Arely considered calling the police but believed if she “told them [the police] they would deport him.” Despite the abuse, Arely did not want her children separated from their father. Similarly, in the face of weekly physical abuse propagated by her husband, Laura never contacted the police out of fear of losing her son: He would say to me, “If you call, I’m going to take away my son. I know English, you don’t. I can drive, you can’t. I can say that you’re Mexican.” I mean, and like obviously, I saw a lot on the news. . . Then I said, “No, it won’t be good for me because I need to be here for him [her son].” No, they’re going to take my son away. And I do not know English. I did not study here, nothing. And he did. I mean, he navigated the language well and had studied here.
As 1.25 generation never-enrolled women became adults, their desire to study, explore, be independent, and engage in supportive romantic relationships were disrupted by gender norms and oppression and exacerbated by “illegality.” Accordingly, in transitioning to adulthood, the lives they envisioned were often disrupted. “Illegality,” however, was not expressed as the main culprit in disrupting their expectations. Rather, they largely attributed the disjuncture to constraints to their agency and abusive relationships. Indeed, Arely did not feel “free” to make her “own decisions,” and Zafiro felt she was not “the owner” of her “life.” Nonetheless, while gender oppression was clearly in the foreground of their experiences, “illegality” was a powerful background force that exacerbated gendered power dynamics. In other words, gender oppression and “illegality” intersected to shape the transition to adulthood of never-enrolled women.
Discussion
This article drew on the principles of agency and timing in the life course approach to examine the transition to adulthood and “illegality” of the Mexican and Central American 1.25 generation and identified three patterns in the challenges and disruptions created by “illegality.” The experiences of the 1.25 generation, to varying extents, differed from existing knowledge on the transition to adulthood and “illegality” of the 1.5 generation. Their experiences diverged based on their reasons for immigrating which were intertwined with their expectations for adulthood and whether the migration process was gendered.
The enrolled 1.25 generation mostly immigrated with a parent or to reunite with a parent. As they came of age “illegality” created obstacles to their college and career aspirations. Possessing awareness of the migration process they evaded the “jolting shift” (Gonzales, 2011, p. 609) associated with the 1.5 generation. Despite the more gradual awareness “illegality,” particularly for those whose college dreams never materialized, disrupted the futures they had envisioned. Positioned as providers, the male never-enrolled 1.25 generation primarily immigrated to work. They immediately experienced barriers to finding employment, and “illegality” exposed them to exploitation and discrimination in the workplace. Despite the sharp transition to “illegality,” it was not experienced as a disjuncture from the futures they envisioned. The female never-enrolled 1.25 generation immigrated for varied reasons; however, gender constraints were consistently present in the circumstances surrounding their migration. Upon arrival, gender norms and oppression made them vulnerable to domestic violence, and “illegality” exacerbated their vulnerability by creating barriers to driving and fear of calling the police. As they came of age they experienced disruptions to their imagined futures that resulted from the intersection of gender constraints and legal exclusion.
The similarities between the enrolled 1.25 generation and the 1.5 generation highlight the significance of the family context. The financial support of their parents or other caretakers enabled the enrolled 1.25 generation to prioritize academics and experience the initial inclusion in the K–12 system (Abrego, 2006; Gonzales, 2016) associated with the 1.5 generation. This finding differs from studies with recently arrived adolescents in K–12 schools. In general, studies have found that family financial obligations impact recently arrived adolescents’ ability to prioritize academics and remain in school (Allard, 2016; Hernández, 2013; Hopkins et al., 2013; Suárez-Orozco & Hernández, 2012). The varied findings show the need to further tease out the experiences of the enrolled 1.25 generation, including how the family context shapes the challenges created by “illegality.”
The experiences of never-enrolled men demonstrate the intense vulnerability encountered by UCAs in the workplace. As they transitioned to adulthood and “illegality” their youthfulness made locating work harder, exposed their legal status to potential employers, and made them vulnerable to discrimination and exploitation. This finding is consistent with existing studies based on recently arrived never-enrolled male adolescents (Jefferies, 2014; Martinez, 2009; Rodriguez & Dawkins, 2017; Sexsmith, 2017). Notably, one study showed labor demands are a stronger determinant of migration for Mexican adolescent males than for adults (Zenteno et al., 2013). Taken together, it is clear that workplace issues are a significant aspect of the coming of age experiences of never-enrolled men. Yet, the focus on the 1.5 generation has channeled much of the scholarly attention to UCAs’ educational experiences as opposed to the vulnerability they encounter in the workplace.
Finally, the stories of never-enrolled women reveal a missed intersection between gender oppression and “illegality” for a segment of UCAs. The experiences of never-enrolled women are almost completely missing from existing studies on adolescent arrivals. To my knowledge only Martinez’s (2016) study includes some never-enrolled women; however, their unique experiences are not teased out. When we consider that labor demands function as a determinant of migration for Mexican adolescent males but not female adolescents (Zenteno et al., 2013), the role of gender in shaping the migration experiences of the 1.25 generation becomes evident. Only recently has gender received attention within studies examining the 1.5 generation. Enriquez (2017a) found expectations that men provide financially impaired undocumented men’s dating relationships. In contrast, situated as dependent, “illegality” created fewer constraints for women in dating and marriage (Enriquez, 2017a). Enriquez’s (2017a) findings compared with the intimate partner abuse encountered by never-enrolled women, suggests that how gender and “illegality” intersect differs based on the timing of immigration. Ultimately, more research is needed to understand these differences.
Implications
These findings contribute to providing a more complete picture of how UCAs experience “illegality” at a critical point of transition in the life course and the sources of their divergent experiences. In doing so, I complicate the dominant view that UCAs are not involved in the decision to immigrate, experience inclusion in U.S. schools, and possess college and high-skill employment aspirations. As I have shown, this is not the case for all UCAs. Rather, some make the decision to immigrate, encounter exploitative working conditions or gender oppression upon arrival, and possess expectations for adulthood that do not revolve around education.
Awareness of the varied challenges and disruptions “illegality” creates can assist stakeholders to better meet the needs of the 1.25 generation and promote their well-being. The experiences of the never-enrolled highlight that resources for UCAs must extend beyond those centered on education. Instead, workers’ rights information and domestic violence awareness might be of higher priority. Also, since the never-enrolled do not interact with the school system, outreach and services for this group must extend beyond school settings to health care settings, community organizations, and faith-based institutions.
This study also carries implications for advocacy as it challenges the dominant narratives circulated to advance policy change for UCAs; narratives centered on their lack of involvement in the migration process and their educational aspirations. The 1.25 generation’s varied experiences and vulnerabilities can inform a more nuanced understanding of childhood migration that resists reinforcing educational success and “innocence” as the standard for deserving protection. After all—regardless of their path, expectations, and agency in the migration process—they share the vulnerability of immigrating during a developmentally sensitive period in the life course. Advocacy must take into account their divergent pathways and needs.
Future Research
Scholars have pushed back against homogenizing the UCA population; however, the timing of immigration has not been considered. This is true even for Abrego (2011) who, in comparing UCAs to adult arrivals, has argued for the importance of life-stage at arrival as a source of difference. Yet, subsuming all immigrants arriving as minors under one umbrella ignores critical developmental differences. Accordingly, I contend that—within UCAs—the timing of immigration also exists as a salient source of difference and warrants attention.
Additional research on the experiences and outcomes of the 1.25 generation is needed to unearth the “salient axes of difference” (Gonzales & Burciaga, 2018, p. 178) among UCAs. Studies should examine the 1.25 generation across different family dynamics, geographic contexts, racial/ethnic groups, and other social locations. Moreover, research should further unpack the contextual factors which shape their experiences. For example, church (Canizales, 2019) and community-based groups (Canizales, 2015) have been identified as important sources of support and interaction for adolescent arrivals. Conversely, studies on apprehended Central American minors have found that they struggle accessing resources (Roth & Grace, 2015) and often navigate the immigration system without guidance (Heidbrink, 2014; Terrio, 2015). Research should continue examining the sources of support and the impact of institutions, including the immigration detention and court system, on the developmental trajectories and outcomes of UCAs. Research that directly compares 1.5 and 1.25 generation respondents is also needed to tease out differences by the timing of immigration.
Finally, the 1.25 generation raises questions on the meaning of adolescence, adulthood, and how to define immigrant generations. What is the age cutoff to be considered a “childhood arrival” or an “adolescent arrival,” and how do we account for cultural differences in the social meaning of age and the fuzzy boundaries around these meanings? In addressing these questions room exists for many approaches. For example, I drew on Rumbaut’s (2004) definition of the 1.25 generation to address the gap in the literature; however, it is conceivable that the age boundaries could vary based on the research question.
I caution, however, against uncritically subsuming the 1.25 generation within adult arrivals (the first generation) or the 1.5 generation. Some might argue that the never-enrolled, because they take on “adult” roles in adolescence, should be considered younger versions of the first generation, and the enrolled should be pooled into the 1.5 generation. Although the meaning of the biological, social, and emotional changes adolescents undergo are historically situated and vary by culture, I contend that developmental differences deserve consideration. Moreover, the voices of the 1.25 generation must be acknowledged in deciphering whether they belong with childhood or adult arrivals. As illustrated by the title, “Estaba Bien Chiquito” or “I Was Very Young,” my participants often highlighted their vulnerability as young people taking on challenges and responsibilities that were beyond their resources and capacities. Structural realities that pushed them into adult roles should not be the sole justification for pooling them with adult arrivals. Rather, their experiences demand that research on UCAs critically engage questions on the meaning of age boundaries and how immigrant generations are defined.
Limitations
This study contains several limitations. Participants in this study lived in Chicago and the surrounding suburbs. As Illinois is considered a welcoming state for undocumented immigrants, the findings may not be fully applicable to other local and state contexts. Another limitation is the relatively small group of Central Americans in the study. The sample size difference between Mexican (N = 24) and Central American (N = 16) participants reflects the small Central American immigrant population in Illinois. Nonetheless, Central Americans are a growing segment of the 1.25 generation and this study was unable to capture the full extent of their experiences, their interactions with the immigration system, and potential differences by country of origin. In addition, this study was retrospective. As narratives change over time, the stories participants shared, including what they remembered and highlighted as significant, are subject to shift. Nonetheless, these socially situated narratives provide important windows into their lived experiences and meaning making. Finally, participants in this study arrived and transitioned to adulthood under the Bush and Obama administration. The Trump administration has brought a significant increase in anti-immigrant rhetoric and restrictive practices. Hence, in applying the findings of this study, the implications of the current sociopolitical moment must be considered.
Conclusion
The 1.25 generation encountered diverse challenges and disruptions as they transitioned to adulthood and “illegality.” These patterns were shaped by the reasons for immigrating, the expectations they held for adulthood, and whether the migration process was gendered. Their pathways expand knowledge on the coming of age experiences of UCAs and highlight the relevance of the timing of immigration to understanding UCAs’ heterogeneous lived experiences.
Supplemental Material
JAR933231_Supplemental_Material_REV2 – Supplemental material for “Estaba bien chiquito” (I Was Very Young): The Transition to Adulthood and “Illegality” of the Mexican and Central American 1.25 Generation
Supplemental material, JAR933231_Supplemental_Material_REV2 for “Estaba bien chiquito” (I Was Very Young): The Transition to Adulthood and “Illegality” of the Mexican and Central American 1.25 Generation by Daysi Ximena Diaz-Strong in Journal of Adolescent Research
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The author expresses her appreciation to Sydney Hans, Angela García, and Roberto Gonzales for their contributions to the overall research project. I also thank Benjamin Roth and the anonymous reviewers for their valuable comments on the article. Most of all, I am deeply grateful to the participants who shared their story with me.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
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