IMMIGRATION IS A BLACK ISSUE
Patrice Lawrence ’11 talks about the UndocuBlack Network
Patrice Lawrence ’11 knows what life is like for the more than half a million undocumented Black immigrants in the United States—she’s one of them. Also, as the cofounder and executive director of the immigrant’s rights nonprofit UndocuBlack Network, Lawrence understands all too well how difficult it can be existing in the immigration shadows of modern-day America, of constantly fearing detention or deportation.
“I’ve learned now that there’s very little autonomy in adjusting your status in the United States,” said Lawrence. “I have missed out on so many funerals, weddings, both my brothers’ graduations from high school and university, caring for my parents after accidents, saying final goodbyes to multiple loved ones. I no longer feel free, nor am I free, to travel as I wish.”
Only a few years ago, however, Lawrence’s life looked totally different. Born and raised in Kingston and St. Andrew, Jamaica, Lawrence flew to Roanoke in 2007 after earning a scholarship to Hollins. Just 18 years old at the time, with a temporary student visa, Lawrence chose to study political science and philosophy and had a bit of an awakening. “I love Hollins,” said Lawrence, “I was involved in some political things when I was in Jamaica, but my foundation at Hollins, my classes with Jong Ra, Jon Bohland, Edward Lynch, and Jeanette Barbieri, helped me to get an understanding of what policy is, and where my ideals come from, and what politics UndocuBlack wants to have as its own.”
After graduating with honors, Lawrence moved to Washington, D.C. to work for an arm of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. She had hoped this organization would sponsor her to acquire a work visa. However, this prospect fell through, and when Lawrence’s student visa expired soon after, she decided against the odds to remain in the country. “I figured it would be an easy fix,” said the Hollins alumna. “I thought the system would work out for me and I could get a green card.” But Lawrence’s life changed dramatically. She lost her health insurance, lost her right to vote, and even lost eligibility to get a driver’s license in most states. These conditions forced her into the margins of society, performing low-wage jobs oftentimes for cash.
“When I became undocumented, I wanted to assimilate. I wanted to hide so I wouldn’t be targeted.”
This is the reality for most undocumented people in America today. Just like Lawrence, nearly half of the almost 11 million undocumented people in the U.S. are people who came to this country legally but overstayed a visa. And of that population, around 630,000 are Black, many of them forgotten in an immigration narrative that largely focuses on Latinos and Central Americans, who make up the largest portion of the undocumented population.
For years, Lawrence lived in the shadows, fearful of being detained or deported yet at the same time desperate to make ends meet, working odd jobs from Michigan to Ohio and New York as a tutor, a home health aide, and a live-in nanny. She also made numerous attempts to change her immigration status, including talking to and paying numerous lawyers. She was accepted into law schools twice. None of it worked. “When I became undocumented, I wanted to assimilate,” said Lawrence. “I wanted to hide so I wouldn’t be targeted.”
Lawrence felt largely hopeless until 2014 when she befriended a fellow undocumented Jamaican, who was having discussions about creating a convening of Black people in the U.S. who had lost legal status. It was a radical, albeit risky, idea. “I thought it was interesting—and I thought probably we don’t need it,” said Lawrence about revealing her status to others. “I was really scared. I thought it would put a target on our backs. I thought we would be really stigmatized.”
Nonetheless, these discussions between Lawrence and others from across the country eventually became the Undocumented and Black Convening, a first-of-its-kind national conference of around 70 undocumented Black people held in Miami, Florida, from January 15-17, 2016. The three-day event featured facilitated workshops, strategizing sessions, intersectional caucus spaces, and healing spaces. “That was the first time I told a group of other people about my status,” recalled Lawrence. “And after I left, I said ‘this is really necessary.’ It was so freeing to be in a space where I could use my own accent again. I could talk about who I was and feel secure doing so.”
“It gave me a space where I could truly be myself, have my ideas, speak the truth, influence media, and possibly change my life and other people’s lives. That was a freedom I didn’t have, and that’s the beauty of UndocuBlack and the beauty of our organization and our membership.”
The Undocumented and Black Convening, cofounded by five Black migrants, turned out to be the official beginning of the UndocuBlack Network, which Lawrence cocreated immediately after with the original coconveners. Lawrence defines the organization as a “multi-generational Black organization of currently and formerly undocumented people that represents Black people from all across the diaspora.” “Immigration Is a Black Issue” is the motto and philosophy of the UndocuBlack Network, which facilitates access to immigration resources and fights to transform the realities of undocumented Black migrants.
The nonprofit has been a game changer for many, including Lawrence. “Forming UndocuBlack Network forced me to stop hiding who I was,” said the Jamaican native, who in April 2016 went public with her status at an immigration conference. “It gave me a space where I could truly be myself, have my ideas, speak the truth, influence media, and possibly change my life and other people’s lives. That was a freedom I didn’t have, and that’s the beauty of UndocuBlack and the beauty of our organization and our membership.”
Danyeli Rodriguez Del Orbe, UndocuBlack Network Creative Specialist
Since its inception six years ago, the UndocuBlack Network has done a little bit of everything, from successfully freeing people from detention to helping individuals with their immigration cases to stay in the U.S., and even sponsoring and helping to pass a major piece of legislation, the Liberian Refugee Immigration Fairness program, which allowed Liberian nationals who’ve been living in the United States since 2014 to apply to become Lawful Permanent Residents. “This bill had been written in different ways for almost 20 years, and we did the work to get it across the finish line,” said Lawrence. “I’m very proud of this bill and I’ve learned so much from having done that. It’s fueled us to believe that it is possible to pass mass legalization for many folks. In Jamaica, we have a saying: If you have raw meat, you seek fire. Those of us who have that raw meat, we really seek the fire!”
In just a few years, the nonprofit has grown exponentially, with members in more than 30 states now and coverage by big media outlets like CNN, the Black News Channel, BBC, MSNBC, and more. The organization even had the ear of now Vice President Kamala Harris, getting the then-Senator to work with UndocuBlack on issues with Mauritanians whose asylum or Temporary Protected Status claims were being almost indiscriminately denied.
“I’ve met Kamala before in person when she was in the Senate,” said Lawrence. “She brought a member of the UndocuBlack Network (a Californian constituent) to her State of the Union in 2018. That’s how close a relationship we had with her office.”
However, even with an ally like Vice President Harris in the White House, movement on immigration reform is glacial at best. In spite of the UndocuBlack Network’s successes, Lawrence is still undocumented herself, even as she continues to grow the nonprofit and advocate for others. “Absolutely I’m a target,” said Lawrence. “But I’m also drawing attention to myself the opposite way in that if they come after me, I think I’ve made enough of an organizing impact that others will go and protest, so it will be harder to get rid of me. Am I risking my life every day? Absolutely. But am I safer now than a few years ago when no one knew who I was? Absolutely.”
[EDITOR’S NOTE: In the print issue of the Spring 2022 issue, Patricia Lawrence is noted as codirector of UndocuBlack but was promoted to executive director after the issue had gone to press. The updated job title has been updated and is correct in this online version.]