by Anne Ryman

The Arizona Republic

June 26, 2010

Daniel Rodríguez was up at 5 a.m. one day in May, preparing to speak at a news conference on Arizona's new immigration law.

The event would draw national media coverage because it featured undocumented youths arrested earlier that week while protesting at Sen. John McCain's Tucson office.

After the conference, Rodríguez, who wasn't one of those arrested, spent much of the day at the Arizona Capitol.

He participated in an immigration rally, directed a poster-making session and arranged for live band entertainment. That evening, he met with volunteers to discuss future protest strategies. His day ended around 11 p.m.

The 24-year-old Rodríguez is part of a growing grass-roots movement of young Latino adults and high-school students who spend much of their spare time advocating for immigration reform that includes a form of amnesty. Rodríguez has a personal stake in fighting the nation's toughest immigration law, which goes into effect July 29: He was brought to the United States as a child and is an illegal immigrant.

But there are many other youths standing beside him at protests in the Phoenix area who are U.S. citizens.

Older community activists compare what is happening now in Arizona to the civil-rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s.

"If there's any positive to be gained in Arizona . . . it is the fact it has created a whole new generation of leaders," said Danny Ortega, a Phoenix attorney and community leader.

Some of these young people may go on and devote themselves to a lifetime of community service, Ortega said. Others could seek political office. It's possible that some will lose interest if they don't see changes to immigration policy in the short term, he said. But he is hopeful that many will stay involved.

"That one person speaking out today could be your governor 20 years from now," Ortega said.

There are several reasons young people have become so involved in the fight against Senate Bill 1070, the new law that makes it a state crime to be in the country illegally.

Some were brought to the U.S. illegally as children by their parents and want the laws changed so they can become legalized. Others are citizens but have friends or family members who are in the country illegally, so the impact of the law could hit close to home. Many young activists are single and have no children, which gives them more spare time to spend on advocacy than those with families.

Then there's the generational factor. Although national polls have indicated broad support for Arizona's immigration law, a poll taken last month by the Pew Research Center said young people are less supportive than older Americans. Less than half of those ages 18 to 29 surveyed approve of the law, compared with 65 percent for those ages 50 to 64.

Staying involved

Rodríguez was always interested in community involvement, but it was his own life experiences that prompted him to step up his participation.

When he was 6 1/2, his mother fled Mexico with him and his two sisters to escape domestic violence, he said. For years, he had no idea that he was here illegally. Gradually, clues emerged. For one thing, his mother seemed overprotective. He couldn't figure out why she refused to let him go on a sixth- grade trip to Disneyland organized by the mother of one of his friends.

As he approached 16, he was thinking about getting a driver's license when his sister told him he couldn't because he was an illegal immigrant. Only U.S. citizens or legal residents are eligible for Arizona driver's licenses.

Despite his lack of citizenship, Rodríguez didn't hide in the shadows. In high school, he ran the school newspaper and was involved in political clubs. After graduating in 2004, he attended Arizona State University.

Two years later, the state Legislature passed a law that required students who were unable to prove their legal status to pay out- of-state tuition at the state's public colleges. The law more than tripled their tuition costs at the universities. The rationale was that taxpayers shouldn't subsidize tuition and financial aid for people who are in the country illegally.

Rodríguez was able to obtain bachelor's degrees in English literature and political science with the help of private scholarships and savings. He attended a year of law school at ASU but found it difficult to afford the non-resident tuition and fees, which totaled nearly $29,000 that year.

He plans to return to law school one day. Until then, he works as a translator for attorneys. His activism has become a kind of second job. As public-policy adviser for the Arizona Dream Act Coalition, he rallies support for the Dream Act, a proposed federal law that would enable illegal- immigrant students to remain in the U.S., get their college degrees and have a path to citizenship. The bill has been introduced several times in recent years but has not been approved.

Regardless of what happens, he said, he plans to continue his activism.

"I have thought about running for office if I have the privilege of being here," he said.

Anger and optimism

About eight years after Rodríguez came to the United States, 7-year-old Alejandra Valenzuela made a similar trek with her family.

Valenzuela learned English in elementary school. She didn't find out she was an illegal immigrant until high school. An "A" student at Carl Hayden Community High School and a member of many clubs, she was researching colleges when she discovered she needed a Social Security number to apply for federal financial aid.

Because she was born in Mexico, she didn't have one and couldn't get one, which made her mad.

"I worked my butt off and got good grades," she said. "I tried to help people. I learned the language, and I learned to love the (American) culture."

The 17-year-old can still go to college, but she is ineligible for federal or state financial aid, which limits her options. She has private scholarships that will cover many costs at a local private college this fall and is applying for additional grants.

Until then, she interns at a law firm and spends her spare time working on immigration issues.

When SB 1070 was being signed into law in late April, she spent two days outside the state Capitol, sleeping on a cardboard pallet covered with sheets. When she learned the bill had been signed, she burst into tears.

She is now more optimistic. She hopes the controversy surrounding the law will lead to federal reform that includes a pathway to citizenship for illegal immigrants.

At her recent high-school graduation ceremony, Valenzuela wasn't thinking about the immigration law or the challenges that face her. She blew a kiss to her family as she exited the stage. She was happy, excited and curious about what will happen next in her life.

"Bring it on," she said she thought as she got her high-school diploma.

Speaking openly

Outside Arizona Veterans Memorial Coliseum where Alejandra's graduation was taking place, 18-year-old Carlos Gonzalez stood in the hot sun.

He was flanked by Linda Diaz, a 17-year-old senior at Central High School, and Angel Martinez, a 16-year-old junior at South Mountain High School. As the graduates and their families poured out of the arena, the trio held up signs that said, "You got your diploma so now what?" and "The Dream Act is coming."

They have become a familiar sight at immigration protests and news conferences. All hold leadership roles in a newly formed group that aims to give high-school students an avenue for getting involved. The group, called "No Hate, Educate!," communicates using social-media websites like Facebook and MySpace and a website they created.

Gonzalez, Diaz and Martinez are U.S. citizens, and their status means they can speak openly on behalf of those who are illegal immigrants and afraid of being deported.

Gonzalez, a soft-spoken artist, spends his spare time creating elaborate posters to display at the protests. A sophomore majoring in architecture at ASU, he has friends who are in the U.S. illegally and chose not to go to college because they cannot afford out-of-state resident tuition.

The Dream Act

He sees the federal Dream Act as a way to help his friends because the law would allow them to attend college without fear and make them eligible for student loans and federal work-study programs.

Gonzalez is not interested in running for public office. But he plans to be involved in community work for a long time, possibly branching into other areas like domestic- violence prevention and working with orphans.

"Many people have a dream," he said. "But if they don't have the resources, it's hard for them."