Guest Post by Traci G. Lee
We never talked about it. The word "undocumented" was nerve-wracking, confusing, and — as it's been argued in my grandfather's circumstances — not exactly true. Growing up, my sister and I were told many stories about our family history, but we had also been taught a moderately conservative stance when it came to immigration, about the "right" way to do things and the hard word that comes with that journey.
Which is why when, during a visit to California in April, I sat down with my mother to talk about this in-depth, she didn't use the word — at least, not at first. Let me explain.