2 page Reflection paper

What Facilitates and Supports Political Activism by, and for, Undocumented Students?

Brad Forenza1 • Briana Rogers1 • David T. Lardier2

Published online: 24 April 2017

� Springer Science+Business Media New York 2017

Abstract Historically, undocumented students have been unable to attend public and private institutions of higher education in the United States. Lack of citizenship

and/or financial aid precludes many from ever applying to college or other post-

secondary institutions. This can create feelings of oppression, stigmatization, and/or

inferiority for undocumented youth, who had no say in their ever coming to the

United States. In the absence of a sustainable federal law that facilitates higher

education attainment for this population, some states have enacted their own per-

missive policies. The present study utilizes a critical consciousness framework and a

constant comparative approach to explore one permissive policy in a focal state. To

this end, the authors attempt to answer the question of what motivates undocu-

mented students, through the lens of critical consciousness, to engage in political

activism, and what is the role of adult-allies? Findings support and extend our

understanding of critical consciousness dimensions, vis-à-vis the revelation of ten

themes and subthemes unique to this sample. Implications for policy, practice, and

future research are also discussed.

Keywords DREAMers � In-state residency tuition � Critical consciousness � Higher education � Organizing

& Brad Forenza [email protected]

1 Center for Child Advocacy and Policy, 372 Dickson Hall, Montclair State University, 1 Normal

Avenue, Montclair, NJ 07043, USA

2 Department of Individual, Family, and Community Education, University of New Mexico,

Albuquerque, NM 87131, USA

123

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

DOI 10.1007/s11256-017-0413-1

Introduction

The livelihoods of racially and ethnically marginalized students in the United States

are currently being challenged and negotiated amidst White, Anglo, patriarchal,

nationalist ideologies, which are promulgated through broader U.S. narratives and

more specifically U.S. educational institutions. These ideologies are particularly

detrimental to undocumented students. Undocumented students and young adults of

color are confronted with myriad oppressive-racialized social stressors, which

include unemployment, criminalization, deportation and educational inequity

(DeAngelo et al. 2016; Mangual Figueroa 2017; McCorkle and Bailey 2016;

Nguyen and Hoy 2014). The accumulation of these lived realities constructs among

undocumented students feelings of oppression, stigmatization, and inferiority. Yet,

despite aversive rhetoric, the number of undocumented immigrants has grown

considerably in the U.S. during the last two decades (Krogstad et al. 2016).

Since 1990, the number of undocumented immigrants in the U.S. has grown from

3.5 million to approximately 11.1 million (Krogstad et al. 2016). In 2014, 7.3% of

youth who were enrolled in K-12 public and private schools had at least one

undocumented parent (Passel and Cohn 2016). Of those families, 5.9% (3.2 million)

of children were U.S.-born, and therefore citizens at birth; whereas, 1.3% (725,000)

were undocumented themselves (Passel and Cohn 2016). Due to either one parent’s

lack of citizenship or lack of citizenship of the child, undocumented students are

limited in their access to a variety of social resources, which could facilitate upward

social movement. Moreover, a disproportionate number of undocumented students

do not graduate from high school. They are often ‘‘pushed-out’’ by unfair federal,

state, and local policies. And even fewer undocumented students pursue higher

education, as they are largely excluded from both public and private colleges and

universities in the U.S. Some are precluded from ever applying to college in the first

place, due to lack of citizenship and, in-turn, access to financial aid (Perez 2014).

Although studies have started to tease out the impact that documentation status has

on students’ higher education attainment, few studies have explored the activism of

undocumented students and the ways in which activism can empower and support

them (DeAngelo et al. 2016). In the absence of a sustainable federal law that facilitates

higher education attainment for undocumented youth, the current study takes up the

task of asking what motivates, through critical consciousness, undocumented students

to engage in political activism, and what is the role of adult-allies? Paulo Freire’s

(1968 [2014]) conjectures on critical consciousness provide a promising framework

for understanding this motivation, and the ways in which undocumented students,

young adults, and adult allies engage in political activism to both promote and

maintain state policies favorable to educational equity and attainment.

Literature Review

The present study reviews the extant literature on the challenges of undocumented

students in the U.S., the critical importance of the DREAM Act for these students,

the role of allied adult-activists, and lastly an overview of critical consciousness and

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 649

123

its role in empowering undocumented students and their adult allies. Through this

research, we will develop a better understanding of the manifestation of critical

consciousness that Freire and other scholars (e.g., Carmen et al. 2015; Christens

et al. 2016; Diemer et al. 2015; Diemer and Rapa 2016; Godfrey and Wolf 2016)

have shown to be important among oppressed groups who are fighting against the

status quo. In addition, we will uncover, through this study, the critical role of

student and adult ally activism in promoting and maintaining policies that allow

undocumented students to access higher education.

Challenges for Undocumented Students

Annually, millions of students graduate from high schools across the United States.

Currently, there are approximately 250-million undocumented students pursuing

higher education degrees in the U.S. (Teranishi et al. 2014). For most students,

graduating from high school is a time to celebrate and prepare to move on to the

next chapter in one’s life, whether that means postsecondary education or entering

the workforce; however, this event is less monumental for undocumented students,

as their future and the opportunities available to them narrow significantly (Perez

2014). Fewer than 10 percent of these students are able to attend college—not due to

a lack of desire for a college education, but due to an inability to afford college

tuition or to meet legal residency status requirements of some colleges (Bruno 2014;

Kim and Dı́az 2013). Undocumented students and young adults who plan to pursue

postsecondary education are hindered by the fact that they are not legal residents of

the state in which they live, forcing them to pay out-of-state tuition rates, and be

withheld from qualifying for federal or state financial aid (Bruno 2010; DeAngelo

et al. 2016; Forenza and Mendonca 2016).

In June 1982, the Supreme Court issued its Plyer v Doe ruling, a landmark

decision holding that states cannot constitutionally deny students a free public

education on account of their immigration status (Plyer v Doe 1982). According to

this ruling, denying undocumented students a formative education would create a

lifetime of hardship and a permanent underclass (Nguyen and Hoy 2014). The

Plyler v. Doe decision changed the lives and futures of countless undocumented

children and youth who entered this country through no choice of their own, by

giving them an equal opportunity and a free primary school education. To be clear,

however, Plyer v Doe only grants this equal opportunity until the completion of high

school. Despite this landmark ruling, undocumented students are confronted with a

major roadblock when attempting to pursue a college degree. No matter how

qualified a student they are, their undocumented status hinders them from moving

forward with their education. Even when admission to a college or university is

obtained, undocumented students are often ineligible for federal financial aid under

the Higher Education Act of 1965, as well as ineligible for state financial aid or in-

state tuition (Kim and Dı́az 2013). These undocumented students not only live in

fear of deportation, but also face inequities in their pursuit of higher education

(Bruno 2010; DeAngelo et al. 2016; Forenza and Mendonca 2016; Gonzales 2008;

Kim and Dı́az 2013).

650 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

Current Political Context and the DREAM Act (Un)realized

Currently, 18 states have enacted permissive legislation providing in-state residency

tuition (IRT) benefits to undocumented students (National Conference of State

Legislatures 2015; NILC 2014). As a result of these local policies, community

colleges and public universities are serving an important role in educating,

undocumented students through each of the enabling states (Perez 2014). However,

several states continue to allow colleges to deny undocumented students access to

higher education (National Conference of State Legislatures 2015; NILC 2014). In

an effort to create a pathway to higher education, and ultimately citizenship, former-

President Barrack Obama proposed the Development, Relief and Education for

Alien Minors (DREAM) Act (Morales et al. 2011).

The DREAM Act refers to federal legislation that would eliminate the

penalization of undocumented graduating seniors who came to this country by no

choice of their own. Under this legislation, undocumented students would qualify

for state financial aid and in-state residency tuition rates. The prospective DREAM

Act would also provide a path for undocumented youth to gain legal status in the

United States (Mahony 2012), as well as cultivating, educating and equipping the

maximum number of gainfully employed individuals and taxpayers. Although the

benefits in passing a federal DREAM Act are innumerable, political and social

movements for passing the DREAM Act have garnered little traction and been met

with consternation (DeAngelo et al. 2016).

In the face of slowed federal movements to pass the DREAM Act, and

trepidation from many U.S. states to enact legislation providing IRT benefits to

undocumented students, former-President Barrack Obama enacted Deferred Action

for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) through an executive order (Gonzales and Bautista-

Chavez 2014; Muñoz 2013). This policy has had many positive impacts for the lived

realities of undocumented youth, students, and young adults. Through DACA,

undocumented children brought to the U.S. before the age of 16 are temporarily

authorized to live and work in the U.S., without fear or threat of deportation for a

two-year, renewable period (Bruno 2013; Suarez-Orozco et al. 2015). As of 2015,

over 700,000 undocumented individuals had applied for DACA, with 86% of

applicants (640,000) receiving benefits through this executive order (Martin 2017;

Teranishi et al. 2014). In spite of the staggering benefits DACA has provided to

undocumented students, its fate remains unknown in the context of the new

presidential administration (Martin 2017).

Federal programs such as DACA and the adoption of IRT benefits by permissive

U.S. states has allowed undocumented students to access higher education;

however, there continue to be many undocumented students and young adults

who are ineligible to apply to, or gain access to, colleges and universities. Many

students who progressed through the U.S. public school system and were eligible for

the DREAM Act and DACA continue to exist in limbo, as innumerable obstacles

face these students as they attempt to pursue higher education in today’s political

and social climates. In addition, those who do make it into college are further

confronted with losing scholarships, due to their legal status in the U.S.,

discrimination, (neo)racism (Kim and Dı́az 2013), and poor academic outcomes,

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 651

123

which is largely due to being poorly prepared for academic life in college

(DeAngelo et al. 2016).

In recent years, it is unsurprising that undocumented immigrants have come out

of the darkness to advocate for opportunities—like local IRT policies—that seemed

impossible to previous generations of undocumented students. This advocacy

happens in spite of the known risk of deportation by publicly disclosing their

undocumented status to the political world (Galindo 2012). From a scholarly

perspective, however, little is known about what facilitates and supports political

activism by, and for, undocumented students and young adults (DeAngelo et al.

2016).

Activism Among Undocumented Students

Aristotle famously discussed that humans are political animals (Aristotle 1948

[350 B.C.E.]), and that by our very nature we engage in political activity, which

impacts our well-being (Klar and Kasser 2009). Over the past 60 years, college

campuses have been a main space for activism, particularly among majority

students (e.g., White, heterosexual, U.S. Citizens). Although today’s young adults

are less likely to be civically engaged when compared to previous generations

(Flanagan and Levine 2010), they are more likely to engage in activism than older

Americans (Muñoz 2013). Yet, unlike decades past, undocumented students, in

particular, have been observed to participate in high rates of civic action, as a source

of hope for social and academic policy change (Suarez-Orozco et al. 2015). Through

such social activism undocumented students have taken an important role in

challenging society against systemic marginalization and oppression.

Undocumented students are forced to navigate a precarious space between

engaging in social change and risking their own deportation and further oppression.

However, despite these risks, undocumented students are identified as a main source

in the DREAMer movement, as well as in-state residency tuition legislation

(DeAngelo et al. 2016; Suarez-Orozco et al. 2015). Pairing with local cultural

organizations and local-state policy makers, undocumented students have made

fundamental legislative changes across the United States. For instance, in 2001,

allied with Chicano/a and Latino/a policy makers, undocumented students passed

AB540, California’s IRT bill (Kirshner 2015) and HB 1403, Texas’s IRT bill

(Negrón-Gonzales 2014). More recently in 2010, the DREAM Act 5 group wrote

testomonios, or ‘‘coming out’’ statements, about their own undocumented status,

which, through these letters, informed then-President Barrack Obama about their

migration to the U.S. and their reasoning for civil disobedience (Galindo 2012;

Kirshner 2015). These young adults, and other undocumented students like them,

forged an identity of ‘undocumented and unafraid’ (Galindo 2012; Kirshner 2015;

Zimmerman 2011). No longer did these students wish to remain in the shadows;

hence, undocumented students have attempted to revive Plyler v. Doe and fight for

the right to public education, and extend this right to higher education.

Studies point out that undocumented students who engage in civic activism,

despite frightening and harsh realities of deportation or racialized aggression,

demonstrate hopefulness for their future (DeAngelo et al. 2016; Huber and Malagon

652 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

2007). As Gonzales (2008) discussed, exclusion from larger mainstream society and

inclusion with others who can identify one’s personal struggle, shapes student

activists’ political identity and consciousness, as well as their sense of hopefulness,

and in-turn drive toward social change. Therefore, undocumented students find,

among the collective, a commonality in their ability to broker their ‘‘illegality’’ with

their drive to break the code of silence and disclose their own (and families’)

undocumented status, in order to garner important social resources for systemic and

academic change (Negrón-Gonzales 2014). These personal-collective relationships,

and the navigation between internalized perceptions and disclosing sacred parts of

their personal identity, play an instrumental role in developing and maintaining

oppositional consciousness and critical thinking, which is necessary for social

activism and change (Gonzales 2008, 2011). Hence, undocumented students’ who

engage in civic activism have the most at stake, as they are likely targets for

deportation due to disclosing their legal status. However, these undocumented

student activists realize and acknowledge that they need to be resolute in their

response and that they can only do so through the unity of exclusion and inclusion.

Adult Allies. Adult ally activists can be equally instrumental in not only

advocating for larger systemic changes among undocumented individuals (Mangual

Figueroa 2017), but also in empathetically and practically assisting undocumented

students and young adult activists in understanding and constructing academic and

social changes (DeAngelo et al. 2016). Stanton-Salazar (2011, 2016) described that

such adult allies can help young adults read their worlds and develop awareness of

inequalities within their social system. Therefore, through shared ethnic-racial

identity and likely citizenship status, as well as communal respect, adult ally

activists can be important and effective resources in developing, maintaining, and

augmenting undocumented student and young adult activists’ voices.

DeAngelo et al. (2016) articulated that adult-allied actors can be champions for/

with DREAMers, and empower these undocumented students by providing

important bridging and bonding relationships to additional socio-cultural resources.

The existing research indicates that teachers, school counselors, and college or

university faculty members, as well as other adult-allies within the community, can

create and maintain social spaces in which undocumented students safely disclose

their citizenship status and in-turn develop awareness, through critical discussions,

on how to embark upon larger academic and social change (Mangual Figueroa

2017). In addition, adult-allies may also have knowledge about the complex issues

facing the community, which can help further develop these critical conversations,

bring about greater awareness and power, and assist undocumented students in

reading their worlds (Mangual Figueroa 2017). Undocumented students and young

adults may, therefore, through these critical interactions and supportive relation-

ships, begin to develop critical consciousness or how to ‘‘critically analyze their

social conditions and act to change them’’ (Watts et al. 2011, p. 44). This, in turn,

allows these same undocumented students to become aware of such systemic

inequalities and, through this, ‘‘their identities, goals, moral and political beliefs,

feelings of agency or alienation, and civic behaviors tend to unfold’’ (Christens et al.

2016, p. 15).

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 653

123

Taken together, the process and development of undocumented student activism

is rarely studied and in need of further exploration (DeAngelo et al. 2016; Suarez-

Orozco et al. 2015). Moreover, the role of adult allied activists has been given scant

attention and is consequently deserving of further investigation (DeAngelo et al.

2016). Yet, despite such limitations, several pieces of information can be learned

from the literature on undocumented student activism:

1. activism positively impacts one’s sense of self and overall well-being (Suarez-

Orozco et al. 2015);

2. activism creates a strong bond among groups members and between young

adults and adult-allies (Kirshner 2015; Rhoads 1997, 1998);

3. activism augments students’ sense of empowerment and their perceived ability

to be a leader in social change (DeAngelo et al. 2016; Forenza and Mendonca

2016; Galindo 2012).

Considering what is known and what is left to be learned about activism among

undocumented students and adult-allies, critical consciousness offers a useful

framework through which to explore these processes.

Conceptual Framework

Critical Consciousness

Paulo Freire described critical consciousness (conscientização) as a form of

dialogue, action, and reflection, which moves toward critically analyzing and

understanding one’s social world in order to effectively create change against the

bourgeois elite or one’s oppressor (Freire 1968[2014]). Through critical conscious-

ness, individuals become aware of their oppressor/oppression and the perpetuation

of their subjugation (Freire 1968[2014]). In essence, critical consciousness is a

process that explains how and why oppressed populations engage in systemic

change efforts.

Scholars of critical consciousness have discussed that this concept is comprised

of three major dimensions: (1) critical reflection, (2) critical motivation, and (3)

critical action (Christens et al. 2016; Diemer et al. 2015, 2016; Watts et al. 2011).

Critical reflection refers to one’s awareness and questioning of the status quo, and

developing awareness of power and privilege (Christens et al. 2016; Watts et al.

2011). For instance, critical reflection would involve a high school graduating senior

who, after beginning the application process of applying to a postsecondary

institution, realizes she or he has no social security number. In this case the

graduating senior may realize, as Diemer and Rapa (2016) contended, that the

government, because of not being acknowledged as a U.S. citizen, was less invested

in people with lower power (i.e., critical reflection). Critical motivation refers to

one’s analysis of problems or one’s perceived ability to affect change (Diemer et al.

2015; Diemer and Rapa 2016; Diemer et al. 2016). Critical motivation occurs when

this hypothetical student allows their questioning of the problem to push them to

654 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

solve it. Through critical awareness of structural inequality, oppressed individuals

begin to develop a sense of agency, through the collective, to solve the problem

(Diemer et al. 2015, 2016), which, as Freire contended, is also a manifestation of

critical hopefulness (Freire 1968[2014]). Lastly, critical action refers to the actual

response or propensity to engage in change-oriented endeavors (Diemer et al.

2015, 2016; Watts et al. 2011). Critical action would occur when the individual

takes active steps to change this inequity (Watts et al. 2011). For instance, Diemer

and Rapa (2016) displayed among a sample of 2811 ninth graders that awareness of

structural causes of oppression and social disparities was associated with

perceptions among youth that the government was less invested in people with

lower power (i.e., critical reflection), which in turn was associated with political

efficacy (i.e., capacity to engage in social change) and engagement in social action.

Critical consciousness is, therefore, both a process and a tool for liberation and

empowerment among marginalized urban youth (Hipolito-Delgado and Zion 2015).

Critical Consciousness and Activism. Student and youth activism is part and

parcel to critical consciousness. Camino and Zeldin (2002) stated that youth or

student organizing is ‘‘the intent to fight for rights and reform by addressing

explicitly ‘political’ issues through direct action and advocacy’’ (p. 217). Previous

studies have suggested that critical consciousness, through activism, has numerous

developmental benefits such as producing psychological empowerment (Campbell

and McLean 2002), creating a sense of physical and psychological safety, increasing

emotional support, and providing access to supportive-others, whether adult-

mentors or individuals with similar lived experiences (Christens et al. 2016;

Ginwright and James 2002; Klar and Kasser 2009). In addition, critically conscious

individuals involved in activism are likely to experience a greater sense of

communitarianism and support among the collective (Christens and Kirshner 2011;

Kirshner 2015), as well as a greater commitment to citizenship (Diemer and Rapa

2016; Klar and Kasser 2009; Westheimer and Kahne 2004).

All told, critically conscious young adults and students, through activism,

develop a broader set of critical perspectives on their social system and the

oppressive nature of their lived realities (Watts et al. 2011). These individuals also

transcend self-interest and work for/with the collective toward larger group interests

(Martinez et al. 2012). Yet, there is limited understanding about the process of

activism, through critical consciousness, among undocumented students and young

adults. This is particularly salient because past experiences with discrimination and

fear of deportation, or exposure of alien status, may discourage undocumented

students from pursuing higher education and engaging in activism (Pérez et al.

2010). However, it is evident that psychological empowerment plays a vital role in

the continuum of being politically active and advocating for equal educational rights

of undocumented minors and students.

Research Question and Aim

The aim of this research is to use critical consciousness as a conceptual framework

to better understand the process of political activism among undocumented students.

While prior research has explored undocumented students through a deficits-lens

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 655

123

(what they are incapable of), this original research effort uses a strengths-

perspective to explore processes of a successful statewide IRT initiative. Therefore,

we sought to answer the question: what motivates undocumented students, through

the lens of critical consciousness, to engage in political activism, and what is the

role of adult-allies?

Method

Research Setting and Sample

Participants were recruited through IRT-NOW (a pseudonym), an organizationally

based movement in a focal state. The movement advocated in-state residency tuition

rates and financial aid benefits for undocumented students. The efforts of IRT-NOW

were supported by other formal and informal groups throughout the state (including

the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus). The efforts of IRT-NOW culminated in

enabling legislation that was passed by both houses of the state’s legislature, and

signed into law by its governor, in December 2013. Soon after implementation of

the enacted policy, the IRT-NOW movement disbanded, but some its allied

organizations (including the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus) persisted.

The sample is comprised of 12 in-state residency tuition (IRT) advocates. These

advocates were both student beneficiaries of the state’s enacted IRT policy (n = 5),

as well as adult advocates who came to IRT-NOW vis-à-vis their affiliation with the

state’s Legislative Latino Caucus (n = 7). Student advocates (also beneficiaries of

the enacted IRT policy) were recruited into the study via a flyer that a graduate

assistant distributed at a statewide educational conference for undocumented

students (convenience sampling). Interested young adults were asked to contact the

graduate assistant, per contact information provided on the flyer. This yielded an

initial sample of six young adults, though one ultimately decided not to participate

in the study (n = 5). A year after initial recruitment, and in an effort to expand the

sample, the PI contacted the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus in search of

additional participants. Through the caucus chair’s campaign office, additional IRT

advocates were emailed a recruitment flier, through which they were asked to

contact the PI. Seven adult advocates responded in the affirmative. All adults were

successfully interviewed (n = 7), which yielded a total of 12 research participants.

Per IRB approval, all participants were at least 18 years old, all participants offered

written consent, and all participants were remunerated $20 for their time.

Demographically, the full sample was male (n = 8) and female (n = 4). The

initial student beneficiaries (n = 5) were roughly 23 years old; the allied adults who

were sampled a year later (n = 7) were roughly 38. Per IRB approval, citizenship

status was not be an explicit part of sampling criteria, though all young adults

(n = 5) self-disclosed that they had been undocumented during their IRT advocacy.

Participants identified as Peruvian (n = 5), Puerto Rican (n = 2), Mexican (n = 2),

and Cuban, Dominican, or Honduran (n = 3).

656 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

Data Collection and Analysis

All participants were interviewed in-person, at a single-point in time (cross-

sectional research), by the research assistant or the first-author. Each interview

lasted approximately 60 min each. The structured interview guide probed each

dimension of critical consciousness. For example, questions like ‘‘What commu-

nities do you consider yourself part of, and what problems do those communities

face?’’ probed critical reflection. ‘‘How and why did you become politically

involved?’’ probed critical motivation. Finally, ‘‘Why do you stay involved in

political causes (e.g. other immigration reform efforts)?’’ probed critical action.

Conducting in-depth structured interviews that focused on the process of IRT

activism, through tenants of critical consciousness, among undocumented students

and adult allies, was deemed an appropriate method of garnering data and increasing

the rigor of the study (Brod et al. 2009). Using structured interviews allowed the

research team to examine the lived experiences of undocumented students and adult

allies, through the tenants of critical consciousness, while simultaneously under-

standing the breadth and depth of their activism. The authors acknowledge that a

single interview limits the depth of understanding into the lived experiences of these

students and adult activists; however, as per the organizational affiliations (IRT-

NOW and the Legislative Latino Caucus), these students and adults provide unique

insight and information on activism, which may help inform critical consciousness

theory and research on how/why undocumented students engage in activism.

Per full IRB approval, and because of the sensitive nature of documentation and

citizenship status, interviews were not audio or video recorded. Consequently, the

respective interviewers (research assistant and first-author) had to take real-time

notes during each interview. Although, note taking is not ideal, when compared to a

tape recorder, it is nonetheless considered an adequate method of data collection,

particularly when notes are thorough and comprehensive (Patton 2002). Moreover,

to capture quotes that are particularly important and insightful, each response should

be repeated back to participants to ensure accuracy (Patton 2002), which for the

current study was done by the research team members. However, the authors

concede that the nuances of certain responses may have been lost during this process

(this and other limitations are discussed more later).

Although interview questions were based in the dimensions of critical

consciousness, the present study used a constant comparative approach to assess

not only if quotes were present that fell within the dimensions of critical

consciousness, but also to reduce these data to record additional emergent themes.

Constant comparative analyses is an iterative process of reducing data through

recording (Glaser 1965) and reorganizing emerging and embedded themes (Lincoln

and Guba 1985). Therefore, the basic defining feature of constant comparative

approaches is that ‘‘while coding an indicator for a concept, one compares that

indicator with previous indicators that have been coded in the same way,’’ (LaRossa

2005, p. 841). Following the initial interviews with students (n = 5), the research

assistant and first-author de-identified participant responses and copied them into an

Excel spreadsheet for an initial round of open coding. The spreadsheet functioned as

a saturation grid. Per Brod et al. (2009), a saturation grid is utilized to ensure that all

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 657

123

themes have been exhausted. By the research assistant and first-author’s estimation,

all themes related to critical consciousness had not been exhausted. The next year,

additional young adult advocates/IRT beneficiaries were recruited into the sample,

but to no avail (another limitation of the study). At this point, the sample was

expanded to include adult advocates (n = 7).

Following in-depth, structured individual interviews with adult advocates, data

were analyzed for the full sample (N = 12). Again, data were organized in a

saturation grid by participant (rows of the grid) and by question (columns of the

grid). Members of the research team immersed themselves in open-coding. Then

additional themes and concepts based in critical consciousness were fleshed out,

extending the existing theory into new domains (Hsieh and Shannon 2005; Merriam

and Tisdell 2015). The research team recorded their preliminary findings and

processes in the form of memos, which is consistent with this constant comparative

methodology and a strategy to ensure consistency and dependability in data findings

(LaRossa 2005; Merriam and Tisdell 2015). After several rounds of coding, the

team met to discuss their independent analyses. At this meeting, it was determined

that saturation of themes occurred at approximately eight to 10 cases. Ultimately,

the first-author and a qualitatively trained graduate assistant (the second author)

reconciled differences around the identification and organization of themes.

Researchers’ Positionality

Truly rigorous qualitative research hinges on the author’s ability to be reflexive

about his or her role in the study. No author was personally affiliated with the IRT-

NOW movement, so IRT-NOW beneficiaries who became part of this sample were

completely unknown to the authors. Consequently, the authors believe that their

intentions to join this study were motivated by altruism and the desire to share their

story (and, potentially, for the $20 remuneration). With respect to the state’s

Legislative Latino Caucus, however, the first-author is a professional acquaintance

of the Caucus Chair. While members of the Chair’s campaign team were not the

intended research participants of this project, they were necessary to achieve

saturation of information. Indeed, adult affiliates of the Latino Caucus helped the

authors reach saturation, and the authors are truly grateful for their participation.

However, the intended sampling frame had always been the focal state’s youthful

IRT-NOW beneficiary activities themselves. Findings appear below, and are

organized according to the extant dimensions of critical consciousness (critical

reflection, critical motivation, and critical awareness).

Findings

Findings are summarized in Table 1 and are organized according to the explicated

dimensions of critical consciousness (critical reflection, critical motivation, and

critical action).

Per Table 1, each dimension is substantiated by themes and subthemes that are

unique to participants in this study. Additionally, themes and subthemes are

658 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

explored at length below. To this end, the authors hope is to answer the research

question, what motivates undocumented students, through the lens of critical

consciousness, to engage in political activism, and what is the role of adult-allies?

Critical Reflection (Questioning of Status Quo)

The pervasive theme that is indicative of critical reflection, or questioning the status

quo, refers to community awareness. Participants in this sample reflected on three

primary community identifications that helped them reflect on the status quo. These

included communities of circumstance (e.g. being an immigrant and/or a racial/

ethnic minority in the United States), communities of place (e.g. neighborhoods),

and communities of action (e.g. being involved with the focal state’s IRT

movement). Each of these communities facilitated participant knowledge of the

status quo in general, as well as the specific ways in which undocumented students

were disadvantaged in the American higher education system.

Overwhelmingly, the student beneficiaries in this sample (n = 5) reflected most

frequently on communities of circumstance (a subtheme). All students (n = 5)

recalled the ways in which inequitable access to college forced them to think

critically about their seemingly disadvantaged place in American society. ‘‘Being

undocumented was holding me back from pursuing my education,’’ said one

student. ‘‘I wanted to go to college and my [high school] guidance counselor didn’t

know what to do with me,’’ said another. With respect to the strong identification

with their community of circumstance, a third student noted that ‘‘I take it

personally when [others who are similarly situated] don’t embrace the fact that they

are immigrants.’’ This circumstantial identification was a principal component of

critical reflection among students in this sample.

Adults in this sample (n = 7) perceived community-based identities in more

varied ways. Consequently, their reflection of, and sympathy for, the plight of

undocumented students was often rooted at the intersection of their own community

identifications. For example:

Table 1 Summary of findings

Dimension of critical consciousness Themes and subthemes

Critical reflection (questioning status quo) Community awareness

Circumstance

Context

Justice

Critical motivation (analysis of problems) Inequities in educational access

Challenging popular conceptions

Critical action (propensity to engage) Action strategies

Finding common ground

Being introspective

Desire for sustained engagement

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 659

123

My father and mother were Dominicans and I was born over there. From them,

I learned the way of how Dominican people think and behave. When I came to

[the United States], I learned how American society was divided by racism.

You’ll see all different people living here. It’s more diverse. It’s a whole new

world. The Dominican Republic didn’t have all that… However, when I came here, I automatically became part of the Hispanic community, not just the

American community.

The quote above illustrates the ways in which identification with a community of

place or circumstance might change over time. Immigrant students in the United

States might not anticipate the ways in which being a racial/ethnic minority can

affect one’s overall identification with groups and communities. The quote above

also implies that the speaker developed his own heightened awareness of

circumstance after leaving the Dominican Republic and experiencing racial

inequality in the United States. Conversely, another adult noted that ‘‘If you’re

really a community-based person, than you can’t single-yourself out by race or

ethnicity.’’ This adult IRT advocate adopted a context-based approach in reflecting

on the status quo:

To me, community means a gathering of people who are not only involved

politically, but also socially… I come from a very diverse city and a very diverse community. My community consists of Latinos, African Americans,

Haitians, Italians, Arabs, and I consider myself part of all of [those

communities], because we’re all in it together.

The quote above, which minimizes circumstantial solidarity, adopts the notion

that society works best when individuals de-emphasize the differences between

them. To this end, the speaker’s questioning of the status quo may be rooted in what

is best for a community of place as opposed to a community of circumstance. In the

context of IRT policy, the community of place would be the entire state. In other

words, it is the speaker’s implied position that everyone in a community of place

should care when part of their community is being disenfranchised.

Several adults (but not students) implied that their primary community was

action-oriented. This identification likely refers to the adults’ ongoing political

affiliation with the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus. These adults (n = 4) were

rooted in a strong sense of social justice. Their questioning of the status quo and the

equitable distribution of resources was constant. ‘‘Most of what brings people

together is having a common agenda, wanting the same things,’’ one adult

commented. ‘‘In a community, you can’t worry about what your individual

incentive is if you’re working towards a larger goal,’’ she concluded. Being

identified with an action-oriented community created a constant awareness of social

justice for this speaker, and for other adults in the sample.

Critical Motivation (Analysis of Problems and Perceived Ability)

With respect to critical motivation, all participants (N = 12) were motivated to

affect change because of inequities in educational access for undocumented

660 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

students. As one adult noted, ‘‘These young people were brought to [this state] by

their undocumented parents and as a result, they don’t have the same rights and

privileges as their friends… [after high school], they can’t continue their education.’’ This adult advocate’s assessment was personalized by a student

beneficiary, who noted that, ‘‘I had great grades, all A’s, but absolutely no hope of

going back to school.’’ Variations of inequitable access to higher education were

discussed by all five students. Additionally, some adult advocates reflected on

people they knew who had foregone college because of the absence of IRT policy.

Beyond actual policy, however, participants also analyzed (and were motivated by)

the negative social constructions that have been afforded to undocumented

individuals.

‘‘Our biggest challenge is that we buy into what politicians say about us, and

about who deserves what,’’ said one student. Here, the speaker further explained that

the political branding of undocumented students as ‘‘illegal’’ created a stigma

around an undocumented student’s entire being and what he or she should be

entitled to. All participants (N = 12) conceded that undocumented students have

historically had weak political power and a negative public perception. According to

Schneider and Ingram’s framework (1993), this conception classifies undocumented

students as deviants. To this end, challenging popular conceptions of undocumented

students is most indicative of critical motivation (the analysis of problems and

perceived ability). ‘‘We don’t just want to change politicians’ minds [about how

they view undocumented youth], we want to change peoples’ minds,’’ said another

participant.

For participants in this study, analysis of problems referred to both a lack of

concrete IRT policy, as well as a desire to change minds and hearts regarding

undocumented youth, their talents, and their capabilities.

Critical Action (Response and Propensity to Engage)

All participants in this study were involved in effectuating change at the statewide

level through IRT-NOW. Young people in this sample became involved with IRT-

NOW because they were the assumed beneficiaries of the proposed policy change;

in other words, they stood to benefit from being afforded in-state residency tuition.

Adult advocates were not necessarily the direct beneficiaries of the proposed policy

change, but were instead engaged in the IRT Movement because of their association

with the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus.

Throughout their engagement, both students and adults (N = 12) identified

several action strategies that helped to facilitate engagement. The first strategy

pertains to finding common ground with others who might share different values

than a focal participant. ‘‘Personalities can be problematic,’’ said one adult.

‘‘Definitely there have been situations where I have had to work with difficult

people. It’s all about values and finding common ground and moving forward,’’ said

another adult. ‘‘I think that [finding common ground] supersedes working with any

difficult person,’’ she concluded. Finding common ground is also illustrated in the

quote below:

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 661

123

Many times, I’ve worked with people that I don’t align with. Since I work in

computer science, I am very logical. I recognize that’s only one way of

thinking, but it’s through my political involvement that I realized that. Yes,

sometimes you’ll work with people who you just don’t agree with, but I’ve

learned about myself, too. And I’ve learned about how I relate to others. My

way of doing things is a family way. I don’t seek conflict or fights because we

are supposed to be working as a unit with a common goal.

In addition to finding common ground, the speaker above reflects on ways in

which his interactions with others in the IRT movement enabled him to be

introspective. Being introspective is the second subtheme related to critical action

strategies. As one student indicated, ‘‘What I learned about myself is that I can do

more than what I thought I could. I learned that I cared about other people. [My

IRT-NOW involvement] wasn’t just about me going back to school. It was about

others, too.’’ An adult advocate corroborated this sentiment when she noted that, ‘‘In

volunteering with people, there are always new things to learn about yourself.’’

Adults in this sample (n = 7) were already part of a sustained advocacy network,

vis-à-vis the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus. Students, however, had no sustained

organization through which to continue their advocacy. In the context of these

interviews, however, all students (n = 5) and adults (n = 7) noted their desire for

sustained engagement. ‘‘Although I finally have residency, I still don’t have

citizenship,’’ said one student. ‘‘We need to keep channeling our power to make

change happen,’’ said another. As one adult concluded, ‘‘It is our responsibility to

continue promoting the values that we believe in.’’

Discussion

Summary

This research supports and extends our understanding of critical consciousness as it

applies to student beneficiaries and adult advocates of IRT policy in a focal state.

Specifically, this study identifies themes and subthemes that are unique to these

populations, which map onto the explicated dimensions of critical consciousness. In

brief, critical reflection refers to one’s questioning of the status quo. Students and

adults identified community awareness through one of three means—circumstance,

context, or justice—that enabled them to think more critically about their world.

Critical motivation, which refers to analysis of problems, suggested two primary

themes. First, inequities in educational access refer to the conclusion that

undocumented students were being denied a higher education because of their

citizenship statuses (which they had no control over). Second, challenging popular

conceptions refers to analysis of the ways in which undocumented students are

perceived in the United States: as politically weak and socially undesirable. Finally,

critical action refers to one’s propensity to engage in change efforts. All participants

in this study had been involved in the focal state’s IRT movements. Students were

the prospective beneficiaries of the ultimately enacted policy; adults were advocates

662 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

of the policy vis-à-vis the state’s Legislative Latino Caucus. Both students and

adults identified two action strategies: (1) finding common ground with fellow

volunteer advocates, and (2) being introspective about one’s political involvement

to facilitate personal growth. Also indicative of critical action was the desire among

participants for sustained engagement. These are the factors that motivate

undocumented students and adult allies, through the lens of critical consciousness,

to engage in political activism.

Limitations

This research is context-bound and should not be generalized beyond the 12 IRT

advocates interviewed for this project. Additionally, the sample is entirely

comprised of individuals from Latin American and South American countries.

This disproportionality is neither reflective of all IRT beneficiaries, nor IRT-NOW’s

disbanded constituency. Instead, this disproportionality can, in part, be attributed to

the way in which adults were sampled, vis-à-vis the Latino Caucus. Similarly, the

fact that adults were sampled at all is a product of low interest among student

advocates. Students may not have been willing to participate in this research

because they may have been concerned about de-facto revealing their current or

former citizenship statuses (even though, per IRB approval, disclosure was not part

of sampling criteria). Individuals who did participate, however, were assured

confidentiality in two primary ways: (1) participants could initial their informed

consent and receipt of remuneration, instead of signing their full name, (2) no audio

or video recording of participants was allowed, per full IRB approval. This latter

protection (no audio or video recording) poses as an additional limitation, in that

interviewers were forced to take real-time notes on a laptop computer. Real-time

note-taking likely created a casualty in the nuances of certain responses.

Several additional imitations need to also be considered; for instance, there are,

within the present sample, numerous and diverse intersections within/among the

present sample of Hispanic/Latino/a students and adults, which may have impacted

their level of comfort to disclose their undocumented status, and their ability and

drive to engage in activism. Therefore, future studies need to consider the journeys

of undocumented students and their adult allies when examining critical

consciousness, as well as empowerment and student activism. Nevertheless, the

authors believe that this research demonstrates a formative attempt to contextualize

critical consciousness as it relates to motivating undocumented students and adult

allies to engage in political activism.

Implications

In an economic era where the financial and employment consequences of high

school dropout have never been higher, the decision to leave high school early will

have lasting implications for the well-being of undocumented immigrant youth and

the states in which they reside (Potochnick 2014). An implication for state

legislators and governors who oppose supporting DREAM and IRT-related policies

would be that they are, in fact, hindering our society from being composed of, to the

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 663

123

fullest extent, educated citizens. Withholding undocumented immigrants, which

make up about two million of the K-12 school population in the United States

(NILC 2010), limits the number of postsecondary educated professionals in our

society. Students who attend college will move into better paying jobs, pay more

taxes, and have more money to spend in the state they live in (NILC 2010). The

average college graduate earns over 60 percent more than the average high school

graduate throughout one’s professional life (NILC 2010). Higher earnings translate

directly to higher tax revenue and spending power (NILC 2010).

College presidents and boards of trustees can also attempt to bypass legislative

processes and take similar action at the institutional level. In the absence of state

IRT policy, this might involve college and university officials lowering the cost of

tuition for undocumented students that plan to attend their educational institutions

(Thangasamy and Horan 2016). Similarly, practitioners such as high school

guidance counselors should learn that, although undocumented immigrants are less

likely to pursue a postsecondary degree, this does not mean it is not an aspiration of

theirs. Since they are not eligible for most types of financial aid, undocumented

students will need extra assistance finding all the financial support they can get, such

as private or non-governmental scholarships (Perez 2014). High school guidance

counselors should be able to assist with connecting the undocumented population

within their schools to the appropriate agencies and resources that will be able to

assist them with these financial needs.

When a student reveals their undocumented status, social workers, school

guidance counselors, and child advocates alike should encourage them to

understand the status of their residency, advise them to contact a licensed

immigration attorney, and offer to help them access legal services from the

community (Kim and Dı́az 2013). College recruitment officers should learn if the

state in which their school is located in is one of the states that offers financial aid to

undocumented students, or is a state that has an inclusive IRT policy.

Finally, future research may wish to explore IRT advocacy with larger samples or

deductive methods. Doing so might enable scholars to discern the extent to which

political activism can function as a protective factor or an empowering process for

an otherwise oppressed population, such as undocumented students. Nevertheless,

the authors believe that this formative research has contextualized critical

consciousness with a less-studied population, while also attempting to answer the

question of what motivates undocumented students, through the lens of critical

consciousness, to engage in political activism, and what is the role of adult-allies?

Compliance with Ethical Standards

Conflict of interest The authors declare that they have no conflict of interest.

References

Aristotle. (1948 [350 B.C.E.]). The politics of Aristotle (P. L. P. Simpson, Trans.). Chapel Hill, NC: The

University of North Carolina Press.

664 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

Brod, M., Tesler, L. E., & Christensen, T. L. (2009). Qualitative research and content validity:

Developing best practices based on science and experience. Quality of Life Research, 18(9), 1263.

Bruno, A. (2010). Unauthorized Alien Students: Issues and’’ DREAM Act’’ Legislation. Cornell

University ILR School.

Bruno, A. (2013). Unauthorized aliens: Policy options for providing targeted immigration relief.

Washington, DC: Congressional Research Service.

Bruno, A. (2014). Unauthorized aliens in the United States: Policy discussion. Current Politics and

Economics of the United States, Canada and Mexico, 16(2), 1–24.

Camino, L., & Zeldin, S. (2002). From periphery to center: Pathways for youth civic engagement in the

day-to-day life of communities. Applied Developmental Science, 6(4), 213–220.

Campbell, C., & McLean, C. (2002). Ethnic identities, social capital and health inequalities: Factors

shaping African-Caribbean participation in local community networks in the UK. Social Science and

Medicine, 55(4), 643–657. doi:10.1016/s0277-9536(01)00193-9.

Carmen, S. A. S., Domı́nguez, M., Greene, A. C., Mendoza, E., Fine, M., Neville, H. A., et al. (2015).

Revisiting the collective in critical consciousness: Diverse sociopolitical wisdoms and ontological

healing in sociopolitical development. The Urban Review, 47(5), 824–846.

Christens, B. D., & Kirshner, B. (2011). Taking stock of youth organizing: An interdisciplinary

perspective. New Directions for Child and Adolescent Development, 134, 27–41. doi:10.1002/cd.

309.

Christens, B. D., Winn, L. T., & Duke, A. M. (2016). Empowerment and critical consciousness: A

conceptual cross-fertilization. Adolescent Research Review, 1(1), 15–27.

DeAngelo, L., Schuster, M. T., & Stebleton, M. J. (2016). California DREAMers: Activism, identity, and

empowerment among undocumented college students. Journal of Diversity in Higher Education,

9(3), 216.

Diemer, M. A., McWhirter, E. H., Ozer, E. J., & Rapa, L. J. (2015). Advances in the conceptualization

and measurement of critical consciousness. The Urban Review, 47(5), 809–823. doi:10.1007/

s11256-015-0336-7.

Diemer, M. A., & Rapa, L. J. (2016). Unraveling the complexity of critical consciousness, political

efficacy, and political action among marginalized adolescents. Child Development, 87(1), 221–238.

Diemer, M. A., Rapa, L. J., Voight, A. M., & McWhirter, E. H. (2016). Critical consciousness: A

developmental approach to addressing marginalization and oppression. Child Development

Perspectives, 10(4), 216–221.

Flanagan, C., & Levine, P. (2010). Civic engagement and the transition to adulthood. The future of

children, 20(1), 159–179.

Forenza, B., & Mendonca, C. (2016). Dream big: Exploring empowering processes of DREAM Act

advocacy in a focal state. Journal of Latinos and Education. doi:10.1080/15348431.2016.1240077.

Freire, P. (1968 [2014]). Pedagogy of the oppressed. New York, NY: Continuum.

Galindo, R. (2012). Undocumented & unafraid: The DREAM Act 5 and the public disclosure of

undocumented status as a political act. The Urban Review, 44(5), 589–611.

Ginwright, S., & James, T. (2002). From assets to agents of change: Social justice, organizing, and youth

development. New Directions for Student Leadership, 2002(96), 27–46.

Glaser, B. G. (1965). The constant comparative method of qualitative analysis. Social Problems, 12(4),

436–445.

Godfrey, E. B., & Wolf, S. (2016). Developing critical consciousness or justifying the system? A

qualitative analysis of attributions for poverty and wealth among low-income racial/ethnic minority

and immigrant women. Cultural Diversity and Ethnic Minority Psychology, 22(1), 93–103.

Gonzales, R. G. (2008). Left out but not shut down: Political activism and the undocumented student

movement. Northwestern Journal of Law and Social Policy, 3, 219–239.

Gonzales, R. G. (2011). Learning to be illegal undocumented youth and shifting legal contexts in the

transition to adulthood. American Sociological Review, 76(4), 602–619.

Gonzales, R. G., & Bautista-Chavez, A. M. (2014). Two years and counting: Assessing the growing

power of DACA. American Immigration Council Special Report.

Hipolito-Delgado, C. P., & Zion, S. (2015). Igniting the fire within marginalized youth: The role of

critical civic inquiry in fostering ethnic identity and civic self-efficacy. Urban Education. doi:10.

1177/0042085915574524.

Hsieh, H.-F., & Shannon, S. E. (2005). Three approaches to qualitative content analysis. Qualitative

Health Research, 15(9), 1277–1288.

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 665

123

Huber, L. P., & Malagon, M. C. (2007). Silenced struggles: The experiences of latina and latino

undocumented college students in California. Nevada Law Journal, 7(3), 841–861.

Kim, E., & Dı́az, J. (2013). Immigrant students and higher education: ASHE higher education report

38:6. New York: Wiley.

Kirshner, B. (2015). Youth activism in an era of education inequality. New York, NY: New York

University Press.

Klar, M., & Kasser, T. (2009). Some benefits of being an activist: Measuring activism and its role in

psychological well-being. Political Psychology, 30(5), 755–777.

Krogstad, J. M., Passel, J. S., & Cohn, D. (2016). 5 Facts about Illegal Immigration in the U.S. Retrieved

from http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2016/11/03/5-facts-about-illegal-immigration-in-the-

u-s/.

LaRossa, R. (2005). Grounded theory methods and qualitative family research. Journal of Marriage and

Family, 67(4), 837–857.

Lincoln, Y. S., & Guba, E. G. (1985). Naturalistic inquiry (Vol. 75): Sage.

Mahony, R. M. (2012). The dream act: We all benefit. Notre Dame JL Ethics & Pub. Pol’y, 26, 459.

Mangual Figueroa, A. (2017). Speech or silence: Undocumented students’ decisions to disclose or

disguise their citizenship status in school. American Educational Research Journal,

0002831217693937.

Martin, P. (2017). Trump and U.S. immigration policy. California Agriculture, 71(1), 15–17.

Martinez, M. L., Penaloza, P., & Valenzuela, C. (2012). Civic commitment in young activists: Emergent

processes in the development of personal and collective identity. Journal of Adolescence, 35(3),

474–484. doi:10.1016/j.adolescence.2011.11.006.

McCorkle, W. D., & Bailey, B. (2016). UN human rights violations here at home? The plight of

undocumented and DACA students in South Carolina, USA. Journal of International Social Studies,

6(1), 161–167.

Merriam, S. B., & Tisdell, E. J. (2015). Qualitative research: A guide to design and implementation. San

Francisco, CA: Wiley.

Morales, A., Herrera, S., & Murry, K. (2011). Navigating the waves of social and political capriciousness:

Inspiring perspectives from DREAM-eligible immigrant students. Journal of Hispanic Higher

Education, 10(3), 266–283.

Muñoz, S. M. (2013). ‘‘I just can’t stand being like this anymore’’: Dilemmas, stressors, and motivators

for undocumented Mexican women in higher education. Journal of Student Affairs Research and

Practice, 50(3), 233–249.

National Conference of State Legislatures. (2015). Undocumented student tuition: Overview. Retrieved

March 31, 2017, from http://www.ncsl.org/research/education/undocumented-student-tuition-

overview.aspx.

National Immigration Law Center (NILC). (2010). The DREAM Act: Correcting myths and

misperceptions. Retrieved from https://www.nilc.org/issues/immigration-reform-and-executive-

actions/dreamact/dreamcorrecting-myths-misperceptions/.

National Immigration Law Center (NILC). (2014). Basic facts about in-state tuition for undocumented

students. Los Angeles, CA: National Immigration Law Center.

Negrón-Gonzales, G. (2014). Undocumented, unafraid and unapologetic: Re-articulatory practices and

migrant youth ‘‘illegality’’. Latino Studies, 12(2), 259–278.

Nguyen, D. H., & Hoy, Z. R. M. (2014). Jim Crowing Plyler v. Doe: The resegregation of undocumented

students in American higher education through discriminatory state tuition and fee legislation. Clev.

St. L. Rev., 63, 355.

Passel, J. S., & Cohn, D. V. (2016). Child of unauthorized immigrants represent rising share of K-12

students. Washington, D.C.: Pew Research Center.

Patton, M. Q. (2002). Qualitative research and evaluation methods. New York, NY: Sage Publications.

Perez, Z. J. (2014). Removing barriers to higher education for undocumented students. Washington, DC:

Center for American Progress.

Pérez, W., Cortés, R. D., Ramos, K., & Coronado, H. (2010). ‘‘Cursed and blessed’’: Examining the

socioemotional and academic experiences of undocumented Latina and Latino college students. New

Directions for Student Services, 2010(131), 35–51.

Plyler v. Doe, No. No. 80-1538, 457 202 (Supreme Court 1982).

Potochnick, S. (2014). How states can reduce the dropout rate for undocumented immigrant youth: The

effect of in-state resident tuition policies. Social Science Research, 45, 18–32.

666 Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667

123

Rhoads, R. A. (1997). Interpreting identity politics: The educational challenge of contemporary student

activism. Journal of College Student Development, 38(5), 508.

Rhoads, R. A. (1998). Freedom’s web: Student activism in an age of cultural diversity. New Brunswick:

ERIC.

Stanton-Salazar, R. D. (2011). A social capital framework for the study of institutional agents and their

role in the empowerment of low-status students and youth. Youth & Society, 43(3), 1066–1109.

doi:10.1177/0044118x10382877.

Stanton-Salazar, R. D. (2016). Contributions of social capital theory and social network models in

advancing the connection between students’ school-based learning and community-based oppor-

tunities for pursuing interest-driven learning. Paper presented at the Building Youth Social Capital

through Connected Learning, University of California, Irvine.

Suarez-Orozco, C., Katsiaficas, D., Birchall, O., Alcantar, C. M., Hernandez, E., Garcia, Y., et al. (2015).

Undocumented undergraduates on college campuses: Understanding their challenges and assets and

what it takes to make an undocufriendly campus. Harvard Educational Review, 85(3), 427–463.

Teranishi, R., Suárez-Orozco, C., & Suárez-Orozco, M. (2014). In the shadow of the ivory tower:

Undocumented undergraduates and the liminal state of immigration reform: The Undocu Scholars

Project. Los Angeles, CA: University of California.

Thangasamy, A., & Horan, D. (2016). Lowering the cost barrier to higher education for undocumented

students: A promising university-level intervention. Journal of Latinos and Education, 15(2),

113–120.

Watts, R. J., Diemer, M. A., & Voight, A. M. (2011). Critical consciousness: Current status and future

directions. In C. A. Flanagan & B. D. Christens (Eds.), Youth civic development: Work at the

cutting edge. New Directions for Child and Adolescent Development, 134, 43–57.

Westheimer, J., & Kahne, J. (2004). Educating the ‘‘good’’ citizen: Political choices and pedagogical

goals. Political Science and Politics, 37(02), 241–247.

Zimmerman, A. M. (2011). A dream detained: Undocumented Latino youth and the DREAM movement.

NACLA Report on the Americas, 44(6), 14–17.

Urban Rev (2017) 49:648–667 667

123