Josefina (name changed to protect her identity) walks around the tables of the Mexican restaurant in South Phoenix. The clients’ loud chatter mixes with the mariachi beat pulsing from the jukebox. Notepad and pen in hand, she jots down orders from the mostly male costumers.

Thanks to the moderate amount of English she can speak, she understands some of the conversations. “Nice legs!” says one man to another.

As the smell of spicy Mexican food fills the air, Josefina worries about her future. The restaurant will close in a month because of declining sales. She ponders the possibility of finding a new job where the employer will accept her fake papers. She remembers how much easier life sometimes was back in Mexico, where she was a student and tango dancer.

Like most undocumented immigrants, Josefina came to the United States to make money. People she knew had come to Arizona to waitress or babysit for six months and earned enough money to pay their bills back home.

Two years ago, Josefina had seen an ad for an au pair in her hometown newspaper. It promised $150 per week for babysitting a 2-year-old girl from a wealthy Mexican family living in Phoenix. Tired of studying dance at the University of Sonora, Josefina decided to quit school. She cancelled the events her tango company had scheduled and applied for the job, planning to stay in the U.S. for at least six months.

According to Monica Garcia, secretary of the non-profit Immigrants Without Borders, the U.S. attracts people like Josefina who are searching for a better life. “You work daily from morning to night, but it’s easier to acquire [material] things.”

Even skilled professionals have to take menial jobs. “It’s a pity that doctors and nurses can’t do their jobs here because they either don’t speak English and/or have the necessary documents,” Garcia says. “They end up working in [people’s] yards.”

To Josefina’s surprise, the Phoenix family didn’t just want a nanny. They wanted a maid. Despite having her own bedroom with a TV in a beautiful big house, she quit after two weeks. “Two months before that I was the art director of a dance company,” Josefina says. “And then I ended as a chacha [cleaning lady]? Well not!”

The dream of jobs and better wages

Crossing the border was easy. Josefina showed her Mexican passport, U.S tourist visa and extra documentation, such as salary receipts and electricity bills. When visiting the U.S., Mexicans must show proof that their intention is not to immigrate. According to the Pew Hispanic Center, 45 percent of the undocumented population in the U.S. entered legally and overstayed their visas. In 2006 the estimated number of illegal immigrants ranged from 11.5 million to 12 million.

Overstayers find ways to get jobs. For $70, Josefina bought a fake Social Security number and a permanent resident card. She landed a job in the Mexican restaurant, where she earned up to $6 per hour plus tips. She worked six days a week from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.—and sometimes a few extra hours.

For Latin Americans, one of the biggest reasons to immigrate illegally is the lack of employment at home. In Mexico, the homeland of most undocumented people living in the U.S., several economic depressions over the past 50 years created inflation and high unemployment. After the 1994 depression, the Mexican peso dropped from $3 per U.S. dollar to $11 or $12 pesos per U.S. dollar. This parity has remained stable for the past decade.

For those who manage to find and keep a job back home in Mexico, the minimum wage can barely sustain them. According to the SAT (Service of Tribute Administration) and Comisión Nacional de los Salarios Mínimos (National Commission of Minimum Wages), the least a worker can earn per day in Mexico ranges from $4.35 to $4.63, depending on the region.

“Every one of us that left their countries did it because we weren’t happy with the situation we lived in,” says Elias Bermudez, a former illegal immigrant who’s now the director of Immigrants Without Borders. “And not until we’re able to return in different circumstances and situation, we won’t want to go back. We’re better here.”

The dream vanishes

The temptation of a higher salary in the U.S. makes the risks seem worthwhile. In Mexico, Josefina earned the equivalent of $73 per week as a secretary and $545 per event where her tango company performed. The $545 was divided among the five members of the troupe. “Imagine!” she says. “A weekly salary as a babysitter that doubled what I made as a secretary was motivation enough for me.”

Back home, Josefina lived in her parents’ house and shared expenses with them. After she moved to Phoenix, her 64-year-old mother lost her job at city hall. Her father owns an electronic repair shop and installs giant screens in baseball stadiums, yet he barely made enough to pay the bills.

Josefina sent between $150 and $200 home each month, which enabled her parents to pay their mortgage and buy groceries. Josefina had little money left for herself, yet looking for a second job wasn’t easy.

“Human capital is lost in a double way because these undocumented workers can’t reach their highest potential or earnings according to their capacities, and they can’t help their home countries because of these limitations,” says Bermudez. In addition, illegal workers are subject to fraud and mistreatment.

The dream of extra money has now vanished from Josefina’s mind. The $1,000 to $1,200 per month she earns at the restaurant is barely enough to support her, so saving or shopping for fancy clothes isn’t an option. She splits the groceries, rent and utilities in her Phoenix apartment with her boyfriend, also an undocumented worker. That adds up to $525 per month. The rest goes to phone bills, meals and transportation—plus what she sends back home.

Josefina and her boyfriend live in a modest one-bedroom apartment near the Latino neighborhoods of East Phoenix. Their living room has a TV and small dining set. The couple sleeps on a queen-size mattress, a gift from a friend.

Josefina likes the apartment but is terrified of her neighbors. “The location is good because the bus stop is in front of the apartments, but at night, strange men knock on the door.”

The possibility of finding the American Dream

Josefina enrolled at a local community college to improve her English. A scholarship pays the $743.60 tuition for her three courses and books. If she earns less than a B, she loses her scholarship. “If I have to return because things don’t work, I want to return with English and a technical career at least,” she says.

Josefina has a better chance of paying her family’s debts, saving money and learning English if she stays here. “If I have to return because things do not work well, at least I want to return with English and a technical career,” she says.

The worst thing that could happen is being deported and losing her tourist visa. But the possibility of finding her piece of the American Dream outweighs the risks. She can keep working illegally until an employer sponsors her work visa or she finds an American to marry.

The first option is more difficult than the latter. The cost of sponsoring work visas is getting higher, and employers have to assure employment for five years.

Even though money is one of the main reasons that people emigrate to the U.S., it’s not the only one. “People don’t migrate for purely economic or rational decisions based on cost-benefit analyses,” says Dr. Cecilia Menjivar, a sociology professor at Arizona State University. “[They do it] for a multitude of reasons, including social, cultural and sometimes very personal. The economic aspect is only one in many other factors that can act on other factors.”

Josefina plans to continue as an overstayer for as long as possible. She still dreams of saving some dollars for herself or, even better, becoming a legal resident.

Regardless of her financial struggle and fear of being caught, Josefina likes the freedom she doesn’t enjoy back in her conservative country. “Here, nobody messes with you,” she says. “I love my country, but I still feel that I can lose a huge opportunity that just might appear out of nowhere if I go back.”

Reach the reporter at lotchrena@hotmail.com.

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The Cronkite Zine showcases the coursework of individual students at the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication, Arizona State University.

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