I immigrated to the U.S. at the age of two with my older brother, who was six at the time and although I was too young to understand the socioeconomic conditions that drove us to cross that desert, I distinctly remember knowing at the age of two that we were risking our lives. Even after all of these years, I still vividly recall that feeling of vulnerability and fear. I remember needing to go pee and not being allowed to because we were hiding from border patrol. I started to cry because I couldn’t hold it in anymore and my brother with a terror stricken face wrapped his only sweater around me, hugging me and told me that I was okay. And I believed him.