I Was an Undocumented Texas College Student. I’m Not Going Anywhere—and Neither Is Our Movement.

As a proud first-generation, undocumented graduate of the University of Texas at Austin, and a lifelong product of Texas public schools, I am outraged—but not surprised—by the latest cowardly attack on our immigrant community. 

The most recent attempt to gut the “Noriega Bill”—also known as the Texas Dream Act—a law that has opened college doors by providing in-state tuition for thousands of undocumented Texas residents over the past 24 years, is not just a political maneuver. It is a targeted act of cruelty—one meant to erase our contributions, crush our aspirations, and make us feel ashamed of our existence.

This isn’t new. Every legislative session since House Bill 1403 was passed in 2001, Texas Republicans have tried to repeal it. And, every time, undocumented students and allies have shown up in force—testifying late into the night, sharing how in-state tuition has changed lives, lifted up families, and strengthened entire communities. The 89th Legislative Session was no different. Students and graduates spoke their truths, urging lawmakers to preserve a policy that gave them hope and a chance at their dream professions. Even business leaders and Chambers of Commerce oppose repeal.

But because lawmakers lacked the political courage to force a floor vote at the Texas Capitol—Senate Bill 1798 died after passing out of committee—state leaders took a coward’s path. They kicked the issue up to the federal level, where the U.S. Department of Justice launched a lawsuit against the Noriega Bill (HB 1403) with which Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton swiftly agreed rather than defending his state’s law, hoping to do behind closed doors what they couldn’t accomplish in the sunlight.

Students and other immigrant rights activists protest at the University of Texas in February. (Shutterstock)

Let’s be clear: This was never about “protecting” college seats for U.S. citizens. The Noriega Bill simply gave undocumented Texans the same opportunity as documented Texans. It has always been about fear—about sending a chilling message to undocumented youth that they are not welcome, no matter how long they’ve lived here, how hard they’ve worked, or how much they’ve already given back.

I felt this hostility personally in April, when I testified before the Texas Senate Education Committee in opposition to SB 1798. As the bill’s author read it aloud, I felt the bitterness in every word. I’ve lived in Texas since 1992. I graduated from UT-Austin in 2005—one of the first undocumented students to do so—having paid in-state tuition thanks to the 2001 law. I remember graduating high school in 1998, unsure if all my honors and hard work would matter. When HB 1403 passed, I cried in my mother’s arms. It meant I could dream again.

Julieta Garibay after her naturalization ceremony in April 2018 (Courtesy/Julieta Garabay)

That policy allowed me to earn both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in nursing with honors. I co-founded United We Dream, now the largest immigrant youth-led network in the country. I’ve helped others navigate college and even citizenship. In 2018, I became a U.S. citizen and bought a home. In 2024, I became a mother. And I’ve never stopped advocating and organizing—because I know firsthand that this law didn’t just change my life. It transformed entire communities.

Texas immigrants have proven time and again that, when we’re given a chance, we invest right back into the state we call home. Former undocumented students are now nurses, teachers, engineers, and business owners. They are parents, taxpayers, and voters. They are your neighbors, your co-workers, your children’s counselors. Repealing the Noriega Bill isn’t only unjust—it will be economically and socially devastating for Texas.

We’ve been here before. But this time, it’s different. Today, the thousands who’ve benefited from in-state tuition are ready to fight back because we learned to organize, to speak up, to fight back. We know we are not alone. We know our rights. And we know our worth.

That’s what terrifies Governor Greg Abbott and his fellow Trump loyalists—not the presence of immigrants, but the power we’ve built. Instead of focusing on real problems like teacher pay, public education, or access to healthcare, they choose to scapegoat immigrants yet again. It’s shameful. It’s dangerous. And it’s beneath the dignity of this great state.

Protesters outside the Texas Capitol in 2017 (Sam DeGrave)

To the undocumented students who had their hearts set on college, who received this news like a punch to the gut: I am so sorry. Your pain is real. Your anger is valid. But please remember: You are not alone. You are not defined by politicians who see you only as a talking point. Your dreams are still yours. Your value is immeasurable.

Do not let this political cruelty dim your light. You were always worthy of joy, of education, of safety—not because of a law, but because of who you are. No policy, no border, no hateful rhetoric can take that away.

Texas made a wise investment over two decades ago when it passed HB 1403. That investment has paid off in the form of stronger communities, a better-educated workforce, and a richer civic life. Dismantling that progress would not only harm immigrants—it would harm Texas.

We are here to stay. Texas is our home. And we will continue to fight until its policies reflect that truth.

The post I Was an Undocumented Texas College Student. I’m Not Going Anywhere—and Neither Is Our Movement. appeared first on The Texas Observer.