He’s one of ‘los otros Dreamers’
Raised in the US, entrepreneur finds success in Mexico
MEXICO CITY — Six years ago Bernardino Hernandez boarded a plane to Mexico City with not much — his high school yearbook, a printer and his college copy of “Thomas More’s Magician,” a novel about creating a utopian community in 16th-century Mexico.
He had recently graduated from the University of California at Davis, but he felt limited by his lack of legal status in the United States. Hernandez was 21 and unsure whether he’d ever reach his potential in a country that he’d called home since hewas a toddler but that now wouldn’t allow him towork legally.
Before he departed, his disapproving father gave him $1,000 but warned him, “I won’t pay for a coyote to bring you back.” No need. Though he gave up on his American Dream in the U.S., he is nowliving it in Mexico.
Hernandez, 27, is at the helm of a translation company he launched last fall, leading a team of 15 linguists who offer services in nearly two dozen languages to multiple businesses.
He regularly travels to the U.S. — as a business executive.
“I’ve traveled to more places in the U.S. while living in Mexico than while I was living in the U.S. I’m glad I did leave,” he said. “I wanted to find my own way.”
Hernandez is one of more than 500,000 people ages 18 to 35 who have returned to Mexico since 2005 after spending significant time in the U.S., said Jill Anderson, an independent researcher and activist in Mexico City who has studied the phenomenon.
Although some were deported, others, like Hernandez, voluntarily returned. They are often called “los otros Dreamers,” or “the other Dreamers.”
Hernandez’s success story runs counter to the much-told narrative of hardship and challenges many so-called Dreamers — people brought to the U.S. at a young age and who stayed illegally— face upon returning to their place of birth after growing up American.
Only a small percentage excel, Anderson said, but those who do are increasingly involved in a tight network, taking leadership roles and helping other former Dreamers.
“I think it speaks to the amazing potential of this population,” said Anderson, who co-wrote a book, “Los Otros Dreamers,” on the subject. “They are definitely beating the odds, and I think it’s because they are determined to do it no matter where they land … despite the violence, despite the corruption and impunity that plagues many Mexican communities.”
Initially, it didn’t come easy for Hernandez, who mistakenly believed that his U.S. education would automatically give him a leg up in Mexico’s job market. As he struggled, he looked at his parents, still living in California, and saw what they accomplished as inspiration.
A free-falling economy in the mid-1990s and minimal education had prompted Emilio and Sira Hernandez to strike out for the United States. The couple leftO axaca, taking Hernandez, 2 at the time. They followed the harvests for farmwork until settling along California’s Central Coast.
Eventually they arrived at their American Dream, renting and buying enough land to start their own large vegetable farm.
Hernandez led a comfortable life in Santa Maria, excelled in school, lettered in high school cross-country. If he worked hard, teachersandhis parents told him, he could accomplish anything.
“I remember pledging allegiance to the American flag when I was a kid. I didn’t even know the Mexican national anthem,” he said. “For me, I was more American thanMexican.”
But slowly, Hernandez grewcynical. In high school, he soon discovered he didn’t qualify for most scholarships because of his legal status.
His parents could foot the bill for his undergraduate studies at UC Davis, where he earned a bachelor’s degree in international relations and Spanish, but he would have to pay for his master’s at the school’s Latin American studies program. He couldn’t because he couldn’t legallywork.
It was 2010 and Hernandez had no way to legalize his status. It would be two more years until the Obama administration announced an immigration program that gave young people like him work permits and a reprieve fromdeportation.
Hernandez’s feelings of disaffection with theU.S. are commonamong the Dreamer diaspora, Anderson said. “They realize that they did everything right, and they still couldn’t take advantage of that sort of mythical American Dream,” she said.
After Hernandez arrived inMexico City, he started to exploit his bilingual skills, approaching English-language schools to work as an instructor.
Helearnedhecouldmake more money on his own and eventually left, taking his clients with him. He saved up and scored a scholarship for a master’s program in modernlanguages and Latin Americanstudies at theUniversity of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada. After two years in school, he had the option to stay in Canada and become a resident there.
He declined, wanting to return to Mexico to take advantage of what he said was a burgeoning start-up scene.
His ability to seamlessly navigate bothwork cultures, paired with his university degrees, helped him land a job as a translation contractor at Johnson Controls, a Fortune 100 company that produces automobile parts
After only eight months, he worked his way up to management.
Amonth later, he flew for the first time to theU.S. for a business trip to Florida. The U.S. Customs and Border Protection agent at the airport did a double take when he looked at Hernandez’s profile on the computer.
“What are you here for?” the agent asked.
“Business,” Hernandez said and smiled.
He was taken to another area and questioned about where he had lived in the U.S. when he was in the country illegally, but he was eventually let go.
In November, he launched a translation startup called QuickTrans. Some of his linguists areDreamers too. Hernandez runs the outfit from his kitchen table at home. His UC Davis diploma hangs on a wall above.