When a US Permanent Residency Rejection Meant Shopping

As I mentioned in earlier posts, my husband Picasso and I went to Ciudad Juárez for his US permanent residency appointment in May of 2006.

Due to the fact that we had a nincompoop for a lawyer, things went badly.

Things didn’t go badly because Picasso’s application was rejected. We expected that; the legal turn-down was necessary to kick in the next step of his legal polka with the US.

A lot of nasty surprises rose up and bit us in the ass during that trip. A more experienced lawyer would’ve warned us.

Nevertheless, while the rejection was expected, it still surprised me with its sting. You know the feeling, when you’re sure that you failed a test, but then are still a wee bit startled when you get the test back with a big F on top?

Yeah, that feeling.

And at the end of the day, I’m still a product of my upper-middle class upbringing in the US.

So I decided to soothe my feelings of failure by going shopping. I crossed one of the Bridges of the Americas into El Paso. Took a bus to the Cielo Vista Mall.

I brought Picasso an Ipod shuffle; the now old-school version that looks like a long white tooth.

I also saw a bed-in-a-bag deal. The comforter was deep blue with white flowers and swirls. The sheets matched in their flowery-ness.

When I got back to our hotel in Ciudad Juarez, my husband chuckled about the comforter set. The Ipod shuffle consolation prize made him smile. Still does.

Because Picasso and I have way different body temps, I use the blue flowery comforter at night. He uses a different blanket.Truth be told, my deep blue comforter’s a wee bit fickle; it looks a lot warmer than it really is.

And this is what hit my sleepy head when I woke up this morning:

The US immigration system is a lot like my deep blue comforter with the white swirls and flowers:

It can give you the illusion of hope and warmth.

It just depends on the day, kids. It just depends on the day.


2 thoughts on “When a US Permanent Residency Rejection Meant Shopping

  1. Four years ago. I can’t believe it. I still remember sitting on my bed crying into my cell phone while you consoled me, in the most fucked-up role reversal I’ve ever experienced. I wish I had a tenth of your strength.


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