During her senior year of high school in 2018, Nataly Camacho and her sister visited the Get2College Center in Jackson, Miss., to meet with a financial-aid counselor.
Camacho recalls feeling hopeful, confident even, as she entered the facility. She dreamed of going to college after graduation, and she had the grades to be accepted at one of the state’s premier research universities. Now, all that stood in her way was money, and she was sure her family’s financial situation would help her qualify for federal assistance with tuition payments.
In the end, Camacho was partially correct. Her sister, who was born in Jackson, was able to fill out the Free Application for Federal Student Aid, better known as FAFSA, form that would unlock the critical government funding needed to allow her to attend a four-year college in the state.
Camacho, who emigrated to Mississippi with her parents at 2 years old, learned that she was not eligible for federal student aid because she was born in Oaxaca, Mexico.
“She could do it, but I couldn’t,” Camacho said about completing the FAFSA application. “It was moments like that that made me realize my status affects me more than I think it does.”
Though she admits feeling discouraged in the moment, Camacho has not let her immigration status keep her from realizing her professional goals. Six years after being denied federal tuition assistance, she spends her days advocating for undocumented and mixed-status families as an organizer at the Mississippi Immigrant Rights Alliance, a legal and civil-rights nonprofit based in Jackson. She also holds a paralegal degree from a local community college and hopes to return to school one day to continue her education.
Working at MIRA and learning from its staff has been transformative for Camacho, who sees herself in the immigrant families and children she fights for each day.
“I want to help people and families that were just like me,” she said. “I was once that child worried about immigration status, and it’s just something that I don’t think kids should have to worry about.”
Fighting for an Education
Though it would go on to dictate the extent of her education, Camacho spent her childhood in Mississippi only vaguely aware of her immigration status.
Raised in the town of Pelahatchie before relocating to the Jackson suburbs, Camacho attended the same schools as her sister and brothers, picking up English faster than any of them. She and her siblings became de-facto translators for their parents, who spoke only Spanish and the Oaxacan dialect, Mixtec.
It wasn’t until early high school, when her classmates started taking driver’s education courses, that Camacho began understanding the limits of her position. Mississippi restricts eligibility for driver’s licenses and learner’s permits, and Camacho was forced to watch from the sidelines as her classmates passed their driving tests and received the coveted documents.
“I think that’s when I realized that my immigration status (was) really affecting my life,” she said. “I was never worried about it, and then I just realized at that age that I couldn’t do everything that the kids I’m in class with could do.”
In high school, Camacho tried a new approach to solidify her status in the country she considered home. After a grueling application process, she secured temporary residence in the U.S. through the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, a federal initiative granting certain protections and opportunities to eligible young adults who came to the country as children.
Being a DACA recipient came with its own challenges. Though she received a social-security card and work authorization through the program, Camacho had to get a job soon after her 16th birthday, forcing her to split her time between school and work shifts. DACA also did not help her qualify for government assistance with college payments, as Camacho discovered during her visit to the Get2College center in Jackson.
“I didn’t know anything about the FAFSA thing,” Camacho recalled, noting that being shut out of federal student aid was a much greater blow than having to wait for a driver’s license. “But I also didn’t let that put me down or be the last of me.”
With a four-year college off the table, Camacho landed a scholarship to Holmes Community College in Goodman, Miss., where a budding interest in immigration law steered her toward its paralegal program. The program provided Camacho with a potential career path, giving her a taste of legal work and laying the groundwork for her current role at MIRA.
“I could basically do the work of a lawyer” as a paralegal, she explained. “That’s what I wanted to do, and (not going to law school) didn’t stop me.”
Finding a Calling
Camacho officially began working at MIRA in 2021, but the organization has been a steady presence in her life since infancy. Staff attorneys helped with Camacho’s paperwork when her family first arrived in Mississippi, and Camacho began attending the group’s education sessions and community events as a teenager.
“I’ve always had a very good relationship (with MIRA),” she said, adding that staff members would sometimes ask her to share her immigration story during events with other families.
Though she had no formal organizing experience prior to MIRA, Camacho took to her new role instantly. Helping other immigrant families navigate daily life in Mississippi—whether by interpreting for them at court hearings or assisting with applications for government benefits—has allowed her to draw from her own experiences and put her language and cultural background to use, she explained.
“As soon as I started doing some organizing work, I was like, ‘Yeah, this is it for me,’” she said. “I really want to help people and families that were just like me.”
Other MIRA staff members described Camacho as a natural organizer and community leader, highlighting her enthusiasm and curiosity and ability to connect with the families MIRA serves.
“She loves what she’s doing, and she’s always ready to learn and to dig more deeply into any issue she thinks is interesting,” said Luis Espinosa, MIRA’s lead organizer. “She’s doing an excellent job at making contact with different organizations and different people at all levels.”
Since she started at MIRA, Camacho’s responsibilities have expanded to include public policy research and advocacy. Working with colleagues and community members, she has mounted successful campaigns against local anti-immigration bills, pressuring state lawmakers to kill legislation that would further erode the rights of undocumented Mississippians. She has also taken charge of MIRA’s Civic Engagement Day, an annual opportunity for community members to learn about the legislative process and contribute to advocacy efforts.
Running Civic Engagement Day still feels surreal for Camacho, who remembers attending the event as a civilian growing up.
“I never in a million years thought that I’d be telling people what a bill is, let alone trying to teach people how to kill these bills,” Camacho said. “I didn’t know anything about the legislative process before I even started working here.”
Camacho believes MIRA’s mission has become even more critical since the new presidential administration assumed power. As the president and his allies ramp up their efforts against undocumented people and families, Camacho says she will continue to support and empower Mississippi immigrants and represent them in the Legislature.
“In times like this, people need a little bit of hope,” she said. “I just want to make sure that they know that their voices are heard and lifted up.”
Know a Mississippian you believe deserves a little public recognition? Nominate them for a potential Person of the Day article at mfp.md/pod.