'We Can Do Better To Support Immigrants'

Mexican chef Jesus "Chuy" Mendez-Fragoso talks about what illegal immigrants need to become documented and to contribute economically.

Jesus “Chuy” Mendez-Fragoso is the owner of multiple bar and restaurant concepts in Birmingham, Alabama, including The Louis Bar and Unos Tacos in the Pizitz Food Hall, Adios Bar, and upcoming Salud, plus he’s a franchise owner for Honest Coffee Roasters. As a 4-year-old undocumented Mexican immigrant, Chuy faced language barriers and struggled with his identity. In this edition of Voices in Food, he talks about how his illegal status limited his prospects in life and career ambitions, and offers advice on how the Latinx community can advance through education and entrepreneurship.

I was born in a small town in Tabasco, Mexico. Because there were no jobs there, my parents crossed the border into the United States. My dad worked as a cook and mom cleaned hotels. My parents were always working and I was home alone. Back in the early ’90s in Shelby County, Alabama, there were no ESL or Spanish teachers, or groups to help Latino kids navigate kindergarten and elementary school. I had no other family or friends in the area. And the lack of technology available to me didn’t allow me to reach anyone. My dad dropped me off at school and I had to figure out when it was time for class, how to ask to go to the restroom, tell when I was hungry, when school was over, etc. After first grade, I started getting the hang of school.

Sometimes, I would accompany my mom to the hotels and she would put on a VHS of “Jurassic Park” in the hotel room. I watched a lot of “Sesame Street,” “Barney” and “Power Rangers” so I could communicate with the other kids in school. Eventually, one or two teachers in third grade took some effort to teach me how to read and write. Otherwise, the school would need to hold me back and I wouldn’t be able to move to the next grade.

Growing up in the South was difficult because I was still a minority and everybody was more vocal there, too. Walking down the hallway, I was often called “brown boy, wet bag!” It was OK for them to say it, but deep down I felt they were hurtful words. But I couldn’t defend myself. I was scared of being ridiculed or beaten up — which happened a lot to kids who spoke up. I felt abused verbally and emotionally as my English was not well developed. Everyone would giggle, including the teachers. I wanted to fit in, so I would go along. I missed school a lot because I did not want to face those comments.

It wasn’t until middle school that I realized I was not just a non-native English speaker, I was also an illegal immigrant. When my counselors requested my Social Security number to help me prepare for college applications, my mom broke down and told me that I didn’t have it. I could not pursue my dream of becoming a doctor, or get a 9-to-5 job in corporate America. This broke me and I stopped showing interest in studies. I went with the flow through my teenage years with no vision of who I wanted to become.