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鈥淚 was 16, the age when American teenagers were supposed to get their licenses,鈥� he writes in 鈥淒ear America.鈥�

For identification, he took his high school I.D. card and, since he was a Filipino immigrant, his green card. But after examining the green card, the clerk abruptly told him it was fake. Vargas was sure the clerk was wrong and he returned home to ask his grandfather, Lolo, about the card.

鈥淲ithout addressing the question, he got up, swiped the card from my hand and uttered a sentence that changed the course of my life,鈥� Vargas writes.

His grandfather said to him in his native Tagalog: 鈥淒on鈥檛 show it (the card) to people. You are not supposed to be here.鈥�

Dear reader, stop here for a moment. Let what Lolo told his grandson sink in.

He is not supposed to be here. He doesn鈥檛 belong. He is an outlier.

It pained Lolo to tell his grandson that his card was fake and that Jose, who had migrated to California when he was 12, did not have legal papers. It devastated Vargas, who is now 37.

And for millions of other Americans like Vargas, the revelation of their true legal status has been devastating as well. It has placed limitations on their ability to work, to travel, to become fully integrated citizens in a country they call home. And for many of the millions, this country is the only country they know.

A former newspaper reporter with the Washington Post, Vargas emerged as one of this country鈥檚 most visible 鈥渦ndocumented鈥� Americans in 2011 when he penned his essay, 鈥淢y Life as an Undocumented Immigrant,鈥� in The New York Times Magazine.

Since then, Vargas, a journalist and documentary filmmaker, has traversed the country speaking truth to power about an immigration system that destroys families and about Americans living here without legal authorization. And as he has related his own story, Vargas has heard many other stories of hardship, courage and faith.

鈥淭he honest but the most rewarding experience is learning their stories, how heavy they are to carry,鈥� Vargas said in a recent phone interview as he drove from Oakland to Menlo Park, California, where he grew up with his maternal grandparents and other family members.

Vargas will participate on four panels at this year鈥檚 Festival of Books, March 2-3 at the University of 蜜柚直播. The of 鈥淒ear America, Notes of an Undocumented Citizen,鈥� writes about his experience and the shared burden of psychological weight that undocumented Americans carry with them as they navigate their lives.

He listens as they divulge secrets, their fears and uncertainties. 鈥淭he border is the language they have to talk about themselves 鈥� in apolitical ways,鈥� said Vargas.

Since its birth, this has consistently told others that they do not belong here. This country has continuously defined, in different ways, who is allowed to be in this country and who is not. Who is American and who is not, have been the perpetual questions.Still, Vargas said, 鈥淭his country can鈥檛 have an honest discussion about immigration.鈥�

Most discussions, however, are one-sided. They are dominated by powerful political () forces and other xenophobic forces ( 蜜柚直播 Channel) that from the get-go demonize undocumented Americans and insist that any conversation about them must begin with their expulsion. Additionally, the discussions are largely devoid of active participation by undocumented Americans.

鈥淲e have to remind people that we鈥檙e talking about someone else鈥檚 father, son, daughter,鈥� said Vargas, who has not seen his mother and younger sister since he boarded a plane in Manila bound for the United States. And he has yet to meet his younger brother.

These are real people. Undocumented Americans are not faceless, nameless caricatures or rapacious criminals lurking around the corner.

So let鈥檚 talk about the undocumented mothers and fathers in our midst who are raising their American children; the undocumented workers who sustain our economy and pay taxes and contribute to the depleting Social Security fund knowing that they cannot draw from it; the undocumented college students who will become educators, physicians, attorneys, civil-rights activists, social workers; the undocumented residents who fear the next time they come into contact with local police and are forced to prove their legal status.

Vargas鈥� book, while a short 232 pages, goes a long way in revealing the struggles of an undocumented American, having to lie to exist, living while looking over a shoulder for immigration agents.

And what the book also reveals is that living in this country as an undocumented American means that you belong here.