Irma Márquez Trapero calls herself a proud “Mexisotan,” a term combining her Mexican heritage and Minnesotan background.
Márquez Trapero grew up in St. James, a small city in southwest Minnesota where she was surrounded by friends. She felt safe in the tight-knit community — kids left their bikes outside unattended without a second thought. But she carried a secret that weighed on her as a source of shame and anxiety.
Her family had traveled from Culiacán, Mexico, to the United States, on tourist visas when she was nine so her siblings could learn English, and so her parents could earn a stable income. Their plan was to save money and eventually return to their hometown. But when her parents divorced when she was about 12, Márquez Trapero’s mother decided they would stay for job opportunities in the United States.
Her family overstayed their tourist visas and became undocumented immigrants. She started noticing that they didn’t have “these nine numbers” — social security numbers. She learned “not to talk too much” about her immigration status.
“I remember when I was younger, and when I was undocumented, that I wrestled a lot with it because it felt like this country didn’t want me,” Márquez Trapero told Sahan Journal. “No matter what I did, no matter how much I contributed, I felt that it almost felt wrong to say that I was an American.”
She watched as friends got their drivers’ licenses, voted and applied for opportunities that required a social security number.
Oftentimes, Márquez Trapero, 35, of St. Paul, had to make up a story about why she couldn’t do those things. She added to the story through the years. She was cautious about bringing attention to herself, because she worried about revealing her secret and getting herself and her family in trouble.
“It was ultimately really something that I think back in the day, you couldn’t be that public about – actually, I think it’s similar to back in the day now,” she said. “Now, I know, we undocumented kids are still facing the same things.”
Márquez Trapero started to feel more comfortable opening up about her undocumented status in college after realizing that her parents immigrated to the United States to improve their lives. She slowly began accepting that part of her identity.
“Now, I’m really proud to say — even without the paper [citizenship certificate] — that I am Mexican American, that I am Mexisotan,” she said. ”You cannot take that away from me.”
She applied for the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program when it opened in 2012, and had to re-apply every two years to protect herself from deportation and to maintain her ability to work legally in the United States. Then she obtained a U-visa, a 4-year temporary immigration status for victims of certain crimes who help law enforcement. She eventually secured a green card, and began her naturalization process five years later.
Márquez Trapero said she attended her first naturalization ceremony in 2019 as an interpreter for her 80-year-old grandmother, hoping to attend her own ceremony someday.
‘Making it official’
Becoming a citizen usually takes years, and is fraught with new obstacles under President Donald Trump’s administration. Federal officers are encouraged to speak with applicants’ neighbors and employers to check for “good moral character.” Naturalization appointments were abruptly cancelled last fall without explanation and just reopened in late March.
Federal officers were also instructed last fall to ask up to 20 civics test questions instead of 10, and applicants must answer 12 questions correctly instead of six to pass.
Márquez Trapero said she always felt “very Minnesotan” and “very Mexican American” growing up. Her decision to apply for U.S. citizenship was inspired by “ultimately making it official what I had always felt in my heart.”
She passed her civics test on Sept. 26, 2025, and U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) scheduled her naturalization ceremony for Oct. 24 that year.
When Márquez Trapero found out in early October that the ceremony was cancelled, she started “freaking out.” Had she done something wrong, she thought? Had federal officials flagged her application for further investigation?
They called off an American-themed party her friend had planned.
“I was scared for my family — scared for myself — and having this feeling of being so close” to obtaining citizenship, Márquez Trapero said of her reaction at the time. “As an immigrant, you always hear, ‘Do what you got to do,’and here I am — we are doing all the things that are right, passing and studying for this citizenship test — and being so close and still feel like it is not enough.”
Her fear and anxiety worsened just a few months later when Operation Metro Surge launched in December, the largest immigration enforcement operation in U.S. history.
Márquez Trapero stopped visiting her mother in St. James in December when federal agents began flooding Minnesota, fearful that they could be targeted. She went to see her mother for the first time a few weeks ago as the surge winded down. The operation detained thousands of people, including citizens, and caused widespread fear as federal agents broke into homes, racially profiled community members and shot three Minnesotans, killing two of them.
“It has become dangerous almost to be an immigrant, so that part has been harder to live through. The fact that it happened in our own backyard was — I think I went through a lot of emotions,” Márquez Trapero said, tearing up.
‘We’re all part of this community’
Márquez Trapero found out in early April that her naturalization ceremony from October had been rescheduled for about a week out on Friday, April 17. At first, she was skeptical. She asked her attorney to see the actual letter from USCIS to make sure it was official.
Márquez Trapero’s fiancé, Brian Shea, couldn’t attend the ceremony on such short notice because of a work trip to Poland.
“I’m just extremely proud of her for sticking with it,” Shea told Sahan Journal. “Even as these obstacles have been put up in her way, she’s continued to keep a positive mindset and contribute to the community in all the ways that she could.”
Márquez Trapero officially ended a chapter of her life last Friday when she joined 100 immigrants from more than 20 countries at the federal courthouse in downtown Minneapolis in a naturalization ceremony. She recited an oath and pledged allegiance to the United States, becoming a citizen after nearly three decades of living in limbo.
Jessica Martinez, one of her childhood friends, attended the naturalization ceremony.
“Irma is one of the most productive, passionate, purposeful people I’ve ever met, and not being a citizen kept her from reaching that highest potential, but it never stopped her from taking action,” she said.
Márquez Trapero carried a small American flag and a folder with her citizenship certificate at the ceremony.
“I’m just no longer skeptical. I’m just very joyous and happy and blessed and excited,” she said afterwards. “I think it’s about remembering we’re all part of this community and we have the right to vote and make our voices heard.”
@sahanjournal The state gained 100 new U.S. citizens on Friday at two ceremonies in federal court after a period during Operation Metro Surge when many naturalization appointments and ceremonies were canceled at the last minute. Video by Dymanh Chhoun #Minneapolis #NaturalizedUSCitizen #immigrants #citizenship
♬ original sound – Sahan Journal
