Marian Fierro was no stranger to the road, but this drive was different. She knew as she made her way from San Diego back to her home in Mexicali, Mexico, her journey wouldn’t end when she parked in her driveway.

Shaky hands wiped the hot tears streaming down her face. Her fears were confirmed. Her youngest daughter, Ana Karen Salazar, was barely 2 years old and deaf. The doctors in San Diego diagnosed her after a series of specialized tests.

Fierro knew what she had to do.

“They told me my daughter could go to finish elementary school and then she could work in the maquiladora [factory] making $50 a week,” Fierro said. “That’s all they can offer the deaf.”

Fierro, a research specialist at the Arizona Respiratory Center in Tucson, is just one of the thousands of immigrants who move to the United States every year. Of those, Congress awards 85,000 H-1B Specialty Occupation Visas to those who have a higher education and skills in areas that are perceived as beneficial to the American community, according to an article by Jason Leow of the Wall Street Journal Asia.

As an occupational physician for 10 years, Fierro worked in the factories to prevent the spread of disease among the workers. She knew what the conditions were and that was not the fate she wanted for Ana Karen. After a long talk with her husband Arturo Salazar, a Mexicali pediatrician, Fierro decided she would move to the United States to find a better life for her daughter.

After five years of squirreling savings and researching schools, Fierro obtained a student visa to study English for one year at the University of Arizona. Her daughters, Ana Karen, then 7-years-old and Marian Salazar, 9, were to go with her under dependent visas. Arturo stayed in Mexicali to financially support the family.

“It was hard for (Marian). When we moved here, we moved because (Ana Karen) needed help and a good education,” Fierro said, her eyes watering at the thought. She sniffled slightly and swept her cheek with her hand, catching a tear before it fell down her face. “She was thinking, ‘Why me? I want to be with my dad. I want to be with my friends.’”

The three settled into an apartment in Tucson, a far cry from the swing set backyard and toy-stuffed house the girls knew as home. Fierro had little time to be homesick. She enrolled her daughters in school, obtained a special visa for a babysitter from Mexicali to live with them, and hit the books.

“Marian makes fun of me because of my pronunciation, the way I speak,” Fierro laughed. “But I tell people if you don’t understand me, that’s your problem.”

Student by day. Wife and mother always. That was Fierro’s new life. Every weekend she loaded the kids into the car and made the four hour and 300-mile drive back to Mexicali to see her husband. She’s stuck to that routine for eight years.

“It’s hard to make a decision to move here, live apart from your husband, then go to school with your English very (limited),” Fierro said. “It’s hard, but you just do it. When you are in that moment you’re going to figure out how to do it.”

When her student visa expired, Fierro made an appointment in Tijuana, Mexico, to apply for another student visa. Despite her years of medical school and 10-years experience as a practicing physician in Mexico, the government requires all foreign doctors to repeat their residency before they can be considered certified in the U.S.

“My daughters are teenagers. I cannot be at the hospital at night. I cannot be on call,” Fierro said. “I needed to decide. I can become a doctor here or be with my daughters and the first thing is, I’m a mom.”

After six hours of waiting for her name to be called and another several hours for her paperwork to be completed, Fierro left Tijuana with a second student visa. She spent the next three years obtaining her masters in public health at the UA and working in the research department. Her position researching decreased lung capacity in firefighters after September 11 earned her a tuition waiver and insurance, a small reward for a large feat.

With her degree completed, Fierro applied for a National Interest Waiver, or NIW. The NIW process allows foreign advanced degree professionals to bypass the labor certification process which is ordinarily required to obtain full citizenship, according VisaPro, an international immigration Web site. Another exhaustive trip to Tijuana granted her an NIW work visa and a job working in Yuma County studying the effects of pesticides in agricultural areas on families nearby.

Taking comfort in her daughters’ academic strides, Fierro worked diligently on her research and eventually earned her green card. She was finally a citizen.

Today Ana Karen, 15, and Marian, 17, are planning for their college futures and Fierro is working toward a third degree in dietary sciences.

“I came up with the idea to become a dietician because after four more years, my youngest daughter finishes high school and I’m planning to go back to Mexico,” Fierro said. “I’m pretty comfortable with what I have done, so I can do something different.”


Currently in a house in the Amphitheater school district, a district which Fierro carefully selected for its exceptional deaf program, the girls still make frequent trips to see their father in Mexicali. Now that Marian is old enough to drive, Fierro can study and work on homework assignments in the passenger seat as they make the long drive home.

“I feel like this is my normal life. Like everybody does what I do,” Fierro said. “When I start talking to someone about what I have done, they say, ‘Jesus!’”