How one Mexican immigrant works to honor traditions across borders
Kevin is a typical 18-year-old high school teen who loves football, dancing and listening to regional Mexican music superstar Peso Pluma.
His immediate goal is graduating from high school in California, an important milestone since he left Mexico.
His family had faced crime and cartel-driven violence in his native Michoacán. Kevin's high school was forced to close for several months after frequent shootings and disappearances.
Normal life in his town was suspended.
No one dared to walk outside or gather at night. Kevin says he missed out on many of the freedoms most teenagers long for.
Groups of organized crime like the one that took control over Kevin's town often recruit young kids and teenagers to work for them, jeopardizing their already vulnerable futures.
First, a family member was murdered by the cartel controlling his town.
Fearing they'd be next on the hit list, Kevin and his family fled to the U.S. with nothing but a change of clothes.
After a 4-month-long journey to safety, a rare exemption to Title 42 allowed their entry into the U.S. legally. Two years after petitioning for asylum, a lot has changed.
Their case is still open, wounds are healing, and the idea of having a life in the U.S. has settled in.
But this life still hinges on a judge's decision of being granted asylum and the growing backlog of asylum petition cases, which means that migrants such as Kevin might not have a court date in years.
As he waits, Kevin wants to take a moment to celebrate his 18th birthday by bringing together Mexican traditions in a new place he now calls home.
Building a new identity has been a daily effort for Kevin, the eldest child, and his siblings, but he's thankful for the opportunity of a new life as he navigates a new language, school, friends and becoming an adult.
He's also able to help his mother to make ends meet by working on weekends deejaying at parties.
A quinceañera celebration is a popular coming-of-age milestone in most Latin cultures. It symbolizes leaving childhood behind, a rite of passage — girls becoming women.
Quinceañera parties are a grandiose celebration for family and friends. The girl is usually escorted by chambelanes, groomsmen with cadet-like costumes who partake in dancing a waltz, a high point of the celebration.
But for men, becoming an adult happens when they turn 18, and it is defined by becoming a protector and provider for their families.
For Kevin, becoming an adult has taken on a new meaning. "I wanted all my guests to see that I haven't distanced myself from there (Michoacán)," he said as family and friends gathered the next day to enjoy tacos de carnitas, an unofficial after-party for any quinceañera celebration.
This party, beyond being his rite of passage, felt bittersweet, in a moment in life where he was still clinging to his life back in Mexico; he planned a huge party and gathered as many Michoacanos he could invite to feel a resemblance of this past life, many of them also fleeing violence themselves.
Kevin's 18th birthday celebrations included a Catholic ceremony, traditional rehearsed dancing with his maids of honor, three changes of clothes, and even a horse for Kevin to ride, something he longed for, as it is the staple of celebrations in Mexico's ranching culture.
And everyone pitched in — his uncle prepared carnitas estilo Michoacán, his other uncle provided a live music band, the cake was a gift, and even the venue and the horse belonged to someone from his community.
In the U.S., he's now surrounded by the possibilities of a better future and dreams of going to college to study architecture, which would make him the first of his family to go to college.
California has historically received thousands of immigrants from Michoacán, like the astronaut José Hernández Moreno, but the most recent arrivals are people who have been forcibly displaced due to violence. In January, more than 150 people were murdered in the Mexican state.
The ones who can, flee that state. Many try to get to the U.S. That same month, Customs and Border Patrol processed about 66,000 Mexican migrants at the border.
Kevin and his family celebrate and honor their heritage, but their feet and dreams are in the U.S. now.
"I'm still working on [improving] my English, but my Math teacher told me that if I kept getting good grades, she could help me with an application to [attend] a university in San Francisco."
Toya Sarno Jordan and Stephania Corpi Arnaud are documentary photographers based in Mexico City. You can see more of Toya's work on her website, toyasarnojordan.com, or on Instagram at @toyasjordan. Stephania's work is available on her website, stephaniacorpi.com , or on Instagram at @s.corpi
