Carlos Mejia lived in Mexico until he was 6. That’s when his father saved enough money to move the family to the United States.

Mejia, a first-generation graduate of Salt Lake Community College, has lived here most of his life. He received an associate degree in psychology before transferring to Utah Valley University. He’s now pursuing a business degree.

“Being a first gen, my biggest dream is to walk down the stage,” Mejia said. He dedicated his associate degree to his parents “because they honestly sacrificed so much.”

However, this dream has been threatened more than once. Mejia has legal status under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, established by the Obama administration in 2012 to protect thousands of young immigrants from deportation who were brought to the United States by their parents outside of the legal immigration system.

Former President Donald Trump sought to end the program.

“When I heard he wanted to take it away, I was going into spirals.” Mejia said. “Every day I lived with a fear that I was going to lose everything I had, and the idea of going back to Mexico and starting all over again honestly scared me.”

A Supreme Court ruling in 2020 has kept the program going, but it remains under threat. A federal judge in Texas on July 16 ruled that the program is illegal and ordered the Biden administration to stop granting new applications. That ruling is being appealed.

In response to the Texas decision, Salt Lake Community College President Denece Huftalin promised the college’s ongoing support for the young people known as Dreamers living in Utah.

“As Utah’s most diverse college, we want to reaffirm our ongoing support for all undocumented students,” Huftalin said.

SLCC’s Dream Center provides support for undocumented and mixed-status students. This support service specializes in individualized advising, outreach and scholarship aid for students. In the past academic year, the center aided more than 125 students and awarded more than $62,000 in scholarships.

Mejia works with Brenda Santoyo, the coordinator at the center. Santoyo is a Mexican American who stuck alongside her family when they faced deportation years ago.

“A lot of what I do now is for them, and because I couldn’t help them, I could help other people,” Santoyo said. “I feel like a lot of my background and a lot of what I do here is based off that one experience.”

Santoyo believes Huftalin’s statement shows a pledge by the college to stand by its students.

The recent legal fight — along with the others over the past decade — have been upsetting to the Dream Center’s staff and to students like Mejia.

“I’m honestly tired of the constant battle, where every year something or someone thinks it’s unfair or someone has a problem, but no one is offering a solution,” Mejia said. “If we pay taxes, go to school, and we’re being kind citizens, I don’t see the point of not giving us citizenship or at least provide a little bit of protection where we feel better.”

Santoyo believes anti-immigration sentiment has increased in recent years, driven in part by Congress’ failure to modernize immigration laws. DACA is often talked about as part of a future immigration bill, but the House and Senate have done little.

“It was always a temporary solution, and there still hasn’t been a solution found,” Santoyo said. “I think all DACA has done is really increase access, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s a small population that it’s been able to help compared to the millions and millions of people who are undocumented.”

The Dream Center staff will continue to support “DACAmented” and undocumented students. The office is located on the first floor of the SLCC West Valley Center.

Juan Rios wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune. 

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This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Juan Rios wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.

Nearly every Memorial Day weekend, the barren expanse of Utah’s west desert enjoys a small taste of tropical paradise.

Members of Utah’s Pacific Islander community head to the Iosepa Memorial in east Tooele County, where they celebrate their history and heritage. Sitting in the shadow of the Stansbury Mountains, this remote memorial consists of a cemetery and pavilion.

It also lies near the original site of Iosepa, a Native Hawaiian settlement at the turn of the last century.

“[The celebration is] an important identity-affirming experience for many Pacific Islanders,” said West Valley City Councilman Jake Fitisemanu. It allows them, he said, to “participate in a social gathering that honors traditions and history.”

Traditionally, the event takes place on Memorial Day weekend, a fitting date since the Iosepan celebration reflects the national holiday’s spirit of remembrance. It also comes during Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month.

When the event takes place, people enjoy traditional performances, prayer and food — including huli-huli chicken and poi, a Polynesian staple made from fermented taro root.

This year, though, the event has been postponed. In a statement, the Iosepa Historical Society announced the celebration — which had been scheduled for May 28 and 29 — will be postponed “due to the ongoing uncertainty of the COVID-19 pandemic.” No make-up date has been announced.

The historical society said the postponement doesn’t mean people can’t gather on their own. “We welcome you and your ‘ohana [family] to come and pay your respects,” the statement reads.

(Trent Nelson | Salt Lake Tribune file photo) Deborah Hoopiiaina decorates the grave of her uncle, Conie Hoopiiaina, on May 26, 2018, as Hawaiian descendants gather to clean the graves of their ancestors in Iosepa, a ghost town in Tooele County that was once a thriving settlement for Hawaiians who immigrated to Utah. The celebration usually happens over Memorial Day weekend. This year's celebration, set for May 28-29, 2022, has been postponed due to concerns over COVID-19; no rescheduled date has been announced.

Fighting for survival

In the 1850s, Joseph F. Smith, nephew of church founder Joseph Smith, served his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Hawaii, and local converts, eager to worship in the mecca of the Latter-day Saint faith, trickled into Salt Lake City some years later.

The city’s residents did not greet the transplants warmly. In her essay “Life at Iosepa, Utah’s Polynesian Colony,” historian Tracey Panek wrote that “racial prejudice contributed to tension between the Polynesians and the larger Salt Lake community.” One rumor claimed they were plagued by leprosy.

In 1889, a small group of Native Hawaiians and church officials chose to relocate the roughly 50 immigrants west of Salt Lake City to a ranch in the west desert, an arid and unforgiving landscape 75 miles away.

Sepa Faupula, a student and mentor at Salt Lake Community College, said their arrival must have been disheartening.

“I would feel like I was seen as unworthy,” Faupula said. “These people came over with this faith, only to be pushed aside.”

The Iosepans initially struggled to raise crops and to keep warm in winter, but eventually they found their footing. “Our people… have good relationships with the land,” Faupula said, referring to Hawaiians’ proclivity for agriculture, “so they were able to thrive.”

It didn’t happen immediately, though. The first winter was particularly harsh, Panek wrote, as “snow and icy gales forced everyone indoors, and crowded quarters led to an outbreak of influenza.” But the settlers grew accustomed to Utah’s climate, learning to prepare for the cold, and completing an irrigation system to allow for successful growing seasons. The development and sustained upkeep of the colony earned Iosepa the state’s “Clean Town” contest in 1915, as reported by The Salt Lake Tribune in August of that year.

In 1916, Hawaii’s first Latter-day Saint temple was constructed, and within a year Iosepa was abandoned, as Hawaiian residents were now able to worship in their homeland. Whether the Iosepans left by choice or at the urging of the church remains unclear.

The settlers’ legacy

Today, there are almost 40,000 Pacific Islanders living in Utah, the vast majority in Salt Lake and Utah counties, according to the Utah Department of Health. Most are affiliated with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, including 25 Samoan-speaking wards and more than 40 Tongan-speaking wards.

While some in the Pacific Islander community are aware of the role their forebears played in Utah history, this knowledge isn’t universal, Fitisemanu said.

“I think it’s generational,” he said. “My parents’ and grandparents’ generation[s] are more aware and more connected to the story and [the site].”

Awareness may not be the only generational divide.

“There’s been a resurgence of reclaiming our culture,” said Faupula, particularly among younger people, who, in today’s socio-political climate, are more apt to celebrate diversity, advocate for social progressivism, and take a less forgiving view of historical injustices.

Older generations might be more inclined to find inspiration in the Iosepans’ ability to overcome adversity, Faupula said. But “[younger people] feel a lot more resentment… [the Iosepans] shouldn’t have had to prove themselves,” she added, suggesting the establishment of a desert colony was an unfair obstacle for the Pacific Islander cohort to overcome in proving their worth to the Latter-day Saint congregation.

More information about the Iosepa Memorial, and how to contribute to its preservation, can be found at the Iosepa Historical Society’s website, iosepa.net.

Will Stamp wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. It is published as part of a collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.

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An old tire shop was transformed into a bookstore just three years ago on a busy corner street in Millcreek.

The large garage windows bring in light that pours over thousands of books. Rows of tall shelves are broken up by seating areas. Old church pews sit next to the fiction novels, surrounded by hardbound classics. In the religious studies section, two chairs face each other with a chessboard sitting on an end table, waiting to be played.

Marissa’s Books holds genres from art, science, the occult, and more. It stocks used and antique books, and sells new books online.

Just inside the entrance is a display of diverse queer literature, settled around a rainbow bull. The books cover multiple facets of LGBTQ+ topics. A book on transgender history, informative books on inclusive vocabulary, queer fiction and children’s books all sit side by side, waiting for someone to come sweep them away.

“We have a whole collection of banned books,” said Cindy Dumas, owner and founder of Marissa’s Books. “The trouble is that [the list of banned titles] keeps expanding.”

In August, Utah’s Alpine School District backed away from a plan to remove 52 books from classrooms and school libraries, according to PEN America, a nonprofit group that uses the advancements in literature and human rights to defend free expression. Many of the titles considered for remove have LGBTQ+ themes, including “This One Summer” by Mariko Tamaki and “All Boys Aren’t Blue” by George M. Johnson.

Other Utah school districts also saw book bans. The Davis School District removed 33 books from shelves last November, and officials there were reviewing another 32, according to the Standard-Examiner. The Washington County School District has removed 44 titles, as of December, the St. George News reported.

In all three cases, several of the books dealt with race and gender identity.

Censorship and free speech

The removal of books from school shelves has spurred community support from Salt Lake City independent bookstore owners.

“We all have a voice, and that voice can be powerful,” said Ken Sanders, longtime owner and namesake of Ken Sanders Rare Books, which specializes in rare, antique and used books. “And independent bookstores have historically been known for vigorously opposing censorship.”

Nationwide, PEN America found that in the second half of 2022, 1,477 individual books were banned in U.S. schools, affecting 874 unique titles. That’s up 28% from the first half of 2022.

A large percentage of the books targeted are about people of color and LGBTQ+ people, PEN America found. In the second half of 2022, 30% of the unique titles were about race, racism or featured people of color — and 26% had LGBTQ+ themes or characters.

Of the books that were targeted in the Alpine School District, PEN America reported, 21 of them — or 41% — had LGBTQ+ themes or characters.

The Utah school districts that have removed books are following a law passed by the Utah Legislature in 2022. HB374 prevents “certain sensitive instructional materials” from appearing in books in public schools. According to the law, when a parent raises opposition to a title, a district committee will inspect the book’s contents and make a decision about its removal.

Dumas, at Marissa’s Books, said barring such titles keeps young readers from ideas about the world and themselves.

“How can a person tell their story when their voice is taken away?” she said.

Anne Holman, co-owner of The King’s English Bookstore, which sells all new books, said that Utah historically hasn’t been a place where books are banned. She said the rise in book bans is the fault of a few very loud, fearful people.

“Free speech is paramount,” Holman said. “Books are a safe place.”

Booksellers at The King’s English want everyone to have ready access to diverse literature, Holman said. The bookstore has a new initiative, using a “book-mobile” to bring new books to children and adults who don’t have time or access to them, she said. Through this program, participants will receive a “golden ticket,” which can be used as currency to buy books offered in the mobile store.

Representation for youth

Kerrie Baughman, who has taught English at Highland High School for 30 years, said she worries books are being challenged based on politically-charged media perceptions and not because parents understand the stories. If parents are willing to read the books they want banned, there’s room for a conversation, she said. But if they haven’t read the books, she said, “stop already.”

“[Students] need the opportunity to find something that represents their values,” said Baughman. “Especially in public education.”

Baughman said that, as a cisgender and straight white woman, she cannot always understand or connect with students who don’t see themselves represented. Kids, she said, need to be shown through example what they can become. Taking away the limited representation that exists endangers that potential.

“I wish there were more positive role models that kids could turn to and see themselves,” Baughman said. “Not always as a victim or a problem person. Because the world abounds in those good people.”

Holman said children of every age also need spaces where they can be recognized, safe, and see others like themselves. Lack of representation, she said, can alter children’s self-views, causing division and feelings of isolation.

“When you have a skewed vision of who you are, then how can you aspire to be your best self?” Holman said.

Kaitlin Mahoney, owner and founder of queer-friendly Under the Umbrella bookstore, said that if children don’t have access to representation of themselves through literature, their identities are closed off to them.

“It just leads to further marginalization, and that’s devastating,” said Mahoney.

In a 2015 Gallup poll measuring the percentage of adults who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community in major cities in the United States, Salt Lake City was ranked seventh, at 4.7%.

Mahoney said communities need spaces that “validate and celebrate,” and that need is what made places like Under the Umbrella possible. The $56,000 initial inventory for the shop, she said, was purchased with money raised with IndieGogo, a crowd-funding app.

“From the very beginning, this has been a community effort. And right away queer people started coming here and have been coming back,” Mahoney said.

Mahoney offers a community gift card for teachers seeking to buy queer literature for their classrooms. Any customer can donate to this “card,” which will supplement educators’ purchases.

Access to information

Conversations about censorship in education, however, are far from new, according to the National Council of Teachers of English.

In 2000, the organization issued a joint statement with the International Reading Association, emphasizing that “all students in public school classrooms have the right to materials and educational experiences that promote open inquiry, critical thinking, diversity in thought and expression, and respect for others.”

Bookstore owners said they agree that information should be given in degrees. Sanders said booksellers “have long been bastions of free speech” and can combat such ignorance by simply making sure challenged and banned titles are available in their shops for people who want to find those books.

Children need access to the information that’s age-appropriate, he said, noting that kids in elementary, junior high, and high school all have different abilities to understand complicated topics.

Parents who use their personal prejudices to keep information from all children, Sanders said, are also helping independent community bookstores find new titles to stock. Not every challenged book is one Sanders may have known before, he said — so he uses the curiosity factor as a marketing tactic, with a large sign just inside his store that says “read banned books.”

“Whatever kind of censorship it is,” Sanders said, “we’ll continue to speak out, and they can’t stop us. They won’t stop us.”

When young people have access to the many ideas books present early in life, Holman said, they are able to better understand the world around them as they grow up and can make connections and put big ideas into context.

“If you give people information at an early age and you give it appropriately, it makes it so they can make better choices,” she said.

For this reason, Cindy Dumas said she won’t buy “altered” versions of banned books to sell at Marissa’s, because adapted stories compromise the integrity of what the authors are trying to say. She will, however, offer other, age-appropriate options alongside the banned books.

“Bookstores [aren’t] meant to be the parent,” she said. “We want to have all of it.”

Tyffton Bowman wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. It is published as part of a new collaborative including nonprofits Amplify Utah and The Salt Lake Tribune.

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We also request organizations include the following text either at the beginning or end of the story text :This story is jointly published by nonprofits Amplify Utah and [Your Media Organization's Name] to elevate diverse perspectives in local media through emerging journalism. Tyffton Bowman wrote this story as a journalism student at Salt Lake Community College. For more stories from Amplify Utah, visit amplifyutah.org/use-our-work.