Robert Barker/University Photography

Attendee holds a special Soup and Hope cup.

A Cornell graduate -- let's call her Kim -- gave the March 29 Soup and Hope Talk but needs to remain anonymous. She is an undocumented Chinese immigrant who expects permanent U.S. residency within weeks.

She shared her story with an audience of about 80 at Sage Chapel out of a desire to "put a face" on one of the some 700,000 undocumented students who have spent most of their lives in the United States absorbing American culture and values, but living in dread of discovery and deportation.

Like many other students, Kim had hoped that the DREAM (Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors) Act would become law and, with the unwavering support of her parents, pursued the education that would have met one of its major requirements.

The DREAM Act, which was pioneered in 2001 and reintroduced in 2011, is targeted to youth who entered the United States with undocumented parents from such countries as Mexico, China, Korea or Russia. It would offer undocumented high school graduates permanent residence should they enlist in the U.S. armed forces or attend college. "Though different, all DREAMers share a common legacy of strength and endurance," said Kim. "Through their perseverance during hardships, they also become symbols of hope."

Kim's story began with her grandparents -- her grandfather was a poor fisherman in Communist China. They only ate meat on the Chinese New Year, when each child was given a pair of handmade cloth shoes and an outfit that were to last for a year. Her mother, however, had to drop out by sixth grade to help feed the family.

Her father's early life was on a rice farm. His father had had a small business in Singapore before Mao Zedong came to power, and when he returned to China in the 1950s, he was accused of being a capitalist. As an example to others, officials took Kim's grandfather from village to village, where crowds "hurled insults and stones at his head." Her father dropped out of school after fifth grade, also to help feed the family.

Determined to escape rural China, her father swam to Hong Kong -- a 7-hour feat -- only to be discovered and sent back to China. The second time he succeeded and settled in Hong Kong, married Kim's mother and had two children. They entered the United States on a tourist visa in 1992, when Kim was three years old, because they had heard of educational opportunities here.

The first two years were the hardest, Kim said, before her parents had jobs or knew any English and they lived in a one-bedroom basement. "For the most part, I played with my one doll and my brother's toy trucks," she said.

She gradually learned what it meant to be undocumented. "We were raised here, learned the language and absorbed the culture," she said. But, "we are not allowed to hold a driver's license, travel, vote, hold a decent-paying consistent job, receive scholarships or take loans." Unable to return to China, they learned of their grandparents' deaths long-distance.

Kim worked hard and went to Hunter College High School for intellectually gifted students. Her father worked 12-hour days to afford her Cornell education.

"When I look back at my family's past, I am strengthened by how far we have come and how much further we will go. My family made so many sacrifices through the years, but we also experienced much joy as well," said Kim, who married a few months ago and whose brother is now in a master's program at Columbia.

Kim closed, with a reading from Jeremiah 29:11: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."