Becoming a Mail-Order Groom
How Marriage is the New Immigration Visa
By Anonymous // Art by Adrian Avila and Fernando Amaro Jr.

I recently got married to a woman in Colombia, and am expecting a child with another woman in the US. But I'm not a cheater, I'm just trying to help someone out. Someone I know from Colombia needs to get into the US, and marrying a citizen was the fastest and easiest way for her. Some folks see moral or political problems with this, but I could care less. I was asked to do a family-friend a favor, and after considering her situation, I decided that it was the right thing to do.

Last month I was summoned on emergency to make a trip to my parents' native country, Colombia, to be married to a young woman named Latasha. She is the daughter of a good friend to my mother, and my assistance was needed in order to ensure her eventual passage to the United States. Latasha was – and is – desperate to come to the US so she could be with her mother, Carmela, who had become deathly ill after moving to the US. Carmela's condition has been getting worse with every passing day, and she even slipped into a coma. The severity of the situation hit me as soon as I first saw Latasha in Columbia. While talking about her mother, she just broke down and started crying. She sobbed, “ I can't do it anymore, everyone tells me to be strong because it's not their mother who's sick and dying, well I'm tired of being strong, I just need to be with my mother.” All I could do was hold her, tell her everything would be alright, and keep myself from shedding tears with her. Latasha is a hard working young woman raised by her mother's side. She was always joyful, insightful, and a pleasure to be around. She decided to stay behind when her family left for America so she could complete her degree in dentistry. At 24 years of age Latasha had been strong for years, I thought to myself, and deserves to be with the person she loves and needs most.

When I was notified that I would be flying back to Colombia for a week, to be married, I felt a joy for Latasha and her mother. I would have to take a week out from work and school, but it was worth it to help a family reunite.

I arrived on a Monday night, and was married on Tuesday morning. We arrived at the notary at 9:30 am. I had to wear my Uncle's suit, which hugged by body, and made me sweat in the cities tropical weather. My wife to be was wearing a beautiful prom dress. Her soft brown skin tone contrasted with the light blue shine of her dress, and her dark hair fell in curls onto her shoulders. She was smiling. We went upstairs to wait in a room full of tables and big windows that let the sun shine in. I was nervous, Latasha and I had to come across as if we were in love. Even though Latasha is a beautiful woman, I never viewed her in a romantic light, but always saw her as something like a younger sibling.

We finally were called into the judge's office. She was an attractive, middle-aged woman with a pleasant air about her. We sat while she looked over some mysterious papers. She called us to attention and began reciting legal marriage sanctions. She went on for about ten minutes, but everything she said could be summed up in that we would be together forever, I would have to take care of her, and she would have to obey me. I wasn't aware of it at the time, but I was not a very persuasive groom. When my family and I watched the video later, I kept scratching my forehead, raising my eyebrows, and looking away. The unofficial ceremony ended with my new wife and I reciting some Catholic vows handed to us by the judge. We hugged a friendly hug, and walked out. We shared kisses on the cheeks and big hugs for the camera, more for proof than anything else. But it was an honestly joyful occasion. When I got back I told everyone what I did.   They all would tease me, asking me things like, “So when are you going on your honeymoon?”

Now that we are married we will have to wait four to five months before she can come out here. Her mother came out of the coma, and is doing much better. But Latasha is still depressed, and four to five months is an eternity in her eyes. In the meantime, I am working and studying hard in preparation for fatherhood. My girlfriend was a little jealous around this whole marriage deal, so I playfully proposed to her as soon as I got back. She laughed and asked for a ring. We might go to Colombia in a few months so she can marry another friend of the family, to help him get papers. The difference is that she'll get paid several thousand dollars.