Lorena Perez McGill

Advocacy: Immigration

By Teresa Kenney

In 2018, Lorena Perez McGill was the first Democrat in 12 years to run for state representative in Texas District 15—a cherry-red district in a cherry-red county in a cherry-red state. In the process, she was endorsed by the Houston Chronicle. Of her candidacy, the paper’s editorial board wrote, “She’s a first-time candidate, but boasts an impressive resume that includes time at the Baker Botts law firm and as in-house counsel for the Organization of American States,” and noted, “McGill’s campaign serves as a reminder that Texans do have an alternative to the pandering politics of fear and divisiveness that have become routine in Austin, from the top on down.”

McGill didn’t win that race, but she channeled the energy from her campaign into impressive advocacy efforts. Earlier this year, she, along with other partner organizations, founded an immigration legal clinic that meets monthly. She also continues to run her own law office, offering her immigration legal services to families on a low-bono basis, charging them well below standard rates—just enough to cover rent, mileage and paperwork. 

Throughout my conversation with McGill, she mentioned her mother, who was a lawyer and judge in the Dominican Republic, where McGill was born and raised. McGill remembers her mom as a firm but fair and compassionate judge, who advocated for the individuals who stood before her in the court, even after they were convicted. Her mother died in 1994 at the age of 52 when McGill was only 24 years old. But it’s clear that still today her mother informs everything she does. McGill shared her views on a number of topics—we’ve chosen a select few. 

On where her activism evolved from

I think you’re an activist from the moment you set foot on earth. From the time that you demand more time on the playground, whenever you’re trying to negotiate with your parents, and whenever you ask for…everything: more food on your plate, maybe not to eat your vegetables. Activism is basically just trying to negotiate throughout your life and standing by what you believe in. 

On success

I come from a poor family. My mom went through more schooling than everyone else in her family went through. That’s how she ended up being a judge and a lawyer in the Dominican Republic. But we were still in touch with our family members who didn’t have as much. So I always knew that the only way to succeed was to make sure that people were not left behind—people who needed to have their needs tended to and their voices heard. 

On her legal clinic

It is so collaborative. It’s a joint effort by organizations and volunteers, lawyers and non-lawyers. Our focus is to help victims of domestic violence and crimes in Montgomery County so that they can get legalized. Because what many people don’t know is that there’s a way for them to become legalized if they help the authorities.

I volunteer at Say Yes to Youth, and I’m a volunteer at the Montgomery County Women’s Center and what we see is that many times crimes go unreported because people are afraid. That’s why there is a federal law here that prompts them to report the crimes and protects them when they do so by giving them legal status. But a lot of people don’t know that, including some of our local authorities. 

On her mom

I grew up in a place where, usually, the ones who made it forgot about the ones who didn’t. My mom was never like that. My mom would try to help the ones who wanted to make it. My house was like this revolving door that always had space and place for one more.

My mom was a lawyer and a judge. What she tried to do as a judge was deliver justice, but then after she delivered justice, she tried to make sure that there was fairness as well….She said, “If there’s at least one person that I have helped today, I feel like I have made this a better world.” 

On lessons learned at the dinner table

I used to save the most delicious part of my meal for last, and there was this one time one of our uncles showed up unannounced for lunch. And I had this delicious drumstick staring at me that I saved for last and my mom took it from my plate to make him a plate. That taught me to share and to not wait to enjoy what’s before you now. 

On corruption

We see corruption in capitalism; we see corruption in socialism. Whatever the system is it’s bound to be bad when you take it from paper to action if there’s corruption involved. My mom would tell me it’s because we are human, and some humans tend to be corrupt. It’s something that we need to keep fighting, and we need to keep in check at all times.

On her mom asking for God to deliver a whack on the head when needed

She’s the one who I always look up to, and she’s the one that I always pray to when I’m embarking on something crazy. I am a believer. And I do believe that our saints are the ones who have gone to heaven before us and that we pray to talk with God—the One who sees everything. But sometimes He’s turned in so many directions. But I’m hopeful that my mom grabs the helm and says, “Look at my daughter. My daughter’s trying to do this. Can you please whack her on the head so that she doesn’t do whatever ‘it’ is?” 

On her plans for the future

My focus right now is on our immigration clinic. I want it to thrive. 

On what she listens to get the revolutionary synapses firing 

I was listening to it right now when I was in the car. “What does the bastard, orphan, son of a whore…” Do you know that song? From Hamilton, the musical written by Lin-Manuel Miranda. You need to listen to it. Oh my gosh, it is so fricking awesome. •