Cristina’s Immigration Story and Why Mana Stands with Immigrants
The Cost of Starting Over
In the past two weeks, Los Angeles has seen a wave of ICE raids across our city, along with federal deployment of the National Guard and Marines. For many, these events feel like headlines. But for me, they reopened something I’ve lived with my whole life: the fear, the silence, and the unseen weight of growing up undocumented in America.
That’s right. As your financial advisor, many of you know me intimately. But my immigration story, before I became a US citizen, is one few people have ever heard.
One of my final memories of growing up in the Philippines was the sharp sound of bullets flying over my head. I was 6. My little sister and I hid under a blanket in the backseat of a car as gunfire ripped through the sky. My parents sacrificed everything to get us away from the failed military coup of 1989.
Soon after, my mom took my sister and me to the United States, leaving behind our entire life, family, and identity. My father and three older siblings joined us later, and for a brief moment, we were a family again.
Then my father lost his job at the medical practice he was working for (he was being paid under the table) and, fearing deportation, left the country. I wouldn’t see him again for twelve years. My mom, overwhelmed and alone, fell back into alcoholism. There was a long period where we lived in our van, rotating through visits at the Catholic Charities pantries for meals.
We were undocumented, fractured, and constantly trying to survive.
The Moment I Felt Seen
We landed in Glendale, CA and eventually moved to the Bay Area for more opportunity and community. I was the new girl in school, overweight, quiet, and hurting.
In fifth grade, something changed. A teacher cast me as Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. For months, I poured myself into every line. When the curtain dropped on opening night and I heard the applause, I felt it for the first time.
At the end of that year, my teacher gave me the Presidential Achievement Award. No new student had ever won it. I think she saw in me what I didn’t yet know how to name - grit, yes, but also potential. Someone trying desperately to be seen.
Fear Lived in the Background of Everything
After my father left, fear filled the vacuum. My mom used the threat of deportation as a way to control us. I lived with the constant sense that if I misstepped, she might report me.
Being undocumented meant I always felt different. People often say, “I’d never guess you weren’t born here, you don’t even have an accent.” But that’s because my sister and I worked hard to sound as American as possible. We erased the Tagalog we once knew. We did whatever it took to blend in.
When Belonging Meant Outperforming
My mom, a trained chef, worked off-hours in kitchens to get paid under the table. She stitched together small jobs to survive. My sister and I spent a lot of time alone, so I turned to school as my anchor.
I knew I couldn’t get a “normal job,” but I wanted to work. I dreamed of waiting tables or scooping ice cream. Instead, I nervously admitted my status to the head of our school’s water sports program. He offered me a lifeguarding job, off the books. That summer, I worked 12-hour days, coaching, lifeguarding, and playing water polo.
It was exhausting and it was exhilarating. It was my first taste of entrepreneurship. That early window into hustle would shape my entire career from sales, to leadership, to launching Mana.
Denied at the Border of Opportunity
In high school, I started craving connection to my roots. I wanted to learn Spanish and get closer to my father’s Venezuelan culture. My school offered immersive trips to Latin America, but I couldn’t leave the country.
That was one of many moments where I felt the quiet pain of being left out, unable to explain why.
We Build More Than We Take
I’ve spent most of my life chasing stability in a country that wasn’t designed for people like me to succeed. For many undocumented immigrants, the path to belonging isn’t just emotional, it’s economic. We work. We contribute. We build.
And yet, we’re often excluded from the conversation about who drives this country forward.
Immigrants contribute over $2 trillion to the U.S. economy each year.
Undocumented immigrants alone pay more than $8.5 billion in state and local taxes in California alone.
Legalizing undocumented immigrants could raise GDP by $1.2 trillion over ten years.
And immigrants start businesses at nearly twice the rate of native-born Americans.
At Mana, we see it every day. Clients whose parents came here with nothing and built wealth from scratch. One client’s mother, an immigrant from South Africa, started in hospitals and long-term care. She eventually launched her own company and is one of the most financially successful people I know. That’s what immigrant resilience looks like.
Why I’m Telling This Story Now
The ICE raids. The military presence in the neighborhoods of our city. It all brings something painful to the surface. For some, this is just policy. For me, it’s my life.
If you’re looking for a way to support immigrant rights, please check out CHIRLA, the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights. They’re doing extraordinary work to fight for dignity, access, and legal protection for families like mine.
Why This Matters to Mana
At Mana, we believe money is deeply personal. It reflects the paths we’ve taken, the sacrifices we’ve made, and the futures we’re building. My story is just one of many.
We have to remember who these policies affect and why we must keep building a country where everyone, regardless of how they got here, has the chance to stay, to contribute, and to belong.
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Stephanie Bucko and Cristina Livadary are fee-only financial planners based in Los Angeles, California. Stephanie is the Chief Investment Officer and Cristina is the Chief Executive Officer at Mana Financial Life Design (FLD). Mana FLD provides comprehensive financial planning and investment management services to help clients grow and protect their wealth throughout life’s journey. Mana FLD specializes in advising ambitious professionals who seek financial knowledge and want to implement creative budgeting, savings, proactive planning and powerful investment strategies. As fee-only fiduciaries and independent financial advisors, Stephanie and Cristina never receive commission of any kind. Stephanie and Cristina are legally bound by their certifications to provide unbiased and trustworthy financial advice.