In her latest book, We Were Illegal, Jessica Goudeau delves into a compelling exploration of her family’s history, sparked by the research and experiences from her previous work, After the Last Border. As Goudeau recounts, the journey began with a personal reflection on her own family’s migration story and evolved into an intricate narrative that examines broader historical themes. Here, she shares insights into the inspiration behind her new book, the process of transforming genealogical research into a compelling narrative, and how her background in journalism and activism influences her work.

Tell us about what inspired your latest book We Were Illegal.

My first book, After the Last Border, came out in 2020—it was about two former refugees, one from Myanmar and one from Syria, and the history of refugee resettlement in the US. While I was working on that, I was also reporting on immigration as a freelance journalist, and I began to wonder about the history of my own family’s journey to the United States. When the pandemic lockdown hit, my first book launch was pushed back by three months, and I suddenly had some extra time. Expanding on some research I’d done for an article for Teen Vogue, I found a wild story about my great-uncle, a Texas Ranger, that ended up being the basis for We Were Illegal—and the story grew out from there!

What advice would you give to nonfiction authors using their own genealogy as a starting point for a book?

I think the advice I have for anyone writing a personal story is always the same: there should be something about your story that feels wider and more relevant than just “I lived through this thing and it happened to me.” In my case, I realized early on that I had relatives who lived through all of the tumultuous times in US and Texas history that I wanted to dive into; the personal connection gave me a way in to the wider story I wanted to tell, but the book is ultimately asking deeper questions about how we got here as a nation, whether we’ve been here before, and how we managed complex times in history. I think nonfiction writers with a personal story need to always keep an eye on the larger stakes so that readers can walk away thinking about how to apply what they’ve read in a book to their own lives.

Where did your research for this book begin?

I began on Ancestry.com, and treated that like I might treat Wikipedia—a great place to begin, but also a limited, often tricky resource. I was lucky enough early on to connect with some extraordinary family genealogists who had done this work for years, and who had a lot of insight. As I honed my story, I interviewed a number of people who had been researching specific family lines, and then added to their work with my own in-depth historical and archival research. But I’ll always be grateful to Ancestry as my starting point!

What was the process of taking what you discovered and turning it into a story?

That’s always the hardest part, and it took me a while for this book! I discovered more than twenty stories of ancestors I was interested in writing about, and many, many more dead ends. Ultimately, I found the stories of six relatives whose lives I couldn’t stop thinking about, and who I thought showed us something critical about our own time period. I focused on the narrative arcs for their stories, so that each one feels complete (or at least, as if we arrive at an ending point). But I also developed a narrative arc to the book that involves my own process of learning about my family—my insights and thoughts as I piece these stories together deepened my understanding about my own family’s cultural myths and the worldviews that drove us.

With each story, I add to a wider understanding about the world that hopefully feels like a full arc when the book is completed.

What were some of the most shocking aspects you discovered about your ancestors as you did your research?

It was shocking how un-shocking most of the violence and racism was. They didn’t even try to hide it—newspapers actively reported in ridiculously racist language, or my relatives and their friends wrote letters with abhorrent ideas, in a commonplace way. They had few qualms about murder or mob violence. Also, there were some fascinating secrets that got uncovered with DNA research that I think might have shocked the people who lived through those times—they couldn’t anticipate a time when genetic research would bring their long-buried secrets to light!

How do you incorporate activism into your life? In what ways do you feel writing itself is a form of activism?

In every way! Activism isn’t something I do, it’s a way of being in the world. Once I realized that there are some people who are seen as less than human by our society and policies (and it’s a privilege to be able to come to this realization and not grow up knowing it at a gut level), it has changed everything about how I approach my work and my daily life. I think we often learn best through stories, and so I hope to always write stories that offer readers critical thinking and compassion—two things missing so often in the world today—that help us see others as equal to ourselves. Everyone is worthy of dignity, love, and the ability to thrive, and my writing centers around that idea always.

As someone with a PhD in literature, what advice would you give writers who are trying to decide if they want to pursue a higher degree in the field?

This is a tough question—I started a PhD program right before the 2008 economic recession tanked academia, and when I started, my program had a 95% placement rate. At the time, getting a PhD was a smart financial investment for someone like me who loved to teach and read. That changed while I was in graduate school, but it was hard to see the scope of how much it would change in those years, and I still loved the idea of being a professor. By the time I graduated and finished a postdoc and Visiting Assistant Professor job, the writing was on the wall: academia was never going to be a good fit for me as someone with kids who wasn’t willing to uproot my family every year or two before getting tenure. It’s a long story, but I ended moving into journalism—my ability to research deeply and write quickly, and my thick writing skin, have served me well in my writing career. But I’m not sure I would have gotten the same higher degree now if I had known what my career would end up being. So I guess my advice is: be open to what’s in front of you, and pursue what you’re interested in, but it’s OK to be pragmatic too. You’re not a failure if you walk away from a higher degree; the world is changing so much right now and what worked a generation or even a decade ago might not lead to a satisfying career now. Just take the next best step and learn to be grateful for what you learned along the way even if your plans change.

As a freelance writer who has written for The New York Times, The Atlantic, Washington Post and more, what advice would you have for those hoping to contribute to media outlets of this caliber?

The key to writing in big places is pitching well, being an excellent team player who turns in high caliber work quickly, and having thick writing skin. To pitch well, I focus on sending editors whose work I admire a timely pitch about something I’m an expert in when that topic is newsy or when something big happens that can be a great hook for an argument I want to make (there are a lot of places that talk about how to write good pitches online, and I took full advantage of that early on!). As a team player, I listen to feedback and change my piece (and occasionally push back when I think a line or idea is important); I give every piece I write my best effort in a short time. (Side note: it’s hard to do this with young kids or a full-time job or when there are other constraints; either committing to prioritizing your writing as much as possible, or giving yourself permission to recognize that not all things are possible in all seasons of life can be really helpful). And when I say thick writing skin, I mean: I get rejected a LOT. I personally have a less than 10% placement rate. When I’m pitching, I pitch widely and often. Many times, editors who took the time to let me know they rejected a pitch end up publishing something else I write later; I always respond quickly, I thank them and treat them like people, and I am professional at all times—I understand that just because a pitch is rejected, it doesn’t mean I’m not a good writer, it’s just that that pitch didn’t work for that editor (or the pitch itself might need more work, and then I’ll ask a friend to look at it with me). Separating my own ego from the process, treating editors like people, and pitching tenaciously have been really helpful to me in getting pitches accepted in a variety of places.

Do you feel it’s essential for nonfiction authors to also pursue these journalistic endeavors as a part of their overall brand and career?

I think it can be very helpful because I think it helps you keep a finger on the pulse of what readers are interested in. It also allows editors in the book publishing world to recognize that you’re ready for the longer process of writing a book. If you struggle to finish a deadline and to write something that connects with an audience in a daily or weekly newspaper, book editors will (probably rightly) worry that you won’t be able to finish a long-term project that will be marketable when it comes out. But multiple national publications means you’re a nonfiction author who knows how to read the cultural mood and write pieces that editors are interested in, and that readers like. It also helps you work through your ideas in different ways. I am always interested in the challenge of nonfiction writing, whether traditional journalism or personal essays or opinion articles or book reviews, and each type of writing helps me in the next project.

What are you working on next?

So many things! First, a fun novel! You can subscribe to my newsletter, where I’ll hopefully be making an announcement in the near future about a novel that I’ll publish under a pseudonym that is a complete deviation from my work in the past but was an absolute blast to write. We’re also launching Season 2 of the podcast I co-host, “The Beautiful and Banned” about banned books, plays, and films now and throughout history, in August. And I have a couple other big projects I’m hoping to finish this coming school year that I’m really excited about—I love the stage when I think I’m onto a story and it all seems to be coming together. You can follow me @jessica_goudeau on the socials to find out more in the months to come!

We Were Illegal by Jessica Goudeau

Jessica Goudeau’s We Were Illegal uncovers the complex and troubling history of her Texas family, revealing their involvement in significant historical events from the early days of Anglo settlement to modern times. As she traces her ancestors’ roles—from a swindling land grant agent to a Texas Ranger complicit in covering up mass murder—Goudeau presents a dual narrative: a personal reckoning and a critical examination of the whitewashed histories of Texas. The book serves as both a reflection on her family’s legacy and a broader commentary on confronting and correcting historical injustices.

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