We are a nation of immigrants. Unless you are Native American, you have ancestors who came here from somewhere else. My paternal grandmother’s family has been here since sometime in the middle of the 17th century. My paternal grandfather’s parents arrived here from Denmark in the late 19th century. Each of them have different stories of immigration.
My distant relatives, the Thayers, arrived in the 17th century and likely had an arduous journey in a wooden sailing vessel. I know nothing of their journey, only stories I have read that took place in same era. When they arrived, they were not met by immigration officials. They were subjects of the crown and two generations later, a new country began around them. They were no longer subjects of the crown, and there was no documentation declaring them citizens—they just were.
When the Andersen side of the family arrived they likely went through Castle Garden Immigration Depot in New York City. I cannot imagine what that must have been like: young, newly married, not knowing anyone in the country, and only able to speak Danish. Surrounded by sights, sounds, and smells that they had never encountered before. From there, they traveled halfway across the country to start a new life.
Every day, immigrants arrive on our shores. There is no immigration depot, no Ellis Island to process them. They arrive at international airports across the country or they simply drive or walk across the border, risking life and limb to do so. In some cases, they are like my great-grandparents arriving from Denmark. In others, they are refugees trying to escape war, trying to survive. Then there are those that come here solely to work, to provide a better life for their families.
What is the difference between these immigrants in a nation of immigrants? They all come here for the same reason: the idea of America. A place where their children can grow up and have a better life than their parents. Where they have the freedom to say what they want without fear or repercussions. To worship or not worship in any way they want to. To simply have a better life.
But this country has a checkered past when it comes to immigration and the treatment of those who do not look or worship like the majority of Americans.
There are Chinese, Irish, Japanese, the children of slaves brought here against their will, and others. Chinese immigrants came here to build the transcontinental railroad. They looked different, they ate different foods, and had different customs. From 1850 on, discriminatory laws were enacted against them. In 1882, Congress passed the Chinese Exclusion Act.
Per the terms of the Angell Treaty, the act suspended the immigration of Chinese laborers (skilled or unskilled) for a period of 10 years. The Act also required every Chinese person traveling in or out of the country to carry a certificate identifying his or her status as a laborer, scholar, diplomat, or merchant. The 1882 Act was the first in American history to place broad restrictions on immigration.
The Irish were the victims of stereotyping—as alcoholics, or as being controlled by the ward bosses. The Japanese were forced into internment camps during World War II, a black mark on our nation’s history that we should never forget, and never allow to happen again. The treatment of African Americans in this country has been horrendous. Volumes have been written on this, so you would think at this point in our history we would be living in a world where race did not matter. But we don’t.
Today, the targets of our nation’s immigration angst are refugees fleeing from a war-torn country, and those that come across our southern border. Both groups of immigrants only want one thing: a better life. For those that come across our southern border, they are coming here to take the jobs that Americans will not take.
Nationwide, unauthorized immigrants are clustered in a few occupations, notably farming, fishing and forestry (26 percent of the workforce), building and grounds (17 percent), and construction and mining (14 percent). They comprise 24 percent of all groundskeepers, 23 percent of domestic workers and 20 percent of those in clothing manufacture.
They are roofers, they pick our fruits and vegetables, they mow our lawns and tend to our golf courses. They clean our office buildings and homes. If all of the undocumented workers in this country were deported, our economy would collapse and harvests would rot in the fields. But they are no different than my great-grandparents. They are coming here for a better life.
Those fleeing the war in Syria should be welcomed here with open arms. They are victims of a brutal dictator, and are stuck between him and warring factions trying to unseat him. They did not ask for this, and would surely prefer to be back in Syria living their lives and raising their families in peace. But that cannot happen right now. Europe has taken in approximately 1.1 million refugees in the last year, while the United States has welcomed a paltry 10,000. Unfounded fears over terrorism and Islam are preventing us from taking in those who need to come to America the most. Our presidentdemands that these refugees are extremely vetted to ensure our safety from terrorists, but more Americans will die from their TV set falling on them than will die from terrorist attacks. Should we begin vetting television sets before they enter the country?
When I was in fifth or sixth grade I had to memorize a poem entitled The New Colossus and then recite it in front of the class. Written by Emma Lazarus, the poem is engraved at the foot of the Statue of Liberty, the same statue that my great-grandparents saw as their ship pulled into New York Harbor. It is a poem that gave millions of immigrants hope. I still remember that poem decades later, and can still recite it from memory.
The part of the poem that resonates most to me, and to many of those who went through Ellis Island, is this,
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
We have now gotten to the point where an addendum needs to be added to Ms. Lazarus' poem that reads:
If you have brown skin,
Or your jumbled mob comes from a certain place,
and if you do not worship like my kin,
Lady Liberty will slam the golden door in your face.
We have learned nothing. The promise of America was what brought our forefathers here. While we have struggled to achieve that ideal, people still want to come here, risking everything they have—and we push them away.
What has happened to the promise of America?