Looking Deeply at a Social Problem
immigration
What Causes Groups to be Stigmatized in the U.S.?
By Anonymous
All the hate that Muslims have received, made me have this fear as a child that I would also get hit if people had known I was Muslim. So, I had lied to people or simply not told them what my Religion was or where my parents came from just to feel a little more secure. Even now, I still held on to some of that fear and start to think a little more before telling people my religion. As, even now there is a continuation of that Stigma towards Muslims, such as the Muslim Ban that Trump signed in 2017.
A Long and Grueling Road
By Anonymous
Once when I was in high school, I went to an art exhibit where all the artists were of Latin American descent. One artist in particular had a piece that stood out to me: it was a wall of shoes. There were big shoes, small shoes, ratty shoes, Hello Kitty shoes, but each shoe represented an immigrant that had walked across the border to America. Each shoe represented someone in search of a better life. My own uncle and his family could have worn those shoes.
The Linea
By Julissa Tapia
I was consistently taught that el otro lado was dangerous and unsafe. That the border kept “bad” people from crossing over to the United States. I failed to question these teachings. My perception of the border and the social construction of “illegal aliens'' shifted overtime and I have gained a new perspective on the immigration system. At times, I felt frustration towards people in my community who encouraged border policies and romanticized the border patrol. Focusing my frustration on individual members of my community was not the solution to this issue. I had to think deeper and see how the immigration system is reliant on exclusionary policies and determines who belongs and does not belong
A Mountainous Task
By Miguel Platero Alas
El Salvador became one of the largest U.S counterinsurgency efforts since Vietnam. The world superpowers were fighting proxy wars in Central American countries, resulting in the loss of tens of thousands of innocent lives. My mom occasionally talks about the atrocities of the war and how she dodged the fighting on both sides. She knew families that were torn apart by it and how young teens were forced into the war. Although my parents were able to get their degrees and escape the fighting, they wanted to make sure their children would never have to live through similar circumstances.
Signing Executive Order 13769 Shows the World that America Represents Racism
By Anonymous
I remember the day that my cousin’s family came to America for the first time in probably twenty years. My cousin was not pregnant, but she had just finally settled in San Diego with her husband. Everyone was so happy to be together again. My Grandma cried as she was able to see her sister again after decades and everyone else cried because they were able to see all our faces for the first time. I also remember the day they had to leave. That day was a hard sight to see. You could not look at the family saying their goodbyes without shedding a couple tears. They all knew this was the last time that they were going to be able to see each other for a long time due to the Muslim ban that was just passed during their short stay. The plan originally was to have them stay here during their visa and to apply for a green card. So, that my cousin could get the help she needed as she has been planning for the baby for a while.
Land of Opportunity, Land of Exploitation
By Yazmin Perez
My family and I immigrated from Mexico in 1999; I was three years old. I cannot remember how we entered, or even the life back in Mexico. All I can recall are memories from being in the United States. As a child, my mom would always tell me how fortunate we were to have come to this country. She would often share her stories with me from Mexico, where she described her life filled with poverty, no academic or career opportunities, and on some days, barely having enough to eat. My parents' town was impoverished; they got paid what is equivalent to $1- 2 American dollars if they could find work. They often had to look for work outside of their town and pay for the commute, which was not worth it since the commute itself was as much as they made in one day. They always heard that the United States was better and had many employment opportunities. They were desperate to come to the United States with high hopes of feeding their family. People often ask, “why can’t they just do it the right way and wait in line, like everyone else? ” The reality is, there is no line.
No Shelter from the Storm
By Phuc Dao
My mother witnessed first-hand the cruelty and the evils of the Vietnamese war. The far-off sound of a grenade explosion was the alarm that she woke-up to everyday. Hospital and schools were often the targets of bombing because the enemy could do the most damage. The bodies of the young and old littered street more than trash. Her father was a soldier fighting against the communist party and had been captured, tortured and killed. Her brother got caught in a firefight on his way home from getting water and was hit by a stray-bullet. After my mother met my father and had me, the opportunity to leave to the United States presented itself. My parents left behind everything they had including other family members to come to the United States in search of protection and opportunity for a better life. My mother's story is not unique. All across the world there are millions of people who live in fear due to war and violence. It is the right of people being prosecuted in their own countries to see protection in other countries.
We Are All America
By Cristian Nungaray Ruvalcaba
[My mother] is one of many immigrants who entered the country illegally, with hopes of a better life. Escaping from violence and economic hardship in her native land, she decided to do the impossible; climb and walk for several days across mountains and desert. Many citizens of the country will argue that my mother does not belong here and did wrong by trespassing international borders, insisting that she should have applied for “papers” instead. Just like my mother, many are forced to make a decision between staying in their hometown while living in poor conditions or to make the dangerous journey to the land of opportunities while running the risk of dying in the process.
A Land to Live
By Hessam Alsharifi
Most of my families and relatives like my aunties and uncles left the country one after another due to the war. I was not really sure why we didn’t leave Iran and I have never asked but I can guess it was because of our economic hardship and my mom’s job at the time. I was a witness of daily fear of the family, relatives, and neighbors for the bombardment of our city by fighters for years. Also, I can tell many sad stories of separation of people who lost their family member’s lives or lost their houses every time we have been attacked. For a kid like me at under school age, it was too much to be a witness of that much disaster of war and many other related things. Losing my dad and fear of missing another part of my family like my mom or sister was my main childhood nightmare. During that time I hoped I was big enough, to save my family and I could take them to other countries to live in peace but it has remained a dream.
A Failure to Recognize Their Shared Humanity
By Isabella Kim
We tend to put on blinders when we get caught up in the madness of our everyday lives. We selectively lose our situational awareness, and in doing so, relinquish our power and agency. Suddenly, it seems, egregious human rights abuses are taking place and the problem has become so great that it seems irreparable. We are at a point like that right now with immigration, although in many cases it feels far-removed from our personal lives. We get glimpses on the news, or see traces of lives we know nothing about. The first step in catalyzing action is to recognize the very real human cost of our policies and cultural attitudes.
Yearning to Breathe Free
By Ana Garcia
They mention their dislike for Hispanic immigrants, especially undocumented ones, and I chime in with, “well you know, I am a Mexican immigrant.” The shock on their face is quickly replaced with embarrassment as they quickly respond with, “oh, wow you don’t look Mexican, but you’re okay and at least you did it right,” as if somehow their faked and unnecessary validation and approval erases their prior statement on immigrants from my mind and wipes them clean of the embarrassment. And yet, I keep them blissfully unaware of the fact that they are wrong; I did not “do it right” as an immigrant.