My Family Didn’t Immigrate Here for This (And Neither Did Yours)
As the daughter of immigrants, I say this a lot:
My family didn’t immigrate here for this.
Sometimes, I say it in jest, like when the line at In-N-Out is too long or my bank statement reveals that I have, yet again, spent way too much money at Sephora. But most of the time, I say it with sincerity.
When I feel like giving up and need to summon the strength and resolve of my ancestry.
When news breaks about another incident of gun violence, a mass shooting or a police shooting of an unarmed black man.
When over 60 million Americans elected an unqualified man who proudly admitted to sexually assaulting women and not paying his taxes, called for a ban on all Muslims, accused Mexicans of being rapists, and ran a campaign of bigotry and fear to be President of this nation over an exceptionally qualified woman who dedicated her entire life to public service.
When election of that man inspired people to rip the hijabs off of Muslim women, sexually assault women on the subway, harass people of color with racist slurs and chants in our neighborhoods and schools, and write messages of hate on college campuses, cars, and buildings.
My family did not immigrate here for any of this.
My mom texted me this the day after the election:
It broke my heart.
My mom lived in the Philippines during the authoritarian rule of dictator Ferdinand Marcos. His first presidential campaign ran on a populist platform where he made numerous false claims about his accomplishments and military service, lying about everything from his medals right down to his rank. During his 20 years in office, he stole an estimated $5 -10 billion dollars from the Filipino treasury. He and his wife personally held the Guinness World Record for Largest Theft with over $860 million in stolen assets.
And, he really hated when people disagreed with him.
He imprisoned journalists, legislators of opposing parties, students and labor activists. He suspended civil liberties and freedom of the press. He instituted martial law. Under his orders, militarized police killed over 3,000 people and tortured and incarcerated tens of thousands more. Some dissenters were tortured and maimed, then left on the side of the road to serve as a public warning to anyone else the Marcos regime viewed as a threat.
(Does this remind you of anyone? Is it too close for comfort?)
This is the world my mother grew up in. This is the world she chose to leave behind.
After immigrating, she had the option to pursue dual citizenship and stay connected to both the Philippines and her new American home. But, she chose to go all in. She gave up her Filipino citizenship so my brother and I could fully benefit from all this country had to offer us, everything she never had as a child. She believed in the American dream and its promises of hope and freedom. She believed this country welcomed all people — including immigrants — regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, or religion. She believed that as long as we worked hard and were kind, we could be happy and safe.
On November 8th, over 60 million people showed her that is just not true. The streets are not paved with gold, or even good intentions. The system revealed itself for what it truly is. The Dream is gone and she is in mourning. I am, too.
For many of us, the results of this election are both scary and heartbreaking, not just because of the xenophobia and bigotry of the President-elect, but because of the sheer number of people who voted him into power. It is a message that those of us who are different (that is, those of us who are not white, straight cisgender men) are not welcome here. And, we are reading that message loud and clear. For people who have survived a genocide, a dictatorship, or any other egregious violations to their human rights, the situation is even more terrifying. We’ve seen this before. The similarities between our past and the results of this election are not lost on us. Is this just the beginning? What lies in store for us after the inauguration? Are we doomed to repeat history here, too? We did not come here for this fear and uncertainty.
People immigrate to the United States for plenty of reasons. Some seek refuge from war, poverty, or persecution. Others come for jobs, opportunity, or a fresh start. Still more come to provide for their families or to be with the ones they love. The common thread for all is a better life than the one they left behind. The beacon of the Great American Mythos is so powerful that it shines across borders and oceans, touching those who need it most. It gives them hope.
Hope. Fairness. Happiness. Safety. That’s why my family immigrated here. I’m willing to bet it’s why yours did, too.
Through my tears, I texted my mom back:
It isn’t perfect. (It isn’t even grammatically correct. Sorry, that’s what happens when you text and cry.) But, it’s the only solution I have. It is the same solution I have always had. Wake up. Do good. Be good.
Before the election, I woke up every day to a world full of challenges and barriers. I’ve been targeted for my race, my gender, and my sexual orientation. I’ve been harassed. I’ve been raped. I’ve been made to feel unsafe in my own neighborhood. And despite all of this, I always got out of bed. I rolled up my sleeves. I lived my life and I fought the good fight. Every day, I will continue to do this. The next 4 years won’t change that.
But, my new goal is more than just “doing good”. I want to build the country my mom envisioned. I want to embody the values she believed in so deeply. And, I will make this place a home that she, and every other immigrant, can be proud of. I will be kind. I will work hard. I will help others and serve my community. I will protect the innocent. I will use my rights to free speech and peaceful protest to fight for equality and justice against tyranny. I will never give up. I will never stop fighting. I will stand in solidarity with the rest of the oppressed. And, together we will tear down every hateful and dangerous wall the next administration builds with our bare hands.
