My
parents arrived in this country as refugees from the tyranny of Nazi Germany. Their immigration was legal; their arrival actually
reported in the New York Times. My
mother was eight months pregnant. I was
born a month later. Thanks to the 14th
Amendment, I came into this world as an American citizen, the first in my
immediate family. Perhaps the term is
being used as a pejorative, but I proudly count myself among the so-called
anchor babies. We helped anchor our
families to this great land. What would
America be without us?
For
sure, my mother, who still spoke no English, was thrilled that her new son was
born in American. While we never
discussed it, I’m sure she did see me as kind of an anchor to a ship of family
citizenship — hers, my father’s and my two older siblings — that would follow. We’ve all been good citizens. My father was a respected religious leader in
Germany and became one here. His passion
for liberty and equality led him the civil rights movement; President Obama has
quoted from his speeches. My mother served
as a nursing aide in our local hospital filling in for staff that had gone to
the front. Their children and grandchildren care deeply about both the world
and our country. As descendants of an
immigrant family, we especially cherish our right to vote. It’s something that we all (into the third
generation) do without fail.
Those
who immigrated to America in my parents’ time — legal and illegal — didn’t come
here to harm this country. They came to
find a better life and to contribute their talents, and yes their loyalty, to
the United States, not to diminish it.
German Jews were a confusing lot to many of their new neighbors because,
while they were persecuted refugees, they still spoke in the language (or with
heavy accents) of the enemy. Japanese
Americans felt that even more and into the second and third generation because,
unlike my relatives, they looked different even if they didn’t open their
mouths. The “other” was seen “a problem”
then much as it is today. Indeed, consider
the history of any immigrant family; be they Irish, Italian, Polish or any
other, and you’ll hear stories that mirror the challenges faced by today’s
Latino and increasingly Asian communities.
It’s one
of those clichéd truisms to say America is an immigrant county. We’re still young, but there are families who
can trance their roots back to the start — descendants of the Mayflower
generation — or who are multi-generations away from arriving on a ship. But so many of us, like me, are still the
children or grandchildren of new arrivals.
Just read the obituaries of notables and you’ll see the life stories of
many who came from foreign-born parents or who were themselves born
abroad. People of immigrant stock who
did well and who contributed significantly to what we think of as America.
Listening
to the immigrant bashing coming out of the Republican field, either expressed
or condoned by silence of evasive response, I find myself especially dismayed. At a time when refugees around the world are
streaming out of battle zones, not to find a better life but first a foremost
to survive, there is something especially unseemly, disconnected, in this
campaign discourse. But as an anchor
baby, I take the words spoken against my immigrant neighbors personally. And they are all neighbors. Each one of us, no matter where we live
across this beautiful land, has immigrant neighbors. Those eleven million or so that some of the
GOP candidates would like to deport, or who New Jersey’s “tell it like it is” overblown
governor would like to tag like a FedEx package, live next door. Some of them helped build our house, repair
the roof under which we live or pick the vegetables and fruit that we eat. Some have discovered medicines that will cure
or coded the programs which we have come to consider essential to our functioning. Perhaps they depend on us, but more
profoundly than we like to admit, we depend on them.
There
are many reasons why I won’t be voting Republican in 2016 whomever they select
as their nominee. Our ideologies don’t
line up well on a host of issues. But
the last weeks have given me a further and more personal reason. I’m an
anchor baby and haven’t forgotten from whence I came.