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Standing up for immigrant families means standing up for American values

Standing up for immigrant families means standing up for American values

When my family came to the United States from Pakistan in 1990, they carried a kind of story that is embedded into the foundation of this country: hope, sacrifice, and the promise that hard work could build a better future.

Growing up, I was taught that the United States opened its doors to people like my parents because it understood that immigration was a lifeline, allowing people suffering from dangerous situations in their home countries to find asylum here. But now, in communities like Glenview and Chicago, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) tears those life-lines apart.

When my parents arrived in America, their hopes became my opportunities, and their courage built the foundation of my current life and future. For a long time, I believed that this generosity, this openness to welcoming immigrants, was what defines Americans. Now, I cannot help but wonder how my family’s story would have unfolded if they had come to this version of America instead: an America where immigrants are framed as a danger, where families just like mine are reduced to statistics, criminals, or political talking points, where the people who sacrificed everything for safety and
survival are met with hostility and hate instead of hope.

Rates of serious psychological distress for immigrants who have lived in the United States for under five years increased 140 percent since 2017, according to the Center for Health Policy Research.

American dialogue that frames undocumented immigrants as “dangerous immigrants” shapes the opinions and actions of uninformed citizens, adding more struggle to their lives, according to a 2018 University of Chicago study. It is easy to forget if you have never lived it, but no one uproots their entire life for fun.

No parent abandons their home and everything familiar, moving across borders simply because they wanted to. They do it because the alternative—violence, poverty, instability, and persecution in their home countries—is so much worse. They do it out of love for their children and belief that their kids deserve a chance at a better future and quality of life. In fact, around 31 percent of immigrants came to the U.S. to escape violent or unsafe conditions, according to a 2023 study by the Kaiser Family Foundation (KFF).

And yet, that humanity is often lost in the rhetoric surrounding ICE. Label- ling immigrants as “dangerous illegal aliens” takes away human dignity and blends millions of people’s stories into one fear-driven stereotype, according to a 2019 University of Cincinnati article. Some people fear that immigrants will “change America” or threaten its identity. They fear the unknown, and that fear has translated into harmful policies and actions to shut the U.S. borders. But that fear also distorts the picture that immigrants are not here to undermine America’s values, but are here because of them, and to embrace them.

The people seeking asylum or opportunity today from Venezuela, Mexico, Ukraine, or Afghanistan are no different from the British immigrants who arrived here 250 years ago. They, too, come seeking freedom: freedom from violence, from political or religious oppression, from poverty, and from hopelessness.

Approximately 50 percent of immigrants came to the U.S. in search of more rights and freedoms, according to KFF. Immigrants do not weaken the United States, they strengthen it. They contribute effectively to our economy, pay taxes, start businesses, and serve in the military, according to the American Immigration Council. In 2023 alone, undocumented immigrant households paid over $89.8 billion in federal, state, and local taxes and held $299 billion in spending power, the American Immigration Council reported.

Our communities are built by immigrants, sustained by immigrants, and enriched by immigrants. When immigrants are targeted, dehumanized, and harassed, the whole community is impacted and
weakened. Fear doesn’t just stay in one neighbourhood, it spreads, ultimately isolating and dividing America as a whole.

Even if your family has been here for generations, or if you never had to fill out a visa form or translate a government document, you are a part of the immigrant community too. We are all humans, neighbours, workers, and dreamers. Solidarity pushes back against the divide. Standing up for immigrant families, especially now, brings to light that behind every immigration case is a family that wants exactly what my family wanted: safety, dignity, and a chance to build a better life.

The American Dream was built on this notion of opportunities and possibilities for an improved future. But this dream cannot only be reserved for a select few. The U.S. cannot only welcome the past and push away the present. The community I grew up in is stronger because people showed up for one another, not because they turned them away. My family’s story began with hope, and it deeply saddens me to see my government taking that away from immigrant families.

By treating immigrants with respect, we can return to the true American legacy of supporting and accepting immigrants into our country.