Who Is Not an Immigrant?

Today, Donald Trump has continued to move lower than low by rescinding DACA, the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals. This program allowed the children of undocumented immigrants who came here as small children some modicum of protection and ability to live life here in America. No one protected under DACA is a felon. No one is taking a job someone else could have. These are 800,000 young people who go to elementary school and high school, go on to college, work at jobs, pay taxes, and abide the laws of this land.

These young people came here with their parents and they have worked hard to contribute to this place called America. I can’t see how this is any different when in a different time and place, other immigrants came here from Germany, Greece, Ireland, Italy, Lithuania, Poland, or elsewhere. What about the pilgrims? You remember them? Immigrants. Unless you are Native American, you have descended from immigrants. This is the very diversity that makes America the culturally rich and amazing place that it is.

Today is my birthday and it is very hard to celebrate when I see what is happening in my country, a country created by the sweat and blood of so many people who came before me, people I will never know. I will not accept this cruel and heartless act on the part of the current administration.

I am asking every friend to call your state senators and congress people today and every day in the time to come, as well as Speaker of the House Paul Ryan, and tell them that they MUST sit down and work across the aisle with each other to bring the Dream Act into being. This bill was first introduced in the Senate by Dick Durbin (D) and Orrin Hatch (R) on August, 1, 2001. The time is now. No more waiting. We cannot let down our Dreamers and we should be helping them on the path to citizenship, not deportation. These Dreamers? They are us, me and you. We must stand with them and see this through.

This post is in honor of my mother and father, first generation Americans. My mother’s parents came from Italy, and my father’s came here from Greece, both in the early 20th century. My father did not speak English until he went to kindergarten in about 1942.