As I begin to see my childhood friends become fathers the thought of becoming a dad myself excites me. Can you imagine a miniature version of you and your spouse? How cool is that? With this, however, comes a fear that I hope never becomes a reality. I pray that I never hear, “You’re being too hard on me, Dad. I can’t do it.”
In wake of President Trump’s executive actions on immigration in the recent week, I felt it was necessary to address how me, a product of Mexican immigrants, navigates this decisive territory. I know I am not alone. There are many who can claim their grandparents were the first in their family to come to this country. Some even have the right to say their own parents were the first, for they are the second generation. Without diving into the muddy water of policy and labels, there remains a fact of who we are as a nation. We are the UNITEDStates of America. Each state represents different cultures, people and traditions, but we still unite under three beloved colors: red, white and blue.
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Growing up it was common for me to hear stories from my parents about how their own families came to this country and struggled to establish themselves. Stories about long journeys to Mexico, the various jobs they performed, and their tedious process to become official American citizens still remain the cornerstones for my motivation to succeed.
Please make no mistake; the following is me speaking to myself, as well as all children of immigrants. I know everything there is to know about making mistakes, trust me, but it's time to wake up! Please, let’s wake up and seize these days. Our parents, grandparents and even their own parents fought to come to this land, to the greatest nation on earth. We operate under a different set of living standards here, amazing ones at that. And no, I’m not negating that we have a controversial president, or race tensions, or xyz and xyz. I know, I get it, but our standards of living are still well above the majority of the world. The list on how we remain a dominant global force could extend for miles. As immigrant children we are blessed with the amazing opportunity to be raised in a country where if you want something bad enough, there’s a way for it to be accomplished. The American dream is alive and well. What a disservice we would be committing to our past elders if we didn’t clinch this time with white knuckles and sprint after opportunity and greatness. It is a genuine fear of mine that I am going to run my kids into the dirt, forcing them to work and study until they can’t anymore. I will also drill them with the stories I heard growing up. I want them to understand what they have because of what was done before them, by people whom they will never even meet. My grandparents worked in the hot Texas sun for what? For me, for my little brother, for us, for us to be able to dream and thrive. This extends far beyond Hispanic immigrants, too. Our entire country was built and made great immigrants who got it, who understood the value of dreaming about the "unattainable." May their sacrifice, however small or grand it was, not go in vain.
It’s time we stand up and do something about it.
