Immigrants: ‘Them’ Is ‘Us’

opinion by Domenico Maceri, contributor

“Pretty soon there will be more of them than us,” my neighbor told me,with serious concern. “Us” meant native-born Americans.

Her comment confused me. I wasn’t born in the US, and although a lotof hard work over the years has made my English pretty good, I thinkmy accent still makes my origins unmistakable. I’ll never get rid ofthe accent completely. I’m not sure I want to.

“Them?” I asked, certain I’d misunderstood. Surely I was one of“them.”

Immigrants, my neighbor explained, invading “our” country. Apparentlymy accent is not as obvious as I think, allowing me to pass, if I wantto, as one of “us.”

I’ve lived in the United States for thirty years—two-thirds of my life—and I consider myself more American than Italian. But the honor ofbeing considered a native, which would have thrilled me when I wasfifteen and could barely wrap my mouth around English words, isstarting to feel less than honorable. In order to become a realAmerican, must I also become a bigot?

A few years ago, an acquaintance told my wife that she had given uptrying to talk to a friend of ours who was born in Asia. It wasn’tworth the effort it took to understand her, the acquaintance said.

Our friend speaks English with a heavy Chinese accent and her voice isbarely above a whisper. It’s true, she’s difficult to understand. Butshe is also one of the kindest, most charming and intelligent people Ihave ever met. The reward for taking time is not only a friendshipwith a wonderful person, but also the chance to learn more about aculture I will never experience first hand, but only through what shetells me.

I think the woman who won’t make the effort to open up to anotherculture has lost more than she will ever know. And I think, as aculture, we are becoming more and more like that impatient woman.

But, deep down, we all know that we need immigrants. Because they arepaid less than what they should be, companies profit and eventuallypass on some of those savings to consumers. So we all benefit from thelower prices made possible by cheap labor, whether in agriculture,restaurants, child care, or construction—in any work too unpleasantfor the rest of us to do.

And if at any given moment there aren’t plenty of immigrants availableto do the work, farmers scream that crops will rot. Then thegovernment steps in with a program designed to bring in guest workerson a temporary basis, but still farmers aren’t happy. Toobureaucratic. Too costly.

Translation: those programs require granting decent wages andbenefits. Could it be that if decent wages were paid, more Americansmight be willing to do those jobs and there would not be a laborshortage?

Obviously, we need immigrants. We just don’t want them. They look andspeak differently. They don’t want to learn English. And we don’t wantto educate their children, because, after all, they’re here illegally.

We’re quite willing, however, to accept the work their parents do forus so cheaply, as long as they don’t ask anything of us. We want itall—the immigrants’ labor without the responsibility to deal with themas fellow human beings. We need them, but we don’t want to pay forthem, either in money, or in the time and effort it takes tounderstand them. We wish they would disappear once they did our dirtywork, stop bothering us with their strange customs and confusingaccents.

But they won’t. Ever. They keep coming, attempting to fulfill dreams,as generations before them have done. Just as the parents, orgrandparents, or great-grandparents of all the bigots did. It would benice if we recognized our own heritage in the immigrants’ struggles.For me, as an immigrant, it’s easy, but I don’t think it should bemuch of a burden for any American. When you add it all up, “them” isreally “us.” That was always the dream. That’s why, in thirty years, Inever considered leaving my new home.