Edit Desk: Empathizing with immigrants, as Americans

Elliott Nasby

Chili dogs, buffalo wings, peanut butter, baseball, McDonald’s, John Deere, guns, Elvis, apple pie, consumerism, capitalism, democracy, power…

What makes us American?

This a question that is relevant now more than ever, a question whose answer can be as polarizing as it is foundational. And in the context of President Donald Trump’s executive order on immigration, it begs a follow up: What does the answer to this question mean for those trying to become “American” citizens?

On Jan. 30, a statement that was released by White House press secretary, Sean Spicer, said coming to America “is a privilege, not a right.”

I don’t disagree with this logic because most things we know are, by default, a privilege. Attending a higher-level institution such as Lehigh University was not my right and neither was being born in this country. I was given the extraordinary privilege to be granted U.S. citizenship by doing absolutely nothing – unless crying and suckling pacifiers is equivalent to taking a treacherous trek across seas and ravaged lands.

It wasn’t until I considered this fact that the issues going on at our borders right now actually hit home. And once you realize this as well, you might start to question why we, as Americans, feel so intensely proprietary over a land many of us simply had the luck of being born on. Some might call it patriotism, but I’d argue this sentiment can so easily slip into the realm of nationalism, laced with rhetoric that not only alienates but also gives us a blind sense of superiority because God somehow blessed this country more than others.

However, my point here is not to challenge or undermine the great nature of this country, but to question the way our perception of it has been twisted to see only what we wish to see. Somewhere along the way we got lost in our pursuit of being the best, and our place at the top no longer coincided with being the most moral, compassionate or even the most responsible.

Back in September, philanthropist Tavis Smiley visited our campus to urge us not to make America great again, for it already is great, but to make this a nation “as good as its promise.” I believe this responsibility should extend far beyond our country’s borders, where our ideals of fairness, opportunity and liberty often may seem unobtainable.

Sometimes, especially on a college campus, we can feel so far removed from many of the nation’s disparities. People in need are marginalized into statistics and parties polarized through fear. The key is to see through the noise and rhetoric and feel for these people on a human level. Even though I have never had to fight for my place in this country, nor am I directly affected by President Trump’s executive order, it goes a long way to realize I’ve the privilege to be where I am, by the hands of fate it could’ve easily been me.

As our good friend Bob Dylan has sung, “the times they are a-changin,” and it’s no secret that our global community is becoming increasingly more connected, making border lines lose their potency. In some ways this is a time when these arbitrary lines are moving into the realm of formality, certainly deeming the building of a wall obsolete, but in other rather obvious ways national protection is at the forefront of our agenda.

And it is a priority for good reason. The world is a cold place where we do need to take precaution to ensure the safety and prosperity of our citizens. But let us keep in mind it isn’t a cold place for just us, just us Americans.

Living in a nation founded upon these ideals of freedom and the pursuit of happiness, where people from all walks of life are promised the same privileges as their next door neighbor, we can be a part of the solution. But clearly we are not the country we say are until we all live by these virtues.

Perhaps the real question is: What should it mean to be American?

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Elliott Nasby, ’20, is an assistant sports editor for The Brown and White. He can be reached at [email protected].