“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
Articulated by Emma Lazarus in 1883 and now engraved upon the Statue of Liberty, these words have long stood as a testament to the ideals that define our nation. Over a century later, the land of the free once again faces an identity crisis. America has flourished and prospered since its independence, and it can attribute its success to its immigrants. The exchange of diverse cultures and approaches to global challenges sustains a dynamic American way of life marked by continual innovation and progress. However, a new future looms before America, gilded with promises to end birthright citizenship, a direct violation of the 14th Amendment. As we enter a new age of nativist politics, the question before us is absolute: How do we maintain the ideals that America was founded upon when those very principles are under assault?
These policies and sentiments do not just exist on paper. They cast shadows over the families I work with each month through the nonprofit Project Atom, where I tutor children in math, English, and science. I witness the effects of these challenges first-hand at every workshop I help host in Garden Grove, California. The children of Title I schools and the refugee families that appear at our workshops are tragically aware of the battleground of their residence in the U.S. and their lack of home advantage. An immigrant child’s inherent right to be included is challenged by a world where belonging is both simple and complex for those new to the states.
I witnessed this complexity firsthand last year when one of our young students, a Middle Eastern refugee, became the target of a hate crime that left him with multiple broken bones. As an educator and mentor, I struggled with the weight of this incident– how do you tell a child that the very institutions meant to protect him might fail him? How do you assure him that school is a safe space when reality proves otherwise? The incident wasn't just a physical assault; it was a manifestation of the normalized xenophobia that has seeped into our communities, affecting our most vulnerable members.
National data paints an equally troubling picture. A 2024 American Immigration Council study found that 67% of Americans report a sense of non-belonging at the national level, while 74% feel disconnected from their local communities (“The Belonging Barometer” 2024). These numbers aren't just data points– they represent real children, real families, and real dreams being deferred. Even more concerning, the study revealed that 20% of people feel treated as "less than others" when interacting with local law enforcement, and 21% report similar treatment when dealing with local elected officials (“The Belonging Barometer” 2024). Ironically, the isolation that U.S. citizens feel mirrors the daily experiences of immigrant and refugee communities. Solving this issue for one community may actually solve it for all communities.
Community belonging affects children's sense of identity, their academic performance, and their mental health. Without effective systems for communities to cultivate belonging, we see brilliant minds holding back, afraid to shine too brightly lest they draw unwanted attention. We witness young leaders hesitating to step forward, unsure if their voices will be valued or vilified. When we reduce human beings to their documentation status or country of origin, we diminish not only their humanity, but our own. The children I work with are not statistics or political talking points– they are aspiring doctors, teachers, and leaders. They are, in every sense that matters, American dreamers.
To be anti-immigrant is to be anti-American in the most fundamental sense. Our nation's greatest strength has always been its ability to renew itself through the energy, ambition, and diversity of newcomers. The question before us is not whether we can afford to welcome immigrants, but whether we can afford not to. In an increasingly interconnected world, America’s moral leadership and competitive edge relies on staying true to the values inscribed on the Statue of Liberty.
As we face this pivotal moment in our national journey, we must remember that the American Dream was never meant to be exclusive. It was conceived as a beacon of hope for all who believe in the possibility of a better life through hard work and determination. The children at Project Atom, with their resilience, their optimism, and their unwavering belief in the promise of America, remind us daily of this essential truth. They are not merely beneficiaries of America’s ideals– they are their champions and living proof of their promise.
Today, as millions of Americans report feeling disconnected from their own nation, we stand at a crossroads. This crossroads was not caused by migrants nor their rocky passage to freedom; rather, it was fueled through the spread of hate and misinformation by the very people who are supposed to protect us. In the classrooms of Project Atom, however, I see a different future unfolding. I see it in the determined smiles of refugee children discovering their voice and in the unlikely friendships forged across cultural divides and language barriers. When we embrace the full spectrum of human potential that immigration brings, we aren't just staying true to our founding principles– we are investing in our collective future. The American Dream was never about maintaining what was. It has always been about imagining, and then building, what could be. And that work, as it has been for generations, remains in the hands of those brave enough to cross sea to shining sea, chasing dreams and believing that America's greatest chapter is still being written.
Works Cited
“The Belonging Barometer.” 2024. American Immigration Council. https://www.americanimmigrationcouncil.org/report/the-belonging-barometer/.