Si se Puede
I marched with some of my students in one of the many protests that took place on the day without immigrants. You see, you wouldn't know it by looking at me, white, blue-eyed, all-American, English-speaking, middle class, master's student, but I am the product of illegal immigrants.
You see, my family doesn't like to talk about it; they only talk about the side of the family that came over on the Mayflower (not like they weren't illegal immigrants, but that kind of immigration is a lot more romantic than what I'm talking about here). But, I have illegal immigrants in my bloodline less than a century ago. My great-great-grandfather was named Michael Havrilka; he was Slovakian, and he came to America by way of Ellis Island, but you won't find him on any of the records taken from the boat he arrived on. He wasn't on the roster because he never bought a ticket. He never passed through an embassy or immigration check point. He never got any official papers. He arrived undocumented and he stayed that way for the rest of his life. He stowed away on the ship: He snuck on and he snuck off.
Michael, didn't speak English when he arrived; in fact, he never became fluent in English, prefering to speak Slovakian with his familiy and friends, but he made sure his children learned the language of their home land as well as the language of their ancestory. Somewhere along the line, English became the norm in our family, and the only artifact left from the other side of the Atlantic is a broach my grandmother brings out of her jewery box occasionally. Michael never became an American citizen, but his children did. His blood line has given America soldiers, teachers, electricians, students, and upstanding pillars of their communities. This country is a little bit stronger because of that illegal immigrant.
My story is not unique. Look at your own history, I am sure we can all find a Michael Havrilka in our ancestry. We are a nation of immigrants. Throughout various part of history, those immigrants have come from every part of the world, and it doesnt matter if they speak French, German, Spanish or Slovakian; they all have equal claim to the American dream.
The Statue of Liberty Michael came past as he sailed illegally into America reads:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
I for one am glad it didn't say:
Give me your white, your wealthy,
Your English-speaking masses
The glamorous travelors from western European shores.
Send only these, highly skilled, well established to me,
I lift my lamp beside a fence patrolled by the National Guard.
If that were the policy, I am pretty sure, none of us would be here now.
Rachild
You see, my family doesn't like to talk about it; they only talk about the side of the family that came over on the Mayflower (not like they weren't illegal immigrants, but that kind of immigration is a lot more romantic than what I'm talking about here). But, I have illegal immigrants in my bloodline less than a century ago. My great-great-grandfather was named Michael Havrilka; he was Slovakian, and he came to America by way of Ellis Island, but you won't find him on any of the records taken from the boat he arrived on. He wasn't on the roster because he never bought a ticket. He never passed through an embassy or immigration check point. He never got any official papers. He arrived undocumented and he stayed that way for the rest of his life. He stowed away on the ship: He snuck on and he snuck off.
Michael, didn't speak English when he arrived; in fact, he never became fluent in English, prefering to speak Slovakian with his familiy and friends, but he made sure his children learned the language of their home land as well as the language of their ancestory. Somewhere along the line, English became the norm in our family, and the only artifact left from the other side of the Atlantic is a broach my grandmother brings out of her jewery box occasionally. Michael never became an American citizen, but his children did. His blood line has given America soldiers, teachers, electricians, students, and upstanding pillars of their communities. This country is a little bit stronger because of that illegal immigrant.
My story is not unique. Look at your own history, I am sure we can all find a Michael Havrilka in our ancestry. We are a nation of immigrants. Throughout various part of history, those immigrants have come from every part of the world, and it doesnt matter if they speak French, German, Spanish or Slovakian; they all have equal claim to the American dream.
The Statue of Liberty Michael came past as he sailed illegally into America reads:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
I for one am glad it didn't say:
Give me your white, your wealthy,
Your English-speaking masses
The glamorous travelors from western European shores.
Send only these, highly skilled, well established to me,
I lift my lamp beside a fence patrolled by the National Guard.
If that were the policy, I am pretty sure, none of us would be here now.
Rachild
