Ostensibly, the issue of immigration is a non-racial one. After all, the main point is that there are foreign people entering the country and taking advantage of jobs that would have otherwise gone to natural-born citizens, right? According to this definitional outlook, the color of one’s skin or their country of origin is not necessarily a concern when considering, objectively, the potential draw-backs of foreign workers.
However, what image comes to mind when contemplating the idea of an immigrant? Go on, don’t be shy—nobody’s around, no one’s judging you. What image comes to mind? Likely, it’s the image of a person of color, whose knowledge of English is negligible. And also highly likely is the job that accompanies—a manual labor or unskilled job.
Very unusually, one may picture a white-collar worker or white person of European descent. However, that’s the very first kind of immigrant I came to know: he’s my father.
In 1980, my father traveled from the south of France where he was born and raised to work in restaurant management in New York City. Over the course of his career in the Big Apple, he successfully owned and managed two highly acclaimed French restaurants, Park Bistro and Les Halles. He easily managed to secure a permanent work permit and has lived in the U.S. ever since, marrying (and later divorcing) my American mother.
However, his lack of citizenship never even occurred to me until this past week. I always knew my father was foreign, obviously, considering our history of family vacations in the south of France with my grandparents. But since he lives here, mustn’t he be a citizen? My brother immediately said that he had to be, but after I asked him, the truth was revealed: he’d never bothered. He had his work permit and didn’t see the use in pursuing citizenship.
But I’m a 20-year-old girl. How could this have never occurred to me? Immigration policies are a huge talking point in this country, and the citizenship status of millions of people affect their lives in often radical ways. How many families have been deported? How many children have faced the consequences of their parents’ lack of citizenship?
Of course, my father has a legal working permit. Being an immigrant in and of itself does not necessarily entail negative consequences, but a lack of a legal right to work definitely does. But even then, my experience has been different from those of people of color. My father, while quite fluent in English, still has his French accent, leading to some comical pronunciation. But this has never been a detriment to him—if anything, it’s been positive, as people tend to romanticize the French culture and its language. Could the same be said of someone with a Spanish- or Swahili-speaking parent? My father’s French heritage gains him nothing but respect and an aura of exoticism, but the same cannot be said of those from countries that hold less clout in the eyes of Americans—that is to say, non-European countries. These immigrants, even if they hold valid working permits, are subject to Americans’ lack of tolerance or cultural misunderstanding. So while they may be free from the risk of deportation, as my father is, they’re subject to discrimination, as my father is not.
This leads me to believe that immigration is not just a social issue, but a race issue. There’s a reason why my father’s citizenship status never even crossed my mind: privilege. He’s white, and others are not. So when someone, politician or otherwise, derides immigrants, ask yourself who they’re really talking about: because it’s almost certainly not going to be my father. White immigrants aren’t seen as a problem—immigrants of color are. My father possesses one legal “American” job, just as that immigrant of color does—but who do you think experiences the most prejudice?
