Lately, my heart has been heavy.
I watch what’s happening in the United States—the rhetoric from our leaders, the actions of ICE, the open hostility toward immigrants—and I feel a deep sadness. Not just because it’s cruel, but because it betrays what America is supposed to be.
I was born in the United States and for my first 24 years, I always felt like I belonged here. My idea of what it meant to be an American changed a few years after meeting Karel - my now husband of almost 18 years.
Karel came to the United States from the Czech Republic with nothing but a backpack and a belief in the American Dream. He grew up under communism, where freedom was limited and opportunity was rationed. Like so many before him, he came here not to take, but to build a life through hard work and sacrifice.
When Karel arrived in the U.S. he overstayed his visa and became an illegal immigrant.
What many people don’t understand is that “illegal” does not make someone a criminal or threat to society. It is a status - often temporary - that results from a system so slow, expensive, and confusing that even doing everything “the right way” can take decades.
During his first four years in the United States, Karel gave up the thing he loved most (cycling) because survival left no room for passion. He left his family, his home, and everything familiar behind, carrying only the hope that hard work might lead to a better life. To stay afloat, he learned English on his own. He worked three jobs a day: cleaning floors, roofing in brutal conditions, and taking on physically demanding labor that most Americans would never consider. He didn’t complain. He didn’t ask for handouts. He worked relentlessly—often for wages that were promised but not fully paid—doing the jobs many “legal” Americans won’t do, especially for such little pay. Even something as ordinary as walking into a grocery store carried fear, knowing that one wrong encounter could lead to detention and deportation.
It took Karel 12 years to receive a green card.
Even with a green card, life remained uncertain. Legal status always felt conditional.
It took another 6 years for Karel to become a U.S. citizen.
We spent over $20,000 navigating the immigration system—often borrowing money and always living with constant stress and uncertainty. We didn’t know if one missing form, one policy change, or one mistake could undo everything we had worked for.
This is the story people don’t see.
They don’t see the exhaustion.
They don’t see the sacrifice.
They don’t see the waiting, fear and uncertainty.
They don’t see the families holding their breath for years at a time.
Instead, they see accents. Skin color. “Otherness.”
Too many Americans (often fueled by political rhetoric) assume that immigrants come here to take advantage of the system. They believe immigrants live off government benefits, refuse to work, or drain resources meant for “real” Americans. Many people have been taught to believe that immigrants come to America to cheat the system and to commit crimes. The truth is far less convenient for those narratives. Most immigrants work relentlessly, often in low-paying, physically demanding jobs with no security and little protection. They pay taxes they may never benefit from. They contribute to communities that may never fully accept them. The idea that immigrants are lazy or opportunistic collapses the moment you look at the reality of their lives. None of those assumptions reflect the immigrant I married—or the millions like him.
Karel didn’t come here looking for an easy life. He came here prepared to work as hard as he could, in order to live a better life. The irony is that many of the people most threatened by immigrants would never survive the conditions immigrants accept just to have a chance at a better future.
America has always been built by people who, at first, didn’t look like they belonged. Italian, Jewish, Irish, Eastern European, Asian, Latino. Every wave of immigrants was once met with suspicion, hatred and fear. They were told they were dangerous, uneducated, un-American. And yet, over time, their labor, culture, and ideas became so woven into daily American life that we stopped noticing where they came from. We celebrate Italian and Spanish food, Irish holidays, Jewish innovation, Eastern European craftsmanship, Asian cuisine, and Latino music - often without acknowledging the immigrant struggles behind them. Entire industries exist because immigrants were willing to do the work others wouldn’t - to open small businesses, to cook the food, build the roads, harvest the crops, clean the offices, and care for children and elders. Many Americans enjoy the contributions immigrants make to daily life, yet struggle to give respect and humanity to immigrants arriving today.
Accepting and welcoming people of different cultures is America.
If someone doesn’t look like you or speak like you, that does not make them a threat. It makes them human. It means they come with a story - one that reflects choices and hardships many Americans will never have to face.
Immigrants aren’t harming this country. Bigotry is.
The real danger is not newcomers, it’s the fear and hatred directed at them.
And if we truly believe in the American Dream, then we must believe it belongs to more than just those who were born here. And it’s not enough to believe in fairness quietly.
A healthy democracy depends on people who are willing to stand up for members in their community. Protecting the rights of others is not an act of charity, it is an act of self-preservation. When we allow any group to be dehumanized, stripped of dignity, or treated as disposable, we weaken the protections that keep all of us safe. History has shown again and again that rights are rarely taken all at once, they are removed piece by piece, beginning with those who have the least power. Standing up for immigrants is about much more than immigration, it is about defending the values we claim to hold and the kind of country we want to live in.
Before you judge someone for where they came from or how they arrived, remember Karel. Remember the 18 years of labor, sacrifice, and fear it took for him to become “legal” in society.
Then ask yourself: would you have had the courage to do the same?
The majority of immigrants are not threats. They are human beings with lives, families, and dreams just like yours.
I watch what’s happening in the United States—the rhetoric from our leaders, the actions of ICE, the open hostility toward immigrants—and I feel a deep sadness. Not just because it’s cruel, but because it betrays what America is supposed to be.
I was born in the United States and for my first 24 years, I always felt like I belonged here. My idea of what it meant to be an American changed a few years after meeting Karel - my now husband of almost 18 years.
Karel came to the United States from the Czech Republic with nothing but a backpack and a belief in the American Dream. He grew up under communism, where freedom was limited and opportunity was rationed. Like so many before him, he came here not to take, but to build a life through hard work and sacrifice.
When Karel arrived in the U.S. he overstayed his visa and became an illegal immigrant.
What many people don’t understand is that “illegal” does not make someone a criminal or threat to society. It is a status - often temporary - that results from a system so slow, expensive, and confusing that even doing everything “the right way” can take decades.
During his first four years in the United States, Karel gave up the thing he loved most (cycling) because survival left no room for passion. He left his family, his home, and everything familiar behind, carrying only the hope that hard work might lead to a better life. To stay afloat, he learned English on his own. He worked three jobs a day: cleaning floors, roofing in brutal conditions, and taking on physically demanding labor that most Americans would never consider. He didn’t complain. He didn’t ask for handouts. He worked relentlessly—often for wages that were promised but not fully paid—doing the jobs many “legal” Americans won’t do, especially for such little pay. Even something as ordinary as walking into a grocery store carried fear, knowing that one wrong encounter could lead to detention and deportation.
It took Karel 12 years to receive a green card.
Even with a green card, life remained uncertain. Legal status always felt conditional.
It took another 6 years for Karel to become a U.S. citizen.
We spent over $20,000 navigating the immigration system—often borrowing money and always living with constant stress and uncertainty. We didn’t know if one missing form, one policy change, or one mistake could undo everything we had worked for.
This is the story people don’t see.
They don’t see the exhaustion.
They don’t see the sacrifice.
They don’t see the waiting, fear and uncertainty.
They don’t see the families holding their breath for years at a time.
Instead, they see accents. Skin color. “Otherness.”
Too many Americans (often fueled by political rhetoric) assume that immigrants come here to take advantage of the system. They believe immigrants live off government benefits, refuse to work, or drain resources meant for “real” Americans. Many people have been taught to believe that immigrants come to America to cheat the system and to commit crimes. The truth is far less convenient for those narratives. Most immigrants work relentlessly, often in low-paying, physically demanding jobs with no security and little protection. They pay taxes they may never benefit from. They contribute to communities that may never fully accept them. The idea that immigrants are lazy or opportunistic collapses the moment you look at the reality of their lives. None of those assumptions reflect the immigrant I married—or the millions like him.
Karel didn’t come here looking for an easy life. He came here prepared to work as hard as he could, in order to live a better life. The irony is that many of the people most threatened by immigrants would never survive the conditions immigrants accept just to have a chance at a better future.
America has always been built by people who, at first, didn’t look like they belonged. Italian, Jewish, Irish, Eastern European, Asian, Latino. Every wave of immigrants was once met with suspicion, hatred and fear. They were told they were dangerous, uneducated, un-American. And yet, over time, their labor, culture, and ideas became so woven into daily American life that we stopped noticing where they came from. We celebrate Italian and Spanish food, Irish holidays, Jewish innovation, Eastern European craftsmanship, Asian cuisine, and Latino music - often without acknowledging the immigrant struggles behind them. Entire industries exist because immigrants were willing to do the work others wouldn’t - to open small businesses, to cook the food, build the roads, harvest the crops, clean the offices, and care for children and elders. Many Americans enjoy the contributions immigrants make to daily life, yet struggle to give respect and humanity to immigrants arriving today.
Accepting and welcoming people of different cultures is America.
If someone doesn’t look like you or speak like you, that does not make them a threat. It makes them human. It means they come with a story - one that reflects choices and hardships many Americans will never have to face.
Immigrants aren’t harming this country. Bigotry is.
The real danger is not newcomers, it’s the fear and hatred directed at them.
And if we truly believe in the American Dream, then we must believe it belongs to more than just those who were born here. And it’s not enough to believe in fairness quietly.
A healthy democracy depends on people who are willing to stand up for members in their community. Protecting the rights of others is not an act of charity, it is an act of self-preservation. When we allow any group to be dehumanized, stripped of dignity, or treated as disposable, we weaken the protections that keep all of us safe. History has shown again and again that rights are rarely taken all at once, they are removed piece by piece, beginning with those who have the least power. Standing up for immigrants is about much more than immigration, it is about defending the values we claim to hold and the kind of country we want to live in.
Before you judge someone for where they came from or how they arrived, remember Karel. Remember the 18 years of labor, sacrifice, and fear it took for him to become “legal” in society.
Then ask yourself: would you have had the courage to do the same?
The majority of immigrants are not threats. They are human beings with lives, families, and dreams just like yours.
