Being a first-generation American has defined every part of who I am — from my work ethic to my obsession with good olive oil — and I know many other children of immigrants feel the same way. We have always struggled with the pressure of maintaining our family’s heritage while simultaneously fitting in with those around us.
From elementary school, we’re told that difference is what makes us special, but it feels like this message has been lost on so many. With rising anti-immigrant sentiment in the United States, it is hard not to be frustrated at the prejudiced language used to justify mass deportations and blatant xenophobia.
When I think of the immigrant spirit, it is defined by sacrifice, bravery and an unrelenting desire to work hard. I think of my grandmother, who came to the United States from Greece with her two young daughters, hardly speaking a word of English, but determined to establish a future for them. She went to school and became a seamstress in Manhattan’s garment district, where she worked for decades underneath the bright light of a Singer sewing machine with bent-out-of-shape fingers from countless accidents.
Her basement was filled with fabric in every color, dress forms, cookie tins filled with buttons and more sewing machines than any one person would ever need, collected over the years of her career. If you didn’t wear shoes down there, you were sure to prick your toes on needles dropped and forgotten.
Long after she stopped working, my grandma continued to sew, hemming my family’s pants, sewing back lost buttons or making us whatever we could think of. I was much too young to appreciate it when I was little, but now I see every dress, apron or bag she made for us as a testament to her dedication.
When I was older, I remember watching her forget how to thread her sewing machine — something she did every day for decades. I felt an indescribable heartbreak. My grandma’s life was defined by her ability to sew. It wasn’t just her job, but what allowed her to support her family when she came to the United States.
I see the same spirit in my parents. My mom worked from a young age to help out my grandparents, using her small earnings to buy run-down cars so she could drive them to work and doctor’s appointments before school. My dad spent his whole life studying to find success in the United States and works harder than anyone I’ve ever known, all while remaining extremely humble.
As first-generation Americans, we carry our ancestors’ stories with us. We speak their language, cook their food and treasure the belongings passed down to us. I have spent countless hours deciphering my grandma’s old recipe books and trying to learn to sew on her 1980s sewing machine, only managing a fraction of her talent.
Even though I am privileged enough to have been born in the United States, the anti-immigrant sentiment that characterizes immigrants as lazy or criminal still feels personal. Because when I look at my family, I see nothing but hard-working, dedicated people just seeking a better life — people who embody the spirit of what it means to be an American, even if they aren’t from here.
I am so grateful to exchange stories and culture with my first-generation and immigrant friends through food, customs and clothes. Even though it used to embarrass me, now I admire how excited my mom is to feed my friends Greek food and sweets when they come over, so much so that they have now become experts.
That is the real beauty in a country filled with immigrants. We get to experience so many unique lifestyles and perspectives — and imagine how boring life would be without that.
The immigrant spirit cannot be eliminated, persevering through generations of persecution and struggle. Immigrants have carved a place for themselves in every corner of the United States because they work hard, often filling the much-needed roles for this country’s economy to function properly. Think about how many immigrants built railroads or worked in factories in the 1900s. Without their labor, the United States would have never industrialized as it did.
The United States seems to be forgetting its own history — one built by immigrants and their ancestors. Today, immigrants continue to shape the country’s economic landscape, working essential, often low-wage jobs at higher rates than those born here.
So, it feels personal because it is. The United States will never be without immigrants and it is ignorant to think the immigrant spirit can be erased from this country.
When it comes time to choose our leaders, we must choose those who recognize and support the United States’s history as a melting pot and safe haven for immigrants from all over the world, not those who are trying to strip the country of every semblance of difference.