During my final year in college, a seemingly innocent conversation with my Spanish professor led to an unexpected and awkward moment. My instructor, an older Latinx woman, had a wealth of knowledge about languages and cultures, which I admired deeply. After a class, I often lingered to learn more about her background, inspired by her extensive travels and experiences.
On that day, our discussion veered towards our family origins. She shared details about her ancestry, then asked me where my family was from and how long we had resided in the United States. At first, I thought it was a jest; however, when my nervous smile failed to clarify, I explained that my family had been in America for hundreds of years.
Her skepticism was palpable, as she shook her head in disbelief, unable to accept that someone who wasn’t white could have such deep roots in American history. As a Black woman, I wanted to express that my presence in this country was tied to the harrowing legacy of slavery, a history that has often been overlooked.
It was disheartening to think that someone so educated could lack awareness of how the transatlantic slave trade shaped the demographics of the U.S. For many, including my professor, the assumption persists that only white individuals can lay claim to American citizenship by birthright.
This misconception is not isolated; it reflects a broader societal issue wherein individuals are judged by their skin color rather than their actual connection to the land. Racism thrives on this narrow view, especially in discussions surrounding immigration and policies like Arizona’s SB 1070, which, thankfully, lost its effectiveness over time.
The belief that one can “look American” or “look undocumented” is perpetuated by an education system that often presents a whitewashed version of history. This flawed narrative suggests that only white individuals have made commendable contributions to the nation, disregarding the multitude of cultures that have shaped America.
Unfortunately, the rhetoric of exclusion continues, as racists—both overt and covert—tell nonwhite individuals to “go back to their country” without recognizing that many of us have been here longer than they have. This harmful mindset echoes the conversation I had with my professor and serves as a reminder of the ongoing struggle against racism and nationalism.
Even among people of color, there are those who adopt roles as enforcers of white supremacy, celebrating the marginalization of their fellow Americans and migrants. I have encountered this unsettling perspective even within my own family, which I firmly reject.
In reality, land ownership is an illusion; the earth was made for all to enjoy. We need to embrace the idea that America belongs to everyone, and citizenship should not dictate one’s right to traverse borders. Telling someone to return to their country is misguided when they are already home.
For a deeper look into navigating family journeys, check out this informative post on couples’ fertility journey for intracervical insemination. Additionally, if you’re considering the journey of insemination, there’s a great resource on at-home insemination kits that can help guide you. Lastly, for anyone interested in pregnancy and fertility preservation, the Cleveland Clinic’s podcast on IVF is an excellent resource.
In summary, the understanding of American citizenship must evolve beyond the confines of race and ethnicity. Only by acknowledging the rich and diverse histories that contribute to our collective identity can we begin to foster a truly inclusive society.
Keyphrase: The legacy of American citizenship
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]