I think about immigration and race all the time. The traces of those who came before me are everywhere in my American life; in the names of streets, the activities I participate in, the news I read and the people I see every day. Immigration is never not in the news. In the last fortnight alone, I researched and found records of a long-lost relative, rejoined Facebook, volunteered at the Irish American Heritage Centre’s Irish Fest and joined the GAA. The culmination of all those seemingly unconnected incidents or events was a dawning realization of the privileges this accent, heritage and skin color bestow – none of which are personal achievements of mine; they’re simply what I was born with, the luck of some cosmic draw. My accent is loved in 2019 (it wouldn’t have been in 1870) because we’re living through yet another cycle of anti-immigration invective. It’s a cycle we can break with kindness, awareness of our own privilege and hitting up the genealogy stacks in the local library.
I did some genealogy digging here in Chicago and found records of a relative that had emigrated to the US nearly a century ago but was never heard from again. His name was John and I stumbled upon records of his passage and his arrival at Ellis Island in the summer of 1925, at a time when disillusioned young republicans left the new Irish Free State in their thousands[1]. He was 24, met by his sister and intended to stay for thirteen years. Nearly a century later, little separates his experience from economic migration today. Back then, the 1924 Emigration Act actively discriminated against Eastern Europeans and Italians, similar to efforts to curb Muslim immigration in 2017. Japanese and Chinese migrants were forbidden legal entry into America until 1943 and 1952 respectively, much as the 2018 travel ban sought to forbid migration from Iran, Libya, Somalia, Syria and Yemen etc. There certainly were worse times than 1925 for an Irishman to emigrate to America, but Catholics were still viewed with suspicion and denigrating Irish stereotypes abounded – particularly with Prohibition still ongoing. Was John subjected to those, told to go back to his own country? Was he dismissed as [insert stereotype here] instead of being recognized as a person with aspirations, like every American? He didn’t come back after the thirteen years; what happened? Did the years run away with him, did he fall in love and have children? After thirteen years, would Ireland have been as foreign to him as America had once been? If the answer to any of these questions is in the affirmative, does that make him a bad person, ripe for our disdain?
I wonder all these things because I rejoined Facebook and was shocked by the laziness, the disdain and lack of understanding extended to deportees or those under threat of deportation. I’m kind of glad I happened upon it because I’d been ridiculously sheltered in the echo chamber that is Twitter, whereas Facebook is the preserve of older people and those of generally more conservative viewpoints, where people put their names and pictures to whatever they post or opine. I came across a lot of arguments in support of widespread deportations, many of them coming from people with pretty immigrant-y sounding surnames. The reaction to the posting of a video of an ICE raid that took place in a family home in front of children was largely “well, he shouldn’t have been having kids then so if he wasn’t legal here” – as if that’s how life goes. Such discourse thrives on dehumanization. It’s far easier to pontificate on nameless migrants than it is to consider what it must actually be like for the woman in the picture or the children left behind. Easy it is too, to cast instantaneous judgement on Keith Byrne, who probably just assumed he’d get citizenship and so went ahead establishing a business and getting a mortgage. Granted, it probably wasn’t his finest hour but none of us are all-knowing all the time; indeed I have tattoos that aptly demonstrate all our propensities for daftness and short-term thinking . In a recent Irish Times piece on deportations, one respondent supported the deportations because his people had come here in 1902 and he was legal, so everyone else should be[2]. Eh, Bruce? C’mere, fair dues to you an’ all that but can you really take credit for your grandparents having arrived in 1902? I’m all in favor of reasoned discussion of immigration and the exchange of ideas but not if the argument rests on ‘well I did it legally, why don’t they?’ with zero recognition of the privileges (your granda’ having spoken English, some grandaunt having a political connection, paid passage, the need for blacksmiths in West Virginia centuries ago, the opportunity to purse education, good luck, etc.) that facilitated one’s citizenship or residency.
I don’t deny that life was hard for the Irish who came here to escape poverty and lack of opportunity. I take my hat off to them, but the Irish were white in a country still sharply segregated, they spoke English and had long been well-practised in political organizing. Such advantages did not make the experience easy but doubtless made it less difficult, certainly in comparison to, for example, Asian or eastern European immigrants. And yet, unfortunately, the Irish in America were not known for their vociferous opposition to the oppression of others (I’ve yet to read of a sympathetic Irish character – usually a cop- in African American literature). Perhaps Irish MOPE syndrome (the Irish as the Most Oppressed People Ever) blinded many Irish people to the suffering of others or gave them a sense of entitlement when their own fortunes turned. Such shortcomings are not limited to the forefathers; since 2016 we have seen the sons and daughters of Conways, Bannons, Spicers, Kelly, Mulvaneys and Pences support the mistreatment of migrants despite their undeniably immigrant-y surnames. It is unfortunate that advantage is often mistaken for superiority. It drives me mental when those with Irish surnames advocate for drastic cuts in immigration; effectively pulling the door shut behind them and denying others the opportunities they or their fore-bearers enjoyed. Everyone is entitled to their opinion of course but Lord above, must I take seriously Keith Finglas whose sole contribution to last week’s Irish Times deportation conversation was “I have a green card. Deport the undocumented illegal Irish please”[3]?
I don’t have the answers to this country’s migration issues. A reasonable debate on migration is achievable only through empathy and efforts to understand circumstances, to view ourselves as equal and not somehow superior. Immigration won’t be sorted on Facebook but a trip to the genealogy sections of our libraries might take the wind out of the sails of those who rush to judgement. And if the experiences of our own relatives, fore-bearers, ancestors or grandparents don’t get a bit of empathy and understanding going then heed instead the words of Deb Haaland (Democrat, New Mexico) who wrote last week in the New York Times,
If anyone can say “go back”, it’s Native Americans[4].
Deb Haaland
This land is your land, this land is my land. Oh no wait, this land was someone else’s long before any of us came anywhere near it.
[1] Interested? I wrote a thesis on that…!
[2] Irish Times, Undocumented Irish in America: ‘Come in legit or stay at home’, 16 July 2019.
[3] Irish Times, Undocumented Irish in America: ‘Come in legit or stay at home’, 16 July 2019.
[4] New York Times, Trump Wants Immigrants to ‘Go Back.’ Native Americans Don’t, 22 July 2019.
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