Children of immigrants

Author’s note: This article is not about immigration reform.  Just attitude reform. 

We’ve all heard it said that we shouldn’t begrudge the mass influx of people from Mexico because, “We need someone to do the dirty work.” 

This phrase is often repeated by immigrants themselves in a desperate plea to find welcome.  It was even used by former Mexican President Vicente Fox to argue for more open borders with Mexico.  If we didn’t have all these immigrants then who would flip our burgers, cut our grass, and take out our trash—or so the argument goes. 

I spent four and a half years as a youth minister in the East L.A. area, which is arguably the largest Mexican American immigrant community in the country.  I was happy to be the “token white guy.”  I had the privilege of visiting there this past summer.  About 30 people from my old youth group came out to see me.  Many of them had parents who came here illegally, and were undocumented themselves until their late teenage years.  They are in their 20s now.  Strangely, none of them was flipping burgers or cutting lawns. 

Two have MAs in mathematics.  One has his MA in psychology and oversees the special education needs of a huge school district.  Another works for a PR firm.  Another is PR director for all of Vons in Southern California and plans to run for public office in 2010. 

Another is in school to become a medical doctor.  He met his wife—who is now a stay-at-home mom with child No. 2 on the way—at my youth group.  Another is teaching and just finished her master’s in education.  Another is taking over her family’s small business and turning it into a full restaurant.  Another is a seminarian.  Another is a civil engineer.  Finally, one of them has taken over the youth group as the parish’s new youth minister. 

That room was full of some of the most ambitious, industrious people I have ever met.  Not to put down my own people, but I have never seen such a high percentage of over-achievers in a room full of Anglo 20-somethings.  I take offense at people who would justify the presence of my old youth group teens in our country because someone needs to take out my trash.  (Not that manual labor is below a person’s dignity—Jesus and St. Joseph were laborers!)

The immigrant community of East L.A. is renowned for its gang problems, and perhaps for good reason.  I heard my fair share of shootings while I lived there.  But the gangsters are a small percentage of the population.  The overwhelming majority of its residents make East L.A. a beautiful place.  It’s a place where the American spirit combines with the spirit of the old country—where people succeed without forgetting their roots, where they become CEOs without moving too far from the block they grew up on, and where they start their own families but remember to visit grandma regularly. 

It’s a place where people haven’t forgotten to look out for each other as they struggle for stability and success in a new world.  Those are the kinds of strengths that are borne out of the inherent weaknesses of being newcomers.  You don’t forget about your community when you can’t afford to and you don’t slack off when doing so means becoming homeless.  Hard work and familia are in their blood.  Maybe that’s why so many of them are able to achieve the American dream. 

I guess the success of my old youth group shouldn’t surprise me.  They are sons and daughters of people who are humble enough to do any work, even really hard, really dirty work to put bread on their family’s tables.  They are children of ambitious adventurers—of immigrants.  They are people who help each other out.  They are the proud descendents of people who were willing to leave it all and to put everything on the line in order to give their children a better life—just like me.