I Am An Immigrant


Let’s step back for a moment–to last October–when I stayed in California with friends.
Tuesday is street cleaning day in the sleepy neighborhood of Cypress, Orange County. A pick-up truck with two Mexicans pulls up and one goes off with the leaf blower while the other attacks the lawns. The look on their faces is one of sheer delight bordering on disbelief. How can they be paying us this much money for such work? And they work hard.

This way a speedy, efficient hurricane of cheap labor rushes through and leaves your streets neat and clean. Why do it yourself? Even though you’ve long had the fanciest lawn mower you could buy, collecting dust in your massive garage, what would be the point of using it, selling it or even donating it? No way, that’s mine!

The Mexicans are coming! They like crowding my parks and beaches and laugh a lot with their next of kin.
OH NO, family people!

By the way, a third of the USA was actually Mexico as recent as 170 years ago. Just saying…

“There is no distinction between immigration and illegal immigration.” Is what a FOX news reporter said on TV. Everybody should keep out. Private Property. I got a gun.

I have not seen any Latino bums hanging out on the sidewalk drunk, yet most Californians still seem to think that’s what they do all day. A Mexican is accustomed to working hard and will find no challenge in keeping off the street by doing unpopular work. You really want those jobs for yourself and your children? Clean toilets, sweep streets, wash dishes?

I didn’t think so.

I am an immigrant.
I am looking to take one of your jobs.
I didn’t come with a degree, savings or a grand career plan.
I am receiving subsidies to pay for my health care.
But I am white.
I believe that makes a difference,
and knowing that upsets me.

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Categories: Being Dutch in the USA, Most Popular

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