My grandfather told me I should carry my papers — just in case.
As Santa Fe College’s student body president, I was heading to a Student Government conference in Washington this past summer. I remember the feelings of excitement and intrigue rushing through me as I was about to have my first tour of the White House. The excitement vanished abruptly.
Out of 100 people on the tour, I was one of four who were told we’d have extra screening through U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement.
At first, I was confused. I was born in Mexico, yes, but I was born a dual citizen, because my father is American. Despite that, I was flagged simply because I’m not a natural-born citizen. Suddenly, my citizenship felt fragile.
In that moment, a gaping feeling of ostracization took hold. I thought of my friend from high school who said his uncle was wrongfully deported without due process. I thought of another friend whose family is planning to leave for Mexico in fear. These are good, hard-working people.
Then, I thought of a former friend who is in favor of this mass deportation agenda. Who, in recent times, let slip his true intentions by addressing me as “one of the good ones,” as a “good Mexican” and explicitly stating my family is going to “get f—ed by ICE.”
Ultimately, I did not have to go through the ICE screening process — the conference coordinators were able to intervene on our behalf. But even the possibility of being screened by immigration officials, while my peers moved forward unimpeded, was enough to make me feel singled out and unsettled.
Polarization of political topics, specifically immigration, has eroded something that was once so basic: our ability to see each other as human. Nearly everyone can agree that control of our border is necessary; however, immigrants in this country have made incredible contributions. Tax payments from immigrants exceeded $650 billion in 2023, while some of the greatest entrepreneurs today are either immigrants or first-generation Americans.
Despite my recent encounters with a former friend and ICE, I can proudly say I am disproportionately reminded of immigrant innovation.
Whether I am eating Goya foods or using Google, I am reminded that immigrants have a place in this country and can attain a limitless array of possibilities. I hope everyone can see me as American, even when I don’t have my papers on me.
JP Dishinger is a 19-year-old business administration sophomore and the student body president of Santa Fe College.
