The Question of Belonging
The question of who is an American has been asked since the creation of the Declaration of Independence. Many would argue that the answer has changed from 300 years ago to today, but has it really? In 2024, Donald Trump remarked about undocumented people, saying, “I believe this, it’s in their genes. And we got a lot of bad genes in our country right now.” More than a century earlier, Senator Benjamin Tillman of South Carolina declared in 1909, “This is a white man’s country and the white men must govern it.”
These statements, though separated by over a hundred years, reveal a dark secret in today’s society. People have become more cryptic and careful in how they state their messages. The answer to the question of who is an American has not fundamentally changed, as history repeatedly shows that those in power have limited citizenship and identity to fit their own image. This framing of belonging as something controlled and guarded by those already in power continues to shape the national conversation.
Historical Roots: Race-Based Exclusion
Take, for example, the Chinese Exclusion Act in the 19th Century, which was the first of its kind to ban an entire group of immigrants based on race, while also being the first time the federal government created a law on immigration, allowing for future regimes to use that power for their agenda. Due to their difference, officials such as Sen. John F. Miller (CA), 1882, pushed for the Chinese Exclusion, stating, “they should not be allowed to supersede the Caucasian race,” and that any other race was inadequate to become true Americans. This moment marked a turning point: race and Americanness were tied together in law, and once that door opened, later generations of lawmakers could continue defining Americanness narrowly.
Continuity: Then and Now
Has that view truly changed? In short, no. While we as a society have gotten better at coding what true intentions and meanings are, as a whole, the context is disturbingly similar. We still see today’s administrations using past uses of federal power to yet again make the same mistake of banning countries from immigrating to the U.S. These countries include Afghanistan, Myanmar (Burma), Chad, Republic of the Congo, Equatorial Guinea, Eritrea, Haiti, Iran, Libya, Somalia, Sudan, Yemen, Burundi, Cuba, Laos, Sierra Leone, Togo, Turkmenistan, Venezuela.
While government officials claim that many of these countries were banned due to “security concerns”, the true intent of the bans holds a coded racial message. Similarly, the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act was possible through the fear-mongering of a Chinese Immigrant “Invasion,” which in no way was true. The same is happening now. The true meaning behind the bans is that the current administration views them as undesirable due to their race and nothing else. This shows how the logic of exclusion never truly disappears—it simply changes its vocabulary.
The statistics also support the story. According to the Pew Research Center, 82% of Americans believe undocumented immigrants face discrimination, and 65 % say even legal immigrants do. These statistics show that exclusion is still embedded in our society, not just in law, but in perception. In other words, the logic of racialized belonging hasn’t vanished; it’s simply been rebranded.
Modern Racism in Leadership
One government official stated “Why do we want all these people from Africa here? They’re sh*thole countries … We should have more people from Norway.” That official was President Trump in his first term. These are the types of people who get to decide who is an American. While we write the narrative that the people of today don’t see color, we can see contradictions to that statement every day, from what leaders say to what immigration policies are enforced.
The tragic truth is that it’s not just our leaders; it is everyone, many, even immigrants feel that the core of being American is whiteness. When those at the very top of government normalize such rhetoric, it filters downward into society, reinforcing long-held stereotypes and making them appear acceptable in everyday conversation.
Personal Reflection: Living Outside the “American” Image
Through personal experience of growing up in an all white suburban town, I have come to a tragic truth. When people look at me, the first thing that they think of is that I am Asian. While some may say that this statement is not true, I could feel it and hear it when people would ask me, “Where are you from?” out of genuine curiosity. However, to be fair, most are not aware of the problematic nature of this question. When they see me, they don’t think of a kid who was born in America rather an Asian immigrant. People who don’t look like your perfect white, pure blood American will never be seen as American, whether that is through conscious racism or unconscious racism.
This reality has shaped my own sense of identity: I may hold the same passport, live by the same values, and speak the same language, but the perception of my face tells people a different story. That disconnect reveals how powerful racial assumptions remain in defining who gets to belong.
The Path Toward Change
The truly sad conclusion of it all is that people who aren’t white may say they are American, but people who believe that they are the pure white American will never see those who are not white as American. How do we truly change this? As an 8-year-old kid, I was taught by teachers and other books that anyone could be an American if they wanted to be one. This is less true than ever. Education of the truth is the most important factor for changing how people see Americans.
Without full transparency and accepting what has happened in the past, we will never be able to change how we think about Americans. To move forward, we must recognize that exclusionary definitions of Americanness are not relics of the past—they are patterns that return in new forms. Only by facing that uncomfortable reality can we begin to redefine what it means to be American in a way that finally matches the ideals of freedom and equality.
