No. 09: On Borrowed Privilege

From Brooklyn to Venezuela and being an alien

On Borrowed Privilege

Thinking about sacrifice. We honor the Americans who gave their lives so this country could remain free and strong. I think about my Brooklyn-born grand-uncle and his service in the U.S. Navy during World War II.

Decades later, I came to the US on a student visa to study at Emory.

That Brooklyn birth certificate became our family's lifeline when my grandfather used it to become a citizen and later sponsor my mother. Her green card was approved a month before I turned 18. I didn't earn my permanent residency, I inherited it. Bureaucratically. Strategically. Accidentally.

I'm here on borrowed privilege.

Making a home. Making a life.

Venezuela became my family's fresh start—a place where three brothers could rebuild together, far from Europe.

I'm Venezuelan and a registered alien in the U.S.

I've followed every rule, filed every form, paid all my taxes. Built a career in tech. Created a family. And gave birth to an American baby. I've contributed in every way I legally can, because I love this country enough to want it to be better.

And still, every immigration checkpoint, every policy debate, every headline framing Venezuelans as the kind of immigrant America doesn't want, hits with a sting.

And right now? The door is closing on people like me. Universities are suspending student visa programs. Immigration rhetoric gets uglier by the hour.

Not the time to be small.

In America, visibility matters.

On Memorial Day, we remember those who died for America's ideals. But those ideals don't mean anything unless we extend them to the people still building this country into something worthy of the sacrifice.

My dad made sure we learned how to speak English well so we could attend college in the US.

He was born into British occupied Germany. Food and gasoline were scarce. He grew up watching Clint Eastwood westerns. He loved Charlie Brown comics. Once grown, he found Venezuela in his early twenties, or maybe Venezuela found him. Either way, he loved it with all his heart.

I'm also German by bloodline, as is my daughter. Our papers were issued in Berlin. That's how it's done in Germany. Here in America, that's not how it's done.

Aliens

Unfortunately, America truly believes it's being invaded by aliens. Enough to justify mass deportations. Enough to invoke the alien enemies act.

I think about my family's lived experience in Europe during the 1940s.

If we're worried about America's national identity, then mass deportation to detention facilities in other countries is anti American. It's dehumanizing and it's not even rational.

This Memorial Day, as we honor those who died for American ideals, let’s get serious about national identity and what actually makes America great. Not the fear of who doesn't belong, but the courage to build an open society that values freedom and truth.

💌 New Is Nice, Always — Eva