Tenesaca 16
Joel Tenesaca
Writing for the Social Sciences
Ethnography
The True Problem with Immigration in Today’s United States
When you think of immigration and the problems that are arising now due to it, which side of the sword do you stand at? In today’s United States, it seems that every day there’s a new problem arising with the topic of immigration, to be exact, illegal immigration. You’ll hear of a murder or an arrest for all sorts of crimes occurring at the hands of these illegal immigrants, and the news paints a gruesome picture of them, turning a country that was founded as a country of immigrants, against each other. Well, as a Hispanic undocumented immigrant (as oppose to the phrase “illegal immigrant”) myself, I feel that it’s time to clear the air from all this horror propaganda. Since the election of President Trump, the search for a plan against the illegal immigration has been at an all-time high. And why wouldn’t it be, people are scared and intimidated by the possibilities of a dangerous force coming into their homes, a silent invasion if you may. Having both an insider and outsider stance on the topic, I think there is always something to be fearful of. Just like within every other society, there exists the evil and malignant forces within our communities. But also, like every community, there exists the morally good, hard working force, people willing to leave everything they knew and loved in search for the “American dream.” For the sake of this study, the primary focus will be the Hispanic immigrant community of Queens, New York, more specifically, Roosevelt Ave.
The Borough of Queens is home to a variety of different races and immigrants from all around the world. Presiding greatly over the area of Flushing, Astoria, and all along the Roosevelt Avenue, the immigrant community lives in a political purgatory, fighting to stay, and struggling to survive where they aren’t wanted. On the corner of the Junction Blvd and Roosevelt Ave, at approximately 6:00am, the signs of the everyday fight for survival begin. Although this time of morning appears to be early for many people, Hispanics are right on time to catch the 6:07 am 7 train into the city. Most would work behind closed doors, moving the gears that make the city move like a well-oiled machine. There’s a smooth breeze in passing, signs of fall commencing. Hispanics crowd along to the entrances of the Junction Blvd Train station. What appears to be eight men, wearing thick sweaters and carrying large backpacks, tips of drills and expandable painter’s poles protruding from their off-brand backpack pockets and sides. A small and gruff looking Latino male, with the appearance like that of the average Honduran male, wears a grey zip up hoodie, stained with paint and what appears to be plaster. His jeans resemble the same. The bright blue they strutted when they were first purchased is a mere memory to the now color-washed, stained and painted pants he wears now. His bag...
