By Aldo Gonzalez
Transcribed and edited by Aly Gonzalez
Recently, my mom reminded me that I spent a whole year living in Mexico in my youth. As a son of Mexican immigrants, born and raised in Wisconsin, that seemed pretty cool to me. I grew up speaking Spanish and valuing Mexican culture, and we've always made it a point to visit my extended family in Mexico each year — but that isn’t the same as growing up there. So I thought, 'Wow, my bicultural credentials just skyrocketed!' I then asked my mom, 'How old was I?' She replied, 'Uh, I think around two or three.' Aw, man! That was disappointing to hear. Still, I think and hope I have a useful perspective to share as far as immigration goes.
Some background about me: I love the Tangle ethos and have been a big fan for many years. I grew up Catholic but wasn't religious until high school. Since then, I've yearned to seek the truth and bridge divides for things that matter. I got a glimpse into just how damaging our divides are when I wrote opinion pieces for a local newspaper; I remember writing a piece that I thought was relatively uncontroversial, back in Trump's first term, suggesting that we shouldn't have a knee-jerk reaction to everything Trump says or does. Instead, I argued, we should evaluate policies based on their merits and recognize that others who are less controversial (maybe even your favorite politician) have suggested similar ideas before. Nevertheless, it still upset some people.
However, what surprised me the most was the reaction to a pro-life piece I wrote. Print copies of the newspaper were distributed throughout the area, and I invited my friends to check it out. One friend told me he sat down to read it, flipped to my essay, and found rips around where my piece was supposed to be. I was pretty taken aback that someone would tear it out of the copy. This is the sort of thing that I've always heard about but never thought would happen to me.
The way we have meaningful conversations is broken. There's no other takeaway than that.
I try to ameliorate that through better listening and open-mindedness, but I haven't always been great at that. Some of it came down to my media consumption; I was once an avid listener of Ben Shapiro, who I thought had a lot of insightful things to say about politics and life, some of which I still carry today. However, I was only getting my news and politics from one source. This left out a lot of nuance and didn’t help with polarization or tribalism. I cannot thank Tangle and the Equal Rights Institute enough for helping to change that.
With that, back to the main story.
To visit the U.S. from Mexico, you need a visitor's visa. With most of my family in Mexico and our time together limited, it’s always great when any of them can come for a visit. At times, it's been critically helpful. When I was younger, my parents faced a long family emergency and couldn’t care for me. Luckily, a relative with a visa stepped in.
Some of my other relatives, however, have not been so lucky — given the strange, lottery-like process. Some of them never think to try, and others have nearly given up entirely. The legal process doesn't seem to be based on anything predictably logical. From what they have seen, your work experience and education don't seem to matter at all. They say that it feels random — that one person goes in and gets denied, then the next person goes in with the same materials and gets accepted. One distant relative has been repeatedly denied throughout multiple years.
I get the frustration; it feels like there’s nothing you can do but keep trying and hope for a lucky break. And the logistics of applying aren’t encouraging, either. You have to travel a few hours into the city to schedule an appointment, which might be years off. Then, you need to go back into the busy city for the actual appointment, which could take several days.
For citizenship applications, the climb sounds pretty steep. I have a friend who emigrated from Central Asia over the course of five years — and that was a couple of decades ago. The process required lots and lots of tests and questions, including medical tests — we often joke that he was asked to show his death certificate. His dedication to his family is so great that he came over first, worked long enough to buy a house, and then brought his family over. The thought of being away from a wife and kids for that long is mind-boggling to me.
Now, you'd think it would be easier to get citizenship for your child if you're a U.S. citizen and your child was born in Mexico. Wrong. I knew a married couple who tried this for their son, and it took them about four years and many appointments in both countries. The dragged-out process for something that should have been simple made them want to come for a season to have their next child.
Jorge is a friend and also my mechanic. He is illegally here and has raised a family here for the past 15 years. I always hear horror stories of mechanics charging for things that aren't problems, making things worse, or even charging crazy fees for basic checks, but Jorge does none of that. I tried to pay him for checking my car once, but he wouldn't take it. He’s the most honest mechanic I’ve ever encountered, as well as super humble, positive, resilient, and always thankful to God.
Another family friend is Julia from Nicaragua. She's been here illegally for over 20 years, raising a family and working, cleaning houses, and MCing at events. She is also very hardworking and so full of charisma.
But for both of them, and many others, living here without legal status has been a sentence in the shadows. They have to drive around every day, but they can’t get a driver's license, which means they can’t get car insurance. So they drive slowly and carefully, hoping they can get to work, drop off and pick up their kids from school without getting stopped. Healthcare? Not possible. If they have a real emergency, they can go to the ER and pay a hefty bill. They just end up not going to the doctor or the dentist. And working conditions? Riddled with abuses. I know a guy who works in construction and gets paid meager cash under the table, for crazy hours without overtime pay, and the work can be hazardous and life-threatening. He works outside, often at tall heights, and even when it's zero degrees and snowing.
There are many other constraints to not having documentation, especially in areas like housing, finances, and education — or even receiving emergency assistance. When I worked at a nonprofit, I was frustrated by the occasional call from immigrants here illegally asking for help, because I felt like there was nothing we could do. I couldn’t suggest workplaces because they couldn't work in normal places. I couldn’t direct them to housing since most places require documentation; I also couldn’t talk about car loans or bank accounts for the same reason. Normally, I’d end up directing them to immigration services and local charities.
If it's so tough, why don't they leave? Some do. Some come, give it a try, and find that the situation ends up being more difficult than it was back home. Some still consider it much better than life at home due to lower crime rates, greater work opportunities, or better schooling for their kids.
And a few can't go back for any reason.
I knew of someone who fled to the United States, running from a gang's threat to his life back home. He never applied for asylum out of fear of deportation and for lack of proof; he has since grown a family over the past ten years.
But for most of them, the best reflection on their lives that I’ve experienced comes from a conversation I had last year. I was in Mexico, and a friend (who’s a huge Cowboys fan) was telling me about his experience visiting the U.S. I asked if he'd ever want to live there. “If I get the chance, maybe,” he replied. “Sure, there are tough things about living here in Mexico, but I do like the greater sense of community here. I felt kind of alone over there in the U.S. But we're doing okay here. We like it, and we've got a good business going. I just hope someday to visit the Cowboys' stadium.” Then he asked me, "What about you? Do you think you could move over here?" I thought for a minute. "I don't know. It'd probably be very difficult. I grew up my entire life in the U.S. I think it'd be like if I were a tree and were uprooted all of a sudden. And then thrown somewhere else and expected to move on like nothing happened."
That was me getting asked whether I'd move willingly. Now imagine you don’t have a choice. Now imagine it isn’t just you, but you and your family who are being uprooted. Imagine you're growing up in a country that is not very politically stable. Maybe there's more crime than you'd want for starting a family. Maybe there aren’t many economic opportunities. Your parents had a harder life than you've had, and your grandparents even more so. Working on the farm all day in the heat and barely getting enough to put food on the table. Maybe you or your parents didn't get to go to school or dropped out at an early age. As a parent, you just want to give your kids a better life, right? You enter a nearby country illegally in search of a better life. You raise your kids, they go to school and learn English, you have a stable job, and you’ve become part of the local community. You start to call this place home. You know this country could send you back someday, and it'd be within its rights to do so. But you dread the possibility and hope it won't happen. You could probably deal with it — you didn't grow up here. But your kids? Think about your kids. This is the only world they've known.
This is why I find deportations, especially of innocent people and families whose only crime is crossing the border, deeply problematic.
Because we can say, “They came illegally,” “they broke the law,” “we have the authority to deport them,” and that can all be true. And we should shore up the border and the asylum system, as I’ll discuss later. Immigration reform doesn’t only mean passing out citizenships. But we have to face the reality that they're already here: They've already built their livelihoods and families. There are real moral implications at play. That's why I so strongly object to this option.
So what else could we do? One option is to continue ignoring them, like we've been doing. I have a friend who once said Congress is practically pretending they don't exist. He jokes that if he became president, he'd lock them in a room and keep them there until they addressed it. "Want your vacation?" he'd say. "Then figure this out." But he has a point — this isn't a sustainable situation, especially when we could be talking about around 20 million people.
So, citizenship for everyone? Not necessarily, but they should at least be given the possibility. I believe that if you've been living here for 10 or more years with a clean record, then having a pathway to legal residency is a sensible idea.
And it seems to be a popular idea, as well. A 2024 SSRS and CNN poll asked Americans to choose between deporting unauthorized immigrants or offering them a pathway to citizenship. The results showed that 67% favored the pathway to citizenship, while 33% chose deportation.
A PRRI poll from February 2025 showed that 56% of Americans prefer citizenship, 11% permanent residency, and 31% deportation.
Other polls asked Americans to focus on pathways for those who have met certain conditions. A 2021 FWD poll found 79% support a pathway to citizenship for those who have lived in the U.S. for 10 years or longer. PRRI asked about paths to citizenship for those with U.S. citizen children (79% approval), spouses of citizens (75%), Dreamers (71%), farmworkers (71%), and essential workers (66%).
Furthermore, a 2024 Chicago Council on Global Affairs poll found 62% favor a path to citizenship for unauthorized immigrants working in the US.
I just think about what it could mean for people in my community, like my mechanic Jorge. He wouldn't have those constant fears and limitations hovering over him. Instead, he'd feel empowered in his role and capable in his trade, which is vital for everyone. Not to mention his hardworking attitude, integrity, and the cultural contributions he could make. Imagine again you're that immigrant in the earlier analogy, and your country decides to do something like this for you. You might think that it’s not your right, but you also might feel a mix of overdue recognition, relief, joy, and gratitude. You'd be eager to avail yourself of new opportunities, like going back to school or working in an industry you're gifted in. You’d feel more positive about the country, freer to step out in the local community, share your life story, and foster a deeper appreciation of different cultures. For the people I know, this would ring true.
Now, of course, many people worry that offering pathways to citizenship would incentivize more people to come illegally. And that makes complete sense to me.
I recently listened to a White House press briefing with Trump's border czar Tom Homan. He was taking questions on immigration as part of Trump's first 100 days in office, discussing the administration's views on immigration and border security. He argued that our basic border policy should be: we should know who is coming in and out of the country. If people come into the country illegally, then they don't get screened and we don't know who they are. I paused the video to process. I'd never heard it so simply put — it seems like such common sense, like what everyone believes.
He also argued for strict border security on humanitarian grounds by discouraging people from the border journey. He says it's a dangerous journey with a risk of death, trafficking, and a particular risk for the vulnerable. And from what I've heard from others, this also sounds true. The journey can be hot, going through deserts with low resources, traveling in very large groups, and trusting in the people you paid to help you get here — people who aren't exactly going to hold your hand the whole way. Some of these immigrants, including pregnant women or families with children, have to climb fences and other obstacles.
All in all, I was picking up what this guy was putting down. I felt like we agreed on more than I thought, and that we're not on entirely different worlds. It's nice to have one of those bright, Tangle moments once in a while.
Our country has a long way to go on border security, and Congress still has a lot to do. The same goes for the asylum process. It's crazy that some asylum-seekers have to wait one to two years for an immigration judge to hear their cases, which is a sign that Congress is falling behind. With those wait times, it's no wonder these immigrants are commonly released into the country while they wait for their appointment. Homan spoke critically about that catch-and-release policy, and I agree it's not ideal.
But I don't think the Remain in Mexico policy is the answer, either. This policy requires asylum-seekers to wait in Mexico (typically border towns) for their appointment instead of being released into the U.S, and was in effect from 2019–2021. Unfortunately, given how dangerous Mexico's border towns can be, reports show that 1,544 of them were either killed, kidnapped, tortured, or experienced other forms of violence. Asylum-seekers running from danger in their home countries, made to wait in a different danger? I think we can do better than that. Congress needs to add more judges to clear up the backlog and ensure speedy hearings, an idea that resonates with a majority of Americans (especially at Tangle!).
Another way to discourage people from coming to the border is to offer legal pathways. At the very least, we should offer refugee admissions and asylum hearings for those fleeing threats to their lives or other persecutions. However, we're not currently offering those as we normally do. This ironically encourages illegal immigration — compared to what some of them are running from, the border journey might not seem so daunting. But more importantly, they’re solid initiatives we should support, and most people do. When asked about the importance of taking in refugees in a 2022 Pew Research Center poll, 72% of Americans said it's at least somewhat important.
This makes sense to me because of who the programs are for. To be approved as a refugee or an asylum-seeker, you must make a case that you're being targeted for any of the following characteristics: race, religion, political opinion, nationality, or social group. If you follow world news, you know that this kind of persecution is all too common, and providing a safe haven for people targeted for their race in the Democratic Republic of the Congo or for being Christian in Afghanistan seems like a good thing for the U.S. to continue doing.
The refugee process involves years of questioning and medical tests, often before asylum-seekers can even set foot in the U.S. They often apply at ports of entry or from within the country, then go through an initial vetting and schedule a hearing with an immigration judge. Refugees accepted into the U.S. are then resettled by agencies. I worked at a non-profit with co-workers who did this work; they would pick up newly arrived refugees from the airport and take them to temporary housing, help them find housing and a job, set up their healthcare, and get them acquainted with the culture.
Now, should we consider temporarily shutting down the asylum system if the border is overwhelmed? And should we be prudent as far as how many refugees we take, and which towns we take them to, so we don’t strain local resources? Yes. But stop the program? I don't think so.
Beyond that, we should consider giving out a lot more work visas. Think about the agriculture and construction industries. The degree to which we rely on immigrant labor, including those here illegally, is staggering. We don't have enough people here who want to do those jobs, and yet, how essential are these services? It seems even the Trump administration has recognized this and is floating ideas for a legal arrangement for workers illegally here. Imagine these workers were given work visas, and more were invited that way. Law and order? Check. Fulfilling crucial needs? Check. Workers no longer having legal concerns looming over their heads? Check. No under-the-table work arrangements and owners abusing immigrants for money? Hopefully, check.
So, to return to the prior question, would pathways to citizenship for unauthorized immigrants incentivize more people to come illegally? Of course. I just find that it would balance pretty well with those other reforms. Imagine a would-be immigrant's perspective: "Oh, looks like Congress shored up the border security, and they're running a tight ship now. Oh, and now if I go plead asylum, I won't be released into the country, but instead have a hearing right away, so I'd better have a case. And oh, I wanted to go work, looks like they're rolling out more work visas." It's a vastly different perspective, and past immigrants just didn't see it like that. For those seeking asylum or who want to work, as well as for the country in general, wouldn’t this be a win-win?
Granted, this stuff is complicated — especially from a layman's perspective outside the halls of Congress. Still, it's a good place to start; it’s certainly more productive than devolving into rhetoric, which we often do.
This past election season, I watched many of Trump's campaign rallies to get a better idea of the top issues. It didn't surprise me that he focused on immigration. After all, the border was overwhelmed in 2023, and even before and after that, Biden didn't exactly keep record lows — not to mention the struggles some communities faced due to receiving too many immigrants. Trump harped on these points, but also spoke as if the situation at the border was an ongoing apocalyptic crisis. That it’s an invasion. That many of the people coming are dangerous, violent criminals.
As I listened to this, I imagined swarms of immigrants running through the border, pillaging nearby homes, and stabbing innocent people. Some of the imagery was done for me, as Trump would repeatedly say, “These migrants, they make our criminals look like babies. These are stone-cold killers. They’ll walk into your kitchen, they’ll cut your throat.” Of course, some are criminals and gang members, and that’s the problem with illegal immigration, as I talked about earlier. My concern here is this sweepingly generalizing rhetoric that instills fearful imagery and is just inaccurate. Beyond not finding that helpful for discussing immigration, I think it's damaging.
Let's say you ardently come to believe those tenets, as some have, and you know millions of immigrants are here illegally. There are also millions of immigrants here legally, along with many more Hispanics overall. Is there any way to tell them apart? Is there any way to tell which of them are dangerous, violent criminals? Any of them are likely to have distinguishable accents, skin colors, and clothing. Others may have English limitations, a preference for Spanish, or even are just able to speak Spanish. If I'm at a Mexican store and hear people speaking Spanish, I can't tell how long they've been here (i.e., whether they're first or second-generation). Basically, I think if you paint immigration in that light, you might be inclined to generalize Hispanics across the board and see them all as potential criminals.
My mom, who speaks English fluently, is at times treated poorly in stores and on the phone due to her accent. People demean her by speaking slowly and over-pronouncing words, even when it's clear she doesn't need them to — that's just a natural human psychological struggle with new cultures and languages. Adapting to these things isn't easy for us. We're tempted to say, ‘These people are new, they're different, I want nothing to do with them.’ Now imagine we add, 'These people are invading the country and they're criminals.'
I won’t pretend I have all the answers or that I've solved immigration. I could be wrong, and I could change my mind — it’s a complex issue influenced by many factors, especially upbringing and cultural connections. Aside from my cultural background, my Catholic faith informs my views about countries' rights to sovereignty as well as the dignity of the human person. That may not be the case for you, but I haven't assumed that for this piece.
And as much as we can easily disagree about policies, steps, and priorities, I think it ultimately comes down to a couple of things. Is immigration good for the country long term? Is it a net positive overall? I've briefly argued yes, but most striking to me is that the majority of Americans believe this, too. A Gallup poll from 2023 showed that 68% of Americans considered immigration a good thing for the country. A 2024 Chicago Council Survey poll shows that 61% of Americans believe immigrants from other cultures have a mainly positive impact on American society.
But most fundamentally, does the United States have a responsibility to help immigrants? Is it integral to America's identity? Let's look back at the country’s early days. The founders were descendants of settlers who had immigrated from Europe starting in the early 1600s. This early settlement is certainly controversial, as it led to the displacement of native populations. But they came from different countries and for different reasons, including political unrest, property ownership, financial opportunities, and religious freedom. For example, if you were a non-Anglican in England, you might have to convert, depending on the monarch. Otherwise, you'd face exile, death, or other persecutions. This made them feel unsafe, as their religious freedoms were left to the whims of whoever was monarch.
And so, many headed to the New World in hopes of finding something better. Ultimately, they were looking for a better life. These ideals are what the country was founded on and paved the way for millions of immigrants to search for the same here.
Aldo is a young adult from Wisconsin. He studied communication and computer science in college, and in his free time enjoys spending time with family, writing songs, and reading.
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