The term “model minority” is usually associated with people of Asian descent. It originated in the 1940s during World War II, when China became an ally of the United States, and the Chinese were seen as “good” Asians compared to the Japanese, who were the “bad” guys. In the 1950s and 1960s, the advent of the Civil Rights movement drove politicians and the media to promote the idea that Black and brown people in the USA were “problem minorities.” It contrasted them with the stereotypical view of Chinese and Japanese Americans as hardworking and willing to assimilate, further boosting the idea that Asian Americans represent the “model minority.”

However, even for those of us who are not of Asian descent, the idea that there are those among us who are “models” to the rest of our group is prevalent. Like a friend of mine, a Black man, says: “I can play the role of the safe negro to be accepted in certain environments.”

That is because the main characteristic of the “model minority” crosses ethnicities: it is a person who does not make White people feel uncomfortable, unsafe, or angry.

What that looks like depends on your race. For Black people, it may look like not wearing hoodies, speaking Standard English, not responding in anger when offended, being subservient when spoken to by someone in authority like a police officer, etc.

For my people, the Latinos, the model minority looks like someone who:

–      Came into the country legally.

–      Speaks English.

–      Assimilates to the White culture.

–      Never calls racism what others would call “misunderstandings.”

–      Holds a job and never needs government assistance.

–      Has a “reasonable” number of children.

–      Joins in on the outcry against “the illegals.”

Several years ago, former President Trump held a ceremony to honor Angel Families, families who lost a loved one to violence by an undocumented immigrant. As much as I feel for those families and understand first-hand the pain of having a loved one murdered, crimes are committed by people of all walks, ethnicities, and legal statuses.  

How many other of these ceremonies do we have to honor those killed by…fill in the blank with your group of choice?

I posted an article about this event on my Facebook page, decrying the danger of isolating a people’s group like this. I expressed my concern that it can foster fear of anyone who looks Latino because the fact is you cannot tell who is here legally and who is not just by looking at someone. I stated that I worried that the violence and hatred against anyone who looks Latino would increase.

Immediately, my post was met by well-intentioned friends who told me nobody would confuse me for an “illegal.” I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered: “Why not?” I’m brown, and I speak with an accent. The only thing that makes me different from my friend E., who is here undocumented, is a piece of paper.

But that piece of paper represents so much more: it represents having been born in privilege, in an upper-middle class family, to a well-educated mother with the resources, both physical and mental, to be able to afford a visa and a scholarship when she decided to come to the USA, with language skills to navigate the process, with understanding to solve any hurdles, and with connections that helped us survive when we first arrived.

I am, in the eyes of many, the “model” South American immigrant. But that is just a myth because the people I know who are here undocumented, the ones who have been called “poison to the blood of our country,” “animals,” “disease-ridden criminals,” “invaders,” “a threat to American women,” “worth shooting on the spot,” “terrorists,” rapist,” and “drug dealers,” the ones politicians want you to learn to fear and hate, are just as hardworking and dedicated to their families, willing to make sacrifices and toil for the good of the land they worked so hard to reach, as am I.

My friend E. could not get a visa from our country because getting a visa to the USA is prohibitively expensive and incredibly difficult for some folks who lack specific qualifications the USA deems appealing. So, she walked for almost a month with two little kids in tow from South America to join her husband, who had taken the same path a few months before. When she arrived at the Texas border, she looked for the Border Patrol to turn herself in.

“I wanted to do everything right when I got here to better my chances of one day getting my green card,” she told me. She’s been checking in weekly with ICE and dreams of owning a house with a little garden one day. “I want a better life for my kids. Back home, they had no future.”

I don’t have the heart to tell her that, currently, there is no path to citizenship for her and her family, even though she is the “model” of sacrifice and courage.