Work hard, study well, get good grades, go to college, get a good job and climb up the ladder, all to get a white picket-fenced home, a well-manicured lawn, two kids and perhaps a golden retriever. This is what the concept of the “American Dream” references. The American Dream is something my immigrant family and many others chase.
If you have immigrant parents, you’ve heard the story. My parents immigrated from India in 1994, not knowing a word of English with a small amount of money to their name. Fast forward twenty-eight years. During the holidays, my brother and I returned home from my senior year at a private Jesuit university. My sister returns from law school in Chicago. We have all worked hard, are about to graduate, have these new opportunities and so you would presume we’ve made it, right? We’ve achieved the American Dream.
When an immigrant family moves from their home country, all the status and social capital they accumulated over the years no longer exist. As non-English speakers without higher education, my parents’ hopes of achieving the American Dream became harder. They rebuilt their lives from the ground up and set up the foundation, as well as their aspirations for my life. My siblings and I became puzzle pieces in achieving their American Dream. If the three of us are able to pursue higher education, get high-paying jobs, and reach the dream, my parents have reached it as well.
However, the American Dream is not possible for everyone who attempts it because that dream has become increasingly unattainable. The United States has historically and continues to oppress and abuse immigrants to “protect” America. This was seen through the Immigration Act of 1924, which barred mainly Asian immigrants from entering the country by setting quotas. More recently, in 2017, the Muslim Bans set by the Trump administration blocked predominantly Middle Eastern Muslims from entering the United States. In that sense, we are lucky we happened to be the “right” type of Asian to be granted an actual chance at the American Dream. But then, after our entrance into the country, we happened to lose part of our Asianness and our culture through the demands that the Dream required: the long, demanding work hours, focus on monetary success and time spent away from family.
The playbook my parents used, the one where they worked long hours, sacrificed their dreams and believed that success was a matter of effort, is inspiring in some ways; however, it is focused on survival rather than questioning the dream itself. My parents did not have the privilege of critiquing the system, as they were too focused on simply surviving. They believed in the promise of the American Dream because they had to; it was their only glimmer of light and hope. And in many ways, that belief propelled us forward.
The American Dream, in its original form, promised equality of opportunity and reward for hard work. But today, it seems more like a lottery, with winners and losers determined as much by circumstance as effort. It’s easy to romanticize how things ended up, with three kids set up for success and financial stability, but their journey was not an easy one. For many immigrant families, the American Dream comes at a price not everyone can pay. For every story like ours, there are countless others where the dream remains out of reach.
This past holiday season, surrounded by my family, I felt grateful beyond words for the beautiful life they have built and we’ve extended. But I also constantly feel the weight of a question: can a dream that demands so much sacrifice and has so many obstacles still be considered a dream?