Commentary: Understanding Xenophobia’s Durability 

Over the past year, the U.S. has seen some sweeping changes to its immigration policy. In July 2025, with the passing of the “One Big Beautiful Bill Act” under the Trump administration, federal agencies were given $170 million to carry out the president’s mass deportation campaign, which continues to evoke fear and heartbreak across the country. 

In September 2025, Trump also issued an executive order requiring employers to pay $100,000 for each new international employee needing a H-1B visa to live and work in the country, claiming that the program had been abused and created a disadvantageous labor market for American citizens. Prior to this law, that fee for employers was typically between $2,000 and $5,000. 

In May, U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services issued a new memo surrounding green card applications that limits “adjustment of status,” now requiring more applicants to return to their home countries in order to complete the application process. The Supreme Court also made two major rulings in June: Mullin v. Al Otro Lado declares that asylum seekers at land ports of entry can now be turned away before they cross into the U.S., and Mullin v. Doe allows the government to terminate Temporary Protected Status (TPS) for Syrians and Haitians living in the country.

As the country braces for the immediate and long-term impact of many of these policies, I find myself thinking a lot about the government’s heavy-handedness in deciding who gets to stay and who does not. While the question of ‘who gets to stay?’ is centered in immigration discussions today, it’s not a new one. Rather, it’s a consideration that has always been part of this country’s history — a fundamental hurdle in deciding how the United States as a nation would be built. 

In her 2019 book America for Americans: A History of Xenophobia in the United States, author and historian Erika Lee explored how xenophobia has shaped U.S. history, which helps explain why immigration is still part of today’s national debate. 

Background

On October 3, 1965, President Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Immigration and Nationality Act, abolishing the discriminatory national origins quotas that had been in place since 1924. The new law explicitly prohibited discrimination on the basis of race, sex, nationality, place of birth, or place of residence in the U.S. government’s decisions about immigrant visas. In Johnson’s eyes, this was a huge step forward for civil rights and equality, and one that honored the country being “built by a nation of strangers.” 

But the 1965 Immigration Act didn’t mean a warm embrace of all strangers. Johnson’s “moving declaration of an end to discrimination only masked the perseverance of xenophobia and the inauguration of color-blind xenophobia,” writes Lee.

The law actually brought in new restrictions, instating a numerical cap on immigrants the U.S. would accept from the Western Hemisphere. With a quota that was far below actual and historic numbers for Mexican migration, the policy was an attempt to restrict Mexican workers, who had been coming to the U.S. for generations and suddenly faced heightened difficulties in entering the country. The law also established a preference system for granting visas that heavily prioritized family reunification and skilled professionals — which favored Europeans.

“Presentism” is the bias of interpreting past events and people with contemporary morals and values. I believe it would be too harsh to say that the 1965 Immigration Act wasn’t in any capacity a win for those seeking to erase the blatant discriminatory undertones of much of the U.S.’s immigration policy. At the same time, however, it prompts important questions of how we ascribe value to the people who enter and live in our country.

While conservative critics of Johnson’s bill argued fiercely for restrictions on the number of Asian, African, and Latin American immigrants allowed into the U.S., they never brought up the idea of limiting European immigration. In fact, many hoped to see a surge in immigration from Western Europe, wanting to bolster the U.S.’s image as a nation of European immigrants, and were disappointed when that didn’t happen. 

Who Has Immigrated in the Past 60 Years, and Why?

During this period, conditions in many countries gave its people reasons to migrate. Throughout the 1970s and ’80s, the U.S. saw a huge influx of non-European immigration, including tens of thousands of Southeast Asian refugees; Taiwanese, South Korean, and Indian immigrants seeking higher wages; and Cubans fleeing the Castro regime. 

Even before then, the U.S. allowed millions of Mexican immigrants to legally enter the U.S. on short-term contracts to fill labor needs left by World War II. Families also began to take advantage of reunification clauses and join relatives.

Despite its cap on non-European immigration, the U.S. did allow immigrants from countries that it did not actively want — for the sake of convenience. The bracero program, for example, brought 4.6 million Mexican workers to the U.S. during a labor crisis, under which men were exploited and often subjected to poor living and working conditions. 

However, the Immigration Act of 1965 effectively eliminated pathways for Mexicans in need of jobs to legally enter the U.S. Its annual quota of 20,000 led many Mexicans, whose American employers still needed them to fill jobs, to enter “illegally.”

Lee writes: “How lawmakers designed and included provisions that discriminated against certain immigrants in a law that was intended to eliminate discrimination reveals much about how durable xenophobia was even in the midst of the civil rights movement.” 

That durability reveals a lot about the fragility of immigrants’ value in America’s eyes. Historically, an immigrant coming to the U.S. has been deemed worthy only under specific conditions — such as if they are European and educated, or in need of a job at a certain economic moment. 

Even before Operation Metro Surge, Trump showed that he doesn’t care about whether families are together. Now, we see our government also disregarding the principle of bringing in skilled professionals by making major changes to H-1B visa and green card policies. 

For years, the government held on tightly to the idea that only “skilled professionals” would have something to contribute to American society. That position is problematic because of its elitist nature, and incorrect because immigrants of all educational and work experiences play a meaningful role in helping our country flourish. 

Two examples: 30 percent of direct care workers who provide long-term care services are immigrants, as are roughly one-third of the construction workforce.

At one point, Lee references a quote in President John F. Kennedy’s 1958 book A Nation of Immigrants: “immigration policy should be generous; it should be fair; it should be flexible.” Generosity, fairness, and flexibility do not mean that policy applies to only white immigrants, nor that it is subject to repeal when the government decides to let xenophobia take hold. 

Let these attempts to erase America’s identity as a nation built by immigrants urge us to fight for one that is actually generous, fair, and flexible — enabling us to ultimately recognize the unwavering value of our immigrant populations across all historical and economic contexts. 

There is no place for selectiveness in being pro-immigrant.

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