This, I suppose, is what the welcome mat looks like when the welcome itself has worn thin. A nation of immigrants where the Fourth of July is meant to be celebrated by all. But a land where many of the people whose parents or grandparents arrived not long ago want nothing more than to declare themselves true Americans and exclude all others. Ripping babies from their mothers' arms and declaring them criminals, deporting thirty year peaceful residents, even those with green cards, because they can, banning people according to their religion. These and a list of other things with distressing levels of support are happening as I write. But no matter what your political or economic views, no matter what your age, race or other demographics, somewhere deep down inside you must know these things are un-American and wrong.

I remember a lady I didn’t much like who had no education, no skills and nothing of any true value saying, “At least I’m white.” It was her claim to superiority. Of course, she said that to other whites who nodded in agreement. Her grandfather, who came to this country in steerage and still spoke with an accent, apparently did so in order to allow his family to bellow that they were not only white, but true Americans. Two things that made her and those she spoke to superior.

And it’s easy to say that she was just ignorant, but what percentage of our population is just as ignorant? Is the problem prejudice or is prejudice simply a side effect of ignorance? We have way too much ignorance in this country, and there are those in power who benefit from that ignorance. But do we build walls or put up fences or take people's rights away to protect these true Americans from intelligent and humanitarian urges — one might say American urges — so they don't have to rub shoulders with people of color, or people with different customs and languages and thereby polute their whiteness and their status as true Americans? Are we really obliged to do these things so the ignorant may safely believe that they are something they are not?

If you want to know what the Fourth of July is, go to almost any park in Los Angeles, the area where I grew up, and you will find the parks filled with Mexican immigrants eating fried chicken from takeout buckets — it's a really big day for takeout chicken — and waving American flags. The parks will be packed today, unless they’re afraid to go there. Go to the homes of recent immigrants and see if this isn’t their favorite holiday. And then remember that Mexican's are mostly gang members and rapists, and that anyone with skin less than white or anyone who carries a book other than the Bible is someone to be feared, someone we must protect ourselves from. And then ask yourself which are the immigrants and which are the Americans.

I’m sorry, believe me, I'm sorry to write this today. It would be nice to celebrate the Fourth of July, as I did growing up, with barbecued steaks and a burst of patriotism, but how do patriotism and exclusion work together in a land of — I can't say this enough — immigrants? My father’s parents came here from the old country. My mother’s parents came from an old Tennessee family, but their great-grandparents were poor farmers who arrived here with nothing but the will to survive and the desire to be Americans. What does it mean to be truly American? How do we open our arms to the world and yet say to the poor and the weary stay out or go back where you came from?