America is an immigration contrary, with a number of 47 million, America has the largest immigration population than any other contrary. But even with this high number in the population, immigration was still been treated unfairly. My person was Bulosan, Carlos Bulosan. He was a Filipino American, He is a writer, he writes for the poor, like migrant workers, in his story, he said: “People told us, this is the land of opportunity, this is the land of freedom. It easy to earn a living in the United States even as a bellhop or dishwasher. Bulosan, 2003, historylink, para 5 But they lie to us. They only told us the first half of the story. They never told us the people of color did not enjoy democracy. They never told us, the people of color do not count as an “American”. When Carlos Bulosan came to America, he became quickly disillusioned by the reality of life in the United States. And it was 1930. The stock market crash a year right before he comes. The Great Depression had devastated the country. Jobs were scarce and the competition was intense for whatever was available.
When Carlos Bulosan arrives at Seattle, he has been “sold” to the south for five-dollar. And his years of bitterness begun. He was forced to work in an Alaska fish cannery to earn $13 for the season. He picked apples in Eastern Washington and finally moved south to California to continue the familiar seasonal cycle of picking fruits and vegetables. All this life he had right now was not what they promised to him. This should not be how the American dream looks like.
In the years his life, racism takes a majority part of it. In Washington, this future author experienced racism when the white man burned down a double-story shack he had slept in. And years later, when he talks about it, he said that “it carries into years of bitterness, degradation, hunger, open revolt, and even crime.' “I know deep down in my heart that I am an exile in America. I feel like a criminal running away from a crime I didn't commit. And this crime is that I am a Filipino in America.” Bulosan, 2003, historylink, para 8.
After all this unfair treatment I have, I start writing, writing for the people that have treated like me, I write for the poor, I write for the ones who can’t tell other their words. My pen was my weapon. I fight for my people. My writing also became a means to fight against discrimination. Just like the words in my poem.
“We are the vision and the star, the quietus of pain;
we are the terminals of inquisition, the hiatuses
of a new crusade; we are the subterranean subways
of suffering; we are the will of dignities;
we are the living testament of a flowering race.”
Bulosan, 1983, “If You Want to Know
What We Are”, Para 13
