Mother of Exiles

The Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island have long stood as symbols of welcome for immigrants and refugees arriving in the United States.

For some time, however, I have wrestled with what feels like a mixed message. The poem associated with the statue reads:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”

It does not say, “Give me only your well-educated, white Anglo-Saxon Protestants who will strengthen our economy and live comfortably among their own.” Yet that sometimes seems closer to the message emerging from Washington today.

America has always been more than a place. It is an idea. The poem reflects the dream of a multicultural society that welcomes people of many races, religions, and creeds. If one wishes to stretch the symbolism further, even the figure holding the torch is a woman, representing liberty itself.

The promise behind that idea is simple but powerful: that individuals are free to pursue their beliefs and build their lives as they see fit. In America, success or failure should depend on one’s effort and ability, not on where someone was born or who their parents were.

We often wave the flag and celebrate the nation as a beacon of hope and freedom to the world. The Statue of Liberty is frequently used as that symbol. But how often do we pause to consider what the symbol actually represents?

My concern is that we may be becoming a nation where many fear the loss of status. Some fear being placed on equal footing with people who do not look like them, sound like them, or share their background. People they once felt superior to are now people they must compete with.

Much of today’s political discourse reflects this tension. In some ways it suggests a drift toward a more tribal and nativist outlook, one driven by fear of demographic change. Many who hold these views do not see themselves as racist; they simply believe the social order they grew up with is the one that should continue.

That leaves us with a difficult question. Do we live up to the principles expressed in the poem, or do we retreat into our separate tribes? Each of us must answer that question honestly.

It is possible that immigrants, both legal and illegal, understand the meaning of the poem and its symbolism better than many citizens do.

For that reason, it is worth revisiting the poem in its entirety.

The New Colossus
By Emma Lazarus (1883)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”