Every time I present my passport at the airport, I am angered by the classification assigned to my little red stamp book. According to the nomenclature of my official documents, I am a “resident alien,” a status lesser than the “exempt individuals” admitted to the border for employment or permanent relocation due to being a relative of United States citizens. 

Although the term itself merely suggests I have not passed the Green Card and substantial presence tests, the taxonomy has clear disparaging and exclusionary connotations.

The U.S. immigration system is currently set up to dictate people’s supposed rightfulness to exist based on their cumulative years of possessing a legitimate status. This limiting and post-imperialist legacy of seemingly controlling and monitoring newcomers has been in place for much too long, and my generation of immigrants seems to be sitting on the precipice of change. 

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The direction we are moving in might be for the better: expanding programs for more inclusive admittances. Or the worse: reducing the chances for immigrant communities to connect and for families to unite. 

The current administration’s educational policies, specifically regulations of speeches in collegiate institutions, have significant implications for international students’ survival. By characterizing people who are already legally ostracized as foreigners infiltrating the country, President Donald Trump effectively constructed a villainous image of a group of young people who are frequently misrepresented and do not have the platforms to defend themselves.

Not only are Trump’s unreasonable rhetorics actively suppressing international students during his second term, but the State Department is also damaging the future of global education by abandoning valuable cultural exchange programs. My friends who are graduating seniors initially hoped to apply to prestigious traveling fellowships to Europe and Asia, but the cruel reality is that these programs might be cut due to impending funding suspensions.

Both undocumented and international students have their unique sets of marginalizations in a hierarchy that prioritizes naturalized citizens and hinders those who are not seen as well-deserving participants in their workforces. Additionally, we are seen as incompatible with the local language-based, behavioral and cultural norms.  

My family endured this type of subjugation to an aggravated extent following our immigration right before the outbreak of the global pandemic. We moved to the U.S.for the sole purpose of helping me open up new doors. Being able to resort to an exit plan like this is a fantasy story for most kids in my hometown. 

Although international students like myself who are also seeking to relocate to the U.S. have the privilege of receiving a higher education that is more open-minded than our hometowns, we are nonetheless constrained by a different set of boxes. Both environments present harsh circumstances: they may not be so disparate.

With both visible and intangible borders erected around our nation, we as “nonresident aliens” are stuck in an excruciating limbo. We have to wait for endless applications and appointments to receive security clearances, and our lives are in the hands of federal agents who have no knowledge of our backgrounds, hopes and aspirations. To my friends and community members, I can be a three-dimensional person with a vivid soul, yet to the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, I am but a stack of paper among millions of other files. 

How could I be an “alien” when I have the same level of familiarity with this land as my peers who were born and raised on this soil? I can even say that being born into a different national origin makes me more compelled to learn about American history and customs. 

Education is the key to the blatant misunderstandings that have been troubling us. If we’re given the proper scholarly materials, we could digest the seemingly inexplicable experiences of moving across the world. 

In my international relations classes, we maintain a globally-minded approach. My professors have made countless efforts to ensure that we’re learning about peacemaking from the angle of not just developed nations, but also the Global South and countries that are typically not invited to have a seat at the table. 

Trump’s vision for global security and international order is incompatible with what we are taught at USC. His version of “leading with peace through strength” is manifested through vigorous exertions of unwanted forces instead of diplomatic negotiations. We must be more adamant about acknowledging the harm of this vast discrepancy. 

Despite being degraded to “aliens” and being treated as “troublemakers” taking up resources, we as nonresident students can nonetheless use our compassion to branch out beyond our limited perceptions of the world. 

We are not going to let the adverse and counterintuitive labels the government assigns to us deprive us of our agency, and we must continue to stand up to the active wrongdoings of nationalist leaders who do not value our presence. The “legitimacy” to exist is not rooted in the procedures for naturalization, but in asserting our rightful place regardless of residential status.