“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses..."

[Prisoner_Number_Six]

There was a time those words held real meaning for the entire world- it was a time our nation of America invited the lost and the desperate of ALL nations to come live with us. Our nation of America needed the huddled masses so she could become a better place.

They came, and America was thus made great. They called our country a shining beacon of liberty, and the common folk of a hundred and more countries pulled up the roots of many generations to come find a new life in our land. They yearned to be free, and we made it so. The United States of America was the hope of the world. The people of Earth knew it and admired us for it. They longed to come here and live.

They DID come. They joined us in freedom. They farmed our food, they developed our cities, and they fought and died for our ideals. The United States of Amrica was free, and she was the greatest nation of them all.

But then it all changed.

How quickly our shining ideal tarnished. How quickly our freedom was sold back into slavery. How cheaply our very lives were bought off. How brutally our rights were trampled underfoot. How suddenly our Beacon of Liberty was snuffed out by cheap, mean thuggery.

How quickly the shining light of the world became just another despotic dictatorship.

How quickly it was accepted by those among us.

There are many in our country who are comfortable with it. "If you're not doing anything wrong, what is there to worry about?" "It's important to control the citizens so we can keep our freedom." "We have to destroy their country and kill their women and children to keep their men from killing us!" "The Constitution is just another goddamned piece of paper."

But I also believe they are still a small minority. A loud, uncouth minority, shouting above the din of our freedom, hoping as they're heard more and more will join their chorus of fascism. They believe because they yell so loud they must be correct. And some hear them and, shrugging their shoulders, join in. There's no hope, they say. It's too late. Once they take it we'll NEVER get it back. Get comfortable, because it's just going to get worse.

They say there's no hope of America turning back.

I say they're wrong. It's NOT too late. We CAN get it back. We CAN drive the bullies from where they are entrenched. We CAN ride the thugs out of town on a rail.

It's time for us to do so.

It's time for the rest of us to shout them down. It's time for the rest of us to remember the refrain of Freedom. It's time for the rest of us to renew the song of Liberty. It's time for OUR voices to rise above theirs. It's time for us to sing the song of America.

It's time we got our country back.
---

"The New Colossus"

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 our teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

[RaleighNCDUer]

1. IMO, the change began even as those words were being written.

For a century, our immigration policy was that if you were healthy, sane, and not a criminal you could immigrate. Everyone was an immigrant, a couple generations back, and none were better than any others.

But we started putting limits on immigrants from particular places -- first, the Chinese, then all Asians, then putting quotas based on national origin, to try to keep the US white and christian.

When we began to say some immigrants were better than others, some were more desirable than others, we undercut the ideal behind that last stanza.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of our teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me..."

and we slammed shut the Golden Door, and liberty took a back seat to preservation of status.