My Immigration
The Detrimental Effects of Immigration on Myself and America.
I was born in Italy in 1984, and came to America when I was two. Even though I've lived here for 38 years, and served in the US military, I still feel like a guest because my people didn't build America, White Anglo-Saxon Protestants (WASPs) did. That’s not to say Italians didn’t contribute to America, because they certainly did; in fact, the Americas were named after Italian explorer Amerigo Vespucci. But the United States of America was a WASP project, and WASPs are the founding stock of this nation.
I wasn’t the first of my family to come here: my great grandfather, Vincent Gagliardi, came to the United States in the late 1800s. Like most immigrants in his day who wanted to become American, his last name was Anglicized, being changed from “Gagliardi” to “Gage.” He later served in the US Military as a Marine, fought in the Spanish-American War, and also worked in the Department of War, now the Department of Defense. Other than this, I don’t much about him.
My Grandparents
My paternal grandfather, Dr. Angelo Gage, who I was named after, was born in the United States, graduated from Georgetown University, was a professor of philosophy at Syracuse University, and served in the US Airforce as an intelligence officer during the Korean War, achieving the rank of Major. For various reasons, he ended up back in Italy where he met my grandmother, Wilma, but then came back to America to have his family, in Kansas, where my father was born.
My grandfather had six children; however, their stay in the US would be short, as he had to return to Italy when his brother Pasquale became sick, taking care of him at their childhood home until his passed away.
In the small town of San Clemente, Italy, where my entire family originates from, the locals would call him “il professore” (the professor), because he would teach English to his Italian students without charging them. He was an extremely devout Catholic, and believed that loving and serving others was the way to serve God. I knew him a “Nonno Angelo,”— “nonno” is Italian for grandfather; nonna for grandmother.
My maternal grandfather, Giovanni Mignacca, was an Italian farmer who worked at a winery. He had virtually no education, and lived a very simple life. From what I know, he never left Italy or the small town that he grew up in. He had five children. Since none of my mother’s siblings immigrated to the United States, we would go visit Italy every summer until I turned 12, when Nonno Giovanni died in his late 50s, due to pancreatic cancer.
Of all my grandparents, the only person alive at this writing is Nonno Giovanni’s wife, Gilda, who still lives in Italy today, along with my mother’s entire side of the family.
My Parents
My father lived most of his life in Italy. When he turned 19, he married my mother who he met while living there. He decided to came back to America with a few of his siblings, all looking to make a better life for themselves in the so-called Land of Opportunity. My mother and I came to America two years after I was born, leaving her entire family behind and reuniting with my father, who started a construction business to lay the financial foundations to support our family.
My mother and father, both lacking a high school education, had a hard time making new friends: their broken English was mocked by other parents at my school, and we always felt like “the other,” as we lived in the very wealthy town of Summit, New Jersey, dominated by WASPs. Although my father had blue eyes and Nordic features, his lack of education was unacceptable to the more educated WASPs in our area, and my mother was just a simple housewife from Italy. My WASPy friends would make fun of my name, and also the way my mother spoke to me.
Despite this, my parents continued to do their best to assimilate and were never hostile or resentful toward our new hosts. My father worked hard with his brother; their company grew, and he was able to afford to have more children. My sisters were born a few years later, in 1987 and 1988, two years after my mother and I arrived in America. At the age of 24, my father had a house, three children, and was making six-figures, and was easily able to support a family — something that’s nearly impossible for Americans of that age to do today.
As the years went by, my family and I moved to different towns and cities, but never left New Jersey. I did notice more and more diversity in each school system with each move, despite the high property taxes. To me, this was nothing to be alarmed by, since I had no idea race was even a concept, and thus, I was friendly with all of my schoolmates. My Catholicism at the time, was also a major contributing factor to why I was ignorant on race, along side the nonstop egalitarian teachings coming from the school system. Despite all this, the areas I lived in were mostly dominated by Whites, with a minority of Asians and jews. I didn’t see many Blacks or Hispanics until later in my high school years, from 1998-2002; and even then, there were only a handful of them.
I’m Don’t Feel American
After the 9/11 attacks, I joined the United States Marine Corps, feeling a duty to protect my country. I guess it was literally in my blood to feel a need to do something about this great injustice, as I come from two generations of war veterans who fought for this country. I did my two tours in Iraq, and four years in the Corps; I was proud of my service, until I woke up to the truth, a few years later.
But even now, after living here for 38 years and serving in the military, I still do not feel one with this land or its people; I still feel like a guest. I say this because I know firsthand what it’s like to be taken from your birthplace and be planted somewhere else; to wake up in a land which your ancestors did not found, and try to assimilate with those who did.
At least in my case, with my family being Italian, we emerge from the same larger racial category as the WASPs do, so it’s much easier for us to maintain and contribute positively to a society built by them, due to our similar genetics. But that is not the case for all the non-White immigrants now flooding into our countries; countries full of people they have zero genetic relation to. So, if I lack a feeling of deep unity, simply because I didn’t come from the same ethnic stock of this nation’s founders, could you imagine the lack these people feel?
Seeing things from my perspective, one can easily understand why all of these immigrants now flooding into America and Europe are so detached, so uncaring, and so destructive; it’s precisely because they can’t truly assimilate as me and my family did, even if they wanted to . Moreover, I was raised to appreciate this country, and to never look at its founders as slave-owners, racists, White supremacists, and Capitalist exploiters; the exact opposite is true for these hostiles flooding into our country today.
Although I’m not a WASP, no WASP has to worry about me trying to change anything, or turn against them; I am and still remain a grateful and loyal citizen, despite how I feel. Moreover, my ethnic heritage connects me to a people who built one of the greatest empires known to man: Rome; so, even though I didn’t build this nation, I come from a people that knows how to build one; and thus, I am able to at least maintain what has been created, unlike the 10s of millions of hostile invaders who have no interest in doing so, nor could do so, even if they wanted to.
The Wandering Gentile
Again, it may be surprising to hear this from me, but it is the truth; and it goes to show that diversity of any kind, even among ethnicities that emerge from the same race, is still problematic. In fact, even when I’d visit Italy in my youth, I would feel like a stranger there as well. The local kids would call me “Americano” (American), every time they’d see me; the elders, who knew my father very well, would refer to me as “il fio di Thomaso” (the Son of Thomas) as a sign of respect. But I still felt out of place, probably because I was taken away when I was so young, and I never was able to establish a connection with the land and its people.
I wonder how many more immigrants feel the way I do? In a way, I am like a wandering jew, who has his home nowhere, but lives anywhere. For this reason, I understand the jew more than most people; the difference, however, is that the jew is an enemy of all peoples and hates all of his hosts. He wanders not because he doesn’t want a home, but because he’s a parasite that can’t have a home, since he must feed on others. And for this reason, he cannot maintain or build anything, but only consume and destroy everything. Unlike me and my family who came here from Italy and didn’t demand our hosts to change anything to accommodate us, the jew came in demanding our hosts to change everything to accommodate him. And the immigrants of today have learned from the jew, making the same, arrogant demands, as well.
For all the reasons written above, and coming from my own experience, I feel the solutions for America and Europe will be very different: Europeans must adopt an extreme form of ethno-nationalism; not only because they have to in order to preserve themselves, but because they are the only people who could truly unite on that deeper level, unlike us Americans who are so mixed and confused, we don’t know who we are, or where to start.
We Americans live among so many other races and religions, we will have to rely on larger racial and religious categorizations and abstractions, in order to organize ourselves if we even want to continue functioning as a country. Ultimately, we must come up with something completely new and unique to deal with the diversity and multiculturalism that has weakened our country. We must all stop pretending that this so-called experiment has worked, and put this Frankenstein to death, before it plunges us deeper into more disorder and chaos, and destroys what’s left of our people along with it.
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