If there is one thing that I have realized, it’s that immigrant stories are more than just history lessons. They are living accounts of adaptation, identity and the embodiment of what sacrifice truly is. They are the stories of people who leave one home to build another, navigating potential language barriers and even the silent effort of trying so hard to belong. Immigrant stories hold generations of courage and determination, and reflect how we can start over and still hold on to where we have come from.
Oftentimes, people think of “immigrant stories” as something distant, as if they only belong to another generation. But the truth is, they are being brought to life every single day, even by people our own age. These stories are shaping the world we live in every day, and they serve as a bigger story of who we are as a society.
I say this partly because I proudly come from a family of Haitian immigrants myself. They came to a brand new country with a dream, learned a new language and built a life in New York City from the ground up. Their hopes, fears and love are intricately woven into how I see the world around me. Hearing politicians like Zohran Mamdani step up to a podium to address the public, and declare, “This city is your city, and this democracy is yours too,” feels like a moment of recognition of all the hard work that my family has poured into creating a better life for people like me.
Immigrant voices are often misunderstood, and simply heard, but not truly listened to. Listening to these stories reminds us that courage isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet, like a parent working night shifts, or a kid translating forms for their family. Voicing these stories matter so much because silence erases, but when we continuously share them through writing, art, conversation or even simply asking and listening, we keep those experiences alive. We build a more inclusive narrative that paves the way for change to happen, so the things that were once seen as a dream can become a reality.
You don’t have to wait for someone else to tell the story you carry. Bring it into the room. Let it inform the conversation. Let it shape the policies and culture around you. Because in the end, a voice left silent is a story untold, and every untold story is a missed opportunity for change.