When filmmaker Mylène Moreno decided to find a story in 2003 that would illustrate for a national audience how Orange County had changed from the white, conservative stronghold of her youth into something more complex, she chose Nativo Lopez.
He knows this part of his journey should be the best one — living in a suburban Seattle apartment, learning English, starting a new job and trying to make friends in a place that has embraced him.
It looks as if immigration, that ceaseless churn on a tireless planet, has hit another of its patented half-court shots. How on the turbulent Earth did the fourth son of immigrants from a giant country long discouraging toward female athleticism end up as the exhilarated play-by-play voice of the very American women’s Final Four?
Public transit commuters rarely interact with those around them, much less take the time to dig deep into their personal lives. But aboard a bus in Arlington, passengers will be introduced to six complete strangers and get to know their entire family histories through a new exhibit.
“The only crisis is that we have a lunatic with a lot of power,” Lakshmi said on “The Daily Show.”
My immigrant father considered adopting an American name a prudent measure to avoid mispronunciations. To me it felt like admitting defeat.
For most of the past year, Samuel Oliver-Bruno stayed in the basement of a church in Durham, N.C., taking refuge against a deportation order that would separate him from his seriously ill wife, his son and the quiet life that he had lived in the United States off and on since 1994.
Samuel Oliver-Bruno, an undocumented immigrant who took refuge in the basement of a North Carolina church for 11 months, and whose fellow congregants were jailed after trying to block immigration authorities from arresting him, has been deported, his church said Thursday night.
Growing up, she experienced first-hand the burden of being a child of immigrants who didn’t speak English. Helping her parents interact with the outside world fell on her shoulders.
Hadiya Afzal is just one of the unprecedented number of people between the ages of 14 and 35 running for political office this election season, according to the progressive group, Run For Something.