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The guarantee of birthright
The 14th Amendment established the “citizenship clause,” or a right to U.S. citizenship by birth.
President Donald Trump wants to limit how this clause, which starts with “all persons,” is interpreted.
Legal and immigration experts widely consider the principle to be a bedrock of constitutional law. The provision was intended to ensure that everyone born on U.S. soil is a citizen. Though the Supreme Court has been unchanged in its view of birthright citizenship and who it protects for more than a century, Trump is determined to shake that foundation. Two federal judges have blocked the order, with one calling citizenship a “most precious right.”
Trump, who once said undocumented immigrants were “poisoning the blood” of our country, made an indelible mark on U.S. immigration policy in his first term. At the time, he stated a desire to target birthright citizenship, but an executive order never materialized. That changed when he began another term in the Oval Office this year.
For one family in the San Francisco Bay Area, this is the latest development in a long, historical fight over what it means to be American.
This newsletter was compiled by Joshua Barajas.
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THE VALUE OF AMERICAN CITIZENSHIP THROUGH ONE FAMILY’S HISTORY
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Norman Wong’s mother, who was 16 years old when this photo was taken, waits with her family for a bus that would take them to a detention facility. Photo by Dorothea Lange
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By Maea Lenei Buhre
Producer
Joshua Barajas
Senior Editor, Digital
In a black-and-white photo, a family is seen waiting curbside in Hayward, California.
A father and mother and their children, many of them carrying suitcases, face the camera. Norman Wong’s mom, Kimiko at 16, is the one on the left, turned to her side. But this isn’t a family portrait. Nor are they taking a holiday.
It’s a “banishment picture.”
The tiny suitcases are what stick out to Maureen, Norman’s wife. It signals what the family could take — little more than the clothes on their backs — moments before a bus took them to an internment camp.
“It's spooky — that picture — to me,” she said.
Kimiko’s parents immigrated from Japan and built a life on a small farm that grew berries and tomatoes. She and her 10 siblings were all born in the U.S.
None of that mattered when President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066. After the attack on Pearl Harbor, more than 120,000 people of Japanese descent were deemed a threat, rounded up, and incarcerated at internment camps. The government called them “relocation centers.” The internees, most of them U.S. citizens, only had a handful of days to collect their belongings and make arrangements for their property or businesses. The losses were staggering as racial hatred ruined thousands of lives.
“These people lost their livelihoods,” Norman said. “My family, they were poor to start with, but others, they had to start all over.” |
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Norman’s mother, Kimiko, and younger brother Leo (left) in a 1959 Chevrolet Biscayne outside their home in San Francisco. Norman’s parents (right) in front of a theater showing the 1946 film, “The Yearling.” Photos courtesy of the family
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Norman said his family didn’t talk about their experiences after the war.
“[A] whole generation never talked about it once,” he said. “I never heard about it when I was a child.”
Kimiko and her family were transported to the internment camp in Topaz, Utah, some 700 miles from home. They went in probably in the early part of 1942 and were held there through the rest of World War II.
It would be decades before a congressional commission examined the camps, deeming them a “grave injustice.” President Ronald Reagan issued a formal U.S. apology in 1988. And then, 30 years later, the Supreme Court officially overturned the constitutionality of the WWII internment camps, while upholding Trump’s travel ban in his first term.
But the damage had been done. The act itself may have been later rebuked, but it didn’t stop it from occurring, Norman said.
“Do we want all these millions of people to be victims and then years later [say], "Well, we're sorry,’” he said. “It's not the way we should behave in this country." |
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Norman’s father, Wong Yook Jim (left), loved boxing as a hobby. Norman as a toddler (right) sits in his mother’s lap, with older brother Gary by his side. Photos courtesy of the family
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Now back in office, Trump wants to stop birthright citizenship. His executive order seeks to limit birthright citizenship to people who have at least one parent who is a permanent resident or U.S. citizen.
Birthright citizenship is a constitutional right that’s been applied to children of all immigrants for more than 120 years. It stems from a pivotal 1898 Supreme Court case that involved another of Norman’s family members: His great-grandfather Wong Kim Ark. |
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PBS News’ Stephanie Sy reports on the history and legacy of birthright citizenship in the U.S. Watch the segment in the player above.
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The federal government argued that Wong Kim Ark wasn’t a U.S. citizen. Citing the Chinese Exclusion Act, officials said the San Francisco-born son of Chinese immigrants could not re-enter the U.S. after returning from a trip to China.
In a landmark decision, the Supreme Court disagreed. That key legal decision solidified what was laid out in the 14th Amendment. Though, if Trump’s order prevails past the legal challenges, it would redefine the long-held principle.
Trump’s flurry of executive actions has zeroed in on the campaign promises he made to curtail unauthorized immigration in the U.S. He declared a “national emergency” on the U.S.-Mexico border. Declared an “invasion” at the border in another. And took aim at legal immigration, while shoring up a military presence along the border as well as at Guantanamo Bay, where he’s stated plans for a 30,000-bed detention facility will be built. |
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A return certificate for Wong Kim Ark. Image courtesy of the National Archives in San Francisco
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Wong Kim Ark wasn’t alone. He had help from other people and groups who stood alongside him.
“If it wasn't for all the other people, he would never [have] had the strength or the ability to do it,” Norman said. “I think it's time for all of us that care, that we stand up, because if we don't, we're not going to have the America that we thought we should have. We're going to have an America that's very mean spirited, very closed and not welcoming at all.”
If America is to survive as “the land of the free and home of the brave,” we must live up to those words, he added.
“You can’t be free if your idea of freedom is suppressing everyone else,” Norman said. “We have to learn to embrace other people. No matter how foreign they are.”
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Norman and his wife Maureen visit the grave of his mother, Kimiko, in Colma, California. Photo courtesy of the family
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Today, Norman’s mother is buried in a cemetery in Colma, a San Francisco suburb. Once or twice a year, they visit her gravesite. Norman bought his own plot near his mother a few months ago.
Throughout his life, Norman’s mother told him he’s lucky to be alive. He would roll his eyes whenever he heard this.
The story goes: One day in the 1950s, Kimiko clutched a baby Norman close to her while riding a cable car. When the car swerved hard around a corner, she almost dropped him. But a man put his arm out and kept Norman from falling. When recounting the tale, Norman’s mother just described the stranger as a man. No description. No name. No details about his ethnicity, his height or hair color.
It’s a story Norman didn’t think much about until he was older. He realized the story wasn’t about him. It’s about her. She wanted him to appreciate something — how to lead by example. It’s a life lesson he clings to now.
“Who do we owe our lives to? Could be somebody you don’t know,” he said.
Without the kindness of somebody else, some of us might have never made it, he said.
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