Picture this: Mom and Dad finally walk in after years away—work, travel, whatever kept them gone. The house is trashed. Beer cans on the floor, pool drained, music still thumping. And the guests? Some were invited. Others just strolled in. But now they’re not even pretending to leave.
They’re building little forts in your backyard — walls up, signs in languages you don’t read, rules you never agreed to. “Be magnanimous!” they shout. “Open the door! Share!”
Meanwhile, they won’t learn your name. Won’t clean up. Won’t even look at you. The ones who came legally? Businesses used them as cheap labor — “Oh, we need workers!” — then chained in cousins, uncles, whole villages. No degrees, no skills, no gratitude. Just demands.
You ask them to assimilate? They laugh. You ask them to respect the host? They call you cruel.
And here’s what really stings: your own kids—raised in that house, eating at that table — start siding with them. “Dad, you’re being mean.” “Mom, why can’t they stay?” They don’t remember the mortgage. The late nights. The sweat. They just see the “cool” crowd, the loud music, the “fairness” talk.
So now you’re not just fighting outsiders — you’re fighting your own blood. The ones who should’ve had your back.
That’s when it stops being about borders. It becomes about betrayal.
America’s not a hotel. It’s a house. And when the parents — us —say “everybody out,” it’s not hate. It’s housekeeping.
Because gratitude isn’t a gift. It’s a duty. And if they won’t do it? Door’s shut. Even if they brought a key.
Three steps: accountability — own the mess. Assimilation — learn the rules. Allegiance — stand with the family, not against it.
Time to clean up.
– The Grateful Immigrant from St. Paul, Minnesota
February 25, 2026
LIVE GRATEFUL 🇺🇸 (It Starts in The Spine NOT on your Knees)
Grateful Immigrant 