I read, with deep sadness, the column by Abdi Nor Iftin last week where he stated he was “taking a step back, but not giving up.” I am not sure what has happened in this country, but this level of hatred is mind boggling. I have known Iftin for three years and have read his book, “Call me American.” It is a heartfelt story of struggle and determination, as well as a love for this country, the United States of America. I know how he arrived here – totally legally – and what he endured along the way. The accusations and insinuations left me in tears. He is, in my opinion, a gift to this country, and his friendship has been a gift in my life.

I am not sure what to think anymore. Unless you are a Native American, you, too, are an immigrant. My grandparents arrived here from Italy in the early 1900s. As I often say to friends from around the world, “I am only here for one reason. It just happens to be where my mother was standing when she gave birth to me. I did nothing else. I did not pass a test or prove any level of authenticity or patriotism. I was just born here, but I could have been born in the genocide in Rwanda or the conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo, or 100 other places, but my mother stood here. I just lucked out. You deserve to be here as much as I do.”

I don’t understand when someone says, “We need to take care of our own.” Who are “our own,” I ask? Aren’t we all the same? Don’t we all have blood running through our veins? I am at a loss to understand the lack of compassion we seem to have for those who have suffered, those who have watched family members die in front of them, those who have given up everything for safety. I know that my life is richer with the gift of friends around the globe. I have learned a few words in about 10 languages, have enjoyed the foods from many cultures (by the way, the Somalis make the best sambusa; the Iraqis make the best dolma … the list goes on) and have benefited from understanding my privilege through the eyes of those less fortunate, just by virtue of where they were born, who I now call my friends.

I am sad a lot these days. For lots of reasons. For myself and others. I recall early lessons my parents taught me, people who considered themselves fortunate to have immigrant parents who came to this country before they were born. They taught me about tolerance and acceptance, how to welcome everyone whether they looked the same, worshiped similarly, or were less (or more) fortunate than I was. I was taught we are all family, and all were welcomed at our table. That lesson is not about how educated we are; it is about how intelligent we are. Very different things.

Abdi Nor Iftin, please know you are loved and welcome here. It is your home as much as it is mine.

Rosemarie De Angelis holds the District 3 seat on the South Portland School Board.