Migration has always been part of Fresno’s story. I know this firsthand | Opinion

Fresno is a city built by immigrants. At a time when immigrants are too often portrayed as threats rather than neighbors, it is worth remembering that migration has always been part of Fresno’s story.

Drive through Fresno, and you’ll encounter stories that began elsewhere: Mexico, Armenia, Portugal, Laos, India, Ukraine, Italy. Each of these stories is now part of the same community.

From Italy to Fresno

My own story began in a small mountain village in Calabria, Italy.

When my family moved to Milan, I was 6 years old. There, I encountered a word I did not yet understand but quickly learned to feel: terrone. It was a term used by some northerners to describe southern Italians, often with contempt. It reminded me that people can be judged not for who they are but for where they come from.

Years later, in 1976, when I immigrated to the United States and settled in California at the age of 21, I entered a society that was different in many ways but familiar in one important respect. The categories had changed, but the challenge of belonging remained.

Over time, I discovered that Fresno offered something else as well: an opportunity to build a life.

Teaching children of immigrants

For 25 years, I taught bilingual students in Fresno’s public schools. Many came from immigrant families. Again and again, I watched children navigate two worlds. At school, they learned English, American history and the customs of their adopted country. At home, they translated bills, doctor’s instructions and government forms for parents who were still finding their footing in an unfamiliar language and culture.

I saw families make extraordinary sacrifices. Many had left behind grandparents, friends, professions and familiar surroundings. Some lived in crowded conditions and worked long hours, so their children might enjoy opportunities unavailable to them elsewhere.

Those experiences shaped not only my teaching but also my public life.

In 1998, when Proposition 227 sought to dismantle bilingual education in California, my commitment to immigrant children led me beyond the classroom. I traveled to Sacramento to protest at the State Capitol and was briefly detained after chaining myself near an entrance to the Capitol grounds. That same year, I refused to administer an English-only achievement test to Spanish-speaking bilingual students because I believed it violated their educational rights.

I was disciplined for that refusal, but I have never regretted standing with children whose voices were too easily dismissed.

What impressed me most about those children and their families was not their hardship but their determination.

Immigration is often discussed in terms of economics, statistics and public policy. Those discussions are important, but they sometimes overlook the human dimension of migration.

No one leaves home without paying a price

Immigrants leave behind childhood landscapes, family traditions, and relationships that can’t be replaced — often exchanging certainty for the prospect of starting over.

Yet people continue to make that journey because migration is ultimately an act of hope.

The targets may change from one generation to the next, but the tendency to view newcomers with suspicion remains remarkably persistent. Even in Fresno, a city shaped so deeply by immigrant labor and immigrant dreams, recent debates over immigration enforcement remind us that suspicion of newcomers has not disappeared.

History teaches us that today’s outsiders often become tomorrow’s neighbors, entrepreneurs, civic leaders and community builders.

Few places illustrate that truth better than Fresno.

Immigrants contribute more than labor. They bring vision, skills and dreams that enrich the communities they call home, expanding the cultural landscape for future generations.

Fresno itself is living proof of that reality.

Its farms, businesses, neighborhoods, places of worship, schools and cultural institutions bear the imprint of countless immigrant communities whose contributions have become woven into the fabric of the city.

At a time when immigration continues to provoke passionate debate, it may be useful to remember that migration is not an exception in the American story. It is one of its defining themes.

Most of us — or our ancestors —came from somewhere else.

Some arrived generations ago. Others arrived recently. But nearly all shared a common aspiration: the hope that life could be made better through courage, sacrifice and hard work.

That hope helped build Fresno.

It continues to shape Fresno today.

Every newcomer seeking opportunity reminds us: Hope is powerful enough to move a person across a continent, an ocean, or even a lifetime.

Silvio Manno is a retired bilingual educator, author of “Charcoal and Blood” and longtime advocate for Fresno’s Forestiere Underground Gardens. Born in Calabria, Italy, he immigrated to California at 21 and taught for 25 years in Fresno’s public schools.