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Beyond Privilege and Relearning Empathy in Immigration Conversations

  • Writer: Brainz Magazine
    Brainz Magazine
  • 2 days ago
  • 5 min read

Sharon is an empathetic and results-driven Life and Executive Coach with 27+ years of global experience. She transforms lives and organizations through her insightful coaching approach, combining her Advanced Diploma in Personal Leadership and Postgraduate Diploma in Equality, Diversity, and Inclusion with life and multicultural expertise.

Executive Contributor Sharon McKimm

Here’s something that struck me recently: the word “empathy” contains the word “path.” Maybe that’s not a coincidence. Maybe it’s pointing us toward something we’ve lost in today’s heated immigration debates, the understanding that we’re all walking similar journeys, just at different times and under different circumstances.


Upward view of the Statue of Liberty against a bright blue sky with scattered clouds. The sculpture is partially visible, showcasing its green hue.

It’s important to be pragmatic and to identify the nature of the apathy that has developed globally for the immigrant experience. For many immigrants, the path is neither simple nor safe. It’s a route carved out of necessity, not convenience. Yet, in the global north, particularly in countries with colonial histories or economic privilege, these realities are often met with suspicion or fatigue. Why?


Why is empathy disappearing from these conversations? Why do some people struggle to see themselves in the stories of people crossing borders today? After reflecting on my own immigrant experience and watching these debates unfold globally, I think I’ve identified the culprit: privilege. Privilege in a way that you might not perceive or recognise.


When memory fades, empathy dies


Let me tell you about my journey first. In 1968, I was six years old when I left Jamaica to join my parents in the United States. We’d been separated for almost four years while my mother worked tirelessly to meet America’s requirements for our family to legally immigrate. She needed to save four thousand dollars per child, a massive sum back then. It took her four years of sacrifice and determination.


I remember my story clearly. But here’s what I’ve noticed: many people have forgotten their own family’s immigration stories, or their grandparents’ or great-grandparents’ stories. This forgetting, what I call “privilege amnesia,” is quietly poisoning our ability to connect with today’s immigrants.


You've probably heard these statements before:

  • "Why don't they just do it the legal way?"

  • "My grandparents immigrated and never asked for handouts"

  • "This country is full, we can't help everyone"

Sound familiar? These words often come from people whose own families arrived during very different global conditions, when the "legal way" looked completely different than it does today.


These conversations sound remarkably similar whether you're listening to European or American political discourse, and frankly, they often make me think, "Really? This again?"

 

The numbers tell a story


Here’s some perspective: Today, 281 million people live outside their country of birth, that's 1 in 30 people globally (UN DESA, 2024).


But this isn't new. Americans especially seem to forget that their entire national story is built on wave after wave of immigration. The Irish fled famine and poverty (over 4.5 million between 1820 and 1930). Italians and Eastern Europeans chased economic opportunity. Asian immigrants built the railroads. Even the earliest colonists were often economic migrants seeking better prospects or religious freedom.


What's staggering today is the scale of forced displacement: over 117 million people have been uprooted from their homes due to conflict and persecution (UNHCR Global Trends 2023).


And climate change? Experts estimate up to 1.2 billion people could be displaced by 2050 due to environmental factors (Institute for Economics & Peace, 2020).


Yet as descendants of immigrants achieved economic security over generations, something troubling has happened. Research shows a 40% decline in empathy among college students over three decades (University of Michigan study, 2010).


In 2023, 56% of people in high-income countries believed immigration should be reduced, this despite declining birth rates and labour shortages (Pew Research Center, 2024).


We've developed what psychologists might recognize as collective forgetting, when societies erase uncomfortable truths that challenge current narratives.


The privilege we don't see


The second factor killing empathy is economic privilege, and sadly, most of us don't even realize we are immersed in its arms. I confess to falling into its deceptive embrace; that is, until my journey to Uganda where I passed many homes with no front door. I watched curtains flapping in the breeze where a solid front door should have stood watch.


I couldn’t get my head around not being able to shut out the world and to secure my own private space. That trip years ago changed the way I perceived the simple declaration that a front door represented. I returned home nursing a new truth about my position in the global economic pecking order.


Here's a reality check: roughly 15–17% of the world's population lives in high-income countries. The global median income? The most recent comprehensive data (2019–2021) shows:


  • About 10% of the world lives on less than $2.15/day (extreme poverty line)

  • About 47% of the world lives on less than $6.85/day

  • Only about 15% live in high-income countries where median incomes are $25,000–50,000+(World Bank Poverty & Inequality Platform)

While many Americans feel financially stressed (and that stress is real), globally speaking, we're living with extraordinary privilege.


Consider this:


  • 2.2 billion people lack safely managed drinking water (UNICEF, 2022)

  • 770 million live without electricity (IEA, 2023)

  • At least half the world's population lacks access to essential health services (WHO, 2021)

Meanwhile, Western marketing convinces us we’re lacking, reinforcing a sense of scarcity that blinds us to global realities.

 

The path forward isn't about open borders


Let me be clear: empathy doesn't mean abandoning immigration processes or opening borders without consideration. Every country needs thoughtful, humane policies for people seeking shelter within their borders, while avoiding systems that proliferate cheap labour exploitation.


Real empathy means something more challenging: recognizing that people don't risk perilous journeys out of frivolity but out of desperation. They're seeking the basics of human survival for themselves and their families.


Empathy means shutting down the filter of privilege and bias long enough to understand circumstances objectively rather than sitting in judgment. It means acknowledging that while you may not feel wealthy, compared to most of the world, you're doing extraordinarily well. This is where you escape the brainwashing of the materialistic, consumer soup which we all suck down during every sale or holiday season.


It’s demanding that your government create humane processes and procedures instead of blocking pathways with obstruction and dehumanizing labels. It’s recognizing that dismissiveness might feel easier, but perspective beyond privilege serves everyone better, including economically.

 

Walking the path together


Here's what I want you to consider: Every nation has an immigrant story. Every culture has felt the wrench of leaving home and the sorrow of displacement. Yet our current debates are filled with judgment and finger-pointing rather than recognition of shared human experience.


Questions worth asking


Before your next conversation about immigration, try asking yourself:

  • What systems made it easier for me or my family to thrive?

  • How can I use my voice, vote, or position to advocate for fairness?

  • What do I stand to lose if an immigrant is not treated fairly?

  • Will the way an immigrant is treated have implications for my own rights?

Empathy doesn't require having lived identical experiences. It only asks that we pause, imagine, and care enough to see the path we share with others, just travelled at different times, under different circumstances.


The word "path" is right there in "empathy." Maybe it's time we started walking it together.


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Read more from Sharon McKimm

Sharon McKimm, Life and Diversity Coach

Sharon is a life and diversity coach dedicated to empowering individuals and organizations to achieve meaningful change and growth. Through her work at Guiding Light, she helps clients find clarity, overcome obstacles, and align their daily actions with their deepest values. Drawing from her multicultural upbringing in the Bronx and corporate leadership experience, Sharon brings a unique blend of cultural intelligence, business acumen, and empathy to her coaching. Her mission: Guidance to empower change and growth.

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