By Tanika Roy

I joined the Marine Corps in August 2003, mainly because I felt like I didn't have any other viable options. Graduation from boot camp was a huge turning point for me in the eyes of my parents and myself. For the first time, I was viewed with a sense of honor and respect.

Military service gave me a sense of personal responsibility and patriotism that I did not have in adolescence. The Marine Corps changed my life.

It’s been 14 years since I stood on the legendary yellow footprints at Parris Island. Since then, my love for my country, my belief in the American dream, and my commitment to American ideals haven’t wavered. Now, at a time when our country is so divided, it’s my belief that veterans should seek to unite Americans by reminding them who we are and what veterans fought for.

I’d like to raise a candle to a specific concern that is very important to me and one that has become increasingly polarizing: the role of refugees and immigrants in America.

It is often assumed that those serving in our armed forces are all U.S. citizens. In fact, immigrants have a long history of military service dating back to the Revolutionary War. As of 2009, roughly 7% of the military were immigrants. That means, approximately 65,000 people not from this country, including more than 24,000 noncitizens, have volunteered to go to war for us. The special wartime military naturalization statute, enacted post 9/11, made it especially enticing to join by enabling noncitizens who served to be eligible to naturalize as U.S. citizens three years more rapidly than their civilian counterparts.

Yet at the same time that we’ve encouraged and come to depend on their service, our nation has turned our backs on immigrants and some of the most vulnerable among them: refugees. We demonize and fear those who simply want to live in safety, and who dare to believe in the American dream. People like 22-year-old Lance Cpl. Jose Gutierrez, a U.S. Marine from Guatemala and the first casualty of the Iraq war. Orphaned at 8 years old, Gutierrez eventually made the trek on foot to America, both out of desperation and the glimmering hope of achieving the American dream. According to the Military Times, Gutierrez enlisted because he “wanted to give the United States what the United States gave to him. He came with nothing. This country gave him everything.”

And like Wisam, an Iraqi I recently befriended when I photographed him for “What I fought for”, a personal project highlighting the interconnected stories of refugees and veterans. Wisam served bravely alongside the U.S. Army in Iraq, came to America through the Special Immigrant Visa program in 2011, and became a U.S. citizen earlier this year.

In September, President Trump set the cap on refugee admissions to 45,000, a historic low. This not only diverges from the American ideals that we cherish and that veterans fought for, it also puts at risk many who have sacrificed greatly for our nation. It endangers people who, like Wisam, served honorably and expected to find safety in the United States. It prevents families from reuniting; Wisam’s family is among those who will now remain in grave danger because of new delays in the refugee admissions process. It closes a door on those who, like Gutierrez, might one day have signed up to give back to the country that took them in and gave them so much.

This isn’t just a tragedy for them. It’s a tragedy for us. Our country depends on the bravery, strength, and patriotism of immigrants and refugees. But first they depend on us. It is our duty as Americans to help those who have helped us, and those who have nowhere else to turn. That is the American way.

Tanika Roy is a U.S. Marine veteran, an artist, and a photographer whose work focuses on humanitarian and environmental issues. She is a leader with Veterans for American Ideals and lives in Los Angeles.