Storm Lake, Iowa, was an early warning sign of mass immigration destroying American communities. In 1996, the New York Times wrote: In Iowa Town, Strains of Diversity.
In 1970, the town of 8,591 people had 22 minority residents — mainly faculty members and students at Buena Vista University, including two young blacks who had been adopted by a white family. Today, town officials estimate that Storm Lake’s population, now 8,769, is 10 percent minority, mainly recent immigrants from Mexico and Southeast Asia.Tucker brought viewers up to date on the beleaguered meatpacking town: “In Storm Lake, Iowa, only a tiny percentage of the population was foreign-born just 25 years ago; now more than half of all residents of Storm Lake don’t speak English at home.”
Tucker also pointed out the liberal media’s running interference on the project, criticizing anyone who objects to extreme immigration as racist and anti-diversity. Importantly, he named the undiverse communities where elites live: Malibu is 87 percent white, Michael Bloomberg’s Manhattan zip code is 82 percent white, and so on. “Diversity for thee but not for me,” as Tucker observed about elite hypocrisy.
Tucker’s discussion with Congressman Lou Barletta (who was mayor of Hazleton when the immigration controversy went down) was a little sugar-coated: there was a major crime problem that arrived with all the new diversity.
Below is the National Geographic article to which Tucker referred. I found its tone to be rather snotty toward traditional Americans who have fallen upon hard times through no fault of their own.
As America Changes, Some Anxious Whites Feel Left Behind, National Geographic Magazine, April 2018Honestly, if some Mexican gave me “tips on how to speak Spanish” I don’t think I would have been as patient as the Hazleton resident. How is Spanish instruction not an expression of cultural dominance?
Demographic shifts rippling across the nation are fueling fears that their culture and standing are under threat.
Even after the coal mines closed and the factory jobs disappeared and the businesses began taking down their signs on Broad Street, even after the population started its steady decline and the hospital was on the brink of bankruptcy, the residents of Hazleton, Pennsylvania, flocked downtown for the annual Funfest.
For years Sally Yale participated in the fall parade in a souped-up teacup salvaged from a spinning ride at the shuttered amusement park. Tricked out with smoking dry ice, it was the perfect advertisement for her gourmet coffee shop.
Yale is 53, but her angular face lights up like a child’s when she talks about Funfest. The applause from the crowd. The Hazletonians who returned for the celebration. “And the food,” Yale says, lifting her brows and rolling her eyes to mimic pure bliss. The cannoli and pierogi, the sausages and funnel cakes—treats that represented the waves of European immigrants that had settled in Hazleton’s rolling hills.
Then it all changed. Funfest, in Sally Yale’s eyes, became too scary. Too uncomfortable. To be honest … too brown. “You just know if you go to a public event, you know you are going to be outnumbered,” Yale says. “You know you’re going to be the minority, and do you want to go?”
For Yale, the answer was no. [. . .]
On a weekday morning at the A&L Lounge, Sacco, who is 64, tends bar from a sunken galley that resembles an orchestra pit. The regulars always sit at the bar, close to the televisions and close enough to each other to catch up on town gossip. They drink highballs or beer on tap. They wear work boots and plaid. The tables in the back are where Latino men sit in a circle for a cold one after finishing their overnight shifts in local plants. They have high-maintenance haircuts and fancy tennis shoes. They drink Heineken and Corona, pay in $20 bills, and always leave a tip for Sacco.
They also give him tips on how to speak Spanish. He used to find that irksome, but he has warmed to it. “I should have taken those Spanish classes seriously back in high school, but you know, who knew this was coming?” he said.