WASHINGTON — I arrived in the United States on Nov. 12, 1981, when I was 1. My parents had fled the Pol Pot genocide in Cambodia, in which over two million people were murdered. I was born in a refugee camp in Thailand before moving to California, and then Virginia.

None of these facts may seem important, but I assure you, they are. My parents and I were granted legal permanent resident status; my brother and sister, who were born here, are citizens. The three of us were typical American kids, eating Cheerios for breakfast and taking the bus to school. We went to Disneyland and religiously watched the Fourth of July fireworks from the beach. As a teenager I attended school dances in all of their crepe glory. I am not an American citizen, but there is no way I am not an American.

Donald J. Trump said that his administration will “get the people that are criminal and have criminal records, gang members, drug dealers, we have a lot of these people, probably two million, it could be even three million.” He continued, “We are getting them out of our country or we are going to incarcerate. But we’re getting them out of our country.”