At SWIRC, our work is made possible by a community of supporters whose own stories are deeply connected to the immigrant experience. From family histories shaped by migration to personal encounters with resilience and belonging, these stories are a powerful reminder of why this work matters

Immigration has always been central to the United States. Generations of newcomers have helped build communities, strengthen the economy, and shape the country’s character, often while facing significant obstacles along the way. While circumstances change from era to era, the core challenges of starting over in a new place remain remarkably consistent.

From time to time, we’ll be sharing guest reflections from members of our community about what draws them to SWIRC and keeps them engaged in this work. These voices highlight the human connections behind our mission and the many paths that lead people to stand alongside immigrant and refugee communities.

In the piece below, one of our supporters shares his family’s immigration story and the personal memories that inspire his continued support of SWIRC.

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By Joe Lieblang, Dearborn, MI

I support the Southwest Detroit Immigrant and Refugee Center (SWIRC) because my own life exists only because of immigration.

I am a first-generation American, one of millions whose family story passed through Ellis Island. That history was always there, but it rarely felt close or personal. I understood it as part of my family’s past, not something that actively shaped my present — until a visit to New York City changed that.

Several years ago, my spouse and our young daughter traveled to New York, and we made a point to visit Ellis Island. It was a small pilgrimage, meant to honor my maternal and paternal grandparents and my mother, whose names are engraved on the Wall of Honor.

As we stood inside the Registry Room — the vast Great Hall where so many immigrant stories began — I called my mother. She was 91 at the time. I told her where we were.

“I remember being there,” she said. “I was standing at the top of a long stairway in a huge room, holding hands with my mother, brother and sister. I was eight years old.”

She arrived at Ellis Island on August 7, 1928, from Malta, alongside my grandmother, aunt and uncle. A few years earlier, my paternal grandparents had emigrated from Germany.

By chance — or perhaps something more — we were standing in the exact same place she had described. Decades apart, we occupied the same spot where her American life began.

For my daughter, Katherine, and me, the moment was deeply moving. We were tracing the footsteps of her grandmother and great-grandparents, feeling the weight of their courage in a way that words can’t fully capture.

For me, it unlocked something deeper: a profound gratitude I hadn’t fully felt before. Without their resilience, their willingness to leave everything familiar behind in search of a better life, I would not exist. There would be no siblings, no extended family, no Katherine.

My family’s story is similar to many others, but also different. While they certainly had challenges with the language, culture and assimilation, they also had the advantage of having a small family support system in Detroit. They came by choice, not by necessity or   were not living under oppression, persecution or crushing poverty in their home countries. My grandparents had at least some modest means and options; others then and now were not and are not as fortunate.

That’s why when learned about the work SWIRC is doing to support immigrants and refugees in Detroit — people often facing uncertainty, fear, and enormous obstacles — I knew I wanted to help. Supporting SWIRC is my way of honoring my family’s journey by helping another family’s new beginning. It is a small but tangible way to offer a hand up to those walking a path my family once walked — and to say clearly and sincerely: you are welcome here.

My grandparents, Rose and Fortunato Barbara; my mother, Melita; my aunt, Julia and my uncle, Paul in Malta.