"RESIDENT ALIEN."
Those two words, in all caps, adorn the plastic-covered green card that my grandfather, a naturalized U.S. citizen, handed me shortly after I arrived in the United States from the Philippines. I was 12. I don't remember thinking much about the card (which was not green) or the words (which, strung together, seemed like the title of a video game or a movie). It wasn't until four years later, while applying to get a driver's permit, that I learned the card was fake. I wasn't a "RESIDENT ALIEN" at all but another kind of alien — in common parlance, an "illegal alien.