Somewhere between the wrenching ICE raids that separate families from places they call home and the fierce debates they ignite lies a question we have failed to adequately address: What should it mean to truly belong? And what are our obligations as citizens to those who are substantively no different, with the exception of a piece of paper that says they are citizens? Our immigrant neighbors occupy a precarious space that should feel hauntingly familiar to anyone who knows American history — they are members without membership, participants without protection.

Like Black Americans who built this nation’s wealth while being denied its promise, like women who shaped our democracy while being barred from its ballot box, many undocumented immigrants fulfill nearly every expectation of citizenship — they work, pay taxes, send their children to our schools, worship in our churches, and volunteer in our communities — yet remain vulnerable in ways that even our most marginalized citizens have never been.

The current immigrant story is not a new American story, but it is an urgent one. We need comprehensive immigration reform that acknowledges what our eyes can plainly see: that the line between “not yet a citizen” and “second-class citizen” is not as distinct as we may think, and that we have a moral obligation to those who have already woven themselves into the fabric of our communities.

Since our country adopted citizenship as its model of membership, we have debated the conditions for entry, who counts as a legal resident, and who deserves rights and privileges. Migration — both voluntary and forced — has always prompted us to redefine immigration policy and citizenship itself. Today’s demographic shifts have triggered familiar tensions about fairness and belonging, raising urgent questions about who merits communal benefits and resources.

Historically, rights were conferred by citizenship status in a nation-state. Citizens and non-citizens received different rights and benefits, with attitudes toward the latter shaped more by legal designation than actual community participation. Citizenship influences the distribution of social and political goods to manage economies and social orders. As scholar T.H. Marshall observed, “citizenship has itself become, in certain respects, the architect of legitimate social inequality” — the very institution meant to ensure equality is used to justify inequality.

However, the post-war era rightfully elevated human rights, expanding our understanding of citizenship. Global discourse forced countries to provide basic security and welfare to all residents. As philosopher Michael Walzer puts it, members are those “committed to dividing, exchanging, and sharing social goods, first of all among themselves.” Whom we recognize as members, Walzer argues, determines with “whom we make those choices, from whom we require obedience and collect taxes, [and] to whom we allocate goods and services.” Society is morally obligated to provide resources to those it recognizes as members.

It is well past time that we recognize that many undocumented immigrants have become entwined within the educational, economic, and social fabric of American society. Many are de facto Americans and should have de jure benefits of citizenship. Through the lack of immigration reform, we have created another group of unrecognized members in a country where women and Blacks were similarly situated.

Much of the political tension surrounding undocumented immigrants stems from fears that taxpayer dollars are being siphoned away to cover healthcare, education, and services for people who haven’t “paid into the system.” This narrative taps into anxieties about fairness and reciprocity. But it rests on a misconception: that undocumented residents don’t contribute to our tax base and instead drain public resources.

The reality is more complex and ironic. Many undocumented immigrants work using falsified Social Security numbers, meaning payroll taxes are automatically deducted from their paychecks. These contributions — estimated in the billions annually — flow into federal and state coffers, including Social Security. Yet because the numbers don’t match real records, these workers can never claim the benefits they’re funding. They pay in but cannot draw out, subsidizing a system designed to exclude them — contributing members supporting citizens who may never acknowledge their membership.

But what is also at play is blaming outsiders for national economic hardships that immigrants didn’t create. They didn’t write the tax and trade policies that have made housing, healthcare, and everyday life less affordable for working-class families while concentrating wealth at the top. Yet that blame is squarely laid at the feet of perceived outsiders — immigrants and people of color — whom we continue to signal, through our actions, don’t belong.

The popular debate reduces belonging to a simple binary: legal or illegal. But that framing obscures more urgent questions: Are undocumented immigrants already fulfilling our expectations of membership? What role have we played in fostering their integration? Should those who have demonstrated commitment be offered a pathway to permanent residency? And most importantly: If we have millions of unrecognized members living among us, how can we protect the integrity of citizenship itself? Ignoring membership that exists in practice doesn’t preserve our national community — it erodes it.

National citizenship has a legitimate and necessary place in democracies. It protects rights, allows members to shape their country’s future, and serves as formal recognition of belonging that validates commitments already made. Many immigrants are motivated by this promise. But when we deny citizenship to people who have already become members in every meaningful sense, we erode the principle that citizenship is based on mutual benefit and reduce the idea to a shallow form.

Countries, cities, and towns are incubators of membership. We shape residents into community members through shared experiences, mutual obligations, and daily interdependence. We need immigration reform that recognizes all members of society. To deny formal citizenship to those we have effectively made into members is not just unjust — it’s incoherent. It dismisses our own role in creating the bonds we now refuse to honor. If we continue down this path, we risk losing an essential component of what binds a community together: the belief that commitment and contribution will be recognized and reciprocated.

Andre M. Perry is a senior fellow and director of the Center for Community Uplift at the Brookings Institution.