I’m Asian American, and I’m wondering why politicians don’t think I exist

I was eight when my parents first became citizens of the United States. I remember watching my mom rummage through her closet, tossing handfuls of shirts over her shoulders as she curated an outfit to take her Oath of Allegiance in. I remember running my go-gurt covered fingers over the shiny leather cover of my dad’s new American passport, marveling at the multicolored seal overlaid on his photo.