The concept of American identity continues to provoke debate, reflecting a complex history of immigration, inclusion, and exclusion. Four recent books examine how notions of belonging have evolved, revealing tensions between ideals enshrined in founding documents and the realities of law and social practice.

The widely embraced idea of the United States as “a nation of immigrants” dates back to the Statue of Liberty, which since 1886 has symbolized an invitation to newcomers. Yet, access to American membership has not always been open or equitable. Under the Trump administration, for example, immigration policies emphasized financial thresholds and strict processing fees, illustrating how citizenship can come at a high cost today. Beyond monetary criteria, historical attitudes have often incorporated unofficial requirements such as English proficiency, Christian faith, and demonstrated loyalty.

Scholars like Denise A. Spellberg challenge Christian nationalist interpretations that claim the country was founded as a Christian nation. Spellberg highlights Thomas Jefferson’s inclusivity, noting his ownership of a Quran alongside the Old Testament and his commitment to religious freedom. Jefferson’s 1780s Virginia Bill for Establishing Religious Freedom explicitly rejected efforts to endorse Christianity as the state religion, extending protections to Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and others. His foreign policy letters to Muslim leaders further suggest a broader religious tolerance at the nation’s inception.

Still, all U.S. presidents have identified as Christians, though many expressed affinity for other cultures. Theodore Roosevelt’s interactions with American Jews exemplify this complexity. His presidency included both support, such as appointing a Jewish immigrant to a key immigration role to counteract Russian anti-Semitism, and opposition, including backing restrictive immigration laws that would have disproportionately affected Jewish refugees from Eastern Europe. Scholar Andrew Porwancher calls Roosevelt “an imperfect leader” who nevertheless recognized the contributions of immigrants like his friend Otto Raphael, a Russian Jewish immigrant and police officer.

The mid-20th century saw a hardening of immigration policy that reflected prevailing racial and ethnic biases. Jia Lynn Yang’s history details how the 1924 Johnson-Reed Act, strongly supported by the Ku Klux Klan, codified quotas favoring northern and western European immigrants while barring most Asians and limiting southern and eastern Europeans. Notably, this legislation sought to preserve a particular racial “status quo” and restrict the country’s diversity. Legal challenges, such as that of Takao Ozawa—a Japanese American denied citizenship despite decades of assimilation—highlighted systemic discrimination. The law’s exclusionary stance began to shift during World War II, when geopolitical alliances made such overt racial policies untenable, culminating in the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which abolished national origin quotas.

Before European colonization and the establishment of immigration laws, Indigenous peoples managed migration and intercultural relations with considerable agency. Historian Kathleen DuVal’s work sheds light on Native American diplomacy and cultural exchange spanning centuries. Rather than immediate conquest, many Native communities initially regarded European arrivals as peripheral and adapted through trade, alliances, and integration, including the adoption of Europeans into Indigenous families. This nuanced history challenges conventional narratives and suggests alternative models of belonging and identity were present long before the modern United States existed.

Together, these perspectives illustrate the contested nature of American identity, showing it as an ongoing negotiation between ideals of equality and exclusionary practices shaped by religion, race, and power dynamics.