Have You Seen Us? represents different immigrant communities in the U.S. as divided by their racial backgrounds and national origins, but it also suggests that the American immigrant experience can offer common ground to people of different racial backgrounds and nationalities. Initially, the play shows two of its main characters, White South African ex-professor Henry Parsons and Mexican waitress Adela Venegas, as divided by their different countries of origin despite the fact that both characters are immigrants to southern California. For example, when Henry and Adela are fighting over whether Henry should accept a sandwich from Adela that he didn’t actually order, Henry tells Adela to call the police on him if she wants—and then taunts her by pointing out that the police will certainly ask for her “papers.” In other words, Henry knows that as a white immigrant from an English-speaking country, he has privileges in the U.S. that Adela, a Latina immigrant from a Spanish-speaking country, does not. These racial and national privileges divide him from Adela despite their shared status as immigrants. Yet the play also shows how these characters’ respective immigrant experiences ultimately cultivates empathy between them. Henry first sees Adela as a human being rather than as a target for his ire when he notices her pride in her Mexican background and asks whether she’s homesick. As a result of this exchange, the characters end up discussing their respective homesickness and countries of origin in an emotionally intimate way despite their previous conflict. Thus, the play suggests that while racial and national hierarchies within the U.S. divide immigrant communities against each other, people who have immigrated to the U.S. can still find personal common ground in their immigrant experiences.
Immigration and Nationality ThemeTracker
Immigration and Nationality Quotes in Have You Seen Us?
Have You Seen Us? Quotes
Henry: (Pretend and pompous outrage) An overweight, uneducated Mexican waitress had once again humiliated me, Henry Parsons, PhD!
Adela: (Aggressively, as she makes his sandwich): Welcome back, my dear old borracho perdido. Sucio viejo borracho. You know that one, darling? I teach you. Yes, I like you so much you sucio viejo borracho perdido, I teach you speak my language. “Sucio” is meaning “dirty.” “Viejo” is “old.” Sí. There you have it.
Henry: So go ahead and call the police if you want to. But before you do so let me just say I hope your papers are in order, darling, because that is the first thing they are going to ask for, you know. I’ve got no problem and I certainly hope for your sake that you haven’t any as well.
Adela: I’m telling it. So you listen and learn, gringo. Husband is beating wife, Adriana. Right? Wife calls police and wants divorce. Okay? Next stop: court case. Police and husband tell lies in court but judge believes him because they all gringos and husband is Vietnam vet. Verdict? Court gives baby Isabella to husband. They call it American justice. But not end of story because now comes Mexican justice. Beautiful Adriana waits for time when little Isabella is playing in the street. Adriana walks—very easy, like you know—to Isabella and says . . . “Hey baby! Come with Mama! We go eat ice cream.” . . . And off they go.
Henry: Well played! I’ll give you that point. I can’t trump your pride . . . and for the simple reason that I don’t think I’ve got any left. (He tries) “I am a South African!” Didn’t sound convincing, did it? Certainly didn’t feel it. But there was a time . . . oh yes, there was a time . . .
(He shakes his head ruefully.
Pause.
He starts eating his sandwich and waits, watching her at work behind the counter for a minute or so, beginning to see her as something more than just a target for his scorn and contempt. Eventually . . .)
Do you ever get homesick?
Henry: [T]hat was another terrible yearning . . . watching people live their lives . . . and understanding what those lives were all about. I can’t do that here in America. I understand nothing. When I stand on a street corner here in America I feel I don’t even speak the same language. Back there it was different . . . I knew them all . . . I knew their stories . . .
Henry: Now listen, this monster . . . what do you call it . . . monstruo? . . .
(He now points at the menu.)
Is those three words . . . and those three words . . .
(He now points at his own chest.)
. . . are inside me.
Henry: It’s my one and only souvenir of Adela, and what happened to me that night. Remember it? “Have You Seen Us?”
It’s a good question. I like to believe I did.



