Backlash emerges against Latino culture

Others have taken even more flagrant actions toward Hispanic immigrants. A Philadelphia sub shop owner, Joseph Vento, has a sign up that reads: "This is America. When Ordering, Speak English." In Ohio, Butler County Sheriff Richard Jones has put up a yellow sign saying "Illegal Aliens Here," with an arrow pointing to the county jail.

The mayor of Hazleton, Pa., Friday signed a law that punishes landlords for renting to illegals and mandates that all official city business be conducted in English. Since 2000, the percentage of Latinos in Hazleton has jumped from 5 percent to nearly 30 percent.

" ... [T]o illegal immigrants and those who would hire or abet them in any way ... You are no longer welcome," Mayor Lou Baretta wrote in a letter posted on the city's website.

While anti-immigrant hate groups increased 33 percent in the past five years, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center, overall acceptance of immigration is at a five-year high, according to a recent Gallup Poll.

"What we're seeing is little towns in Kansas trying to ban people from sitting on their front porch, because that's what [Hispanics] do," says Gabriela Lemus, of the League of United Latin American Citizens in Washington. "On the other hand, there is a real challenge in places like Little Rock, Ark., and Cicero, Ill., where [towns] aren't prepared for a community they didn't expect to have."

To Mexicans, "tacos are life," says Juan Martinez, a construction worker in Norcross. Mr. Martinez, a green-card holder from central Mexico, prefers to make his own tacos, but says that mobile taco stands serve many Hispanic workers stuck at construction sites. The lack of protest about the ban in Gwinnett County doesn't surprise him. "This is not our country, we don't have the power," Martinez says. "[Americans] are going to do what they're going to do."

Still, these restrictions come about because of inaccurate stereotypes that all Hispanics are undocumented or poor, says Dan Tichenor, an immigration expert at the Eagleton Institute of Politics in New Brunswick, N.J. "Getting nostalgic about our own immigrant past, but dreading the latest newcomers, is something that has been around since Ben Franklin," he says.

The local ordinances are a forerunner to developing a national policy for immigration reform, says Mr. Frey. "Part of the price we have to pay before we come up with reasonable national solutions is this kind of interim action where local officials try to grandstand for small political gains," he says.

But such ordinances are little more than "feel-good" efforts by frustrated Americans, says Robert Nilles, a Hazleton city councilor. "It's a little funny in a way, because you're trying to control something you have no control over," he says.

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