Beyond the Border
For the next 16 weeks, one of my classes and I will be creating and working towards publishing a book titled "Immigration and the Wall," a collection of stories and photos we'll be gathering from people in Tijuana, Mexico as well as communities of immigrants within LA/Orange county.
So just a heads up: I will be posting some of the research, finds, and photos that I'll be coming across on here over the next 16 weeks. And before I drown you in a series of what may seem like a whole bunch of politically charged posts, I just wanted to preface by saying that it is my last intention to hurt, offend, or spur debate.
This topic is particularly near and dear to my heart because of where I grew up. I just wanted to explain where I was coming from in regards to this topic, realizing that others' experiences are going to be different than my own, even of those who grew up right alongside me in the same city, along the same border. So if you care to know anything about what informs my views on the border, want to see a tiny picture into my home town, or ever wondered why I love hot sauce so much, feel free to read ahead.
To me, “the border” is a term synonymous with “home.” And “home” to me is Brownsville, Texas, a city along the Mexican-American border whose city slogan is quite literally, “On the Border, By the Sea.” The words, “the border” conjure up memories of childhood and young years of adulthood. The words bring back endearing memories of walking across with my family to get lunch at “El Pollo Loco” every Sunday afternoon, or my dad taking me along with him to Mexican tile stores to find supplies for the houses he built for a living, or going home with a friend after school to spend the night at her house that just happened to be across something called a “bridge.” And as the years passed, it also began to become something quite different. I began to take more note of the thick series of razor wire formed in large coils at the top of it. It became something that separated family members, and something my mom didn't like me to cross as drug-cartel violence became more and more prominent. And with each passing year living on the border, I understood more and more of what exactly that meant-- perhaps no longer always endearing, but always something that shaped the mindsets and beliefs that make up who I am today and continues to inform how I view life, family, culture, differences, and unity.
For those of you who did not grow up in Brownsville, to give oneself an idea of just how close the border is to where I grew up, and just how much its proximity affected my upbringing and who I am, I’ll lay down a few instances. The side of the building where my mom works that faces Mexico is adorned with two bullet holes shot by guns fired from the other side, you can see “the wall” from one of my best friend’s front yard, and she grew up getting frequent knocks on her door from people who had just made it across who were desperate for food and water, and I get notified by my cellphone provider that “You have now entered Mexico! You will be charged data roaming from this point forward,” in some parts of my city.
And naturally, being so close to a border means people will cross that border. So immigration was something ubiquitous growing up. And when so many of the people that live alongside you immigrated from Mexico, the concept of “immigrant” becomes so. . . dissolved. It doesn’t seem to hold its weight, as I now realize it does with so many others.
“To me, “immigrant” is. . . my best friend. “Immigrant” is my dad. “Immigrant” is, in some cases, refugee, those seeking refuge in the U.S. —perhaps against their will, but out of necessity because of threats (and in some cases worse than threats) to their families, livelihood, and possessions by cartels and corruption. I know this doesn’t account for everyone who’s ever immigrated from Mexico to the U.S., but I know in all cases “immigrants” are people.”
I mention this all, not to say that my view or input on the topic is any better or any more informed than anyone else, but just to say that I feel particulaly connected to and empathetic towards this topic, and these are some of the reasons why. I hope that, if nothing else, it means that I am invested in this project, and I'll be praying for a bigger understanding and more empathetic heart on the topic as I learn from people who are infinitely more impacted by the border than I am.