Border Pulls and Conciousness

"Every morning we go out blinking into the glare of our freedom, into the wilderness of work and the world, making maps as we go, looking for signs that we're on the right path. And on some good days we walk right out of our oppressions, those things that press you down from the outside or (as often) from the inside; we shake off the shackles of fear, prejudice, timidity, closed-mindedness, selfishness, self-righteousness, and claim our freedom outright, terrifying as it is- our freedom to be human, and humane. Every morning, every day, we leave our houses, not knowing if it will be for the last time, and we decide what we'll take with us, what we'll carry: how much integrity, how much truth- telling, how much compassion (in case somebody along the way may need some), how much arrogance, how much anger, how much humor, how much willingness to change and to be changed, to grow and to grown. How much faith and hope, how much love and gratitude- you pack these with your lunch and medications, your date book and your papers. Every day, we gather what we think we'll need, pick up what we love and all that we so far believe, put on our history, shoulder our experience and memory, take inventory of our blessings, and we start walking toward morning" 

- Walking toward morning, Victoria Safford

It is now week two in our trip and as we go further into the borderlands, we are sharing and opening up more with each other. But this also means we are also facing new challenges in how the border pushes at us and forces into thoughts that were not quite fully realized before this trip. This is something both exciting and in some cases a little shocking.  Many of us did not realize how pulled we are by the border. It has latched onto to us already, in many different ways. 

On May 26th we crossed the border in Mexicali and met with grad students working in the border region. They all were doing important and powerful work in the region. Those conversations, a mix of both English and Spanish, will be something we will never forget (Anna wrote a beautiful blog post about this experience). 

 Yesterday (May 27th) we had the honor of seeing San Diego guided by Dr. Alavrez. Dr. Alavrez grew up in San Diego and has done extensive work in the community and the larger borderland region. He is a humble anthropology rock star. We began our San Diego day in Lemon Grove, learning about the nation's first successful desegregation case and the impact it had on the community and the larger civil rights movement. From there we continued to Chicano Park. 

Chicano Park is located underneath the San Diego-Coronado Bridge. The bridge cuts through a predominantly Mexican community. Over 5,000 homes and businesses were removed for the construction of the freeway and bridge in the 1960s. The city had originally pledged to build a park, in response to the forced displacement. However plans were envisioned by the city to instead build a police station beneath the newly created bridge. When the community found out, they fought hard to have a park - full of murals of their community, experiences, and heritage. The park has been/is still extremely important to the Chicano civil rights movement.  

The murals and the way the park is laid out is done in such a beautiful and intentional way. They were demanding our attention. We had the honor (and luck) to run into one of the main directors of the park. Hearing his stories tied to the community and the park was incredible. You could feel from him and from the park, the fight that is still continuing on today.

 

As a group we later on reflected how the park was not made for us - as outsiders, or "tourists" of San Diego. This aspect, I believe is something so crucial to what we have been learning about the border and the people living there. Recognizing this is something we have been confronting over and over again on this trip. We all carry culture, stories, and experiences with us. It is part of being human. Recognizing how this may be tied and not tied to the border can be a difficult challenge - it is a borderland consciousness. I believe this consciousness is of the most important things we can do as learners of the border. 

The murals and park is just one way this is expressed. 

These pictures don't do the park justice

 Towards the end of our day with Dr. Alvarez we ended up at the pacific ocean. We took off our well-traveled chacos and other assorted shoes, and we stuck our feet into the sea. I marveled how just in a few days, our shoes and feet were covered in dust from the desert - now they are covered in sea salt and sand.The border includes both the ocean and desert. It is an oxymoron in many ways.
 It is strange to label the border as a place - with all its complexity and movement.
And this place, I am just beginning to understand it.

“Wind tugging at my sleeve

feet sinking into the sand

I stand at the edge where earth touches ocean

where the two overlap

a gentle coming together

       at other times and places a violent crash” 

- Gloria Anzaldua

Mexico, faintly in the background

Immersion

Yesterday we entered Mexico for our second time this trip. We spent the night in Calexico, across the border from Mexicali. After breakfast, we took taxis to la frontera. We walked through the gates freely, no one asked us any questions and there weren't even people monitoring who was coming into Mexico. This doesn't concern them. 

We met with a friend of Dr. Goldberg's who drove us to a museum that he runs. They opened it for us even though they are usually closed on Mondays, this was so incredibly special! Each and every day I am reminded of the relationships that anthropology allows you to have and how fortunate we are to have access to those connections that Dr. Goldberg has made in her life. The first part of the museum was contemporary art. Much of it was about the border and border issues. This piece was the one that struck me the most. 

It is made of the same materials that the border fence is created of. The contrast between the symbol of freedom of the American flag and the constraint caused by a boundary is fascinating. These artists really captured many issues that are presented by the border. I could talk so much more about this amazing part of our day, but I have so much more to say about other topics!

We then had the opportunity to hear from three Mexican graduate students. The first one spoke completely in Spanish with a translator. I enjoyed listening to his language, but found myself becoming impatient with having to have a translator present. Only a handful of us are proficient; a translator was necessary for everyone to get what they needed to out of the presentation. I was being selfish by thinking that, and realized that this was the time to find patience and to enjoy what I could understand in Spanish. In the middle of the presentations, I had a moment of disbelief, realizing how amazing it was that we were in Mexico, listening to Mexican graduate students talk about such interesting and important topics that they are so invested in. I could have listened to them forever. 

Them as well as three professionals that also presented joined us for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. There is a large Chinese population in Mexicali, which is interesting in itself. The Chinese food was excellent, served in family style. When we arrived, the students and other Mexicans were already there. They had sat close to one end, only leaving one or two seats on the left side of them. I first considered sitting with them and my brain panicked at the thought of being alone immersed in the language. Lora (who also speaks Spanish) sat down with them, and I followed the rest of our group to the other end of the table. 

The entire dinner I had regretted my decision. We happily, but quietly, listened to other conversations but not having our own. I then decided that I needed to take advantage of the time we had with these students, and pulled up a chair next to Lora and two of the graduate students. They had been speaking Spanish the whole time, and I knew that I had missed out. But after that, I understood what they were saying for the majority of the time, and simply asked if I didn't get something. I spoke comfortably, even though I made various mistakes.

I was told afterwards that the look on my face while having the conversation was of joy and passion. This doesn't surprise me; I am so passionate about both Spanish and meeting new people, especially in Spanish speaking countries, where I want to do my work in the future. We said goodbye to each and every person with a kiss on the cheek and a hug. I was so touched by this cultural action and was much sadder than I expected to be after leaving people I had met only hours before. I enjoyed yesterday so much, and I am sure that the other girls will write about their experiences as well, as we did so many things. 

We did so many amazing things today and had such a good period of reflection at the end. I hope you will have the chance to hear about that later from the other girls :)

From the border--

It's difficult to start a story so far into any journey, but as there doesn't seem to be any clear ending or beginning to any of the adventures we embark upon, I suppose I'll wade into the middle of today and see how far away from shore we are when we look back.
Today we -- visited a beautiful church, San Xavier del Bac, and it was stunningly white against the blinding blue of the sky; there were images of snakes interlaced with the Virgin Mary painted on the ceilings, and it felt more earthy and comfortable than any Catholic church has to date, for me;
Today we -- walked over Mesquite pod shells quietly, two of our members weren't feeling well and one is leaving us early tomorrow morning; Tumacacori, another beautiful mission church built by the Spaniards but this one with the forced labor of others; later we ate lunch surrounded by affluent white retirees only a few miles from Mexico, where
-- We crossed the border. And I cannot forget what privileges the blue of my passport allows me, as I swiftly walk with my trip-mates across the border to my sister country whose wind blows across the same mountains as my own, whose language sounds familiar and blends with my own seamlessly, where the people look the same as the people on 'My' 'Side' of the border--two legs, eyes, arms and everything, people still--and I'm still breathing the same air as everyone else, at least I thought so, right, but the breathing of it becomes harder, a lump in my throat, when I can look up - upon crossing that turnstile into a country that feels the same under my feet as the one I was born into - and see a ten-foot-tall steel fence. It's not pretty because it's not meant to be, because nobody who built it seemed to care about that. You can see through it, but only enough to know how far away you are from touching the other side. Only enough to know how much one country doesn't really want you there. And perhaps at one time the people from that other side found something of worth where you are, but now they must not because the streets are empty and the stores are empty and this group of white girls is the first sign of life you've seen all day and Dios Mio it's Labor Day Weekend, so where is everyone? And the girls buy some earrings and trinkets but how much does that help, really, because they can't un-fund the War on Drugs and they can't un-wind the terror and they can't un-lie the lies, really, so where are we then?

Every day we allow ourselves to believe that evil can be separated from us by concrete and steel, we lose touch with our humanity a bit more. Humans are fluid, we move and we change. A border cannot stall that. It's as if we're standing in a lake, but the water is rising, and so we lift the legs of our pants so that they don't get wet, but eventually we'll just be soaked through because we're still standing motionless in the middle of a freaking lake trying to stop the tide from coming in.

But perhaps we can help. By learning, and listening, and igniting others, by allowing ourselves to experience things fully and honestly.
Not too far from shore, I guess, to make use of the earlier water metaphor. Full circle!

Thanks for reading--
and blessins' from the border!

Sincerely,
HDX Border Babes

(For other info: http://www.usborderpatrol.com/Border_Patrol704.htm)

A dose of border reality

Yesterday was an interesting day to say the least. We were steeped in the complex history of the border at Camp Naco and heard Becky's amazing life journey that involved many borders. We finally saw the border fence, and that somehow made where we were even more surreal for me. How could this landscape that seems so continuous be cut in half so sharply? Naco seemed to me like some form of "border concentrate" with all its layered history and proximity to the reality of living at the border, but still it wasn't hitting me.

My dose of reality at the border came from a little shack behind two of the uninhabited officers' houses at Camp Naco. It probably used to be a storage shed at some point, and I didn't even notice it was there as they took us around the back of one of the houses. But it was there, and it had a different purpose. As our guides then made clear, this was a stop for undocumented migrants crossing the Mexico-U.S. border not even 100 yards away.

It's hard for me to describe what I felt and what I still feel about that spot. I first went to Mexico when I was fifteen to paint a house with a Mexican youth group there, and the relationships I formed there brought me back again and again until I finally studied abroad in Puebla last fall as an exchange student. When I picture migrants, I can't stop their faces from being familiar ones, faces of the people who welcomed me, fed me, laughed with me, and loved me when I came to their country completely alone. It hurts to see places like this.

To see that shed pulled me into an emotional place that I didn't expect to go yesterday. Yesterday was supposed to be this scavenger hunt for historical significance and good light and admirable backstories, but to see a part of what it means to be alone in a foreign place was not on the list for today and I was caught unprepared. The shed was full of what people couldn't take with them. Most of it was trash, but you could see humanity there. Rusted cans of what had been someone's rushed meal, a doll half buried in the dirt. There were even tire tracks nearby in the grass, marking this shack as a pick up station.

I took six photos, wondering what I would see if I had more time to look. I didn't realize until it came up later that I and other photo-takers had made some in our group extremely uncomfortable, and I can understand why. A lot of us unknowingly take part in a sort of poverty porn, were we snap a photo of a few dirty-faced kids and their living space on our way by as some sort of momento, never registering them as people and homes. For me, this small place in an old backyard was so significantly part of someone's life that I couldn't ignore it. I spent an hour snapping photos of an abandoned military camp. No one lives there anymore, no one uses it. It's significance is centered on the past, no matter what it will be used for later. This, however, is a place of significance because of the now. It is a piece of reality for people crossing the border every day. It is a thin safety against the reality of being undocumented in the United States. So I felt I had to save a picture of it, because it means something, and it was the first thing this trip to put a knot in my chest.

I'll end this here before I write a novel. I'm writing this blog post this morning with conflicting emotions. I feel so happy to be here and to learn, but I have found that I will not avoid the harder parts of this land like I was able to do in the classroom. Probably a good thing. Doesn't make it any easier, though.

Intention at Camp Naco

Hi friends-
It has been a long day. We left Tucson at 8:30 this morning and arrived back at 10:30 tonight. Arizona is so beautiful, I am in love with the mountains. I want to hug them. Today we travelled to Naco, Arizona, one of fourteen twin cities along the US-Mexico border. We went to tour Camp Naco, a historical site built between 1919 and 1923 to serve as a US military outpost at the border- you can see the wall of the border from the camp. Camp Naco was home to different military regiments at different times, though all were Buffalo Soldier units- units made up of African-American soldiers with white officers during the units' early years. Within the last ten years, Camp Naco has fallen victim to neglect and arson. This site has a considerable amount to add to the country's remembrance of the Mexican Revolution, the history of our military, and to the discussion on interaction between the United States and Mexico.
I am an Anthropology major and an Art minor, with a focus in photography. I work in black and white, medium format film. I am very interested in the use of photography for furthering peoples' understanding of events, and other people and cultures. Photography has become something dear to me, and it is quickly becoming my favorite way to tell a story. Later in our trip, I will have the opportunity to go back to Camp Naco and take pictures of the camp, and allow those photographs to function as another way to tell this story. This site is in desperate need of attention- not just to rebuild and assign purpose, but for people to acknowledge its importance in the country's history. I hope that my photographs might contribute to the spread of that story.
Since taking my first photography class at Hendrix, I have been very interested in the intersection of anthropology and photography, and how I could combine the two. This opportunity with Camp Naco is exciting for me for a few reasons. Yes, it is super awesome that I am getting to take photographs and raise a little awareness about this site. However, this project has opened up some bigger questions for me. As we toured the camp today and I looked for views that would make beautiful pictures, I had to ask myself constantly what my intention would be with each photograph. I wrote a paper at the end of this past spring semester about how the intention behind a photograph can change the meaning of that photograph, and how that meaning affects those that view the work. Armed with that knowledge, it became obvious and important to me that this project could not just represent Camp Naco as it is currently, in a state of disrepair, but in a way that could be viewed as beautiful. If repaired and built up in the way those in charge of the property hope, this site could become a center of community and education for Naco. I hope that if my intentions and photographs present this site as something worth looking at even in its current state, people will realize the potential behind this space.

Today was challenging. When we left the hotel this morning the group had a pretty defined schedule, but from the beginning things did not go according to plan. I think this group of women is pretty good at going with the flow and adapting to unplanned events; though the day was stressful because of the need for the use of those skills, I think we all learned a lot about each other. Today's challenges allowed us, all independent ladies with different perspectives and opinions, to have disagreements and then agree to get over them and work as a team. I am very excited to move forward over the next week and a half, and to learn and grow with these women.
When I applied for this trip, I had hoped to get to expand my anthropological experience and spend time with one of the most inspiring mentors I've had. We are not half-way through the trip, and I realize that I have access here to that and so much more. This trip is allowing me to think about how many ways I can use anthropology in the world to help others, and in what ways I am most qualified to help. I am learning to work with people in a hugely collaborative space, closely and with a unified purpose, but from different perspectives. I am learning that what I thought were my limits in compassion and empathy are expandable in surprising ways. I am so thankful for this opportunity and the women I am working with here.

Where does the border begin?

Every day of our trip, we are faced with what makes up 'the borderlands' - a region that is a physical place, a social construct, an important aspect of identity, and a contentious political boundary. Today we drove down to the border for the first time. Although we did not cross the border, seeing the actual, physical boundary of place and space cast a new light on our already emerging ideas of the borderlands.

This morning, we drove from Tuscan, AZ to Naco, AZ, where we visited Camp Naco and met with two people who are working to preserve the archaeological site. The abandoned buildings that comprise Camp Naco are built on the U.S. side of the border, in Arizona. Looking across the vast expanse of open, arid desert and nearby mountain ranges, I saw the U.S./Mexico border from a mile away. The Mexican side looked virtually the same as the U.S. side. I learned, however, that while less than one thousand people live in Naco, AZ, about 10,000 live in Naco, Sonora, Mexico.

As the day went on, we had another chance to see the border. Becky and Bill, the two inspiring people who showed us around Camp Naco, took us on a tour of neighboring Bisbee, AZ as well as drove us by the border checkpoint that separates Naco in the U.S. from Naco in Sonora, Mexico. Standing 50 feet from the metal fence with heavy security felt more concrete, definitive than our outlook at Camp Naco. There is something very real about a metal border fence separating two twin cities that makes the vast desert landscape and open natural land that also makes up the U.S./Mexico border seem abstract in comparison.

Today, we saw different physical representations of the reality of the U.S./Mexico border. However, the borderlands does not just start and stop at the political border, where the checkpoints and the metal fence are cemented in place. The borderlands is more than a place, though, and we did not have to drive all the way to southeastern Arizona to find implications of the border region.

A few days ago, the Borderlands gang was in Phoenix, AZ. Dr. Goldberg let us explore El Rancho Mercado - a Mexican grocery store. There, it felt like we had already crossed the border. After trying a torta cubana (think mexican sandwich that includes 3 kinds of meat!), horchata, and perusing the bakery section, I started thinking more about the fluidity of the border. Where does it start? Where does it end? Our excursion to El Rancho Mercado reminded me in many ways of the markets, shops, and culture of the predominately Latin American neighborhood next to mine in Dallas, Texas. You can find similar (though smaller) markets, restaurants, and shops there. Many of my favorite childhood foods come from the mixing of American culture and Mexican culture - tres leche cake, Lucas brand salt, tamarind paste, lollipops with chili and mango. All of this seemed normal to me until I left Dallas to attend college in central Arkansas. Many of us on this trip, though, did not grow up next to a predominately Latin American neighborhood. The visit to El Rancho Mercado may have been the first of such experiences. For me, though, it was strangely familiar. It reminded me of my childhood, and my home.

In short: you don't have to go all the way to the border to experience the mixing and blending of U.S. and Mexican cultures. However, coming to the U.S./Mexico border allowed me to realize just how fluid the borderlands truly are - they transcend political and physical boundaries, and are far-reaching in scope.

A view of the Mexican side of the border. Naco, AZ (looking at the mountains in Naco, Sonora)

Connections

I've sat at my computer for about five minutes trying to decide how to start my first post of the trip. So much has happened already; I can't believe that we've only been here for three and a half days. I supposed that I'll start off by saying that I am surrounded by a group of women with whom I am so privileged to share this opportunity with. All of us come from different backgrounds: some of us graduated with Sociology degrees, some are more interested in International Relations, but we all have some sort of draw to Anthropology that connects us all. This diverse group creates a forum for discussions that I am lucky to be a part of, and I value so much hearing the perspectives of many different people. I already have learned so much from each and every person here and I look forward to gaining new insight on so many topics while on the trip.

I myself am an Anthropology and Spanish double major. I came on this trip yearning to learn about the unique culture and also use of Spanish and English together that makes the United States- Mexico border special. I have always been interested in the Spanish language and have through this come to love the cultures associated with it. The border is distinct in that it is strung between two cultures and languages: Spanish in Mexico and English in the U.S. But it should not be viewed as two parts of separate things; it is very much its own entity. During the course, I visualized the places and situations that we read about, and I can't believe that I am actually here, experiencing the same harsh, but beautiful environment that was portrayed so strongly in writing.

Today we had the opportunity to meet with Gail Emrick, a contact of Dr. Goldberg's who has worked in multiple countries of Latin America and is now stationed in Arizona. She graciously invited us to her home to relax and chat followed by a swim in her backyard pool. She began our visit by showing us the various pieces that she has brought back with her from her travels. Her home is full of these; hearing the various stories behind these items touched me deeply. We soon learned that has helped so many people in so many places, and through this has made connections that will last a lifetime. I think this is one aspect of anthropology that is so attractive to me: the fact that field work goes beyond just doing your job; in turn you make lifelong relationships with the people that you encounter along the way.

We sat casually around a table in Gail's beautiful backyard and went around the circle introducing ourselves with not only our names but also what drives (or drove) us in our Hendrix education: not only majors but also simply interests; we are all very curious about the world around us. She had something to say in turn to each individual person, and through this we could all see her passion in the broad span of work that she does.  Her primary work is in health, but this is so much more than what it seems. Along the way, she spoke to us about hunger and locally sustainable agriculture, water, sanitation, immigration, borders, culture, language, politics and democracy, education, and religion. The way in which she speaks about her work is truly inspiring: I think that each of us have a deep appreciation for the way in which Gail lives her life. She ended her talk by saying to us that she went into what she does knowing that she would not make an abundance of money or live in an extravagant way. Despite this, she has never woken up in the morning dreading going to work or hating her job. This idea is something that I strive to have in my own life: I study what I study because I love it and am passionate about it; I do not worry myself with how much money I will make in fields that are accessible after school because of the degree that I chose. It is often rare that us as Americans meet someone with this ideology, and throughout the past few days every single person that we have come into contact with has shared this passion for what they are doing with their lives. We are so fortunate to meet so many great people, and we owe it all to Dr. Goldberg and the connections that she has made throughout her work.

Not only did I identify with what Gail was saying in terms of the way that she feels about her job, but what she talked to us about also made me think more about what I really want to do in the future. Yes, I am only entering my junior year of undergrad in the fall, but Hendrix gives its students so many opportunities to explore what they want to specialize in within their area of study; it is never too early to start thinking. Not only does Gail work with Latin American countries, but she has a real passion for helping people. She clarified that a way in which we can help people, especially in Latin America, is to educate people here in the United States. Dr. Goldberg brought up the point at dinner that the vast majority of us, a very educated group, didn't know about the 25-plus times that the U.S. has invaded various countries in Latin America before we came to college. If more people here were aware of not only this fact but so much more about Latin America as well as immigration, there is the possibility for change to take place. How many people know that putting up the border fence, a recent addition in the past few years, has so many social implications? Families that could previously roam freely across the border are now separated by a wall. Another interesting fact that struck me was that there is no other border in the world like the one here: a place in which the haves and the have- nots are divided so distinctly. It is purely chance that you are born on one side or the other; you have no control over this overwhelming part of your life. If Americans were educated about the realities of not only immigration but other issues, would positive change come about?

Talking to Gail today brought up so many thoughts in my head, all having to do with my future. Do I want to work with immigrants and immigration here in the United States? Should I work along borders in Latin America? Would I rather help women develop sustainable food and clean water so that they can go to school and not have to collect water all day, burning more than half of their daily caloric intake? How can I make a difference in the world by not only changing my own life, but changing the lives of others? These are questions that I hope to explore further as we continue our trip, finish my undergraduate education, and see the world. I don't know if I'll determine a singular thing that will claim my whole heart, but I do know that I will end up doing something that I can pour myself into and use my education and experiences in order to help others in some shape or form. I look forward to this and am so grateful to have Hendrix and Dr. Goldberg to help me in this journey.