In this blog post, I share what I've learned about why people on both sides of the border are invested in the outcomes of the 2016 U.S. presidential election. I'm just returning from two months in Mexico, where 1 out of every 6 people I talked to had lived and worked in the U.S. Our many conversations throughout the summer have helped me to more clearly see why terms like illegal immigrant and Hispanic are simply not nuanced enough to capture the growing cultural and economic reality in which we all live.
Born in Texas, poet and Chicana activist Gloria Anzaldúa (1942-2004) has described the space inhabited between English and Spanish, between American and Mexican identity, as the Borderlands. The commingling of English and Spanish in Anzaldúa's celebrated poetry underscores the hybrid identity, or third space, she and others like her inhabit. Here, I explore the stories of two bilingual people I met during my summer in Mexico.
Born in Texas, poet and Chicana activist Gloria Anzaldúa (1942-2004) has described the space inhabited between English and Spanish, between American and Mexican identity, as the Borderlands. The commingling of English and Spanish in Anzaldúa's celebrated poetry underscores the hybrid identity, or third space, she and others like her inhabit. Here, I explore the stories of two bilingual people I met during my summer in Mexico.
To live in the Borderlands means knowing
that the india in you, betrayed for 500 years,
is no longer speaking to you,
that mexicanas call you rajetas,
that denying the Anglo inside you
is as bad as having denied the Indian or Black;
From Gloria Anzaldúa (1987), Borderlands-La Frontera. The New Mestiza (San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books, 1987), pp. 194-195. india: Indian, indigenous woman; rajetas: split, neither here nor there
Encountering Bilingual Identity in Rural Mexico.
Mountaintops rise behind the school's campus. I began my summer working one-on-one with wonderfully motivated students at their high school in Tlacolula, a rural town in central Oaxaca state. Dotted with newly planted trees, the campus was tucked between agricultural fields and defunct railway lines. It may have been the edge of town, but from the school's soccer field, there was a beautiful view of the cloud-covered mountain range that encircled the valley. The temperate climate reminded me of central California--dry enough for cactus and agave, but not so dry that corn, tomatoes, and squash couldn't grow in abundance.
Turning away from the mountain view, I walked into the school to being assisting freshmen and sophomores in improving their English. That first day, I was surprised to meet quite a few that had been born in the States. Now teenagers, they spoke English more comfortably than their peers, recalling early years in Los Angeles city schools, and their favorite American foods and primetime TV. Many hoped to return to the U.S. to pursue their college education, as childhoods across the border had left them feeling more American at times than Mexican.
Turning away from the mountain view, I walked into the school to being assisting freshmen and sophomores in improving their English. That first day, I was surprised to meet quite a few that had been born in the States. Now teenagers, they spoke English more comfortably than their peers, recalling early years in Los Angeles city schools, and their favorite American foods and primetime TV. Many hoped to return to the U.S. to pursue their college education, as childhoods across the border had left them feeling more American at times than Mexican.
Playing Uno as we practice speaking English. I met Jackie on my second day at the school. Dressed smartly in her crisp blue/white plaid uniform, she walked into the classroom with several similarly dressed friends. That warm June afternoon, our group of seven sat around the table warming up to speaking in English by describing our daily routines. Before long, Jackie emerged as the most chatty in both Spanish and English, the most fluid writer in English, and the most eager to share. She spoke energetically, in a string of "cool," "y'know," and "hang out." We soon learned of her lukewarm love for telenovelas, and her reputation for giving solid relationship advice to peers.
After we split into pairs to compose short stories, Jackie launched into an anecdote about her bilingual identity. Lowering her voice, she told me how she remembers being chastised for using English when she first arrived in Mexico. She was 7 or 8 years old when she asked for a "soda" in the corner store. She realized her language choice was a problem when the shopkeeper demanded she say the Spanish word refresco (soda) before giving her the orange Fanta she wanted. This encounter became the point at which she truly understood she was no longer in the U.S.
After we split into pairs to compose short stories, Jackie launched into an anecdote about her bilingual identity. Lowering her voice, she told me how she remembers being chastised for using English when she first arrived in Mexico. She was 7 or 8 years old when she asked for a "soda" in the corner store. She realized her language choice was a problem when the shopkeeper demanded she say the Spanish word refresco (soda) before giving her the orange Fanta she wanted. This encounter became the point at which she truly understood she was no longer in the U.S.
Revisiting the (Invisible) Borderlands.
Jackie's story stunned me because I realized that most of the stories of immigration I've been exposed to are focused on arrival to the U.S. Learning about her experience awakened me to the reverse situation--the reality of American children living in cultural and linguistic borderlands outside of America as a result of their parents' emigration. Jackie's borderland was the bilingual and bicultural identity she inhabited that neither her parents nor friends (nor I) would ever fully understand. In the U.S. Jackie might be regarded as Chicanx, Latinx, Hispanic, Brown, or Mexican American. In Mexico, her experience was unique, but certainly not as rare as I might have imagined.
Cuando vives en la frontera,
people walk through you,
the wind steals your voice,
you’re a burra, buey, scapegoat,
forerunner of a new race,
half and half —both woman and man, neither— a new gender
To survive the Borderlands
you must live sin fronteras
be a crossroads.
From Gloria Anzaldúa (1987), Borderlands-La Frontera. The New Mestiza (San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books, 1987), pp. 194-195. burra: donkey; buey: ox; sin fronteras: without borders
View of Monte Albán from atop the courtyard ridge. My second week, I took advantage of the weekend to visit the monumental hilltop remains of the ancient Zapotec city of Monte Albán, also in Oaxaca state. I must have walked the length of two football fields before I spotted a park ranger sitting at the base of a stone-rimmed courtyard. We were both wearing wide-brimmed hats to shade our faces from the sun. As I approached where he sat, I asked him if it was worth it to climb the steep stone steps. It was definitely worth it, he said, and pulling out a 20-peso bill, he emphatically pointed to the image printed on its reverse. I couldn't believe I hadn't ever noticed that the blue-tinted bill depicted a valley of step pyramids so breathtaking it seemed artificial. Now I would to see that view for myself. Thanking him, I moved toward the weathered steps, but I paused to respond when he asked me where I was from.
"¿De dónde vienes?" (Where are you from?)
"De California." (From California.)
"Bueno. Pues, viví allá por años, estaba trabajando en los campos de fresas y en otras cosas. Pero eso no sirvió, y regresé acá." (Okay. Well, I lived there for years, I was working in strawberry fields and in other things. But there wasn't much money in it and I returned here.)
We talked a bit more before I made the modest climb, but what he had shared with me left as strong an impression as the incredible view. He had wanted me to know that he intimately knew my home country, and that the U.S. had been his home for many years as well. He had called Los Angeles, Stockton, and Chicago each home, before returning to Mexico.
Our encounter reminded me of how limiting it was to judge a book by its cover, or judge a man by his appearance, no matter the context. Over the years, my many extended stays in Mexico were often peppered with questions from locals, and their resulting surprise at someone of my skin color being from the U.S., rather than from Cuba, as they imagined. I wasn't quite the American they pictured when they thought of their neighbors to the north, but there I was.
"¿De dónde vienes?" (Where are you from?)
"De California." (From California.)
"Bueno. Pues, viví allá por años, estaba trabajando en los campos de fresas y en otras cosas. Pero eso no sirvió, y regresé acá." (Okay. Well, I lived there for years, I was working in strawberry fields and in other things. But there wasn't much money in it and I returned here.)
We talked a bit more before I made the modest climb, but what he had shared with me left as strong an impression as the incredible view. He had wanted me to know that he intimately knew my home country, and that the U.S. had been his home for many years as well. He had called Los Angeles, Stockton, and Chicago each home, before returning to Mexico.
Our encounter reminded me of how limiting it was to judge a book by its cover, or judge a man by his appearance, no matter the context. Over the years, my many extended stays in Mexico were often peppered with questions from locals, and their resulting surprise at someone of my skin color being from the U.S., rather than from Cuba, as they imagined. I wasn't quite the American they pictured when they thought of their neighbors to the north, but there I was.
Engaging Mexico's Political Saavy: #CONTRATRUMP.
#CONTRATRUMP: Posters in protest at the Senado de la República. As warm June days became rainy July days, I moved from Oaxaca City to the nation's capital, Mexico City, to reunite with several friends. Throughout this next month, I would meet more locals who had lived and worked in the U.S. Sometimes they would switch into English to ask me questions about the American presidential candidates. What did I think of Hillary Clinton? Would Donald Trump really be able to build that wall? Our conversations revealed their strong investment in the U.S. election, and their attention to the updates and opinion pouring out of all matter of media outlets. They couldn't vote in the American election, but that didn't mean it wasn't important to them.
On an overcast July day I took a taxi down to Paseo de la Reforma, the iconic high-rent broadway which the U.S. Embassy calls home, along with a number of American hotel brands. I was on my way to see a friend at the Mexican National Senate (Senado de la República). During my visit, we went out into the courtyard to take in the skyline, and looking up, I noticed a number of huge posters plastered across the windows of several government offices. It was clear they spelled the hashtag #CONTRATRUMP (AGAINSTTRUMP). When my friend explained that these posters had already been up for four months, I took it as further evidence that American domestic news headlines had not escaped the Mexican public. Far away from the center of it all, on the other side of our mostly invisible border, U.S. politics was have a greater impact than I could have anticipated.
On an overcast July day I took a taxi down to Paseo de la Reforma, the iconic high-rent broadway which the U.S. Embassy calls home, along with a number of American hotel brands. I was on my way to see a friend at the Mexican National Senate (Senado de la República). During my visit, we went out into the courtyard to take in the skyline, and looking up, I noticed a number of huge posters plastered across the windows of several government offices. It was clear they spelled the hashtag #CONTRATRUMP (AGAINSTTRUMP). When my friend explained that these posters had already been up for four months, I took it as further evidence that American domestic news headlines had not escaped the Mexican public. Far away from the center of it all, on the other side of our mostly invisible border, U.S. politics was have a greater impact than I could have anticipated.
A History of Anti-Immigrant, Anti-Mexican Political Discourse.
In fact, while summer coverage of the U.S. presidential election was making local headlines in Mexico, I watched as American media outlets plied shock-jock rhetoric to drive ratings. Discourse targeting race, religion, and language emphasized difference over fact, conjuring up Victorian and Jim Crow standards of biological humanity, intelligence, and worth. This polarized discourse perpetuates a one-sided perspective that is no longer tenable with the evolving demographics of the U.S., the complex identities of English-Spanish bilinguals, or increasing mobility across the border.
As one Trump supporter was quoted by The New York Times: "If you're not speaking English, and you're not contributing, get out!" In the days since the Republican and Democratic national conventions, just as many people spouting this divisive rhetoric have condemned it, citing their surprise at the emergence of this shameless hate speech.
The awful truth is that political discourse doesn't change overnight, and there have been several anti-immigrant, anti-Mexican, and anti-difference undercurrents simmering and bubbling in America since before
Brown and Black skin, along with languages other than English were seen as signs of uncivilized disorder. Biological theories of inherent inferiority were used to support Manifest Destiny, and explain White supremacy as inevitable and necessary. Let us also remember that in its early days as a Spanish territory and missionary outpost, the American West was settled by Spanish-speaking explorers, religious leaders, and Afromexicans, before its significant Anglo presence. Barring this colonization, the area remains home to a wide array of indigenous cultures and languages.
In times since, the increasing visibility of people of color, some identifying as Latinx, some speaking Spanish or practicing a variety of religions, has drawn the ire of many who are cynical and fearful of difference, and want to maintain control of an America they think they know and love. At his own rally on Thursday, August 4, Trump openly lamented: "Our country is becoming different...they're shooting our police...we need law and order." As we revisit these historical truths, we must ask ourselves what type of order is it that he really portends. Will students like Jackie be welcome in Trump's America?
As one Trump supporter was quoted by The New York Times: "If you're not speaking English, and you're not contributing, get out!" In the days since the Republican and Democratic national conventions, just as many people spouting this divisive rhetoric have condemned it, citing their surprise at the emergence of this shameless hate speech.
The awful truth is that political discourse doesn't change overnight, and there have been several anti-immigrant, anti-Mexican, and anti-difference undercurrents simmering and bubbling in America since before
- Mexico's attempt to free its Texas territory of slavery after 1810, when enslavement gradually became illegal in Mexico,
- the U.S.-Mexican War (1846-1848),
- and the subsequent cession of formerly Mexican (and Spanish) territories extending from California to Wyoming.
Brown and Black skin, along with languages other than English were seen as signs of uncivilized disorder. Biological theories of inherent inferiority were used to support Manifest Destiny, and explain White supremacy as inevitable and necessary. Let us also remember that in its early days as a Spanish territory and missionary outpost, the American West was settled by Spanish-speaking explorers, religious leaders, and Afromexicans, before its significant Anglo presence. Barring this colonization, the area remains home to a wide array of indigenous cultures and languages.
In times since, the increasing visibility of people of color, some identifying as Latinx, some speaking Spanish or practicing a variety of religions, has drawn the ire of many who are cynical and fearful of difference, and want to maintain control of an America they think they know and love. At his own rally on Thursday, August 4, Trump openly lamented: "Our country is becoming different...they're shooting our police...we need law and order." As we revisit these historical truths, we must ask ourselves what type of order is it that he really portends. Will students like Jackie be welcome in Trump's America?
"Reject Cynicism and Reject Fear."
At the DNC in August, President Obama called for us all to "reject cynicism and reject fear." His words comprised a sharp rebuke of the doom and gloom coming from the Trump campaign, but also contrasted with their apocalyptic language on matters of gun violence, race relations, gender parity, and economic inequality. In the days following his speech, the two major candidates described their political platforms. One extolled the cause of justice, saying, "When any barrier falls in America, it clears the way for everyone." The other took to Twitter to post a desolate rebuttal video set to a literal backdrop of frightening storm clouds: "You heard the speech, but behind the glitter lies this stark truth, in Hillary Clinton's America, things get worse...taxes keep rising, terrorism spreads...Americans losing their jobs, homes, and hope."
With global attention on the 2016 election, there seems to be even more pressure to discuss the severity of the choices at hand. I've been paying attention to the presidential race all along, but it wasn't until after I returned to the U.S. that I fully gathered just how misleading and polarizing our political discourse has become.
Particularly at a time when America signifies so many things to so many people, my time in Mexico reminded me that I could learn about my home country by looking from the outside in. Division and difference can never be the answer, no matter what side of the border you're on.
With global attention on the 2016 election, there seems to be even more pressure to discuss the severity of the choices at hand. I've been paying attention to the presidential race all along, but it wasn't until after I returned to the U.S. that I fully gathered just how misleading and polarizing our political discourse has become.
Particularly at a time when America signifies so many things to so many people, my time in Mexico reminded me that I could learn about my home country by looking from the outside in. Division and difference can never be the answer, no matter what side of the border you're on.
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