Traveling to the border; the border travels home
By Libby Munoz
Sun contributor
“Always go back to where you came from. You can’t go out into the world and learn about it, and then not take that knowledge home to where you are from… what one learns, you have to share with others so that others can empower themselves to change” — Marycruz Sandoval, activist in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico
The concept of “the border” is often thought of in regard to the southwestern United States’ southern border with Mexico. When people speak of “the border,” prominent news sources and politicians have made it quite easy to picture the Arizona desert, Rio Grande River, or La Bestia (“The Beast”) train traveling through Mexico with caravans of people. While these are all dangerous realities for people seeking entry into the United States, the border we often don’t think about is the ever-present border which pervades everyday lives even after crossing the physical border. The U.S.-Mexico border may be a significant Port of Entry for many migrants entering the United States, but “the border” often does not end there.
Growing up in Leelanau County, I have definitely fallen prey to this line of thinking. Through my Anthropology/Sociology studies at Kalamazoo College, I had the opportunity to do a Study Away program (much like Study Abroad, but located within the United States) in Tucson, Arizona. In January of this year, I moved across the country, where I lived with a Spanish speaking host family until May. The program included classes about migration, a field study with a local organization, and weekly trips to border cities on both the United States and Mexico side of the southwestern border.
I feel an important note to make is that while I spent time along the border for a few months, I am in no way an expert on the subject and can speak only to my personal experiences and conversations with community members. I in no way intend to make a blanket statement for the experiences of anyone who has left their home country to cross the border, nor for the lives of people living in the borderlands every day. My experiences are strictly my own and come from a point of extreme privilege as a White college student from Leelanau County. That being said, many community members requested that their stories be shared with our home communities in whatever capacity that may be. I intend only to amplify voices of humans who are bravely telling their stories and yet do not always have a platform through which to share and/or are actively being silenced by those in power. Their stories deserve to be heard.
“We’re Not Bad People”
I had the opportunity to speak with a family in the San Juan Bosco shelter, located in Nogales, Sonora, Mexico. This shelter provides temporary housing for migrants who have recently been deported as they make the decision whether to attempt another crossing or return to their country of origin. This family was from Guerrero, Mexico, a state with a Level 4 travel advisory — meaning that U.S. government employees are restricted from traveling there. Guerrero is placed on an identical danger level to countries such as Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, North Korea, and Syria. They brought their young children with them. The families cried as they told me all they wanted a better life for their children. Attending school and playing outside without seeing violence all around them was out of the question in their home country. As we left, the mothers cried, “please share our stories, we’re not bad people. Please tell them, we just want better for our kids.” Whether or not they will be part of the few who successfully make it into the United States, we will never know.
The majority of migrants who cross the southern border are coming from Mexico and the northern triangle of Central America (El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala). The less-known reasons behind these migrations is the fact that this is due to a history of United States interventionist strategies that have led to a pattern of violence, warfare, and economic disparity. The U.S. has consistently supported military coups and funded warfare resulting in brutal tortures and murders of civilian men, women, and children. In addition, seeking asylum is very challenging as extensive evidence of persecution is required to make a case. Gang violence, domestic violence, and economic instability do not constitute grounds for an asylum claim, often leaving people with no choice but to attempt a potentially fatal trek through the desert in an attempt to evade other, almost certainly deadly circumstances.
Prevention Through Deterrence
Border Patrol’s 1994 Strategic Plan outlined a new strategy, Prevention Through Deterrence (PTD), which sought to minimize entries into the United States through the southern border using deterrence techniques. This strategy called upon extreme high and low temperatures; treacherous environments; and sheer distance, time, and resources required on the trek through these conditions. Using checkpoints, infrared sensors, surveillance towers, and the vandalization of water left by humanitarian aid volunteers, many of Border Patrol’s stated measurements of success have been met: increased violence, political resistance, and higher smugglers’ fees. In addition, in the last two decades, 7,000 sets of human remains have been found in the U.S.-Mexico borderlands — many more of whom have simply disappeared and likely will never be found.
The Return of the Minutemen
As a result of increasing pushback on immigration, civilian vigilante groups began forming in the borderlands and literally “hunting” migrants as they crossed the desert into the United States, much like the minutemen in the American Revolution. In 2009 in Arivaca, Arizona, one group of minutemen entered the family home of Raul Flores Jr., posing as law enforcement officials. After opening fire and killing Raul, the minutemen then turned to his wife, Gina, shooting her three times. After Gina pretended to be dead, hoping they would leave, the minutemen turned to nine-year-old Brisenia, who cried “please don’t shoot me,” and shot her point blank in the face. The minutemen fled, at which point Gina was able to arm herself and call the authorities, but it was too late for Raul and Brisenia.
In the unincorporated town of 700 people, rather than standing down, ten humanitarian aid agencies popped up including people volunteering to be placed on a list of emergency responders, getting certified as EMTs, and doing daily water drops in the desert. As Arivaca could often be the first sign of civilization travelers will see, this type of response has been crucial in reducing the deaths caused by violent policies put in place by the government.
Closer to Home
Michigan, while geographically about 2,000 miles away from the US-Mexico border, is considered a border state due to proximity to Canada. Within this “100-mile border zone,” Border Patrol is allowed additional responsibilities, removing typical protections guaranteed by the Fourth Amendment. This means that Border Patrol can conduct an immigration stop based on “reasonable suspicion.” A few factors that can be taken into consideration when making a stop are “Mexican appearance,” traveling in a direction away from the border (which, in Michigan, could be nearly any direction), and officers’ previous experience in the area. Suspicious behavior can also be a consideration, which can include committing a traffic offense, or trying not to commit a traffic offense.
In the Detroit Sector of Border Patrol, which encompasses all of Michigan, Ohio, Illinois, and Indiana, 82.3% of non-citizens apprehended were of Latin American origin — however, Latin American immigrants only make up 0.9% of the Michigan population (cite). These statistics point to racial profiling practices committed by Border Patrol agents, as despite proximity to the Canadian border, an overwhelming amount of apprehensions are of people of Latin American origin.
When talking about “the border,” it’s more than just a line in the sand. “The border” is a violent, harmful construction created out of nationalism and racism. It is more than a physical place, or a piece of paper — “the border” becomes an identity attributed to people who are assumed to not belong — people who look different, sound different, or do not fit into the characteristics which have been assigned to what it means to be “American” (read: White, English-speaking).
What Now?
While it can be easy to feel hopeless in times like these, one of my professors gave me a word of advice from his own mentor: we just have to keep banging our heads against the wall and making cracks. The wall might not come down in our lifetime, but at least there will be cracks started for the next people who come along. A few prominent Tucson residents also added their own insights into how we move forward:
“Start looking for the things that are going right. Things are turning. This is the turning.” — Vera Lander, long time Tucson resident
“I am not defeated by the time we are living in. It gives me more energy. It gives me more sense of what needs to be done.” — Lupe Castillo, Office Manager, Keep Tucson Together
So, what now? We just keep making cracks until the wall crumbles.
To help or to donate, get to know the following organizations on the ground on the southern border:
• No More Deaths
• Annunciation House
• Mariposas Sin Fronteras
