WINTER/SPRING 1995
I. The Capital of the American Crisis
“Americans never remember, Mexicans never forget.”
–popular Mexican saying
From 1978 to 1991, I lived and worked in and among the cities of Tijuana, San Diego, and Lost Angeles. Like hundreds of thousands of Mexicans living at the border, I was a binational commuter. I constantly crossed that border back and forth, by plane, by car, and by foot. The border was my home, my base of operations, and my laboratory of social and artistic experimentation. My art, my family and friends, and my psyche were literally divided by the border. But the border was not a straight line. It was more like a Mobius Strip. No matter where I was, I was always on “the other side,” feeling ruptured and incomplete; ever longing for my other selves, my other home and tribe.
For me California was an extension of Mexico. And in spite of some of its residents’ denial of its Mexican past, and their bittersweet relationship with contemporary Mexicans, I never quite felt like an immigrant. As a mestizo with a thick accent and an even thicker moustache, I knew I wasn’t exactly welcome; but I also knew that millions of Latinos, “legal” and “illegal,” shared that border experience with me. Then in 1991 I moved to New York City, and my umbilical cord finally broke. For the first time in my life, I felt like a true immigrant. From my Brooklyn apartment, Mexico and Chicanolandia seemed a million light years away.
I decided to return to Southern Califas in 1993. Since the riots, Los Angeles had become the epicenter of America’s social, racial, and cultural crisis; the Northern-most barrio of Mexico City; and, unwillingly, the capital of the “Third World” within the “First World.” And I wanted to be both a witness and a chronicler of this wonderful madness.
I found a city at war with itself; a city gravely punished by natural and social forces; a city that is experiencing in a more concentrated manner what the rest of the country is undergoing. Its political structures are dysfunctional and its economy is in shambles; cutbacks in the defense budget have resulted in increased unemployment, and racial tensions are the focus of daily news reports. Crime rates and poverty levels compare to those of a third-world city. Of course, all this coincides with an acute crisis of national identity: post-Cold War American is having a very hard time shedding its imperial nostalgia, embracing its multiracial soul and accepting its new status as the first “developed” country to become a member of the Third World.
Perhaps what scared me more than anything was to discover who was being scapegoated and blamed for all this. The Mexicano/Latino immigrant community was singled out by both Republicans and Democrats, fanatic citizen groups like SOS (Save Our State), and sectors of the mainstream media, as the main cause of the country’s social ills. California governor Pete Wilson, our home-grown version of France’s Jean-Marie Le Pen, used Mexiphobia and fear of immigration as a means to build his constituencies and divert the attention of the citizenry away from their other problems. In fact, Wilson was reelected largely on the basis of his anti-immigrant proposals. And the racist Proposition 187, which denies non-emergency medical services and education to “illegal immigrants,” turning every doctor, nurse, pharmacist, policeman, school teacher, and “concerned citizen” into a de facto border patrolman, passed with 60% of the vote on November 8. Furthermore, the very same people who were for Prop 187 were also against women’s and gay rights, affirmative action, freedom of expression, and the existence of the NEA. Why? What does this mean? What did we all lose?
II. Godzilla with a Mariachi Hat
“You are the posse and 187 is the rope.”
–Orange County rightwinger
Despite the fact that the US has been a nation of immigrants and border crossers since its violent foundation, nativism has periodically reared its head. American identity has historically depended on opposing an “other,” be it cultural, racial, or ideological. Americans need enemies against which to define their personal and national boundaries. From the original indigenous inhabitants of this land to the former Soviets, an evil “other” has always been stalking and ready to strike.
Since the end of the Cold War, the list of evil “others” threatening conservative notions of “American-ness” has grown. It includes Saddam Hussein (The terrestrial cousin of Darth Vader), and the ideological zombie Fidel Castro. There have also been Muslim “terrorists,” Japanese businessmen, Colombian druglords, “controversial” artists, militant rappers, “un-American” multiculturalists, and “angry” feminists. At different times we all have been accused of posing a threat to America’s values, its cultural and educational institutions, its economy and/or its national security. Now, in 1994, the “illegal aliens” are to blame for everything the frightened citizenry and the incompetent politicians are unable or unwilling to solve. Stripped of their humanity and individuality, illegal immigrants become blank screens for the frustrated citizenry to project their fears, anxieties, and rage. And at the same time, opposition to them becomes the galvanizing force behind the resurgence of a phony form of patriotism.
“True Americans” (as opposed to us invaders) perceive themselves as helpless victims of the forces triggered by immigration. These feelings are condensed in a comment made recently to me by an Anglo taxi driver: “If it wasn’t for them, aliens, everything would be all right.” Transplanted to the territory of cultural debates, this comment strangely resembles those of intellectuals and arts organizers experiencing compassion fatigue: “If it wasn’t for the artists of color, the gays and the feminists, everything would be all right.”
Of all the current arguments used against immigration, perhaps the most common one says that the U.S. is no longer capable of absorbing immigrants in the way it did in the past. It implies that the Statue of Liberty is exhausted, and that she needs a break. What this argument doesn’t state is that she needs a breath, but mainly from immigrants of color; the most “different” ones, meaning those who are less willing or able to assimilate. In California and other Southwestern states, this threatening otherness against which “true Americans” define themselves comes in a huge package that includes Mexico, Mexicans, Latinos (including U.S.-born Latinos), Mexican-looking people, whatever this means, people with thick accents, Mexican culture, and the Spanish language. This gigantic menace is here, inside of “our” country, within “our” borders, not only threatening “our” jobs and living space but also American ideals of justice and order. Sadly, sectors in the Latino and African-American communities also subscribe to these nativist beliefs. These people overlook the fact that they themselves are perceived by xenophobes as part of the problem. In the eyes of xenophobia, any person with visibly different features, skin color, accent, clothes, social, or sexual behavior becomes an alien.
III. The Blurring of the Border
“Illegal aliens are a category of criminal, not a category of ethnic group”
–Proposition 187 advocate Ron Prince
During weekends, Broadway Avenue in downtown Los Angeles reflect the new image of America that many Anglos fear. There you can find one of the most prosperous and thriving merchant communities in the city. It includes mostly Mexicans, but also Central Americans, Koreans, Chinese, Arabs, Jews, and Eastern Europeans. Thousands of women and children shop in the same fashion they did back home. The elders eat in restaurantes populares while the homeboys look for a new CD or a new pair of sneakers. It is safer than Pasadena, yet it doesn’t look or feel like the U.S. anywhere. And because of this, very few Anglos go there.
Fear is at the core of xenophobia. This fear is particularly disturbing when directed at the most vulnerable victim: the migrant worker. S/he becomes the “invader” from the South, the human incarnation of the Mexican fly, the subhuman “wet-back,” the “alien” from another (cultural) planet. Both a media construction and a mythical creature, s/he is always suspected of stealing “our jobs,” of shrinking “our budget,’ of “taking advantage of the welfare system,” of not paying taxes, of bringing disease, drugs, street violence, foreign thoughts, pagan rites, primitive customs, and alien sounds with them. Their indigenous features and rough clothes remind uninformed citizens of an unpleasant pre-European past and of mythical lands to the South immersed in poverty and political turmoil, where innocent gringos could be attacked for no apparent reason. Yet “they” no longer inhabit the remote past, a banana republic, or a Hollywood film. “They” actually live down the block, and their children go the same schools as Anglo kids.
Nothing is more scary than the blurring of the border between “them” and “us”; between the dantesque South and the prosperous North; between paganism and Christianity. For many Americans, the border has failed to stop chaos and crisis from creeping in (the origin of crisis and chaos is strangely always located outside). Their worst nightmare is finally coming true: the U.S. is no longer a fictional extension of Europe, or a wholesome suburb imagined by the screenwriter of Lassie. It is rapidly becoming a huge border zone, a hybrid society, a mestizo race, and worst of all, this process seems to be irreversible. America shrinks day by day, as the pungent smell of enchiladas and the volume of quebradita music rises.
Both the anti-immigration activists and the conservative media utilize extremely charged metaphors to describe the process of Mexicanization. The most revealing ones describe it as a Christian nightmare (‘hell at our doorsteps”); a natural disaster (‘the brown wave”); a mortal disease or incurable virus; a form of demographic rape; a cultural invasion; or as the scary beginning of a process of Quebecisation of the entire Southwest.
Paradoxically, the country allegedly responsible for all these anxieties is now an intimate business partner of the U.S. But this doesn’t seem to worry the opponents of illegal immigration. After all, NAFTA only regulates the exchange of consumer products. Ideas, critical art, human rights, and human beings are not part of the deal. Unlike the European version, our new economic community advocates open markets and closed borders. And as NAFTA is put into practice, the tortilla curtain is being replaced by a metallic wall that resembles the old Berlin Wall.
IV. The Contradictions of Utopia
“If you catch ‘em (the Mexicans), skin ‘em and fry ‘em yourself”
–Harold Ezell, head of SOS, while Western Regional Commissioner of the INS
Many Americans easily forget that thanks to “illegal” Mexicans hired by other Americans, the food, garment, tourist and construction industries of California and the rest of the Southwest survive. They forget that strawberries, apples, grapes, oranges, tomatoes, lettuce, and avocadoes that they eat were harvested, prepared, and served by Mexican hands. And that these very same “illegal” hands clean up after them in restaurants and bars, fix their broken cars, paint and mop their homes, and manicure their gardens. They also forget that their babies and elderly are being cared for by Mexican nannies.
The list of under-paid contributions by “illegal aliens” is so long that we can say without a doubt that the lifestyle of many yuppies and suburbanites couldn’t possible be sustained without “them.” The recent boycotts orchestrated by Mexican activists in border towns to protest Wilson’s xenophobic proposals can testify to this. In one weekend alone San Diego businesses lost approximately six million dollars. We can’t even imagine what would happen if suddenly all the undocumented Mexicans in the state of California decided to not work for a week. Instead, the Americans who are against illegal immigration choose to believe that crime, drugs, and rape are its by-products; that their cities and neighborhoods are less safe “since the aliens arrived” and that their cultural and educational institutions “lost their high standards” since we were allowed in. The English Only Initiative and attempts to dismantle bilingual education clearly reflect a larger cultural sentiment. Spanish is perceived as an outlaw language, as lingua poluta. It is the language of illegal immigration and crime, and to speak it in public becomes an act of defiance.
What begins as emotional rhetoric from opportunistic politicians eventually becomes accepted dictum and justifies racial violence against suspected illegal immigrants. What Prop 187 and SOS have done is send a scary message to society: the governor is behind you. You can now openly be a racist and fulfill your vigilante fantasies. Let those “aliens” have it.
Since the “aliens” are here “illegally,” they are expendable. Since they don’t have “legal residency,” they are wrongly perceived as lacking a civic self, and therefore a name, an individuality, a human face, a spiritual dimension. To hurt, attack, or offend a faceless and nameless “criminal” doesn’t seem to have any legal or moral implications. Precisely because of their undocumented condition, the “aliens” are not protected if they talk back, or decide to organize politically. If they demonstrate or engage in direct political actions, they risk deportation. If they report a crime against their kind to the police, they might be discovered. When the police of the border patrol abuse their human rights, where do immigrants go for help? All this makes them ideal targets of state violence, economic exploitation, and citizen vigilantes. And worst of all, neither the police nor the citizenry can differentiate between an “illegal alien” and a U.S.-born Latino.
During the 1994 World Cup an innocent celebration at Huntington Park of Mexico’s passage to the semifinals generated such overreaction from city police that in a matter of minutes hundreds of policemen in riot gear, with the help of helicopters, rounded up Mexican families, including children and grandparents, and beat them up.
V. Suicidal Measures and Enlightened Proposals
Authoritarian solutions to “the problem” of immigration, such as Operation Gatekeeper and Proposition 187, can only make things worse. Further militarizing the border and dismantling the social, cultural, medical, and educational support systems that serve the immigrant population will only worsen existing social tensions. Denying medical services to undocumented immigrants will result in more disease and more teenage pregnancy. Throwing 300,000 kids out of the schools and into the streets will only contribute to crime and social disintegration.
Not only do these proposals backfire, but they also contribute to a growing nationalism in the Latino and Asian communities, and re-politicize entire communities that were dormant in the past decade. A community under attack tends to be much more defiant than a community that is treated justly. These are not radical ideas but obvious truths. The now legendary October 16 anti-Prop 187 march that gathered over 150,000 people in the streets of downtown Los Angeles testify to this. Hours after Proposition 187 had passed (with a mostly white vote), there were already hundreds of school principals, teachers, social workers, lawyers, doctors, and priests defying it publicly on humanistic grounds. Four class-action suits against Prop 187 have been filed. And several organizations, including the International Boxing Association and the National Hispanic Journalists Association, are already boycotting California. It doesn’t take much intelligence to realize that this indignation will escalate in the coming months, and will eventually embarrass the U.S. in the eyes of the world community.
So, what to do then with “the problem” of immigration? First of all, we need to stop characterizing it as a unilateral “problem.” Let’s be honest. The end of the century appears scary to both Anglos and Latinos, to legal and illegal immigrants. Both sides feel threatened, uprooted, and displaced to different degrees and for different reasons. We all fear deep inside that there won’t be enough jobs, food, air, and housing for everybody, yet we cannot deny the processes of inter-dependence that define our contemporary experience as “North Americans.” It is time to face the facts: Anglos won’t go back to Europe, and Mexicans and Latinos, legal or illegal, won’t go back to Latin America. We all are here to stay, and for better or for worse our destinies and aspirations are in one another’s hands.
For me, the only solution lies in a paradigm shift: the recognition that we all are protagonists in the creation of a new cultural topography and a new social order, one in which we all are “others,” and we need the other “others” to exist. In a post-NAFTA/post-Cold War America, the colonial binary models of us/them, North/South, and Third World/First World are no longer useful to understand our complicated border dynamics and our multiracial communities.
Hybridity is no longer up for discussion. It is a demographic, racial, social, and cultural fact. The real tasks ahead of us are to develop more fluid, multi-faceted, and tolerant notions of identity and nationality; to develop future models of peaceful coexistence and multilateral cooperation, and to establish strong political and cultural alliances across nationalities, race, gender, and age. To attain this purpose, more than border patrolmen, border walls, and punitive laws, we need more and better information about one another. We need to increase the budget, number and quality of our clinics, public schools, libraries, community and youth centers, and cultural institutions, and not just those of our prisons and law enforcement agencies. Culture and education are at the core of the solution. We need to learn one another’s’ languages, histories, art, and cultural traditions; and we need to educate our children and teenagers about the dangers of racism and the complexities of living in a multiracial borderless society, the inevitable society of the next century.
The role that artists and cultural organizations can perform in this paradigm shift is crucial. Artists can function as community brokers, citizen diplomats, ombudsmen, and border translators. And our art spaces can be sanctuaries where difference and contradiction can be allowed; centers for activism against xenophobia, and places for intercultural/transnational dialogue. They can create the conditions for the creation of collaborative projects among artists of different communities and nationalities. These projects can send a strong message to the larger society. Yes, we can talk to one another. We can get along, despite our differences.
The clues, terms and parameters for the construction of a new social model of coexistence might already exist in the work of Chicano, Asian-American, and African-American writers, scholars, and artists. For several decades they have been exploring the dangerous but necessary process of negotiating cultural difference.
Guillermo Gómez-Peña is a writer and performance artist living in Los Angeles. His book Warrior for Gringostroika, published by Greywolf Press, was released last year. In 1991, he received a MacArthur “genius” award.
