The Other Side (of the Story)

Borders. To me, it’s a softer word that basically means a division between the self and a proclaimed “other.” The difference between what is accepted and embraced and what is pushed away. I always knew a border was a physical boundary, but I never understood before that a border was also a mental boundary.

When I landed in El Paso, Texas on March 4, 2017 to participate in Emerson College’s Alternative Spring Break program, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I saw bright sunlight streaming through large, swaying palm trees. I saw gorgeous, rustic homes and grassless lawns. I saw the beauty in the community, the diversity in families and tongues. What I didn’t immediately notice, however, was the border struggle happening behind closed doors.

As the week’s activities and educational sessions began, it was shocking to hear about the suffering that migrant farm workers are experiencing today. Migrant workers from Juárez work in El Paso, getting paid sixty-five cents for every trashcan-sized bucket of red chilis they pick. These workers are so underpaid that they have to spend their nights sleeping on the floor of El Centro de los Trabajadores Agrícolas Fronterizos, the farmer’s union in El Paso. Female workers have it even harder, getting paid even less and often getting abused by their employers. Why is it that the border that separates us from the beautiful nation of Mexico is so much more defined than the border that separates what is ethical and what is not?

Diocesan Migrant and Refugee Services (DMRS) is one organization that is doing its best to create more ethical change. This organization offers free or low-cost immigration services to individuals hoping to immigrate to the US. It’s interesting that a big argument that people against immigration often have is, “Why don’t ‘they’ just come over legally?” Well, according to the DMRS, legal immigration can separate families. It can take several years; with the time it can take to apply, have the application processed, and wait in line to actually receive residency, the legal immigration process can take an outrageous and unrealistic 115 years. Lastly, legal immigration only prioritizes a select few people and requires others to wait. Prioritized immigrants are unmarried children under twenty-one, spouses, and parents of United States citizens. According to a chart we received from DMRS, siblings of US citizens residing in the Philippines who only started being processed last month were petitioned for on June 22, 1993. Basically, it will take about 24 years for those people to get the proper documentation to get a VISA to enter the US. Even people seeking asylum often have to wait in long lines in order to escape the threats they are facing in their homelands.

But, why? Why are we preventing so many people from coming to our nation? The only way to be guaranteed a more timely process is if you are a priority family member of a US citizen or for extreme conditions. This includes extenuating medical conditions, domestic violence, crime, or serious threat based on demographics. Even so, these conditions often require police reports, heavy interviewing, a lack of criminal background, and an immediate family member who is a US citizen or legal permanent resident, among other things. If people try to come here illegally, they risk being caught, detained, and deported. If they try to come here legally, they may have to wait anywhere from twenty years to a lifetime. We are pushing away people who are the backbone of our nation. We can boast about the colors and diversity that our nation has produced, but this richness stems from the beautiful cultures that immigrants have incorporated into American culture. It’s something to consider while we munch on our tacos and quesadillas that were introduced to our nation courtesy of Mexican influences.

An encounter with Border Control was one of the hardest things we had to face during our week in El Paso. The two Border Control officers giving the presentation were of Mexican descent. These are people whose grandparents immigrated to El Paso from Mexico. I wonder how they are able to stand at the border and ward off migrants when they are aware that their own ancestors were granted acceptance. According to the presentation, approximately 95 percent of immigrants at the El Paso border are economic migrants who are looking for work and a better life, while only about 5 percent are criminals involved with human smuggling and drug trafficking. Despite knowing this information, the argument for turning away undocumented immigrants is still that these immigrants could be participating in these crimes. If caught by Border Control, they are checked for weapons, stripped of their personal belongings, and detained in immigration camps to await their inevitable deportations. The most frustrating part is that Border Control knows that a big reason behind undocumented immigration is naivety; a lot of people aren’t properly informed about what documentation is needed, or are told that they won’t qualify for legal immigration when they potentially could. Although Border Control stresses this naivety, they still detain and deport individuals who were just given incorrect information, and they have made no efforts to send officers into Juárez to educate people on what they should be doing. It’s an endless, heart-wrenching cycle. I wonder if these officers ever stop and think, “Who am I really protecting, and who is the real enemy here?” We are told again and again that the enemy is the “other,” the people of different races and nationalities who speak different languages or wear different clothes. But there is no other. There are just humans on both sides.

And yet, we continue to put up borders against humans. When we visited the Annunciation House, an emergency shelter for immigrants, I came to the frightening realization that the barriers that people have to face when arriving to our nation don’t just end at the physical “border.” What kind of a fulfilling life is it when families are released from immigration detention camps, just to be put into a shelter where the volunteer who led our tour barely makes an effort to speak their language, doesn’t care about their culture, and continually dehumanizes them? How can a severe lack of space, healthy and edible food, and warmth and understanding from staff be justified? Even when these families overcome the struggles of crossing the border and making it to the United States, these challenges don’t cease to exist.

The “border” is an idea, rather than a mere physical barrier; these immigrants are still at the mercy of individuals who exercise power over their lives and don’t respect them. The trials they face after arriving here are merely continuations of the trials they faced at this unwelcoming border that we have constructed.

However, anger and frustration can only get us so far in pursuing the end to this problem. It comes down to what we are willing to do to create the change that is necessary. As Carlos Marentes, the Director at El Centro de los Trabajadores Agrícolas Fronterizos, said in his presentation to our group, “If you want to see change, you have to change first.” Every time we think about purchasing a bottle of Louisiana Hot Sauce from Bruce Foods, we can consider the ethical practices behind the making of it. We can help create a world of oppression-free food, simply by making the decision to purchase a product from a company that values ethical behavior. And we can create a world of welcoming immigration, diversity, and inclusion by pulling down the fences and walls, speaking up for what we believe in, and seeing “others” for what they actually are: humans, just like us. On the flip side, though, it’s difficult to know how far change can go before it ends up harming people in the process. Would a boycott of unethical brands just end up hurting the migrant workers at the bottom of the hierarchy by decreasing their pay? Would the decision to help innocent, economic immigrants enter the US easier also help criminals enter the US easier? I think what matters the most, though, is to have this active mindset for wanting to pursue change. We don’t have all the answers now, but even wanting to make these decisions is a step in the right direction.

It’s impossible to describe that feeling when we drove up to the border of El Paso and Juárez and saw metal-wired fences running down for miles. I walked up to it slowly, unsure. I placed my hand against the cold, rusted metal and looked through the tiny squares to see colorful, vibrant villages full of life. I will never understand that fence, and I will never understand why Mr. Trump wants to invest billions of dollars in building an even higher, opaque wall. I can’t imagine what it would be like to walk up to that border again and not be able to get a glimpse of the land beyond.

We have let our stereotypes come so far that we have placed man-made divisions in what nature meant to be one land mass. We have ripped families apart, built fences, turned away humans in pain, all to preserve what we claim is the land of the free and the home of the brave. Who are we to decide who is and isn’t worthy of migrating to the United States, when the majority of our citizens are either immigrants themselves or have immigration in their blood? The fight for justice is slow and challenging, but it is a necessity. At the Annunciation House, there was a quote on the wall that read, “No inporta de que País Somos Todos Tenemos Los Mismas Derechos,” which translates to, “It doesn’t matter what country you are from, we all have the same rights.” We have the power to pave the way to a brighter future in which our roots run deeper than any borders.

By Swetha Amaresan