Women in Migration Handout

Amor Bilingue

We are saddened by Alanna Lockward’s passing.  We met Alanna Lockward participating in the conference ‘Decolonising the museum, at Museu d’art Contemporani Barcelona in 2014. It was inspiring to hear her speak: her work on creating networks and archives for feminist and black art practices in the context of western Europe was trailblazing.

Going through the work posted here is like wandering through a mind-map of our conversations and questions during 2016-2017. It is amazing to revisit so many projects and writing that we realise now so informed our own work during this period.

El artista vive aquí / The artist lives here

In the salon conversation we connected with a group of artists trying to find a common vocabulary for addressing the nebulous links between gentrification and colonialism. The way the conversation focused on creating cartographies of displacement not just witnessed but also experienced, enabled us to think about art as a tool of analysis and resistance to historical structures of displacement – from the coloniality of knowledge to evictions and forced migrations.  We remember the many comments speculating on the role of the artist not as a benevolent figure ‘intervening’ in communities, but as a member of those communities and how the incredible network building practices of those who have experienced exclusion are rarely understood to be ‘artistic’ – pointing to a further hierarchizing of knowledge.  It was inspiring in this regard to see the actions and research conducted by At Lands Edge, which we encountered through Edgar Fabián Frías’ work and the video documentation of the At Land’s Edge conference.

Amor bilingüe

It was also great to meet the researcher and translator Jennifer (Antena Los Angeles) during the salon and hear about her work facilitating bilingual spaces. Learning about the techniques she uses motivated us to imagine how we might contribute and convene such spaces in the future.

One thing we connected with across Migratory Times projects is a transversal focus on questions of translation – from participating in the bilingual working spaces to encountering Rolando Vasquez’s incredible text on epistemic violence, translation and erasure via the online flash reads.  These encounters cultivated questions for us around translation as a network that dissolves borders – a web of commitments, locations, spaces of visibility and opacity, moments of resistance and silence as well as the right to not be translated.

Beyond Walls

Visit the link. Don’t forget to snap your fingers (button on the left, if you like what you read!)

https://diversity.utah.edu/beyond-walls/?utm_source=newsletter&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=people_places_beyond_walls&utm_term=2019-04-22

Rose Nieda

Rose Nieda was eighty-two years old when her oral history began being recoded in May of 2005. And, over the course of a year ten interviews were recorded. Rose, tells us her experience of what it was like to be “Japanese” during this time in the United States. She begins her story with her childhood. Telling us where she was born and the first hardship in her life. The death of her parents at the age of four. She was then adopted by two Japanese-American immigrants who provided her a framework with which to build her life. She recall the early years and the importance of imagination. Most of her time was spent in the field behind her house where they would fashion bits of timber into various toys. She also remembers turning Coca-Cola bottle caps into police badges. He lessons in Japanese came through rhymes and sing-song limericks. Saturday school was something she was also expected to attend; even though she disliked it. One of the things she laughed about was, “walking 2-miles each day to and from school.” Before she was to enter college Pearl Harbor happened and Executive 9066 was passed. She and her family would spend their time in two camps Pinedale Assembly Center in California then Tule Lake. Much of her time was spent keeping her head down to get by but she also formed friendships that would remain throughout her years. Upon her release years later she worked an odd number of jobs and was able to just scrape by. She eventually married and had children of her own. It is through her oral story that we are better able to connect to certain thoughts and impressions she might have by the expressions on her face. I liked that a seemingly coy-look would cross her features whenever she talked about something that brought her joy. A memory that shaped her into the individual she was. Rose would also close her eyes at points in her story as if connecting loose ends or retracing a now dark path. To me her answers seemed matter-of-fact. Her perception wasn’t exactly as it was but regardless this was her tale to tell. Over the course of my viewing I kept thinking the same through that Rose had been through much. And even thought she was an American citizen from an American-city, town, and suburb. Society treated her as an alien. At one point in the interview process she speaks about that overwhelming feeling.

https://www.tellingstories.org/internment/nieda_rose/index.html

Sierra Holmes

In La Güera, Cherríe Moraga writes about her experience in defining how intersectionality plays a role in her life. She describes her cultural accustoms being half Chicana, half Anglo. She reveals her guilt in accepting her privilege of “looking white” and stripping herself of most of her Chicana background until coming to terms with her identity as a lesbian woman. When she confronts this part of her identity, her eyes are opened to what it was like for her mother to be Chicana, poor, and speaking little English. Moraga addresses how she believes dialogue needs to take place across intersectional lines. She addresses how her own and others’ lack of understanding oppressions that exist in our lives contributes to a world of misunderstanding. Moraga’s story is an example of the walls and borders that still exist in the lives of migrants beyond just the physical ones. These walls exist through generations and along multiple lines of intersectionality.

Arlo D. Otomo

This is the adoption-migration narrative of Arlo D. Otomo. He was born Shashemene, Ethiopia to Jula and Fatuma Gesho. Arlo and I, share a link of adoption but the circumstances surroundings our origins are vastly different. My narrative lies in placement. Arlo’s in loss; a loss that thrust him into several transitional states. During a personal interview I asked Arlo a series of questions to which he responded. The following is that text.

Describe your life in Ethiopia up until Adoption?

It was hard because we were really poor. His wife told me that food was also hard to come buy but his mother always made sure he was fed. She would sneak out at night and by him bread. She was also generous and would give the families food away to their neighbors. She couldn’t stand to see another go without.

Under what circumstances did you lose your parents?

He does not remember how his parents died. His wife told me that their family had traveled from their village to another to meet relatives. During their stay Jula (Arlo’s father) was performing work in the fields and fell ill. As Fatuma (Arlo’s mother) nursed her husband she also fell ill and died within days. As a result Arlo fell into a state of trauma where he could neither eat or speak; primarily he slept. It was during this period that he also lost his father. He was only eight years old.

What type of clothing did you wear?
A. Anything I could find. Again his wife provided me context. Arlo, only had a shirt to cover his nakedness until the age of eleven.

When were you adopted to the United States?

August 29, 1995 by Cuck and Marigold Cartwright. Issy (Arlo’s wife) again provides context. Cuck and Marigold had already adopted two of his siblings and had not planned on adopting Arlo until returning to Africa and seeing the malnourished state he was in.

Was it had to adjust to life in the United States?

No, my brothers and sisters had been adopted before me so, I was coming home to family.

How would you describe your present life?
A. My life is great! I have a beautiful and wonderful wife. She is a wonderful mother to our four children. My job supports four our needs and I like what I do. I could not have asked for anything more in my life.

Caravan from el Salvador

Often academics and activists concentrate on the issues surrounding the United States-Mexico border and little thought is given to the Mexico-Guatemala border. The mistreatment of migrants crossing into the Mexican border is a real pressing issue and the narrative I chose to excerpt from a recent National Geographic publication highlights a story about 3 friends that met through WhatsApp and decided to radically change their lives by joining the caravan to the United States in January 2019 (Strochlic, 2018). Here is a part of their journey.

Jackelin Martinez joined messenger groups that formed after the Honduran caravan begun their own journey North. The chats on WhatsApp were filled with pertinent information regarding packing list and meeting points. Jackelin wanted to leave El Salvador to explore the world and find a job. They are traveling as apart of a group provided some form of safety in numbers. Miguel Funes and Jakelin met in a chat in their quest to find the best meeting point to get on their journey to the United States. Miguel lived in San Salvador, and Jakelin lived in a nearby village. They decided to meet at the bus station.

The urgency to leave prompted by the release of Jackelin’s sexual abuser that moved in next door. Her worries became heightened after talking with friends that the men may be seeking revenge. She asked the chat if they thought her life was in danger, “Yes, they said, come.”

Glenda Vásquez, a childhood friend, came along with Jackelin to San Salvador where they met up with Miguel. They made a pact to make it together. After they rode a bus to Salvador del Mundo’s central plaza where people all sat eating and gathering supplies the day before they headed to the Guatemalan border. The friends decided to enjoy the last pupusas before they left with the 1,500 other people in the morning.

On the bus heading towards the Mexico border, Los Tigres del Norte’s “Tres Veces Mojado” played reminding them of their cultural plight and strength.

Cuando me vine de mi tierra el salvador
Con la intención de llegar a estados unidos
Sabia que necesitaría más que valor
Sabía que a lo mejor quedaba en el camino
Son 3 fronteras las que tuve que cruzar
Por tres países anduve indocumentado
Tres veces tuve yo la vida que arriesgar
Por eso dicen que soy 3 veces mojado

En Guatemala y México cuando cruce
Dos veces me salve me hicieran prisionero
El mismo idioma y el color reflexionen
Como es posible que me llamen extranjero

This situation is not new to the Latinx imagination. Our theory, activism, and cultural strength are rooted in the migration stories of our progenitors. Yet, the caravans from Central America have once again exposed how Mexican sentiment, legislation, and law enforcement are just as complicit in marginalizing those that migrate into their nation.

The friends banded together easily crossed and travel through Guatemala without a visa. The real test comes at the Southern Mexican border where two weeks earlier the Honduran caravan was met with tear gas and rubber bullets. Thousands were not allowed in and had to cross a river into Mexico. When Glenda, Jackelin, and Miguel arrived at the border, they waited and eventually allowed to come into Mexico with a temporary visa. But to take the visa route, they must remain in Mexico for 1 year and in a shelter for the first 45 days where they would be separated by gender. The friends ended up crossing the river instead of taking the visas. As they stepped on the Mexican river shore, their next stop was 8 hours away.

Oscar Alfonso Mejía

Strochlic, N. (2018, November 9). Follow three best friends crossing into Mexico with the migrant caravan. Retrieved April 9, 2019, from Culture & History website: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/culture/2018/11/migrant-central-america/

Pursuit of Education

Pursuit of Education

SreyRam Kuy recalls her mother telling of how her wit of storytelling managed to keep her mother alive. In SreyRam Kuy’s words, “My mother began to tell a story about a wealthy merchant and his faithful guard dog. She described how a thief tricked some villagers into believing the merchant’s dog was rabid and enlisted their help clubbing the innocent dog to death. After the murder of the guard dog, the scoundrel returned at night to rob and kill the merchant.” Srey Ram’s mother states that, “I am like that dog, I’m just a simple, loyal, dumb beast. I am no teacher. I can’t read. I can’t even write my own name.” Her mother’s life was miraculously spared.

During the Cambodian genocide, wealthy folks, teachers, artists, educators, or anyone who was part of a “higher class” in any form were executed by the Khmer Rouge a communist party who sought to cleanse the nation.

Through the pitiful life forced upon their family, they sought for opportunities for a better life. SreyRam was only one when her mother decided that education was her only escape route. Srey Ram recalls her family’s embark as, “In May 1980, we began our escape. We fled through jungles laced with landmines, evaded the armed border patrol and crawled under a rusty, barbed wire fence to get to Khao-I-Dang refugee camp, across the border from Cambodia.”

Once in that camp, SreyRam recalls a bombings where a patrol shell hit their camp next to her family’s tent. Her mother sustained most of the injuries defending her children. Which left scars forever embarked on her body. A year and a half later they had been sponsored to the United States.

The life as a refugee migrant with little western-centric transferable skills left her mother to scrub toilets, mow lawns, clean houses, and pick berries. Through the work ethic of her mother, SreyRam reached high academic accolades of graduating in high school as valedictorian and attended Oregon State University, the same institution in which her mother mopped.

The importance of education once a trait that had almost killed her, was a route that these Khmer refugees took, that ended up saving their lives.

Kuy, SreyRam. “Her Education Nearly Cost My Mother Her Life. But She Risked It Again so I Could Have One, Too.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 19 May 2015,

www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2015/05/19/her-education-nearly-cost-my-mother-her-life-but-she-risked-it-again-so-i-could-have-one-too/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.bdc1e592c58c.

Nobody’s Child

Nobody’s Child

The story of Jose Luis Zelaya begins in San Pedro, Honduras. He describes his home adjacent to a filthy creek abundant of dead animals and dead people in bags in which children would play or neighbors wash their clothes in. An abundance of shootings, killings, and violence was normal for his hometown.

One of the most significant past of Jose’s life was the death of his younger brother due to the lack of financial means to take him to the hospital. Death was normalized within this community as opportunities seem to be lacking.

Through the ongoing battle of escaping an abusive father, Jose’s mother and sister managed to migrate to the United States first. Jose was left behind due to the fact that their father would always have one of the children in possession.

Within the two years separated from his mother and sister Jose was violently shot by drive-by shooting while he was playing soccer. Jose references this as his breaking point to finally decide to embark a reunion with his mother and sister. Jose’s grandmother managed to kidnap Jose from his father to a coyote who would guide Jose’s journey to the border.
Jose recalls the horrific reality that many migrants faced in Mexico:

And there are people in Mexico who, if they find out that you’re migrating from Central America, will beat you, rape you, rob you, kidnap you, turn you into gangs, prostitute you. I witnessed that. I witnessed how on the journey a lot of older men just took advantage of children who were coming to this country. I came alone. I was nobody’s child, I was just a kid, alone. So they could do whatever they want to me. But I was careful, I was smart. I just wanted to be with my mom and sister.

Through the many hours of trekking, people squeezing and silencing. Jose managed to luckily survive the abuse of the different coyotes in which he made it to the border. He recalls the script in which he is supposed to retell as he is partnered with a new “sister” who he had just met. Their pursuit across the night river eventually was met with an immigration officer where he was detained in the Rio Grande Valley center.

As of today, Jose Luis Zelaya has been reunited with his mother and sister and has graduated with his master’s in 2014. Jose’s narrative is one of many who migrate to the United States to pursue a better life.

Planas, Roque. “This Is What It’s Like To Cross The Border Illegally At 13 Years Old.” HuffPost, HuffPost, 7 Dec. 2017, www.huffpost.com/entry/unaccompanied-minors-central-america_n_5503908.

Untitled

This project demonstrates the criminalization, surveillance, and xenophobia which are shaping the 21^st century migrant experience. The project starts with an image depicting the border crossing from Mexico. The journey to reach the border is often perilous and the crossing itself can result in death or injury and is completed under heavy surveillance. There is a general misconception that once people have “arrived” in the United States their journey is complete, when the reality is it has just begun. Robert Blanco’s words from his poem Mother Country describes the challenge of assimilating into a new culture while still trying to maintain your own sense of identity. “To Love a Country as if you have Lost a Country” (Blanco [n.p.]) describes the choice that many immigrants are faced with. It also highlights the ubiquitous claims for immigrants to demonstrate their patriotism or allegiance to their new country; the perilous journey, daily challenges of assimilation, the ever present pain of what and who you left behind not being a sufficient demonstration of the commitment to a new sense of place.

The US Mexico border is heavily surveilled with Border Patrol guards, many of whom wear ski masks, cameras and microphones. We are constantly watching 24/7 with many guards constantly patrolling the area. In stark contrast is the gross lack of surveillance in Europe for refugees making perilous journeys across the Mediterranean and Aegean seas. This area should be under constant supervision and surveillance, but instead relies predominantly on the presence of NGOs and Non Profits to provide watch and support for people, who through a general lack of effective multilateral policy, are forced into making extremely perilous journeys. The UN refugee agency (UNHCR) has reported that in 2018 the death rate for migrants attempting to reach Europe has risen even though the numbers trying to make the crossing has fallen. (Crisp [n.p.]) For every 18 people crossing to Europe over the central Mediterranean between January and July 2018, one person died.  Over the same period in 2017, there was one death for each 42 refugees and migrants attempting the crossing. (Crisp [n.p.]) In the summer of 2018 there were approx. 17 volunteers responsible for monitoring the entire North Shore of Lesvos, Greece for refugee crossings from Turkey. This undoubtedly raises the question why are some humans subject to the most pervasive and restrictive surveillance while those who would benefit from watch and surveillance are left to perish? In the aftermath of the Rwandan genocide, General Romeo Dallaire, head of the UNAMIR made a statement in relation to the lack of international intervention, he said “All humans are human. There are no humans more human than others”. (Dallaire [n.p]) This quote is demonstrative of the lack of attention we give to certain groups in contrast with the over surveillance of certain populations.

The journey for migrants and refugees is not concluded when a geographical destination is reached. It continues, often for a life time in terms of paperwork, status, assimilation and acclimation. This affects both young and old and many refugee children after reaching safety in Sweden have been affected by what is aptly named “Resignation Syndrome”. (Pressly [n.p.]) After reaching safety these children have stopped eating and speaking and exist in a semi-conscious vegetative state, such is the extent of the trauma of their young minds. We need governments internationally to recognize the toll these perilous journeys are having on people who because of inadequate legislation have limited options.

Works Cited

Blanco, Richard. For All of Us, One Today: An Inaugural Poet’s Journey. Beacon Press 2003

Crisp, James One in 18 migrants die crossing the Mediterranean as death rate soars amid divisions over EU rescue policy The Telegraph https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2018/09/03/migrant-death-rate-mediterranean-rises-despite-fewer-crossings/

Dallaire, Romeo. “A Good Man in Hell” June 02 2012 https://www.ushmm.org/confront-genocide/speakers-and-events/all-speakers-and-events/a-good-man-in-hell-general-romeo-dallaire-and-the-rwanda-genocide

Pressly, Linda. Resignation syndrome: Sweden’s mystery illness. BBC News https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-41748485