Day Two by Anna

What a day. What an incredible day.

We saw so many sides of the complex issues that are so pervasive in so many lives down here. These entwined themes of injustice, struggle for family welfare, abuse of the most vulnerable, fear of "other" and the unknown, and then compassion at its purest are heightened down here, but very much universal in nature.

Before coming down here I was fascinated by what goes on on the border but overwhelmed at the prospects of trying to understand all of the complexities and subtelties of the reality of immigration in our country. However, yesterday these sentiments were themselves overwhelmed by the contagious and inspiring nature of the people we met with. Time after time those fighting for immigration rights are shut down and lose cases to the formalities of time and immoral legislation. Yet their initial disheartenment seems to be quickly overshadowed by the conviction they have in the importance of the battles they are fighting.

The border is not at all what I expected it to be. The town of Douglas, Arizona, across the border from Agua Prieta, feels far more tranquil and peaceful than I imagined. We drove past the wall itself when we got in yesterday evening. The eerie floodlights overwhelmed our little white van as we drove down a lane a mere 20 meters from Mexico but other than a couple of Border Patrol officers sitting in their big trucks, all was still. There are indeed Border Patrol cars on almost every city block, and plenty of police cars speeding about, but otherwise the streets are quiet and people have been very friendly. As one man we spoke with today put it, it's not quite Mexico and it's not quite the United States.

As it has been explained to us a few times now, this town has a history of peace. Its location is absolutely at the heart of plenty of complications and issues, but the actual crime and violence rates are very small. However, the rest of the country does not see this reality and lives in fear of the border. This miscommunication has largely allowed for the militarization apparent down here, which has, arguably, in itself created more violence that ever existed before. The more heavy of a military presence, the less people are passing through quietly. Instead they are relying on coyotes and other human smuggling networks to get them across, many of which are ridden with violence and corruption that affect both the migrants and the residents of border communities. The stories we have heard here mirror the statistics we have read about how, as Border Patrol increases, so does the number of people crossing and the number of people dying. One would think that if further militarization of the border were working, it would have the opposite effect. The public is generally only shown this resultant violence, not the actual causes behind it. This inspires fear and therefore further reinforcement, and the cycle continues.

Back to experiencing Douglas: its location and controversies seem as though they might leave the town feeling like an identity-less middle ground. However, this is not the case for many who live here. Obviously there are lots of ways in which the two sides are unable to live in harmony, and I do not wish to downplay the horrific reality of so many. But we are used to hearing that side and today I started to understand the ways in which the combination of both worlds also creates a new, complex culture of its own. A pastor we met with today spoke of how important it has been for him to be able to raise his children here. He explained the concept of the border as a "place of encounter" rather than a "place of division." He is American and his wife Mexican. He explained that "bilingual education" has become a dirty word in much of Arizona, as kids are punished in local schools for speaking Spanish even outside of the classroom. He explained the importance of raising his children so that they are comfortable crossing borders, both literally and figuratively. They are used to hearing questions in English and responding in Spanish. They are used to seeing boundaries and crossing them daily. But they are also aware of the privilege that accompanies being able to cross as they please and every day they see the what happens to many people without these privileges. He spoke of the deep pain he feels on a regular basis becuase people are being humiliated on his behalf. People are denied basic human rights and overtly treated "like dogs", as many put it, on the behalf of "keeping our country safe." He spoke of how living on the border makes him feel like he is no longer avoiding the sufferings of the world, but instead living with amongst them, and how, in this, the joys have also become more pronounced.

I am seeing more than ever how truly frightening it is what we are capable of when we isolate ourselves from the humanity in one another. It is also truly incredible to see what immense changes and generosity come about when individuals are willing to see their connectedness and put their own privileges on the line for one another.

We ended our day watching the almost full moon glow above the setting sun as we participated in a vigil and helped lay down crosses of people who have died crossing the desert to the United States. Each cross was laid down on the side of the road just before the entrance to Mexico. Each person shouted the name on the cross or title of "no identificado" as they laid it down over the sound of traffic slowly passing by watching and the rest of the vigil yelled "presente."