Seeing Rachel Maddow in tears compelled me to action yesterday. I called and emailed both my Senators Burr and Tillis (R). I made donations to legal defense funds.
I live in North Carolina where gerrymandering has determined national elections. I want to think of these representatives as people of good will with an ethical, compassionate center. I want to be hopeful, still.
Living in a Red state means my voice and my vote matters even more.
- If you live in a Red state, it’s even more important to call and email.
- If you are a compassionate Republican, your voice is essential.
- For all of us, taking action and speaking up matters.
Last night 45 (aka Agent Orange) rescinded his executive order to separate families at the border — an immigration deterrent policy gone mad. The executive order is vague and confusing.
There is no resolution for the already 2,300 infants and children who have already been pulled apart and held in separate facilities. News reports this morning tell that ICE border policy is in confusion and agents don’t know what to do anything differently.
We must not let up.
What to do:
- Call both your Senators at their local field offices in the state where you live.
- Call your U.S. Congressional Representative at their field office, too.
- Send a TEXT to 50409 and write in the Message Box RESIST. This is Resistbot which will ID your Senators and Congressional Representatives. It will walk you through the steps, then email your message to them at the end. Simply, write your message in the message box, enter DONE and it will prompt you for next steps.
- Make a Gift to support the legal defense funds at the border, such as RAICES, https://www.raicestexas.org/ or
Texas Civil Rights Project (the “Charity”). MoveOn.org Civic Action has acted as the Charity’s agent for the purpose of accepting donations on behalf of the Charity. The funds go direct to the project.
Suggestion About What to Say: Be calm, thoughtful and polite. An aide or a machine will answer. Speak slowly and clearly.
Please tell Senator XXX that the President’s Executive Order is not enough. There must be an immediate plan to reunite the 2,300 infants and children with their parents who have already been separated. This behavior by our government reminds me of Nazi Germany and dictatorships around the world. It is inhumane and unconscionable. Please tell Senator XXX to take a stand to reunite these children with their parents now. I’m from (name your state).
***
These are painful and perilous times. I begin my journey back to Oaxaca tomorrow. I wonder how immigration will go for me in Mexico City as I transit through. Shame is what I feel. I ask myself, does despair and hope go hand-in-hand as Paul Schrader questions in his important, just released film, First Reformed. I like to think we can choose to be hopeful and push despair down. Despair is numbing, depressive, serves to subdue us. We cannot be subdued.
An Immigrant to Mexico, Not an Ex-Pat
This year, I will live in North Carolina for only a few weeks. I will be here to vote. That is mostly why I bought my apartment condo in Downtown Durham, though you could say I could vote absentee ballot. But to do that, you need a permanent address. A post office box will not do.
I’m prompted by this fact to remind myself that I am a Mexican immigrant and not an ex-pat. I will explain.
Read this important definition: Ex-Pat or Immigrant
I am here, too, because I have good friends, dear family and a need to have one toe in the water, even though the water now is scalding hot. We are getting burned.
You haven’t heard from me in a while and there’s a reason. My return to Durham was interrupted by Hurricane Florence and the aftermath of clean-up and tragedy, babies loosened from the arms of their fleeing mothers, ripped away by the torrents of rushing water, lost forever. The news captured me. Saddened me.
Then, the drama of the Senate Judiciary Committee interviews of Christine Blasey Ford and a Supreme Court Justice nominee called Kav permeated every fiber of my being. I watched the entire day of testimony from start to finish. Big mistake.
Now, I’m in recovery, big time. I’ve been in near isolation for three weeks. Not much to write about, it seems, in comparison to the big events called politics in the United States of America. I understand why people want to escape. Go on a cruise. Eat ice cream. Not vote. The aftermath disgusts me.
SOLD. intricate embroidered blouse, San Bartolome Ayautla. $265. Size L-XL
In the meantime, I was asked to write a chapter for a book about ex-pat women from the USA who moved to Mexico. Did we flee a god-forsaken nation hell-bent on self-destruction or what?
I procrastinated. Then, I finally sat down to write it. As soon as it’s published, I’ll share it with you. But the most important kernel for me is that I came to realize I’m an immigrant, not an ex-pat.
The distinction is subtle and also simple. The standard definition: An ex-pat lives outside her/his home country. The standard definition: An immigrant claims their adopted country and intends to live there indefinitely.
Immigrants put down roots and embrace the culture, consider that the place they have moved to will always be home. Makes some attempt to learn the language and interact with the local community. Realizes that humility goes much further than arrogance. Defers to local customs. Waits for acceptance.
Ex-pats in Mexico are snowbirds, needing a warm and affordable place to spend the winter. Ex-pats might also be those testing the waters of retirement, determining where to live on a fixed budget that will stretch farther. They are far away from home in the USA or Canada, but for most, replicate that sense of home in a new place, sequestered in gated communities, attached to tennis clubs and those who speak the same language.
If I am being judgmental, please share your opinions.
This discussion gave me pause to think about where I fit in the definition, and part of the ultimate question we all must ask ourselves from time to time: Who am I? Where do I belong?
I’ve been part of Oaxaca for 13 years. Not so long in the scope of my life. But long enough to know it is home and I will live there indefinitely.
Next Monday, Omar arrives. He is the youngest of the Chavez Santiago children. He is bringing beautiful hand-woven rugs for sale and teaching cochineal dye workshops. After Durham, we are going to Philadelphia together where he will be hosted at five different venues. You’ll hear more.
Then, for me, I’m back to Mexico on November 8. After I’ve voted. It won’t be too soon.
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Posted in Cultural Commentary, Mexican Immigration
Tagged immigration, Mexico, North Carolina, Oaxaca, politics