Page 12
January 2, 2019
O PINION
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Citizenship Beyond Birthright or Privilege
Recognizing the
undocumented in
a new way
by a ndrew
m oSS
When Jose Antonio
Vargas was 16 years
old, he discovered that
his green card was a
fake. Unbeknownst
to the grandparents
with whom he was living in Moun-
tain View, Calif., the young Filipino
immigrant took himself to the De-
partment of Motor Vehicles for a
driver’s license, only to be told by
the clerk that his card was fraudu-
lent: “This is fake. Don’t come back
here again.”
Vargas, who had been sent to the
U.S. by his mother at the age of 12
(with the misplaced hope that she’d
be able to follow him) was stunned
and disoriented. He soon learned
that the “uncle” who accompanied
him on the flight from Manila was
a smuggler hired by his grandfather,
and he found himself as a teenager
questioning all his relationships and
his capacity for trust. Yet he per-
severed as one of the more than 11
million undocumented immigrants
in the U.S., succeeding in school and
in college, and ultimately finding
his way as a journalist, all the while
engaging in what he called the
common moves of undocu-
mented people: “lying, passing,
and hiding.”
Recently Vargas came
out with a new book, “Dear
America: Notes from an Un-
documented Citizen,” and
in it he bears witness to the
“homelessness” that he and others
experience: not a traditional kind
of homelessness, “but the unsettled,
unmoored psychological state that
undocumented immigrants like me
find ourselves in.”
Vargas argues that if the politics
of immigration are ever to change,
the “culture in which immigrants
are seen” has to change, and to this
end he has dedicated his writing, his
documentary-making, and his pub-
lic appearances to storytelling that
can help change the image of im-
migrants and the understanding of
immigration in American life.
Vargas writes compellingly, not
from a place of abstract ideals but
from deeply felt personal experi-
ence.
When, as a young man, he was
awarded an internship at the Wash-
ington Post, he felt an old anxi-
ety creep up: “I always thought I
was taking someone else’s spot. I
had internalized this anxiety from
years of hearing the they’re-taking-
our-jobs narrative about ‘illegals’.”
Years later, after finding out that he
and colleagues from the Post had
been awarded a 2008 Pulitzer Prize
for breaking news coverage of the
2007 Virginia Tech mass shootings,
he found it unbearable to continue
hiding his undocumented status, and
eventually he came out in 2011 in
a confessional essay he wrote for
the New York Times Magazine:
“My Life as an Undocumented Im-
migrant.” Coming out as undocu-
mented presented Vargas with new
opportunities and challenges, and,
overcoming some initial reluctance,
he agreed to accept an increasingly
public role.
Vargas’s stories from this phase
of his life highlight the depersonal-
izing ways in which undocumented
people are often seen and represent-
ed. He tells of appearing on a Fox
News show with Megyn Kelly, not
knowing in advance that another
guest would be interviewed along
with him: a woman named Lau-
ra Wilkerson, whose son Josh had
been killed by an undocumented im-
migrant. In describing the interview
later, Vargas writes compassionate-
ly about Wilkerson, but he doesn’t
withhold comment about the way
she sought to pigeonhole him. She
said, “I think if you’re not a United
States citizen, you don’t have a seat
at the table regardless, especially
where you’re making laws.” Vargas
comments, “But I was seated next to
her. We were sharing a table.”
In writing Dear America, Var-
gas composed his own story about
what it means to be undocument-
ed. Drawing on the immediacy of
personal experience, he was able
to write with authority about larger
issues at stake, including America’s
responsibility for helping create
many of the political and economic
circumstances that continue to drive
so many migrants to our borders.
But it’s the focus on language it-
self that I believe constitutes one of
Vargas’ most significant contribu-
tions. At a time when dehumanizing
speech and writing help propel much
of the violence behind our current
immigration policies, whether those
policies result in the caging of chil-
dren or the teargassing of families,
Vargas points to the need for a new
language that can help us understand
migration and migrants with com-
passion and discernment.
There are, of course, existing
ironies: The way, for example, that
phrases like “removable alien,”
“undocumented person,” and “Pu-
litzer-Prize winning journalist” all
currently apply to Vargas himself.
But there’s also a new language in
formation, a language symbolized
by the seemingly contradictory
phrase, “undocumented citizen.”
In using that phrase, Vargas takes
the idea of citizenship beyond birth-
right or privilege and associates it
with a higher concept of participa-
tion. He invites us to recognize the
11 million undocumented citizens
among us as people who contribute
and participate in countless ways.
Vargas is one of these 11 million,
telling stories that help change the
language, thereby helping change
our understandings of ourselves.
Andrew Moss, syndicated by
PeaceVoice, is an emeritus profes-
sor at the California State Polytech-
nic University, Pomona, where he
taught a course, “War and Peace in
Literature,” for 10 years.
Unjust Treatment and Border Militarization
Standing up for
the vulnerable
p edro r ioS
Last month,
I stood at the
U.S.-Mexico
border along-
side hundreds of
faith leaders to
protest the cruel
and unjust treat-
ment of migrants and the militariza-
tion of our border communities. As I
watched Border Patrol agents arrest
reverends, imams, rabbis, Quakers,
and other people of faith, I thought
back to what I witnessed a few
by
weeks earlier.
I was near the San Diego border
crossing when I saw Border Patrol
agents fire tear gas canisters and
flash bang grenades into a crowd of
migrants gathered nearby. I saw a
low-flying Customs and Border Pro-
tection helicopter use its rotors to
push plumes of tear gas into a canal
where many migrants had gathered.
Even though I have been working
to support and protect migrants and
border communities for many years,
I continue to be disturbed and hor-
rified by these clear and egregious
violations of people’s dignity and
human rights.
These aggressive actions by
federal agents were clearly intend-
ed to debilitate migrants, including
children. But they also are part of
a manufactured crisis the Trump
administration is peddling - a false
narrative that border communities
are out of control that’s being used
to justify more money for a needless
border wall and deadly detention
and deportation measures.
The consequences of this polit-
ical posturing are devastating and
dangerous, for migrants, for those of
us who live in border communities
and for all residents of this country
whose tax dollars are being diverted
from programs that sustain commu-
nities to a militarized border that
serves no one.
Border communities are feeling
these impacts. According to the San
Ysidro Chamber of Commerce, in
the five hours that the cross-border
traffic was stopped, more than $5.3
million were lost in revenue, just in
San Ysidro.
Over the past four decades,
policies under every presidential
administration have systematically
militarized southern border com-
munities, criminalizing millions of
immigrants and creating repressive
conditions from California to Texas
and beyond.
Just a week before the Border
Patrol tear gassed migrants at the
border, a Border Patrol agent was
found not guilty for shooting and
killing 16-year-old Jose Antonio
Elena Rodríguez through the No-
gales border fence in 2012, solidi-
fying a message that Border Patrol
agents can operate with impunity.
And just days ago, a 7-year old girl
from Guatemala died in Border Pa-
trol custody from dehydration and
shock.
The escalation of these policies
– and the demand for billions of
dollars to expand them – could lead
to more disturbing cases like that of
Jose Antonio Elena Rodriguez and
Jackeline Caal.
This increased militarization co-
incides with dramatic efforts by the
Trump Administration to restrict
people’s ability to access asylum and
curtail other forms of immigration.
These artificially created bottlenecks
in the asylum process are creating a
humanitarian crisis. In Tijuana alone,
there are more than 7,000 people
waiting to present themselves at a
port of entry, many of whom are vul-
nerable to safety issues.
People fleeing violence in Cen-
tral America and elsewhere should
be able to present themselves to
immigration authorities to express
their fears – not illegally turned
away or criminalized for entering
between ports of entry to seek ref-
uge and asylum.
And deploying law enforcement
or military personnel to the southern
border – or giving additional spend-
ing authority to these agencies – en-
dangers the rights of migrants and
residents of border communities,
wastes taxpayer dollars, and does
nothing to make us safer.
This political posturing by the
Trump Administration is dangerous
because it sets a precedent that sug-
gests militarization is an appropriate
response to people seeking sanctu-
ary. By influencing public opinion
and normalizing the idea that is
acceptable to criminalize migrants,
real humanitarian needs are going
unmet and lives and livelihoods are
being destroyed on both sides of the
border wall.
We don’t have to accept this real-
ity. It is critically important that we
confront the immorality of gassing
and denying passage to the most
vulnerable with principled action of
our own. We can offer support and
solidarity with those facing persecu-
tion. And we can demand that Con-
gress take a stand by cutting funding
for Immigration and Customs En-
forcement and Customs and Border
Protection.
More than 400 people of faith
traveled with me to the border and
put their bodies on the line to lift up
the message that love knows no bor-
ders. But our efforts must not stop
there. Upholding the dignity of bor-
der communities and those seeking
sanctuary depends on everyone’s
bold and courageous actions.
Pedro Rios is the director of the
American Friends Service Commit-
tee’s U.S.-Mexico Border Program,
based in San Diego.