Why I Do This Work

Update

It's been more than a few months since I've written anything.  Part of this is that I've been busy and another part is that I haven't fully given myself time to process a lot of what has happened in the past year, let alone the past few months.  But I know that these experiences are just a part of the journey of life.  And, my journey has surely been interesting!

Catie, Emily, and me at one of our retreats.

Since I last posted, Emily and Catie (my roomies from last year) have moved on to New York City and Memphis with the end of our YAV year, I've led more than a handful of delegations, visited Mexico City and Queretero to see my uncle and my friend Anna, and moved into an apartment with my partner, Mike.  And I've stayed on at BorderLinks as a program organizer while also in charge of the website, facebook page, and various other tasks.  And those are just the basics! 

Even though my year as a YAV is over, I still intend to use this blog to share my thoughts and experiences in the borderlands.  There is something so unique and special about this place.  I thought a good place to start was this piece that I wrote for an upcoming BorderLinks newsletter:

Why I Do This Work 

One look at the wall, from Palominas, Arizona.

I came to Tucson during an interesting time, a time of increased deaths in the desert from dehydration, the economic crisis, immigration-focused legislation, a heightened focus on drug cartels and violence in Mexico, a rancher found dead near the border, the swine flu, Arizona boycotts, ICE raids in predominantly Latino communities, increased border militarization, protests and rallies. Fresh out of college, I was, in many ways, unprepared for the intensity, divisiveness, and complexities of living and working in the border region.

Participants at Grupo Beta, talking with migrants.

It was a shock to my system the first time that I sat in the wooden benches at Operation Streamline and watched as 70 men and women were processed through the court in a matter of hours, as I listened to the stories of deported men at Grupo Beta who were separated from their families, as I walked through the desert and picked up the hundreds of belongings left behind.  There are often no words to describe those encounters, no way to fully convey the experience.

There are some days that I wish I could go back to my time before Tucson, to a time when I wasn’t aware of the amount of money spent on the militarization of the border, to a time when hearing about a shooting in Nogales does not cause me to worry about friends and coworkers there, to a time when the interdependence of the world does not stare me straight in the face everyday.  I’d like to run away from this because I’ve learned that there is some degree of pain involved in giving up old ways of knowing and being.  There is pain in learning about and experiencing how embedded we are in the systems, institutions, and relationships of this world.  It is painful because it reveals my role in what is happening on the border and throughout the world.

Some of the kids at HEPAC, the community center in Nogales.

But I wouldn’t give up this experience.  Each day I am challenged anew to open my eyes, my ears, my mind, and my heart to the complexities and beauty of living on the border.  I’ve stood arm in arm with Isabel Garcia, an immigrant rights activist, at a protest against Arizona’s legislation.  I’ve shared laughter, tears, and stories over homemade tamales.  I’ve listened to the haunting beauty of a migrant’s flute at a shelter.  I’ve sung out prayers and hopes at vigils to honor those we’ve lost in the desert.  I’ve worn myself out pushing kids on the merry-go-round, just to be commanded to jump on so that they can push me.

I’ve learned the power of a hug, a laugh, a handshake, a smile.  I’ve learned about global political economics, sustainable food, and the roots of migration.  I’ve learned that some of the deepest wisdom can come from some of the most unexpected sources.  I’ve learned how to use my voice, and maybe more importantly, how to deeply listen.

And it is because of all of that and more that I work at BorderLinks. Now, more than ever, there is a need to empower and support an education of the head and the heart, to create a society that is capable of critical thinking as well as critical feeling--from the side of inclusiveness and love. BorderLinks programs are important for the power that they have to remind us of our common humanity and our common responsibilities to each other; to remind us that we still have a lot to learn in and from this world.