Education Justice in Tucson

The teachers we heard from are disgusted. They have been fighting for the Mexican American Studies (MAS) program in the Tucson Unified School District since 2006 when then superintendent Tom Horne identified the program as unworthy and destructive. The program, which we learned was founded in the 1990’s through a grassroots movement to address the needs of the local community, was supposedly teaching students the “overthrow of the US government” and “ethnic solidarity.” Despite students in the program getting better test scores and having higher graduation rates, Horne and his cohorts were successful in getting the program and its books—books like The Tempest and A People’s History of the United States—banned. The teachers we spoke with, along with their younger counterparts in UNIDOS, are part of the larger movement in Tucson for education justice. 

Education in Tucson, explained by the teachers we heard from, is incredibly unequal. With the recent announcement that 11 schools will be closed, it is more and more difficult for Mexican American students to compete. The schools being closed are disproportionately attended by Mexican American students, meaning that their commutes and class sizes are both about to increase significantly. There is clear segregation within the Tucson public schools, which rarely address the needs of Mexican American students. The MAS program addressed some of the inequalities and isolation, giving students a critical lens through which to view their own experiences. No matter what the student’s race or ethnicity, the MAS program encouraged reflection on one’s identity and asking hard questions about how society functions.

Now, however, teachers can’t ask those hard questions. They are being censored. While never truly abandoning their principles—“I will always teach critical thinking”—many now feel they must stick to teaching things that are safe. Before the ban, one of the activities they did in class was to show a documentary about experiences of cultural genocide among Native Americans in the US, and then reflect with the class on culture and what it means to have ones culture taken away with force. Now TUSD teachers must be more subtle, because this “subversive” information is considered anti-American, and is given no place in the classroom.

When sharing their classroom experience their frustration was tangible to me. The two of them are clearly bubbling over with energy for education, with enthusiasm to work with young people and help them become the best that they can be. Yet their energy, yet undying, is not valued by those in control of Tucson’s system of education. They are tired. They are let down. They are sickened. 

            And yet. Despite being confronted with racism and a complete disregard for the futures of incredibly intelligent and creative young people, they are not cynical. As one said at the conclusion of their presentation: “I don’t lose hope in human beings. If I did I wouldn’t be teaching.” 

-Rachel Winsberg 

Something I am For

“So often we know exactly what we are against, but how often do we actually know what we are for?”

A woman named Juanita, who would be one of our guides for the trip, said this to us on our first day in Xela, Guatemala.  She was discussing the work of DESGUA, the organization that hosted us for the first half of our travel seminar in Guatemala, and her words really hit me hard. I came down to Tucson this semester firmly convinced, as I am now, that there is extreme injustice on the border and that it was my responsibility to inform members of my own communities in the Pacific Northwest about the horrible reality of immigration policies. But when someone would ask me “well then what do you propose differently?” My momentum and passion would slow a bit, and I would carefully say that I think there are a lot of alternatives to the current system, that I wasn’t an expert on any of them, and while they were complicated they had to be better than our current system. 

Even after spending several weeks on the border and learning about border politics in an intimate setting, I still was unable to articulate a complete or passionate defense of what I know that I am for, as much as I could for what I am against.

Even after the first day of presentations, I knew, with a wonderful feeling of certainty, that I was—and am—for DESGUA. It is an incredible organization that, in their own words, seeks to restore “el sueno guatemalteco”, or The Guatemalan Dream. This is meant as a direct alternative to the American Dream, as an attempt to restore dignity and purpose to life within Guatemala so that no one feels they have to travel North in search of a better life. 

We learned about some of the difficulties Guatemalans face upon their return to their home country. Many return with skills that they learned while working in the United States that they are unable to put to use in Guatemala, such as certain specialties like Thai cooking. They are also both familial and cultural reintegration problems with returned migrants who no longer identify with the community they emigrated from. Unfortunately, these conditions make it so that many migrants will decide to return to the U.S. after trying and failing to reintegrate. DESGUA seeks to restore in Guatemala opportunities for una vida digna through initiatives that provide alternative economies like Café Red, where returned migrants work and bring the knowledge and experience they had in the U.S. into an incredible culinary experience that our group was lucky enough to be treated to.

A lot of this program has been me unlearning and complicating everything I know. For example, African Palm is a tree that is grown in Guatemala and is used to make biofuel, a product that is being increasingly used in the US as "clean alternative" fuel. However, the production of African Palm (a non-native species) is actually wrecking havoc on the Guatemalan ecosystem because of how ecologically exhaustive the process is. The US, and other countries of the Global North pay countries like Guatemala to produce African Palm, but not enough to do it in a clean manner. The production of African Palm in Guatemala often ends up producing more greenhouse gases than coal or oil production. It all makes me think about the "greening" of the so-called "first world" at the expense of the "third world" and what actions we take to increase our own (imagined) quality of life without paying attention to who and how it affects. I find myself questioning more and more other practices that are thought to be a cure-all and who is excluded or harmed by it, even if I am seemingly benefited.

At the end of our time in Guatemala, we visited two small farming communities, La Florda and Santa Anita. In both places we were shown incredible generosity and hospitality. In La Florida, we split up into small groups and had dinner with families, and also had the opportunity to be part of a Mayan ceremony, an experience that I think I will never forget. During our “work day” all of us worked on different projects around the finca, from planting banana trees and harvesting cacao to helping build a house. 

We ended our time with DESGUA with a talk that discussed the difference between charity and solidarity. Charity is static, one-way and often one-time. While it may make the person who does a charitable act feel good about what they have done, it does little to enact lasting or significant change. In addressing symptoms instead of causes, it can actually cause dependence instead of independence, and fails to empower those who are receiving the charity. Solidarity is consensual (meaning that those on the receiving end have full awareness and agency in the process) and is also mutually beneficial. Instead of boosting our own self-image as a helper, acting in solidarity actually enacts positive change for the receiving community. Furthermore, it is long-term and requires commitment, instead of a one-time donation or volunteer stint. As such, it is more difficult. But it addresses the root causes of an issue and in doing so seeks to make a lasting impact. I was proud to witness the work of DESGUA because it acts as a wonderful model of solidarity and effective change within Guatemalan communities, and something I can definitely, finally, say that I am for.

-Keiler Beers

CIDECI and Zapatismo

After many lectures and charlas with DESGUA and Julio Cesar, we finally arrived at the last leg of our trip. Week three began for us in San Cristobal de Las Casas, a city located in central Chiapas and only a few hours away from San Caralampio. The transition between places was pretty extreme. Just that morning we had been talking with the ejido farm workers in San Caralampio and suddenly we were at a fancy hotel with cushy beds and Internet in the touristy city of San Cristobal. Of our experiences during our last week of traveling, I'd most like to talk about our visit to the Centro Indigena de Capacitacion Integral (CIDECI) and our visit to the Zapatista caracol of the Morelia buen gobierno. The rest of the week we had a lot of free time to explore and get giardia.

Centro Indigena de Capacitacion Integral (CIDECI)

CIDECI is a school with a philosophy of communal learning that is geared towards supporting community sustainability. Students come to CIDECI from all over Chiapas to study what they choose without financial cost. The different vocations are Health, Weaving, Painting, Ceramics, Music, Baking, Computer Science, Agriculture, Carpentry, Blacksmithing, Auto-Mechanics, and Printing. Students come to CIDECI from their various communities and the idea is that they bring the skills they learn back.

In solidarity with the Zapatista movement, CIDECI educates individuals not so that they can guard their skills as specialists but so that they can share their new skills with their home communities. I asked Julio Cesar to clarify the intention to not have specialists and he answered me with the example of the Zapatista health care system. Instead of training doctors to be financially dependent on their trained specialty, community doctors spread their knowledge to their patients. When we go to the doctor in the United States, we tell him or her our symptoms and they proscribe us medicine. When a student of CIDECI goes to health services, they describe their symptoms and the doctor teaches them how to collect or cultivate the medicine that they need to cure their ailment. 

It was not clear how much CIDECI depended on outside funding, but it was clear that the students' vocations did a lot to keep the place running. Each of their studies was put to use at the school (including construction of the buildings, welding of the window frames, cooking meals, growing food and decorating the campus). Visiting CIDECI was an amazing opportunity for us to see alternative forms of education and alternative economics at work.

Zapatista Caracol Morelia

Before visiting the caracol Morelia, we sat down with Julio Cesar to discuss the history of Zapatismo and the development of the caracols. For those who don't know or need a refresher, the Zapatista National Liberation Army (EZLN) is a revolutionary group of mostly indigenous peoples centered in Chiapas that erupted in response the modern continuation of colonial exploitation and indigenous repression. The Zapatistas proclaim thirteen demands: land, labor, work, bread, education, health, shelter, communication, culture, independence, democracy, liberty, and peace. Their Struggle for the realization of indigenous rights has manifested in the creation of autonomous Zapatista communities within the state of Chiapas. Below is a map that roughly estimates the land under Zapatista control. The boundaries of these communities may be intentionally unclear but what is clear is that there are hundreds of thousands of people qho call themselves Zapatista in the state of Chiapas. 

 

The EZLN was formed in 1983 by three indigenas and three mestizos, including the well known Subcomandante Marcos. Throughout the first decade of the movement, the EZLN built a following in indigenous communities as well as an army 3,000 strong. On January 1, 1994, the North American Free Trade Agreement was put into action and in response the EZLN occupied six cities. The Mexican military reacted violently and fighting continued for twelve days. Amidst peace negotiations, the Zapatistas formed a base which they called "Aguascalientes" and later that year declared 38 autonomous indigenous municipalities. As the Zapatista movement continued to struggle and grow, four more Aguascalientes were built.

In 2003, the Aguascalientes were reformed into caracoles, meaning both spiral and snail in Spanish. The caracoles were created in order to make a formal distinction between Zapatista civilians, government, and army so that the communities might be more protected against military violence. The Mexican military cannot now justify the killing of innocent and nonviolent civilians under the claim that they are part of the armed rebel forces. Each of the five caracoles host the Zapatista buen gobierno during the time that they serve their terms. It was the caracol Morelia that we were able to visit.

We arrived at Morelia and gathered together to decide upon a handful of questions to submit to the Morelia buen gobierno before our meeting. It is standard that any questions for the government must be submitted in advance so that the members of the government can discuss and decide upon the most appropriate answers. After a half hour of discussing questions amongst ourselves, we entered a meeting room with the members of the Morelia buen gobierno. When we first walked in, the air was thick and partially because of the initial formality of the situation, we could all feel the tension. Very slowly, we went around and spelled our names for their records and answered where we were from and our organizational affiliation. It took a really long time and there was lots of writing in between each answer for each person. We were told that in other years, students had to pass in their passports for the time that they were at the caracol.

After we gave them  our questions we ate lunch and played basketball for what felt like many hours. It turned out that our questions weren't as clear as we had meant them to be so the buen gobierno didn't get to answer most of them. They did tell us about their systems of government, education, economy, and health. The government of the Morelia caracol represents three municipalities and within each municipality there are distinct pueblo communities. On these three levels (pueblo, municipal, and buen gobierno), there are representatives who serve in government positions for up to five years. The governments role is to carry out the projects proposed and demanded by the pueblo. The buen gobierno divides itself into three committees: education, health, and production.

 The Zapatista educational system is based on the idea of combining theory with practice and with a focus on development of communities rather than individuals. In each municipality, students attend school for a month and then return home to implement their new skills and knowledge in their pueblos for half a month. Once they are finished with their schooling, they will work in collectives, working together so that their communities may continue to be self sufficient and self sustaining.

 

By the time we left the office of the buen gobierno we were all very tired, especially after playing basketball for so long, so we slept very deeply (except those of us feeling the first effects of giardia...). The next day we took a tour to one of the municipal schools and had the opportunity to talk to the students there. The students stood in strict rows as we lined up sloppily in front of them. We told the students about the migrant experience that we've been learning about, particularly the challenging parts. Since, even in Zapatista communities, youth is exposed to a certain about of mainstream culture and propaganda, it seemed important (at least to the adults we were with) that the students understand the struggles and hardships that migrants face when they come to the United States. 

We then walked to the health facilities of the municipality which was also part of an ejido. There we learned about the system of free health care and spreading of health knowledge that is so lacking in the United States. Three promotoras de salud greeted us and told us about their own health care system as we told them about ours. After this exchange we headed back to the caracol, packed up our things and drove back to San Cristóbal. 

-Hendrix Berry

Julio Cesar

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   “But every little difference may become a big one if it is insisted on “(Lenin,1904).

The Blog

One the most difficult parts for me since we got back from our travel seminar is to phrase and try to translate what meant the travel seminar and try to explain all the stories, the charlas, the people, the memories, the frustrations and what is next. Of course, as we were gone for 3 weeks so different people inquired about the trip: my boss, my mom, my hermanos, friends etc etc. Every single time I try to express and explain the trip I feel I do not justify at all the intensity and meanings that I want to transmit, to portray. Therefore, while asked to write to this blog I have been facing similar issues. Because I do defend the whole experience was made by different things and different people and leaving anything out is a crime and perhaps even disrespectful to the stories and to the people that took the time to talk to us. One should not choose parts of the experience, everyone should go and make up their meaning and not listen to folks like me but of course that is not that easy and then I must choose and must select parts of it. 

Thank you all

 I ask permission and apologize for not portraying all that I would like and I am solemnly speaking about what is my mind and heart. So first I would like thank you all the faces and stories that we encountered during the travel seminar. The travel seminar probably will be not forgotten easily. It were days of wonder, days of deep breath in order to look for strengths to persist, to move forward. To where? I am not sure but we got take this walk. A lot of what I learn from those folks is to stand straight, and keep your heads up without falling, perhaps shaking but never falling down. I am here to salute each of you individually for the courage and guts to stand for what you believe. I am proud to feel the militancy in the movements that we met during trip. I am honored to get a share of this passion for fighting to what we believe to be the right. I am astonished to have talked to some of the members of such different movements and see their desire for change, even in days of defeat. I am more than convinced that the struggle must persist. Therefore, I want to salute those faces that have the courage to be the voice that never silences, that have the guts to voice against the ruling normative, the ones that do not give up under any circumstance. I am here to say firmly with my heart and mind: persist and fight. You are on the right way. Your voice has been making noisy and has already promoted changes. Defeats today or tomorrow are just partial, it is just a sign that we must go further and try harder.

   

Compa Julio Cesar

I am a believer that all single pieces when they come together they make up the story . One may have preference for this or that but like poetry every single word matter and is the whole structure that make it meaningful. Even the parts that one may disagree or dislike are powerful part of the whole.

I would like to express my admiration to companero Julio Cesar. Which, I am pretty sure that he wouldn't be very content knowing that I am writing a post just about him. That is exactly where my interest in Julio Cesar lies. This “self-made” person where it is all about the group, the community the other, to serve and not be served. Even the simplest fact of using more “we” than “I”. For me, writing about him is about writing about someone that best define what I understand by a beautiful person.

Julio Cesar, as he introduced himself, is chauffeur by profession and that how his relation to our program started off some year ago. Apart from being an excellent driver, that does not make use of gps by the way, he is a powerful person that guided us magically throughout our experience in Chiapas, Mexico. Coincidentally, we drive exactly the same type of van. I am a fleet manager at Earlham College and shared that with him. This was how my bonding with this intriguing compa started off. 

I remember sitting in the lobby of our hotel and Julio introduced himself. He spoke so beautifully, in such way making us so comfortable. He said so many times “I am just a chauffeur” but a chauffeur that he was there to share some of  his world. And, what a world.

I cannot possible try summarize who I understand Julio is. But I do think he is a poet, his speaks with his heart and he taught us about Zapatismo, about time, about speaking with your heart and believe me also about life-whatever this means. 

With Zapatismo, I think he dismantled a lot of misconceptions about the movement. He truly remedied a lot of the questions in my mind about the struggle. I think he mainly made a powerful case in how the Zapatismo was an answer to years and years of structured and embodied physical, emotional, economical and social violence. His words illuminated for me why the necessity to take on guns. I cannot understand the desperation that companeros y companeros were in to do that, but now I deeply respect that courage and it is a little more clear for me what means an armed resistance.

About time, it is something that has been stuck in my mind. I have wondered hours and hours about the idea of time. As he told us the caracol(which is also the name for the Zapatista headquarters)  used to be the fasted animal in the world. He was so fast that his job was to delivery messages to different communities. But one day while in his way to delivery another message el mundo cambió, and suddenly the caracol was considered the slowest. But is the caracol too slow or is the world that is going too fast without control? 

Julio provided us a lot of charlas, many things to think about and also for me and hopefully to the whole group a lot of esperanza. He sounded very hopeful and he transmitted a lot of that. He is lucid and coherent that the roads ahead of us are not clear, sometimes dangerous, sometimes misleading. But the road is there as he said waiting para ser caminada. Si nosotros caminamos juntos, tomo como cierto, nosotros vamos lejos.

Well. that was Julio Cesar for me. A poet, inspiring, knowledgeable and I couldn’t forget to mention the most beautiful dad. I don't plan to be dad but you know, people change, life changes. I got tell you if I can be half of a father that he is my child will be a luck kid.

P.S. I forgot to mention Riley Merline our director and Julio Cesar have a great relationship. I can totally picture their kids playing together in San Caralampio while they are talking about life.

Here a extract from a letter written by Julio Cesar in November of 2012 that he gave me to guard and share with Border Studies. His own words will enlighten what I tried to express in this post.

Gracias Marcos

“ Para todos y todas las y los jovenes corazones que en estes dias nos permitieron  caminar a su lado. Gracias por mostrarnos el color de sus sorrisas!!”

Caminante.

"Compa.

Esperando que te encuentres bien, te compartimos un poco de nuestra realidad y pensamientos sobre Chiapas y sobre nuestro Mexico, como bien sabes hoy es muy dificil poder llegar a los sentimientos de las personas, todas y todos estamos viviendo este mundo que no elegimos, este mundo lleno de injusticias, cegueras y sorderas, este mundo que parece insensible, pero vien sabes que tambien no es asi, es mentira que no hay sentimientos en la gente, lo que pasa es que estamos vivendo un mundo lleno de mentiras y enganos y no cuadra porque no es el mundo que queremos, lo que vivimos no es, no coincide con los informes y con los datos oficiales, es decir, todas las noticias que escuchamos, hablando de cosas buenas, lo que dicen los medios oficiales, la Tv. La radio, loes Periodicos y los anuncios pagados en los menos peor, no pareciera que nadie se da cuenta, pero algo si es seguro, no importa a quien preguntes, a nadie nos gusta lo que estamos viviendo, es decir todas nos damos cuenta, pero no sabemos que hacer [...]

La gente parece cansada, creo que la energia se nos va en tratar de convencernos a nosostros mismos de que manana sera mejor, claro![...]

Mero bien lo sabes Compa, que cuando nos dirigimos a los corazones es para provocarlos, es para despertarlos, es porque sabemos que ahi mero vive la dignidad y ella mantiena la esperanza.

Es el Corazon que nos mantiene de pie, son los Corazones que empujan la rebeldia en contra de las injusticias y las mentiras.

Ya para terminar compa, me gustaria saber como esta tu Corazon?

Que siente? Esta contento? Esta conforme?

Piensalo bien Compa, ya lo sabes que aqui estamos y esperamos una tu respusta, pa saber si me escuchaste, solo tu decides que hacer y sera respetado! [...]" "Compa" by Julio Cesar Nov/2012.

-Marcos Ramos

Our Relationship to the Land

Although the travel seminar was filled with a wide variety of rich, educational experiences, something I have been thinking about in particular is the nature of one’s relationship to the land. While we were in Guatemala, we visited two agricultural communities called La Florida and Santa Anita, both of which had the rights to their land. These two communities emphasized the ways in which owning their land gave them a better, more sustainable, and dignified life. Yet, we also visited a family who worked on an ejido (communally shared agricultural land) in San Caralampio, Mexico, who had lost hope in their livelihood, expressing the difficulties of competing in a global, neoliberal system. At first I had trouble reconciling why these communities had such different perspectives even though all of them owned their land and were similarly facing neoliberal pressures, yet I later on realized how strongly their different histories and contexts had changed their outlooks. 

After spending most of our time in Xela, a busy and vibrant city, we were grateful to be in La Florida, a peaceful and beautiful finca that has a rich and inspiring story. On the first day we arrived in La Florida, we spoke with Esteban about the history and strength of the community. The story of La Florida goes back to the Guatemalan Civil War, in which over one million Guatemalans were displaced. In response to this injustice, a group of campesinos formed SIDECO, a labor union that fought to better the lives of campesinos and against the violation of people’s rights. After many years of organizing, SIDECO became interested in La Florida, an abandoned 47-acre finca. In 2002, more than 100 members occupied the finca, yet many families ended up abandoning the mission in fear of violence and unemployment, leaving only 22 families to put the finca back together. Although the families faced threats of violence, they remained on the land, recognizing the power of their vision and refusing to recede to a life of economic and political insecurity. In order to negotiate the terms to the land, with the help of organizations, lawyers, and financial advisers, they went and sat through long tedious meetings, and ultimately were able to lower the price of the land to 6.5 million quetzals, almost halving the original cost. Although the members of La Florida are still working to build their community and struggling to bring in income, they have found innovative ways to enhance their economy, using ecotourism and beginning to produce bananas and coca plants. The power and pride that came with building this community and fighting for their rights was not only evident in Esteban’s talk, but it was also reflected in our experiences eating with families, working, and exploring.   

Shortly after our stay in La Florida, we visited a similar community in Santa Anita, an organic banana and coffee growing campesino made up of ex-guerillas from the Civil War. Both from speaking with members from the community and watching the moving documentary “Voice of A Mountain,” we learned about how the community’s values from the war have impacted their vision for Santa Anita, hoping to build a more equal and sustainable society. One of the main differences between Santa Anita and La Florida was that the community didn’t have the same organizing force and was unable to negotiate the price of the land, but rather had to take out extensive loans from the Fondo de Tierras to purchase the land. Although their work and organization has provided them with pride, dignity, and a better life, working to develop the community and maintain indigenous roots, they are also still struggling to make ends meet and pay off the debt. One of the main messages communicated in the movie was the members desire to build better educational systems so that their children would no longer have to work off the land and live off of low-agricultural wages, but could go to school and enter the professional world, making a better life for themselves.  

Although we were warmly welcomed in San Carlampio, the stories we heard were quite devastating. After having a nice lunch all together, the farmers told us of how their lives on the ejido have changed, revealing the ways in which the ejido system is now an empty shell of what it once was. Not only is it expensive now to live as a campesino with the current price of corn, but also the farmers’ crops were dying due to a plague. They explained that with the escalating costs of fertilizer, pesticides, and seeds, which are not indigenous to the land, they are having trouble sustaining this lifestyle, yet without using these products they would not have a chance at keeping up with global competition. They lamented that only 10 to 15% of profits stay for the family. The farmers are now reliant on selling corn to El Salvador on the black market, yet coyotes have become in charge of determining prices, making it even more difficult to live. As their young 2-year-old granddaughter walked around, carefree and full of energy, they sadly said that she would have a hard life and that they are worried for her future, having lost all hope in reviving the ejido system. 

Although on a surface level it appears as though these three campesinos are in similar situations, their different histories and contexts have significantly affected their life chances as well as their optimism. I realized on further reflection that the pride and strength behind La Florida is not solely from owning their land and controlling their working conditions, but is due to their triumph; fighting for and winning the land at a time in which privatization and international corporations are flourishing is a great success. La Florida’s communal and progressive finca is a new and growing project that is providing more work opportunities in resistance to these neoliberal forces. Although Santa Anita similarly has overcome great hardships, the debt of purchasing the land is still heavily weighing down on them. I was confused when in “Voice of a Mountain” the community expressed that they want to move away from farming and into the professional realm while the community in La Florida had presented their livelihood as a vision for the future. Because farmers in Santa Anita are still struggling to get by, they no longer see their agricultural lifestyle as sustainable, but want to provide more opportunities for their children so they can escape the living conditions of the campesino.

San Carlampio on the other hand has a very different history from these other two campesinos. Working on an ejido is not a new model of resistance, but is rooted in the past; the ejido system was established in the 1930’s. This family had grown up on the ejido when it was in its prime and has seen it slowly erode with changing technology, the implementation of outside seeds, and the growing power of neoliberalism. Although all the campesinos were trying to succeed within the neoliberal, global market, hurt by policies such as NAFTA and CAFTA, Mexico’s corn industry in particular, which the campesino specialized in, was completely destroyed by NAFTA in which the U.S., due to agricultural subsidies, came to dominate the market; Guatemala though specializes in coffee as one of its main exports and doesn’t face U.S. competition. La Florida and Santa Anita are not only producing a specialized product, but also are tapping into markets of ethical consumers, providing organic and fair trade coffee, which provides them with a lucrative advantage. The ejidos in Mexico on the other hand were significantly damaged by the Green Revolution in the 1940’s, which forced farmers to use U.S. seeds, fertilizers, and pesticides, destroying their ability to produce organic materials. The Green Revolution significantly impacted the face of agriculture in Mexico, making it expensive to keep up these practices while also making it difficult to compete without them. Although workers on the ejido still own their land and live communally, as neoliberalism and privatization have become more powerful in Mexico over the past 70 years, their way of life has become more and more difficult to sustain. 

La Florida, Santa Anita, and San Carlampio may have vastly different experiences and visions for the future, but I am still in awe of these three communities' power and strength in owning their own land, dictating their working conditions, living communally, and resisting the power of neoliberalism.     

-Claire Molholm

Personal, National and International

    One of the major focuses and reasons for the travel seminar was to learn about and see the effects of migration on the countries and communities that migrants are leaving. Though our discussion in Tucson on migration touched on these effects, we mostly focused on what was causing migration, the migrant experience crossing the border, in the U.S. and in the North of Mexico. By visiting Guatemala and Chiapas, Mexico, and the communities most affected by migration, we learned about the changing landscape of these places because of migration and the resistance to the journey North, dependence on remittances and the problem of debt. What was also particularly important for me during our time in Guatemala was the opportunity to understand the role of U.S. intervention in the Internal Armed Conflict, economic policies and privatization, and migration, while also seeing and learning about the unbelievable strength, independence, resistance and power of the Guatemalan people. It was really important for us to learn how to avoid U.S. centricism in our understandings and discussion while also understanding the role of the U.S. in Guatemala and the domestic systems of oppression and hierarchies (2% of population owns 85% of land), specifically the historical marginalization of indigenous people. To ignore U.S. intervention would be dishonest and disrespectful to many of the people we met, but to talk about the U.S.’s role in a way that strips agency and power from people would be an unbelievable disservice.

    One of the most important discussions for me during our time in Guatemala was with Maria Elisa, an indigenous activist, who spoke a lot about the effects of migration on her community and her resistance to migration, trans-national corporations and mega-projects, and the fight for land and autonomy. Maria Elisa explained how migration (10% of Guatemalans live in the U.S.) has changed the social relations, specifically the gender roles, and the physical landscapes (i.e. abandoned remittance houses) of communities. She also spoke about the dependence on remittances and how they feed privatization, as opposed to supporting community alternative economies, through the construction of new houses and the buying of trans-national products. Additionally remittances go through banks, specifically the Western Union, which profit immensely from the wiring of money. Maria Elisa also spoke about the effects of migration on the social consciousness of communities and how migration creates divisions and weakens communities and their ability to collectively organize and fight. Remittances also play a role in weakening social consciousness through the difference of wealth within the community that weakens feelings of camaraderie and solidarity.

    Learning about this direct effect of migration on communities and resistance, within the context of the history of colonization, the Internal Armed Conflict, CAFTA and mega-projects, such as mining, as well as the U.S.’s role in these things, allowed all of us to complicate our understanding and to see the connections between the personal, national and international. I think often times it is very easy to think structurally, to see that 10% of Guatemalans live in the U.S. without realizing what that means for individual people. Being in Guatemala and talking to the people who so graciously shared with us situated individuals at the center of our understanding and learning, which is in itself an act of resistance to the discourse of liberalism and individualism that is based on the stripping of individualism form certain peoples and communities, while in reality personally and profoundly affecting them.

    * I would like to make a note on the discourse of individualism, because I think it is extremely complex and needs further explanation. I think the Western and Liberal ideal of individualism functions to justify structures of racism and economic oppression, through attributing individuality to certain people at the expense of the dehumanization of others. However, I am not suggesting that individualism should be extended to those who have been dehumanized and disenfranchised, but rather am interested in understanding how a rejection of communal living and ideals has been replaced by individualism, though that individualism is contradictory and paradoxical in order to function to support systems of power and oppression.

-Juju Hoffman

From the Concrete Jungle to Desert Life

When I first heard that I would spend a semester in the desert I pictured vast open land with a few cacti along with perhaps some tumbleweeds mysteriously blowing through with the wind. Honestly, as a Queens girl, that is all I had seen on TV about the desert. And since staying in Tucson for a couple of weeks I realized that my conception of this desert had been completely wrong. 

To me, the desert is life. 

Here we have wildflowers, barrel cacti, chollas, prickly pear cacti, saguaros, mesquite, paloverde…  (and these are just some of the deserts plants I know, I am still learning the rest).

By day, hummingbirds and bees fly past you, lizards, and roadrunners scurry by you, snakes and scorpions rest nearby and a variety of birds are heard chirping their tunes. By night, the coyotes, jackrabbits, bobcats and javelinas come out to start their day. 

 

These new sounds at night were new for me. In Queens, I usually fell asleep to the sounds of cars and people obnoxiously passing through my block. But in Tucson, I was introduced to the calls of coyotes and javelinas. 

I remember that in my first days of Tucson I felt like I was on another planet, exploring and discovering (at least for me) exotic plants and animals. But ultimately, I began to respect and love this type of habitat.

From afar, I understood the construction of the border wall to be a political and sociological issue. But because I was not familiar with the desert region I did not immediately connect to how the construction of the border is an ecological problem as well.

As my peer Katherine described in the last post, Sky Island Alliance and Sierra Club Borderlands taught us how the construction of the border has already impacted desert life.

Unlike the dominant views of this current society, the land recognizes no borders. If you drive south from Tucson you see that for miles and miles the landscape is the same as the one in Northern Mexico. The only demarcation of difference is that you had to a pass a boundary line to get from one place to another. 

Currently, four senators of the Gang of Eight recently visited the border region in order to advocate for the further militarization of the border. It is so easy to approve an order like that if you do not value and respect this land and the life it sustains. 

Therefore, John McCain and Jeff Flake of Arizona, Michael Bennet of Colorado and especially Chuck Schumer of New York go on a hike trail, perhaps camp for a day or two. This desert is more than you think. 

-Gaby Gomez