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| Art by the border wall in Nogales, Mexico |
About two months ago, I said
goodbye to some of my best friends. I
wrote letters, crafted poems, and put together gifts to express how much each
of these friends and coworkers meant to me.
Then, with a tight jaw and head full of mixed emotions, I stepped on a
plane and left Tucson. I said goodbye to
a city that opened my eyes to oppression, nurtured and empowered me. I said goodbye to a program that encouraged
me to live a deliberate and examined life.
I said goodbye to an intentional community full of colorful, diverse,
and loving characters. I said goodbye to
a set of written agreements that dictated how I should live: simply,
spiritually, and with a focus on cross-cultural service.
I got on a plane heading for, what
they call, “the real world.” As I sailed
through the sky, I thought about all the wonderful experiences I had shared during
my year of mission. Grateful for the
opportunities to travel to border towns in Mexico, hike in the Grand Canyon,
and retreat in the forest of New Mexico, I felt warm inside. I have never been so quickly and strongly
welcomed in a community as I was in Tucson.
I am so thankful for my Young Adult Volunteer community, my BorderLinks
coworkers, and the Tucson social justice community. Many of my peers had moved to Tucson
specifically to get involved in immigration work and are deeply passionate about their
work. One of the things I miss most
about being in Tucson is having a directed sense of purpose. On the border, problems were so explicit and immediate. This was overwhelming at times, but I had a clear sense of my role
in raising awareness of border issues.
Now, back in the San Francisco Bay
Area, I belong to a community where people have a wider variety of interests ranging from literature to technology to education. Transitioning back into not-so-intentional living has been a positive change, but
definitely a challenging adjustment. I feel almost
as if my eyes were focused on a 250-piece puzzle. This puzzle of immigration and race issues was
complex, all consuming, and important.
Many of my friends and
Even so, I
have merely moved out of one bubble or community and into a another one. I stepped out of border-focused activist
central into startup technology-mania.
Obviously there are many cultures, subcultures and ways of living in
Tucson and in the Bay Area, but here are some of the differences I have
noticed. Instead of seeing Border Patrol
trucks, I see luxury busses filled with Google employees. Instead of thinking, “How can we spend so
little?” I think, “How can we spend so much?”
Instead of eating expired food, I eat organic food. Instead of hearing “Resist!” I hear
“Disrupt!”
Yet many
things are the same. Many social issues
that were in Tucson are also in my hometown of San Mateo. Being on the border has opened my eyes to things I wouldn’t have noticed before. For example, last summer I read many articles
about the wave of unaccompanied minors who crossed the border. Little did I know that many of these migrants
came to San Mateo and enrolled in the local high schools. I only learned this recently while speaking
to a local principal about potential job opportunities. Sometimes you are most blind to what is
happening in your own city.
When I feel
disconnected or confused, I sometimes think about my coworker in Tucson, Gabriel.* During our educational trips, we would often
cross the border into Mexico to learn more about the culture, economy and
community. After crossing, Gabriel would
take over guiding the group and teaching us about the local issues of his
hometown, Nogales, Mexico. Gabriel and I
quickly became friendly, as he invited me to his church and introduced me to
his family. Together, we led and
organized several trips. One day, while
we were driving he asked me where exactly I lived in California. When, I said, “San Mateo,” his eyebrows
raised in surprise. “I was there last
summer,” he said. “There wasn’t work
here so I went to San Mateo to work as a gardener. I lived with my daughter on Tilton and San
Mateo Drive.”
Although familiar, his words made
me feel uncomfortable. I suddenly
realized that while I had been working on building bridges of understanding on
the border, I had forgotten about the dynamics of my hometown, San Mateo. Last summer while I had been fundraising and
preparing to my year of mission, he had been working as an undocumented laborer
cutting grass and blowing leaves. Maybe
we had passed each while walking around San Mateo downtown and did not
know. Thinking about this saddened me,
not because of the missed connection, but because if we had met in San Mateo,
I’m not sure we would have developed a friendship. It is unlikely we would have gotten the
opportunity to work together as peers.
Due to economic, cultural, and
social boundaries, our paths would probably not have crossed in San Mateo, even
though we lived just a few blocks from one another. The border wall of El Camino Real separates
my wealthy, white neighborhood from his working class, immigrant
neighborhood. In many ways, we could
have lived parallel lives, on two different tracks that barely cross. I would have missed opportunity to learn from
him and become a part of his life.
During my year of service, I though
a lot about the borders, visible and invisible, that are present in our
everyday lives. I also thought about
Jesus’s defiant efforts to break barriers and welcome all to the table. I am still exploring what this means for me, especially in San Mateo, but I think
that unity and understanding are built through relationships. Gabriel taught me
about his home and, without trying, opened my eyes and taught me about my own
home. After spending four years away at
college and a year working in Arizona as a YAV, I am now discovering my home
again. Thanks to people like Gabriel, I
am more aware of border issues both in Tucson and in San Mateo. Although there are new buzzwords, new puzzles
and a new community here I am confident that I’ll find my place. Through this transition, I am trying to
remain positive, patient, and, well, graceful.
*Name changed for privacy
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| Sunset in the desert |
