Read about important history that helps to explain the vexed relationship that exists between the U.S. Mexican and broader Latino, community in the U.S. today. It is clearly linked to a history of violent, U.S. expansionism that continues in the symbolic realm as evidenced in the systemic subjugation of this knowledge of our history that could actually shed enormous light on our political and policy struggles today.
I would only amend this piece to point out that at its base—and the use of the generic term, "Latino," notwithstanding—this reflects a continuation of a history of violence against peoples native to this continent. These invasions resulted in the elimination of our native names, languages, and identities, resulting in an imposition of European ones and to a degree that is so profound that we often fail as native peoples to acknowledge this. Moreover, the system has succeeded and continues to dominate us if we think critically in these ways.
I say all of this as we begin our danza Mexican curriculum this morning at Academia Cuauhtli at the Emma S. Barrientos Mexican American Cultural Center in Austin, Texas.
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-Angela Valenzuela
#BrownContinent #Decolonize #decolonization #mexicamovement #INDIGENOUS #lies #CritcalThinking #EthnicStudiesNow #danzaMexica
AUG 29, 2018 SEP 27, 2017
The Brutal History of Anti-Latino Discrimination in America
School segregation, lynchings and mass deportations of Spanish-speaking U.S. citizens are just some of the injustices Latinos have faced.
Olvera Street is
a Los Angeles icon—a thriving Mexican market filled with colorful souvenirs,
restaurants and remnants of the oldest buildings in Los Angeles. But though the
bright tourist destination teems with visitors, few realize it was once the
site of a terrifying raid.
In 1931, police
officers grabbed Mexican-Americans in the area, many of them U.S. citizens, and
shoved them into waiting vans. Immigration agents blocked exits and arrested
around 400 people, who were then deported to Mexico, regardless of their
citizenship or immigration status.
The raid was just
one incident in a long history of discrimination against Latino people in the
United States. Since the 1840s, anti-Latino prejudice has led to illegal
deportations, school segregation and even lynching—often-forgotten events that
echo the civil-rights violations of African-Americans in the Jim Crow-era South.
The story of
Latino-American discrimination largely begins in 1848, when the United States
won the Mexican-American War. The Treaty of Guadalupe
Hidalgo, which marked the war’s end, granted 55 percent of Mexican territory to
the United States. With that land came new citizens. The Mexicans who decided
to stay in what was now U.S. territory were granted citizenship and the country
gained a considerable Mexican-American population.
As the 19th
century wore on, political events in Mexico made emigration to the United States
popular. This was welcome news to American employers like the Southern Pacific
Railroad, which desperately needed cheap labor to help build new tracks. The
railroad and other companies flouted existing immigration laws that banned
importing contracted labor and sent recruiters into Mexico to convince Mexicans
to emigrate.
Anti-Latino
sentiment grew along with immigration. Latinos were barred entry into Anglo
establishments and segregated into urban barrios in poor areas. Though Latinos
were critical to the U.S. economy and often were American citizens, everything
from their language to the color of their skin to their countries of origin
could be used as a pretext for discrimination. Anglo-Americans treated them as
a foreign underclass and perpetuated stereotypes that those who spoke Spanish
were lazy, stupid and undeserving. In some cases, that prejudice turned fatal.
According to
historians William D. Carrigan and Clive Webb, mob violence against
Spanish-speaking people was common in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
They estimate that the number of Latinos killed by mobs reach well into the
thousands, though definitive documentation only exists for 547 cases.
The violence
began during California’s Gold Rush just after
California became part of the United States. At the time, white miners
begrudged former Mexicans a share of the wealth yielded by Californian
mines—and sometimes enacted vigilante justice. In 1851, for example, a mob of
vigilantes accused Josefa Segovia of murdering a white man. After a fake trial,
they marched her through the streets and lynched her. Over 2,000 men gathered
to watch, shouting racial slurs. Others were attacked on suspicion of
fraternizing with white women or insulting white people.
Even children
became the victims of this violence. In 1911, a mob of over 100 people hanged a
14-year-old boy, Antonio Gómez, after he was arrested for murder. Rather than
let him serve time in jail, townspeople lynched him and dragged his body
through the streets of Thorndale, Texas.
These and other
horrific acts of cruelty lasted until the 1920s, when the Mexican government
began pressuring the United States to stop the violence. But though mob
brutality eventually quelled, hatred of Spanish-speaking Americans did not.
In the late
1920s, anti-Mexican sentiment spiked as the Great
Depression began. As the stock market tanked and unemployment
grew, Anglo-Americans accused Mexicans and other foreigners of stealing
American jobs. Mexican-Americans were discouraged and even forbidden from
accepting charitable aid.
As fears about
jobs and the economy spread, the United States forcibly removed up to 2 million
people of Mexican descent from the country—up to 60 percent of whom were
American citizens.
Euphemistically
referred to as “repatriations,” the removals were anything but voluntary.
Sometimes, private employers drove their employees to the border and kicked
them out. In other cases, local governments cut off relief, raided gathering
places or offered free train fare to Mexico. Colorado even ordered all of its
“Mexicans”—in reality, anyone who spoke Spanish or seemed to be of Latin
descent—to leave the state in 1936 and blockaded its southern border to keep
people from leaving. Though no formal decree was ever issued by immigration
authorities, INS officials deported about 82,000 people during the period.
The impact on
Spanish-speaking communities was devastating. Some light-skinned
Mexican-Americans attempted to pass themselves off as Spanish, not Mexican, in
an attempt to evade enforcement. People with disabilities and active illnesses
were removed from hospitals and dumped at the border. As one victim of
“repatriation” told Raymond Rodriguez, who wrote a history of the period, Decade
of Betrayal, “They might as well have sent us to Mars.”
Others, like
Rodriguez’s father, did not wait for raids or enforcement and returned to
Mexico independently to escape discrimination and the fear of removal. His wife
refused to accompany him and the family never saw him again.
When deportations
finally ended around 1936, up to 2 million Mexican-Americans had been
“repatriated.” (Because many of the repatriation attempts were informal or
conducted by private companies, it is nearly impossible to quantify the exact
number of people who were deported.) Around one third of Los Angeles’ Mexican
population left the country, as did a third of Texas’ Mexican-born population.
Though both the state of California and the city of Los Angeles apologized for
repatriation in the early 2000s, the deportations have largely faded from
public memory.
Another
little-remembered facet of anti-Latino discrimination in the United States is
school segregation. Unlike the South, which had explicit laws barring
African-American children from white schools, segregation was not enshrined in
the laws of the southwestern United States. Nevertheless, Latino people were
excluded from restaurants, movie theaters and schools.
Latino students
were expected to attend separate “Mexican schools” throughout the southwest
beginning in the 1870s. At first, the schools were set up to serve the children
of Spanish-speaking laborers at rural ranches. Soon, they spread into cities,
too.
By the 1940s, as
many as 80 percent of Latino children in places like Orange County, California
attended separate schools. Among them was Sylvia Mendez, a young girl who was
turned away from an all-white school in the county. Instead of going to the pristine,
well-appointed 17th Street Elementary, she was told to attend Hoover
Elementary—a dilapidated, two-room shack.
The bare-bones
facilities offered to students like Mendez lacked basic supplies and sufficient
teachers. Many only provided vocational classes or did not offer a full 12
years of instruction. Children were arbitrarily forced to attend based on
factors like their complexion and last name.
Then Mendez’s
parents fought back. In 1945, along with four other families, they filed a
class action lawsuit against four Orange County school districts. Their goal:
Ensure that all children could attend California schools regardless of race.
The case
culminated in a two-week-long trial. In court, school officials claimed that
Latino students were dirty and infected with diseases that put white students
at risk. Besides, they argued, Mexican-American students didn’t speak English
and were thus not entitled to attend English-speaking schools. (When asked,
officials conceded that they never gave students proficiency tests.) “Mexicans
are inferior in personal hygiene, ability and in their economic outlook,” said
one official.
Mendez’s attorney
countered with testimony from experts in social science. He argued that the
policy trampled on Latino children’s Constitutional rights. When Carol Torres,
a 14-year-old Latino girl, took the stand, she immediately proved that
Mexican-American students in the district could and did speak English.
It took seven months for Judge Paul J. McCormick to render a decision. On February 18, 1946, he ruled that the school districts discriminated against Mexican-American students and violated their Constitutional rights. Though the school districts challenged the ruling, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals agreed with McCormick. Thanks to Mendez v. Westminster School District, California officially ended all segregation in its schools.
It took seven months for Judge Paul J. McCormick to render a decision. On February 18, 1946, he ruled that the school districts discriminated against Mexican-American students and violated their Constitutional rights. Though the school districts challenged the ruling, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals agreed with McCormick. Thanks to Mendez v. Westminster School District, California officially ended all segregation in its schools.
Mendez, who was eight
when the lawsuits began, later told reporters that she thought her parents were
fighting for her right to attend a school with a nice playground. But the case
accomplished much more than that. Soon, parents in Texas and Arizona
successfully challenged school segregation. In 1954, a decade after Mendez was
turned away from the whites-only elementary school, the United States Supreme
Court ruled that all school segregation based on race was unconstitutional in
Brown v. Board of Education.
Though the case
was a victory for the Mendez family, Sylvia was harassed and heckled by her
fellow students when she attended the white school. Nonetheless, she pushed to
succeed and became a nurse and civil-rights activist. She was awarded a
Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2010—and now, two Los Angeles-area schools are
named after her parents.
Today, an
estimated 54 million Latinos live in the U.S. and around 43 million people
speak Spanish. But though Latinos are the country’s largest minority,
anti-Latino prejudice is still common. In 2016, 52 percent of Latinos surveyed
by Pew said they had experienced discrimination. Lynchings, “repatriation”
programs and school segregation may be in the past, but anti-Latino
discrimination in the U.S. is far from over.
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