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Showing posts with label Border Wall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Border Wall. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 29, 2026

The Missing Voice in the Border Wall Debate: If the Rio Grande Could Speak, by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D. April 29, 2026

The Missing Voice in the Border Wall Debate: If the Rio Grande Could Speak

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.  

April 29, 2026

At first glance, this article published in The Big Bend Sentinel appears to offer a compelling account of grassroots mobilization, documenting how Texans gathered in Austin to protest the proposed border wall and defend places like Big Bend National Park. Yet, upon closer examination, the piece reveals a far more troubling limitation. It foregrounds human sentiment—memory, attachment, identity—while failing to meaningfully engage the land, the river, and the more-than-human world as subjects of concern in their own right. In doing so, it ultimately diminishes the gravity of what is at stake.

The article’s most significant shortcoming is its deeply anthropocentric framing. By this, I mean that the Big Bend region and the Rio Grande are rendered primarily as sites of human experience—places to visit, enjoy, and remember. Protesters’ concerns that the wall would “ruin the aesthetic” or restrict access are not insignificant; however, they remain confined within a human-centered epistemology, or way of knowing, that obscures a more fundamental question: 

What obligations do we have to the land itself? What claims might the river assert, were it recognized as more than a resource? What of the animals whose lives and migratory pathways would be irreparably disrupted?

Here, the writings of 
Anishinaabe scholar John Borrows (2010, 2019) offers a critical intervention. He argues that law is not merely a system of codified rules but is constituted through relationships—among humans, and crucially, between humans and the natural world. Within many Indigenous legal traditions, land, water, and non-human beings are not objects external to law; they are integral to its formation and meaning. Law, in this sense, is relational and place-based, emerging from longstanding practices of reciprocity and responsibility.

The article gestures briefly toward the more-than-human world in its description of protestors holding images of bears, mountain lions, deer, and other wildlife. Yet this moment is not developed. It is treated as symbolic rather than substantive. There is no sustained engagement with the ecological consequences of the proposed wall—its role in fragmenting habitats, interrupting migratory routes, and destabilizing a desert ecosystem that has evolved over millennia. 

From Borrows’ perspective, such omissions are not merely journalistic gaps; they reflect a deeper failure to recognize that environmental degradation constitutes a rupture in the very relationships that law ought to sustain (Borrows, 2019).

Moreover, the article’s emphasis on land ownership and government overreach reproduces a familiar, and ultimately limiting, legal grammar. By centering questions of private and state control, it reinscribes a property-based framework that has long underwritten environmental exploitation. Land is treated as something to be owned, accessed, or regulated, rather than as a living system to which humans are accountable. 

Borrows (2010) challenges precisely this orientation, demonstrating that many Indigenous legal orders prioritize responsibilities to land over rights of domination—a shift that carries profound implications for how we understand governance, justice, and sustainability.

This brings us to a broader jurisprudential impasse. Contemporary legal systems in the United States remain structurally oriented toward the protection of human interests and property relations. Within such a framework, entities like the Rio Grande lack standing; they cannot assert claims, seek redress, or demand protection. Emerging movements around the “rights of nature” seek to address this limitation by recognizing ecosystems as legal persons.

Importantly, Borrows’ work reminds us that such developments are not without precedent. They resonate with longstanding Indigenous legal traditions in which the natural world is understood as part of a broader legal community (Borrows, 2019). To recognize this is not to romanticize Indigenous knowledge, but to acknowledge its ongoing relevance in confronting contemporary ecological crises.

What the article ultimately reveals, then, is not simply a contested infrastructure project, but the inadequacy of prevailing legal and journalistic frameworks to apprehend it. Even in moments of resistance, discourse remains tethered to anthropocentric assumptions that obscure the full scope of environmental harm. Protest is articulated in terms of human loss—access, aesthetics, identity—rather than as a defense of the integrity of ecological systems themselves.

This should alarm us. The waiving of environmental protections, the opacity surrounding federal actions, and the potential for irreversible ecological damage demand not only critical reflection but public accountability. Silence from state leadership is untenable. Greg Abbott should not remain absent from a matter of such consequence to Texas lands, waters, and communities. At a minimum, Texans deserve transparency, deliberation, and a clear articulation of the state’s position.

Accordingly, this is a moment that calls for engagement. Residents should contact their elected representatives and insist upon the protection of the Big Bend region and the ecosystems it sustains. Information on legislative representation in Texas is available at https://wrm.capitol.texas.gov/home. Such actions, while modest, are essential in signaling that these issues carry public weight and demand a response.

If we are to move forward, however, more fundamental shifts are required. Protecting places like Big Bend necessitates rethinking the conceptual foundations of law, governance, and ethics. It requires moving beyond a framework in which land is valued primarily for human use, toward one in which land, water, and non-human life are recognized as participants in a shared legal and moral order.

Until such a shift occurs, accounts like this one will continue to gesture toward crisis without fully apprehending its depth. And the land, the river, and the countless beings who depend on them will remain, quite literally, outside the law.

References

Borrows, J. (2010). Canada’s Indigenous constitution. University of Toronto Press.

Borrows, J. (2019). Law’s indigenous ethics. University of Toronto Press.

Bubacz, K. (2026, April 5). Thousands of Texans protest border wall at state capitol. The Big Bend Sentinel. https://bigbendsentinel.com/2026/04/05/thousands-of-texans-protest-border-wall-at-state-capitol/



by Kate Bubacz April 5, 2026 | The Big Bend Sentinal

Texans from across the state join Big Bend residents for a rally against the border wall at the Capitol in Austin Saturday. Kate Bubacz photo.

Santa Elena Canyon was an alternate rally for river enthusiasts

Over 2,000 Texans stood on the steps of the state Capitol in Austin to sing, dance and protest the border wall that is planned in the Big Bend region. Undeterred by the rain and the Easter holiday weekend, attendees asserted their pride in the beloved, wild western corner of the state and their disbelief that both private and public land could be needlessly harmed by outside forces.

“I think being out here and being so angry helps define who is a true Texan,” said John Riddle, an Austin resident who visited the Big Bend National Park with friends last spring. The cause has united people from across the state and from both sides of the aisle. Everyone in the crowd seemed to have a story or a special memory about visiting the parks, and many seemed to feel personally offended that the Texas government would allow a federal administration to interfere with their private and state land.

“Nobody says we don’t need border security. A wall would keep us out of our treasured landscapes,” said retired park ranger Raymond Skiles, who led an enthusiastic chant of, “Don’t wall us out.”

The citizens who gathered were entirely volunteer led. Drew Heugel, a tech employee who lives in Austin, was one of the original event organizers. He was visiting the Big Bend region in February when news of the border wall broke. When he posted an idea of protest on his Facebook, he expected a few hundred likes. Instead, the idea took hold, attracting the support of thousands.

“I’m impressed with how people have rallied,” he said, under a tent that was bustling with volunteers handing out information to people walking up to the Capitol. Heugel worked in coordination with several local volunteer groups that have organized in the last two months, including Save Big Bend and the No Big Bend Wall groups.

Judah Hill, 14, came with his family from Houston specifically to attend the protest on Easter weekend. His family has a tradition of going to Big Bend to climb mountaintops. He held a sign that said, “The wall doesn’t match the aesthetic,” a playful Gen Z nod to how it would ruin the landscape.

The peaceful protest had a joyful but determined air as people gathered in the chilly afternoon to listen to two hours of speakers and singers, including Willie Nelson’s daughter Amy and Jimmy Dale Gilmour, along with an array of politicians from both parties.

Some 500 miles away at Santa Elena Canyon in Big Bend National Park, about 150 people showed up by cars and boats to what they termed a “picnic” that featured protest signs and paintings along with speakers on bullhorns and chants against the wall.
Paddlers at Big Bend National Park’s Santa Elena canyon make their thoughts on a border wall 
known at a Saturday rally on the river. Jennifer Pittinger photo.

Protestors waded in the river, and dozens of boats lined the shore. “Really, we’re giving Mexico the Rio Grande and our border land,” read one sign. Another group of people stood in the river holding giant, painted cardboard cutouts of animals—beavers, bears, mountain lions, javelina and deer.

Back in Austin, Brandon Herrera and Katie Padilla Stout, staunch opponents vying for the region’s district congressional seat, both spoke at the Capitol against the wall. “We are here today to remind people you don’t mess with Texas,” said Stout, to cheers. “Nobody wants the wall in Big Bend,” said Herrera, minutes later.

In the six weeks since the wall was announced in Big Bend Sentinel, stiff opposition to it has organized and gained traction. A Customs and Border Patrol map originally showed a 517-mile steel wall planned, including the state and national park. The same map now shows smart technology planned through the parks and a steel structure through the remaining 175 miles upstream between Fort Quitman and Presidio. The map has become a key source of information, changing several times without warning or explanation, but Customs and Border Protection has never commented on the changes.
Protestors show off their signs against a Big Bend border wall at a protest at the Capitol in Austin Saturday. Kate Bubacz photo.

No details about what detection technology entails have been provided, sparking unease about disruption to a delicate ecosystem. Surveyors and contractors have started to show up in the region, keeping landowners and locals on edge that they stand to lose access to both their land, and the Rio Grande, the key water source for hundreds of miles. Twenty-eight environmental and archaeological protections for the region have been waived as over $6 billion in contracts have been awarded. Gov. Greg Abbott has maintained his near silence on the issue, which was noted by the signs in the crowd.

“Why isn’t Abbott speaking up for Texas lands? Come out and say something” said Mary Ann Robinson, who drove from Alpine, Texas, to attend the Capitol event.

Abbott’s office did release a statement to KXAN TV in Austin saying the governor talked to the “Border Patrol chief, who told him no physical walls would be erected in the national or state park.”

“Don’t Tread on Me” and “Come and Take It” flags were flown and worn with pride in Austin as calls about government overreach were met with cheers. Frustration has been mounting for what protesters see as a lack of clear answers on an issue that defies sense for the rugged landscape, impedes on private property and water rights and would cost a fortune to American taxpayers.

“We just want them to leave the whole damn thing alone,” said Democratic Congressman Lloyd Doggett. “As far as a wall through Big Bend, it seems like nature did that herself a few millennia ago.”

The fight against the wall is far from over. Local groups are seeking to address letters received by private landowners from the federal government seeking access to their land, the restoration of environmental protections and revocation of contracts that have been awarded.

Christina Hernandez, a Presidio resident and member of People of La Junta, told the Austin crowd: “People were living in relationship with this land before pyramids were built, and today we’re being told that this land can be cut through by people far away.”

Monday, July 07, 2025

When the Waters Rose, So Did Mexico. Where Is Our Humanity? by Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

When the Waters Rose, So Did Mexico. Where Is Our Humanity?

by 

Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.

July 7, 2025

Source: https://www.facebook.com/protcivilacuna

As floodwaters swallowed parts of the Texas Hill Country over the Fourth of July weekend—ripping through tents, cabins, and homes with terrifying force—a rare and radiant kind of help arrived from across the border.

Nine brave volunteer firefighters from Ciudad Acuña, Coahuila, Mexico, along with four members of Fundación 911 México, answered the call for help—not with questions, conditions, or fanfare, but with quiet courage and unflinching resolve. Early Sunday morning, they crossed into Texas and headed straight for Kerrville, where more than 80 people have already been confirmed dead and dozens remain missing in one of the deadliest floods in recent U.S. history.

They didn’t come for headlines. They came for humanity.

Search and rescue response in Texas has become an international effort as volunteer firefighters from Mexico are lending a hand to their neighbors to the north.(Dirección de Protección Civil y Bomberos de Acuña, Coahuila. News Source: Worley, 2025)

Arriving with boats, gear, and rigorous training—but most of all, heart—this elite Mexican rescue team worked alongside Texans in scenes of devastation that blurred flags and erased borders.

They searched with Texas volunteers and grieving families, knowing full well the risks. And they did so in a country where anti-Mexican vitriol has become policy, where border walls and razor wire have replaced bridges of solidarity, and where leaders like Donald Trump and Greg Abbott use cruelty toward immigrants not only as a political strategy but as spectacle and sport.

It is impossible to miss the moral contrast.

While Trump mocks migrants—once suggesting we electrify the border wall and fill trenches with alligators (Valenzuela, 2025)—Mexican first responders are here saving lives in the treacherous Guadalupe River.

Trump’s cruelty toward migrants—like the grotesque ‘Alligator Alcatraz’—didn’t begin last month, but dates back to his prior presidency:

Privately, the president had often talked about fortifying a border wall with a water-filled trench, stocked with snakes or alligators, prompting aides to seek a cost estimate. He wanted the wall electrified, with spikes on top that could pierce human flesh. After publicly suggesting that soldiers shoot migrants if they threw rocks, the president backed off when his staff told him that was illegal. But later in a meeting, aides recalled, he suggested that they shoot migrants in the legs to slow them down. That’s not allowed either, they told him. (Shear & Hirschfeld, 2019).

While Trump dreams of alligator-filled moats—now a grotesque reality in the Florida Everglades (Valenzuela, 2025)—Mexican rescuers are wading through floodwaters to save the victims of this unspeakable catastrophe. This isn’t merely a policy divide—it’s a gaping rupture in our values between nations.

Not long ago, Governor Greg Abbott made a chilling remark during a radio interview with host Dana Loesch:

“The only thing that we’re not doing is we’re not shooting people who come across the border, because, of course, the Biden administration would charge us with murder” (García, 2024).

While Abbott criminalizes desperate asylum seekers and installs drowning traps in the weaponized and border-scarred Rio Grande, Mexico sends its bravest to help Texans recover the bodies of adults and children swept away by a different—yet kindred—river: the sorrowful and tragic Guadalupe. A river named for La Virgen de Guadalupe, who stands for love, mercy, and protection. One side chooses cruelty; the other, compassion.

Though these two rivers do not meet, they are bound by shared grief and the stories they carry: one polluted by politics, the other by tragedy. And in this moment, Mexico chooses compassion. Texas, through Abbott’s policies, chooses cruelty—even as we’re wrongfully told that Mexico is the enemy.

We’re told to fear the "invasion" of immigrants while witnessing a border-born miracle of selflessness, solidarity, and sorrowful grace.

Source: Protección Civil Acuña

Make no mistake: this isn’t the first time Mexico has come to our aid. After Hurricane Katrina, Mexican troops and aid workers traveled to Louisiana to help with recovery. After 9/11, Mexican officials offered forensic support to identify victims. When the pandemic struck, Mexican doctors crossed into El Paso to ease hospital shortages.

So, when will we stop pretending that compassion has a passport?

When will the likes of Trump and Abbott look into the eyes of these rescuers—heroes in every sense of the word—and reckon with the cruelty of their exclusionary policies, the machinery of fear they’ve built, and their shameful attempts to dehumanize the very people who, in our hour of need, showed up to save us?

This weekend, we saw the best of Mexico, no doubt.

Let us not forget the names of those who walked into our disaster with open arms (Protección Civil Acuña, 2025).

Protección Civil y Bomberos de Acuña:

Javier Alvarado Lumbreras

Cristopher Abraham Herrera

Roel Delgado Martínez

José Omar Llanas Hernández

Aldo Ortiz Rodríguez

Mario Alberto Linares

Guillermo Samuel Quiroz

Javier Isaac Alvarado

Jesús Eduardo Salas Ibarra

Fundación 911 México:

Ismael Aldaba Flores

Miguel Ángel González

Jesús Gómez Arizpe

Jorge Fuentes

Their bravery echoes a long tradition of Mexico showing up for the U.S. in our darkest moments—whether after Katrina, 9/11, or COVID-19. They also helped rebuild Georgia in the devastation caused by Hurricane Andrew.

Similarly, they arrived last Saturday in the early morning hours—not as invaders, but as lifelines. Not to take, but to give—of their time, their skill, and their courage. They came not as strangers, but as hermanos—brothers carrying grief in one hand, and justice, unspoken but evident, in the other.

In a world parched of empathy, with "scorched Earth" policies to match, these  are the waters that should rise. In a moment like this, may the words of the prophet Amos echo with urgency: "Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream" (Amos 5:24). May we remember that justice does not flow from border walls, but from hands reaching across them.

To the leaders who build walls and stoke hate: let this moment be your mirror.  As for the rest of us, we must ask ourselves—not just today but every day—what kind of people we want to be. 

The waters rose. Mexico showed up. Now it’s our turn—to rise not just in gratitude, but in solidarity.

References

García, U. J. (2024, January 11). Abbott’s immigration rhetoric criticized again after interview response about shooting migrantsThe Texas Tribunehttps://www.texastribune.org/2024/01/11/texas-border-migrants-greg-abbott-interview-shoot/ 

Protección Civil Acuña. (2025, July 6 at 6:11 AM). Water rescue team stands in flooding in USA [Facebook post]. Facebook. https://www.facebook.com/protcivilacuna

Shear, M. D., & Davis, J. H. (2019, October 1). Shoot migrants’ legs, build alligator moat: Behind Trump’s ideas for border. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/01/us/politics/trump-border-wars.html

Valenzuela, A. (2025, July 2). Alligator Alcatraz: A monument to cruelty in the heart of the Everglades [Blog post]. Texas Ed Equity. https://texasedequity.blogspot.com/2025/07/alligator-alcatraz-monument-to-cruelty_2.html

Worley, D. (2025, July 7). Firefighters from Mexico join response efforts to catastrophic Texas floods. KBTX. https://www.kbtx.com/2025/07/07/firefighters-mexico-join-response-efforts-catastrophic-texas-floods/

Thursday, September 23, 2021

[Short Film] "Speaking Through Walls," co-directed by McAllen ISD Teacher Clarissa Riojas

I am so happy to get reacquainted with this excellent, high-quality video that I remember viewing back in 2018. It was co-directed by a former mentee of mine and McAllen Independent School District English language arts teacher and department chair extraordinaire, Ms. Clarissa Riojas.
Photo Credit: David Bacon

This short, 5-minute film “Speaking Through Walls,” was screened at Cine Del Sol in South Texas and featured, as well, in the Texas Sierra Club Newsletter. The concerns expressed in the video are as germane today as they were back in 2018 if not more so.

I am so proud of her many accomplishments and touched at how she taps into the soulful voices of our community in South Texas. Someday, as our ancestors once knew, we will have no need for this or any other border wall, allowing for free and open movement up and down the continent. When? I don't know. What I do know is the harm to our spirit when such walls divide us. 

On a personal note, Ms. Riojas and I go back to the earliest breaths of Academia Cuauhtli before we even had a name. She was a University of Texas at Austin undergraduate at the time and played the vital role of attending and taking minutes at our many meetings that led up to the establishment of our escuelita, our precious Saturday school, that is now in its eighth year of existence. She and I even published a short piece on our efforts back then titled, "No time to waste: We must advocate for books for our children."

There is still no time to waste. 

Students and mentees like Clarissa who move on to accomplish great things remind us of why we do what we do. My heart is full. 💗

-Angela Valenzuela 

#BridgesNotWalls

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Trump's ghastly spectacle of the U.S. military on our southern border

Pleased to read this rebuke by the editorial board of the Austin American-Statesman of Trump's ghastly spectacle of the U.S. military on our southern border. It's good to keep the record straight that this is NOT a national emergency as Trump maintained. Neither did he provide evidence that criminal elements are mixed in with the so-called "caravan," which is a euphemism of families seeking asylum in response to gang violence, corruption, and grinding poverty back home.  Plus, according to our own laws, these families have a right to seek asylum.  

This is not at all an "invasion," but rather a very small trickle of folks in desperate need of help.  What a waste of money and resources to send our troops on a mission of dubious value as indicated herein.  And what a sad chapter in our history of relations with our neighbors to the South.

-Angela Valenzuela

Editorial: It’s time to end Trump’s costly border stunt

 

President Donald Trump’s warnings about the Central American migrants trudging slowly on foot to the United States could not have been more ominous in the weeks leading up to the midterm elections. A national emergency, he declared.
“This is an invasion of our Country and our Military is waiting for you!” Trump tweeted Oct. 29, one in a steady drumbeat of tweets of fear and foreboding about “many gang members and some very bad people” and “unknown Middle Easterners” mixed in with the migrants. The claims were red meat at the president’s campaign rallies, repeated incessantly on Fox News, his network of choice.
Trump did not provide evidence that bad actors were mixed in with the families fleeing gangs, violence, corruption and overwhelming poverty in their countries. Apparently, he didn’t feel the need as he ordered up to 15,000 military troops to Texas and the U.S.-Mexico border to confront a much smaller number of refugees, who by the way have a legal right to apply for asylum when they reach the U.S.
But that was before the midterms. With the elections over, Trump has been silent about the caravan. The migrants are still headed this way, but his breathless warnings about an invasion have disappeared. What happened to the national emergency?
If there is any doubt the president exploited the caravan to drive his supporters to the polls, we need only look to the border in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas, where 5,600 American troops have already been deployed. The troops were rushed there on the commander-in-chief’s pre-midterm orders, but the migrant caravan is nowhere around. The largest group reportedly was more than 1,400 miles — and possibly weeks — away on Wednesday. A small splinter group arrived the same day, some 1,900 miles away from South Texas, at the other end of the southern border, in Tijuana.
The folly of our military being dispatched to the border to confront immigrants seeking refuge and who aren’t even there yet was depicted last week in a New York Times report. It painted a troubling portrait of a mission not yet fully defined, ordered by a politically motivated president and a Pentagon incapable of convincing Trump that it was a terrible idea. Unnamed Pentagon officials derided the deployment as an expensive, wasteful use of time, one that will surely hurt troops’ morale.
The cost of the mission could hit $200 million, according to the report, which cited Defense Department estimates. There is no defense spending set aside for the deployment, which could last into mid-December. The Pentagon’s funds are already earmarked for fighting in Iraq, Syria and Afghanistan.
Meanwhile, the soldiers patiently wait in the makeshift tents that will be their home on Thanksgiving and after. Electricity is sparse and they won’t get combat pay. Federal law restricts the military from engaging in law enforcement on American soil. The troops will have little to do beyond providing logistical support including clerical jobs – duplicating some of the tasks already being performed by National Guard troops sent to the border earlier this year.
Understandably, morale is a serious concern.
The Times report quoted Rep. Anthony Brown, a Maryland Democrat and a former Army helicopter pilot who served in the Iraq war, as saying morale is less of a problem when soldiers are given a “real” mission. “But when you send a soldier on a dubious mission, with no military value, over Thanksgiving, it doesn’t help morale at all,” he said.
The border mission has no military value. That is not in dispute. Addressing soldiers Wednesday at a makeshift camp in Donna, Defense Secretary James Mattis emphasized that their role is to stand behind the Border Patrol “as a confidence builder.” The mission’s long-term goal, he said, was somewhat in development.
Our brave military should never be used as pawns in a political stunt — an expensive one at that. At great sacrifice, our men and women in uniform volunteer to go anywhere our country sends them, placing their lives in the hands of the commander-in-chief. We owe it to them not to deploy them frivolously or in bad faith.
Campaigning on a fear of immigrants did not work out so well for the president. Democrats took back control of the House. Trump’s appeal to his base may have helped drive turnout in red states where Republicans held onto Senate seats, keeping the GOP majority.
The migrants on their slow trek to the U.S. are not invaders. They are in search of better lives, and under U.S. law they have a right to apply for asylum. Our country’s vast immigration system will determine the validity of their claims. An equally vast immigration enforcement system can police the border without the aid of soldiers whose nebulous role is to be confidence builders.

Friday, July 06, 2018

Most Americans oppose key parts of Trump immigration plans, including wall, limits on citizens bringing family to U.S., poll says


BaizD. & Clement, S. (July 6, 2018).  "Most Americans oppose key parts of Trump immigration plans, including wall, limits on citizens bringing family to U.S., poll says," Washington Post. Retrieved: https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/most-americans-oppose-key-elements-of-trump-immigration-policy/2018/07/05/36124360-7e3d-11e8-b0ef-fffcabeff946_story.html?utm_term=.23d12e1d4138

Saturday, April 08, 2017

THE SADNESS OF THE BORDER WALL By David Bacon

Award-winning photo journalist David Bacon tells a poignant story of how families are experiencing the border wall by first historicizing the border itself as follows:
The so-called "Mexican Cession" accounts for 14.9% of the total land area of the United States, including the entire states of California, Nevada and Utah, almost all of Arizona, half of New Mexico, a quarter of Colorado and a piece of Wyoming.  Some Congress members even called for annexing all of Mexico.  
Families get an opportunity to visit with their kin and "touch" them through a half-inch square hole at Parque de Amistad, or Friendship Park in Tijuana.  While better than nothing, the larger story is how in many respects, the wall, just like the border itself, is a fiction that intends to divide a people with deep roots to this continent, roots that no border wall could ever erase despite attempts by and through policies and politics to do so.  I encourage you to go to the actual website to view all the images that accompany this sad story.

It should be axiomatic that if capital and resources can travel freely across borders, then people should be able to do so, as well.  All of this makes me feel really blue. It's hurtful.  It's personal.  We absolutely did not cross the border.  The border crossed us. Our ancestors never left the continent.  Yet history has not been kind in this regard.

Thank you, David, for all that you do to chronicle this seemingly interminable story of crisis, suffering, and tragedy of mammoth humanitarian proportions.  May your kind multiply.

Angela Valenzuela
c/s


David Bacon Fotografias y Historias
THE SADNESS OF THE BORDER WALL
By David Bacon
Contexts, 3/22/17



In Playas de Tijuana, on the Mexican side of the border wall between Mexico and the U.S., Catelina Cespedes and Carlos Alcaide greet Florita Galvez, who is on the U.S. side. The family came from Santa Monica Cohetzala in Puebla to meet at the wall.

It took two days on the bus for Catalina Cespedes and her husband Teodolo Torres to get from their hometown in Puebla - Santa Monica Cohetzala - to Tijuana.  On a bright Sunday in May they went to the beach at Playas de Tijuana.  There the wall separating Mexico from the United States plunges down a steep hillside and levels off at the Parque de Amistad, or Friendship Park, before crossing the sand and heading out into the Pacific surf. 

Sunday is the day for families to meet through the border wall.  The couple had come to see their daughter, Florita Galvez. 

Florita Galvez is on the U.S. side of the border wall between Mexico and the U.S., and her family on the Mexican side can only see her through holes in the metal mesh.

Florita had arrived that day in San Ysidro, the border town a half hour south of San Diego.  Then she went out to the Border Field State Park, by the ocean two miles west of town.  From the parking lot at the park entrance it was a 20-minute walk down a dirt road to the section of the wall next to the Parque de Amistad.

At 11 that morning, Catalina and Florita finally met, separated by the metal border.  They looked at each other through the metal screen that covers the wall's bars, in the small area where people on the U.S. side can actually get next to it.  And they touched.  Catalina pushed a finger through one of the screen's half-inch square holes.  On the other side, Florita touched it with her own finger. 

On the Mexican side of the border wall Catelina Cespedes sticks her finger through a hole in the mesh so that she can touch the finger of her daughter, Florita Galvez, who is on the other side, the only physical contact possible between people on each side.

Another family shared the space with Catalina and Teodolo.  Adriana Arzola had brought her baby Nazeli Santana, now several months old, to meet her family living on the U.S. side for the first time.  Adriana had family with her also - her grandmother and grandfather, two older children and a brother and sister. 

It was very frustrating, though, to try to see people on the other side through the half-inch holes.  So they moved along the wall to a place where the screen ended.  There the vertical eighteen-foot iron bars of the wall - what the wall is made of in most places - are separated by spaces about four inches wide.  Family members in the U.S. could see the baby as Adriana held her up.

But only from a distance.  The rules imposed by the U.S. Border Patrol in Border Field State Park say that where there's no screen the family members on that side have to stay several feet away from the wall.  So no touching.

Adriana Arzola, her sister and her baby Nayeli Santana talk with her family living in the U.S. through the bars of the wall.  On the U.S. side, her family has to stay several feet away from the wall, so they can't touch each other through the bars.

I could see the sweep of emotions playing across the faces of everyone, and in their body language.  One minute the grandmother was laughing, and the next there were tears in her eyes.  The grandfather just smiled and smiled.  Adriana talked to her relatives, and tried to wake the baby up.  Her brother leaned on the bars with his arms folded against his eyes, and her sister turned away, overcome by sadness.  On the U.S. side, a man in a wheelchair and two women with him looked happy just to have a chance to see their family again.

Some volunteers, most from the U.S. side, called Friends of Friendship Park, have tried to make the Mexican side more pleasant and accommodating for families.  The older children with Adriana sat at concrete picnic tables.  While family members talked through the wall they used colored markers, provided by the Friends, to make faces and write messages on smooth rocks.  Around them were the beginnings of a vegetable garden.  Later in the afternoon one of the volunteers harvested some greens for a salad. 

At the Parque de Amistad, or Friendship Park, in Playas de Tijuana, children and families write on stones the names of other family members they're separated from because of the border.

Members of the Friends group include Pedro Rios from the U.S./Mexico Border Program of the American Friends Service Committee, and Jill Holslin, a photographer and border activist.  On the U.S. side, another of the participating groups - Angeles de la Frontera, or Border Angels, helped the families that came to the park.  "We're here seven or eight times a month," said Enrique Morones, the group's director.  "People get in touch with us because we're visible, or they know someone else we helped before."  Border Angels helps set up the logistics so that families can arrive on both sides at the same time, often coming from far away.

Weekend visiting hours, from10-2, are the only time the Border Patrol allows families to get close to the wall for the reunions.  Once a year they open a doorway in the wall.  Watched closely by BP agents, family members are allowed to approach the open door one by one, and then to hug a mother or father, a son or daughter, or another family member from the other side.  To do that, people have to fill in a form and show the agents they have legal status in the U.S.  During the rest of the year, the Border Patrol doesn't ask about legal status, although they could at any moment.  For that reason, Border Angels tells families not to go on their own.

On the Mexican side of the border wall Adriana Arzola brings her new baby, Nayeli Santana, to meet her family living in the U.S. for the first time.

Such carefully controlled and brief encounters are the ultimate conclusion of a process that, at its beginning, had no controls at all.  Before 1848 there was no border here whatsoever.  That year, at the conclusion of what the U.S. calls "the Mexican War," the two countries signed the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Mexico was forced to give up 529,000 square miles of its territory.  The U.S. paid, in theory, $15,000,000 for the land, but then simply deducted it from the debt it claimed Mexico owed it.  U.S. troops occupied Mexico City to force the government there to sign the treaty.

The so-called "Mexican Cession" accounts for 14.9% of the total land area of the United States, including the entire states of California, Nevada and Utah, almost all of Arizona, half of New Mexico, a quarter of Colorado and a piece of Wyoming.  Some Congress members even called for annexing all of Mexico. 

At the time, the city of San Diego was a tiny unincorporated settlement of a few hundred people.  It was considered a suburb of Los Angeles, then still a small town.  San Ysidro didn't exist, nor did Tijuana.  To mark the new border, in 1849 a U.S./Mexico boundary commission put a marble monument in the shape of a skinny pyramid where they thought the line should go.  A replica of that original pyramid today sits next to the wall in the Parque de Amistad.  On the U.S. side the road leading from San Ysidro to Boundary Field State Park is named Monument Road, and the area is called Monument Mesa.

A boy walks past the Mexican side of the border wall between Mexico and the U.S.

Early tourists chipped so many pieces from the marble pyramid that it had to be replaced in 1894.  The first fence was erected, not along the borderline, but around the new monument to keep people from defacing it.  The line itself was still unmarked, fifty years after it had been created.

The Border Patrol was organized in 1924.  Before that, there was no conception that passage back and forth between Mexico and the U.S. on Monument Mesa had to be restricted.  The Federal government only assumed control over immigration in 1890, when construction began on the first immigration station at Ellis Island in New York harbor.  Racial exclusions existed in U.S. law from the late 1800s, but the requirement that people have a visa to cross the border was only established by the Immigration Act of 1924.  The law also established a racist national quota system for handing visas out. 

In the 1930s the Border Patrol terrorized barrios across the U.S., putting thousands of Mexicans into railroad cars and dumping them across the border.  Even U.S. citizens of Mexican descent, or people who just looked Mexican, were swept up and deported.  Trains carried deportees to the border stations in San Ysidro and Calexico, but on Monument Mesa there was still no formal line to keep people from returning.

A man looks through the bars of the border wall into the U.S.

That changed for the first time after World War Two, when barbed wire was stretched from San Ysidro to the ocean.  Mexicans called it the "alambre," or the wire.  Those who crossed it became "alambristas."  Yet enforcement was still not very strict.  During the 1950s and early 1960s, thousands of Mexican workers were imported to the U.S. as braceros, while many migrants also came without papers.  In the Imperial Valley, on weekends during the harvest, those workers would walk into Mexicali, on the Mexican side, to hear a hot band or go dancing, and then hitch a ride back to sleep in their labor camps in Brawley or Holtville. 

In 1971, Pat Nixon, wife of Republican President Richard Nixon, inaugurated Border Field State Park.  The day she visited, she asked the Border Patrol to cut the barbed wire so she could greet the Mexicans who'd come to see her.  She told them, "I hope there won't be a fence here too much longer." 

Instead, Congress passed the Immigration Reform and Control Act in 1986.  Although many people remember the law for its amnesty for undocumented immigrants, IRCA also began the process of dumping huge resources into border enforcement. A real fence was built in the early 1990s, made of metal sheets taken from decommissioned aircraft carrier landing platforms.  The sheets had holes, so someone could peek through.  But for the first time, people coming from each side could no longer physically mix together or hug each other. 

On the Mexican side of the border wall between Mexico and the U.S., the wall runs into the Pacific Ocean.

That old wall still exists on the Mexican side in Tijuana and elsewhere on the border.  But Operation Gatekeeper, the Clinton Administration border enforcement program, sought to push border crossers out of urban areas like San Ysidro, into remote desert regions where crossing was much more difficult and dangerous.  To do that, the government had contractors build a series of walls that were harder to cross. 

On Monument Mesa the aircraft landing strips were replaced in 2007 by the 18-foot wall of vertical metal columns.  Two years later a second wall was built on the U.S. side behind the first.  The area between them became a security zone where the Border Patrol restricts access to the wall itself to just four hours on Saturday and Sunday.  The metal columns were extended into the Pacific surf.

In Playas, though, the wall is just a sight to see for the hundreds of people who come out to the beach on the weekend.  The seafood restaurants are jammed, and sunbathers set up their umbrellas on the sand.  Occasionally, a curious visitor will walk up and look through the bars into the U.S., or have a boyfriend or girlfriend take a picture next to the wall, uploading it to Facebook or Instagram for their friends.

On the Mexican side of the border wall veterans of U.S. military service who have been deported gather to protest, and to remember those who died.  Their names are written on the bars.

The wall itself at the Parque de Amistad has become a changing artwork.  As the bars rust, they've been painted with graffiti that protests the brutal division. 

One section has the names of U.S. military veterans who've been deported to Mexico, with the dates of their service and death.  A deported veterans group comes down on occasional Sundays, with some in uniform.  In angry voices, they ask why fighting the U.S.'s wars didn't keep them from being pushed onto the Mexican side of the wall.

Books by David Bacon

The Right to Stay Home:  How US Policy Drives Mexican Migration  (Beacon Press, 2013)
http://www.beacon.org/productdetails.cfm?PC=2328

Illegal People -- How Globalization Creates Migration and Criminalizes Immigrants  (Beacon Press, 2008)

Recipient: C.L.R. James Award, best book of 2007-2008
http://www.beacon.org/Illegal-People-P780.aspx

Communities Without Borders (Cornell University/ILR Press, 2006)
http://www.cornellpress.cornell.edu/book/?GCOI=80140100558350http://www.cornellpress.cornell.edu/book/?GCOI=80140100558350

The Children of NAFTA, Labor Wars on the U.S./Mexico Border (University of California, 2004)
http://www.ucpress.edu/book.php?isbn=9780520244726

En Español: 

EL DERECHO A QUEDARSE EN CASA  (Critica - Planeta de Libros)
http://www.planetadelibros.com.mx/el-derecho-a-quedarse-en-casa-libro-205607.html

HIJOS DE LIBRE COMERCIA (El Viejo Topo)
http://www.tienda.elviejotopo.com/prestashop/capitalismo/1080-hijos-del-libre-comercio-deslocalizaciones-y-precariedad-9788496356368.html?search_query=david+bacon&results=1

For more articles and images, see  http://dbacon.igc.org and http://davidbaconrealitycheck.blogspot.com