The Linea

By Julissa Tapia / Winter 2021

It was not long ago when I heard the devastating news of a deadly crash in one of the neighboring towns where I live. I could not process what had happened and felt a deep sense of grief and sorrow. Word had spread that a burgundy SUV carrying 25 undocumented migrants in Holtville, California came into collision with a semi-trailer and resulted in many casualties and injuries. The tragic accident highlights the risks that migrants take when crossing the militarized U.S.-Mexico border. As this incident reached several major news outlets, it became a topic of discussion for several days and I heard several opinions on the matter. One being that migrants would not risk their lives if they would cross “legally.” I have pondered these opinions and felt that it is not a matter if migrants cross “illegally.” I feel it is a matter of the United States creating systemic and structural barriers of inequality.

After my old struggling car had finally given out, I decided to purchase a bicycle. It was something that would get me to different places around my hometown. The bike would take me from my mother’s home on the Eastside of El Centro to Los Compadres market at the corner of 5th street in the North Side in about ten minutes. Maybe five minutes and it could get me downtown from there. As I rode around on my bike, I created a map of the spaces and sites where I planned to capture some of the photos I will show in this work. I carried a small journal with me to help record ideas, pinpoint areas to revisit, and document some of these places that I wanted to include in this work. I wanted to showcase glimpses of my own community and the different corners of the Imperial Valley. This place is special to me. These border towns are not seen as much as they should be. What I really want to highlight in this work is the presence of U.S. militarism and surveillance in the Imperial Valley.

Following my map, I found myself at the border fence that separates Mexicali, Baja California and Calexico, California. Being a U.S. citizen, I felt some anxiety and nervousness as I approached the towering border fence. There was a U.S. Customs vehicle to my right and another to my left. There were more immigration officers than usual, considering the attempted border crossing that had happened in early March 2021. I took a long look, and I noticed a collection of colored crosses placed against the fence. These crosses carry the memory of migrants who have died crossing the border. This shows the U.S. decides who deserves to come in and who does not (as it has done throughout history). More barriers along the U.S.-Mexico border have forced migrants to cross over into desolate and deserted areas.

As a child, I remember crossing the linea every Sunday to visit my grandmother in Mexicali, Baja California. Crossing into Mexico was a daily part of some peoples’ lives. Some crossed to go to work while some crossed to see their families like myself. For some, it was quite easy to cross into Mexico because there were not too many restrictions to do so. However, it was a much more difficult process crossing back into the United States. As a U.S. citizen, I carried the privilege to freely mobilize across the border. I did not have to worry about my citizenship status, and I did not have to be constantly vigilant of my surroundings. I often overlooked the barbed wire, drug sniffing canines, daunting cameras, and the border fence. Instead, I focused my attention on the colorful art pieces that street vendors would sell. I was distracted by the aroma of street vendor’s food. As we inched near the U.S. port of entry there were fewer vendors and more officers. The music that played inside my family’s car faintly masked the clashing sounds of the revolving doors that led people into the United States. I sat in comfort in my family’s car and failed to see the cold and oppressive conditions of a militarized border. I had been accustomed to the invasive surveillance of border security and check routines.

The physical barrier that separates my hometown in California and Mexico transformed from just a fence into a virtual wall of surveillance and policing. More barbed wire has also been added to the fence to prevent people from “hopping” over. Border patrol agents are commonly stationed along the fence carrying weapons and driving in armed vehicles. I remember seeing officers and K-9 units patrol the area, and routinely check cars to see if people are carrying anything suspicious or illegal. If someone is suspected of any wrongdoing during their check-in at the port of entry, they are sent to secondary where they and their belongings are thoroughly searched. People are isolated while border patrol rummage through their belongings.

I was consistently taught that el otro lado was dangerous and unsafe. That the border kept “bad” people from crossing over to the United States. I failed to question these teachings. My perception of the border and the social construction of “illegal aliens'' shifted overtime and I have gained a new perspective on the immigration system. At times, I felt frustration towards people in my community who encouraged border policies and romanticized the border patrol. Focusing my frustration on individual members of my community was not the solution to this issue. I had to think deeper and see how the immigration system is reliant on exclusionary policies and determines who belongs and does not belong. I had to examine how histories of racial exclusion have shaped immigration policies in the United States.

I captured an image that shows an immigration facility within a residential neighborhood. The small fence to the left of this image belongs to a residential home. I found that I had to capture this moment to highlight the normalization of immigration centers in my community. I have seen and heard a lot about the inequalities and injustices that migrants have to deal with as they mobilize within and across border communities. As the granddaughter of working-class Mexican immigrants, I can understand some of the struggles, fears, and risks that many migrants experience at the border daily. Some live in fear of being detained and or/prosecuted by border patrol. Some have trouble mobilizing through their communities because they fear they are being constantly surveilled. They are restricted from government aid because they lack the proper identification documents that can guarantee them services. I cannot imagine how it feels to live in a restricted environment and in a constant state of fear of being forcibly removed from the place I would consider home. In their article, Monisha Das Gupta states, “...touch, smell, taste, and sight bring to life a daily presence that deportation ends. These details serve to remind readers that those who have been deported or live in the fear of deportation cannot take these daily interactions for granted” (97). I do not have to constantly fear that I will be deported because of my status as a U.S. citizen, but there is the unsettling possibility that those close to me might be. Some individuals who have migrated to the U.S. when they were young experience fears of being deported and being forcibly separated from family to a place that is unrecognizable. This can be extremely devastating and traumatic. The criminalization of migrants and fear tactics used against them is horrendous. The most minor inconveniences can have a tremendous impact on one's life and/or on their families.

The United States is often framed as a land of opportunity and a “nation of immigrants'' that welcomes all to fulfill the “American dream.” The “nation of immigrants” myth does not account for the history of forcible migration of Africans to the Americas during the Middle Passage and does not account for the mass genocide and displacement of Indigenous populations. This myth erases the history of settler colonialism in America and in the Pacific Islands. The United States has a history of colonialism and imperialism. As I look back at the histories of both I can see how the U.S. contradicts its democratic promises through its long-term treatment and classification of immigrants as “foreign invaders.” The U.S. government has historically invaded other countries for imperialist purposes and gain. By the 1840’s, the United States had annexed Mexico’s territories and they did so with military intervention and violence (Takaki). The goal was to increase westward expansion to exploit more resources and “promote American trade with the Pacific Rim'' (Takaki). Once the U.S. government acquired lands and territories, it placed down borders to keep everyone else out. A long history of U.S. immigration policies show how the U.S. has withheld democratic promises from migrants.

Migrants, particularly those from the global south face structural barriers and violence because of U.S. exclusionary immigration policies. The construction of migrant "Illegality" affects both Mexican Americans and Mexican migrants at the border. Up until the passage of the 1965 Immigration Act, Mexican migrants moved freely across the border and faced no legal immigration restrictions. It is quite difficult to imagine this given the militarization of the border today. There was active recruitment of Mexican migrant labor after the exclusion of Asian labor because of the Chinese Exclusion Act. The passage of the Immigration Act of 1965 abolished the quota system that applied numerical immigration restrictions that were based on national origin, and it replaced the previous quota system with a new one that would put a 20,000 quota evenly on every country (De Genova 172-173). At a surface level, this sounded like the immigration system "equalized" migration, but it had marked the first time where Mexican migration would be restricted. It also marked the first time immigration restriction from the Western Hemisphere. The quota for Mexican migration was limited to a few thousand at a time where millions of migrants were trying to work in the United States each year. There was a production of what De Genova calls the "revolving door policy." Mexican migrants would be sent out of the U.S. when no longer needed and another mass importation of migrant laborers would take their place. During the 1930’s Great Depression, a mass deportation of 415,000 Mexican migrants was put into effect and resulted in both Mexican migrants and U.S. born citizens being forcibly removed from the U.S. (De Genova 164). Mexican labor then became an indispensable necessity for American businesses and employers because of their temporality and deportability. However, even though Mexican migrant labor was desired and needed for the growth of the U.S. economy, Mexican migrants were treated unfairly and were racialized.

Numerical immigration restrictions had created a category of "illegal aliens." Mexican migrant labor has been stigmatized as "illegal." As a result, Mexican migrants are often subjected to forms of excessive surveillance and policing along the border and far within the United States. Undocumented Mexican migrants often face stigmatization, dehumanization, and discrimination because they were racially overrepresentation as “illegal.” There is this misconception that Mexican migrants are “stealing” jobs. It is visible when examining some of the political rhetoric former President Trump used during his political campaign. This notion that migrants are a “threat” to a white labor workforce reinforces discriminatory and violent behavior towards Latin workers. Looking deeply at this “issue” we see most migrant workers holding employment positions that are typically not sought after and require intensive labor that offers low wages and little to no benefits. Nicholas De Genova states, “An ever-growing, already significant and potentially indispensable segment of the working class within the space of the US nation-state (both in agriculture and numerous metropolitan areas), Mexican/migrant labor is ubiquitously stigmatized as “illegal,” subjected to excessive and extraordinary forms of policing, denied fundamental human rights, and thus, is consigned to an always uncertain social predicament, often with little to no resource and protection from the law” (168). These jobs are considered essential for the U.S. economy and desirable because agricultural businesses need a form of seasonal labor. Some employers push migrant workers to overperform their tasks and duties with threats of contacting law enforcement and deportation.

There have been many obstacles for migrant workers that kept them in cycles of poverty. Mexican migrants have been racially subjugated and dehumanized, denied fundamental human rights, and excluded from democratic promises. Neoliberal policies reinforce wage-labor gaps between migrant and non-migrant working class. If they cannot make ends meet and cannot find upward mobility, the blame is shifted on them rather than on neoliberal corporations that create conditions for poverty and unequal wealth distribution. I think of maquiladoras within border communities in Mexico. Maquiladoras are “...foreign-owned assembly plants situated in ‘free trade zones’ along Mexico’s northern border” (Chacon and Davis 115). The United States operates 90 percent of all maquiladoras in Mexico (Chacon and Davis 116). These U.S. owned factories are able to suppress working wages in maquilas and suppress labor unions because of different labor laws in Mexico. As a result, they can continuously exploit maquila labor and generate massive profits. There are little to no regulations when it comes to working wages or the impact these maquiladoras have on neighboring communities. Worker’s wages are not sustainable for everyday living. Not only does this directly contribute to cycles of poverty in the working-class, but it also has negative environmental effects on border communities. Environmental hazards from these maquiladoras put workers at risk within the factories and puts others at risk from toxic chemicals that flow into canals and rivers. This is a reality for those who live within the Imperial Valley where the agriculture business has an effect on workers and the environment. Not only are workers exploited but the agricultural business contributes to the pollution of the nearby Salton Sea. Field runoff and pesticides contaminate rivers that lead to the man-made lake and as the lake continues to dry out more dust from the receding shore can be carried away to nearby cities and exposing communities to poor air quality. U.S. agricultural businesses built wealth off the exploitation of migrant field workers. Cesar Chavez served as an advocate for farm worker’s rights and implemented peaceful forms of resistance against oppressive systems. In his Letter from Delano, he states, “...we shall overcome and change it not by retaliation or bloodshed but by a determined nonviolent struggle carried on by those masses of farm workers who intend to be free and human” (Chavez and Chatfield). Chavez led protests against agri- businesses with peaceful resistance strategies that collectively bridged communities of care together.

The U.S. continues to have a disregard for human life, and this is seen through the treatment of migrants at the border. Resistance can be effective when we focus attention into abolishing dismantling and overturning oppressive systems. Building communities of care and building alliances with others who are also determined to push back against systemic violence. It is important that we are able to build communities of care that can stand in solidarity with one another to advocate for the same rights and equality. Coalition building and collectively collaborating with different organizations that have similar and intersecting issues are also another form of resistance. Not only can we resist the physical borders of immigration policies, but we can resist the social borders that they create. Unpacking dominant nativist ideologies and acknowledging histories of U.S. colonialism is another step to overcome these obstacles that the immigration system perpetuates. Recognizing the impacts that neoliberalism has on borders can help us understand why migrant labor is continuously exploited and why some migrant communities are restricted to a life of poverty. Especially for myself as I grew up in a militarized border community, I need to know the histories of exclusionary immigration policies and how they continue to restrict people from rights, resources, and life. As someone who would like to do more groundwork to raise awareness on these oppressive systems, I think it is important that I recognize how they affect myself and my community.

Works Cited

Chacon, Justin Akers, and Mike Davis. No One Is Illegal Fighting Racism and State Violence on he U.S.-Mexico Border. Haymarket Books, 2017.

Chavez, Cesar and Chatfield, Leroy. “Letter from Delano.” 1969.

De Genova, Nicholas. “The Legal Production of Mexican/Migrant ‘Illegality’.” Latino Studies 2004, 2, (160-185), 2004.

Gupta, Monisha Das. “Don't Deport Our Daddies’: Gendering State Deportation Practices and Immigrant Organizing.” Gender And Society, University of Hawai’i, vol. 28, No. 1, 2014, pp. 83–109.

Takaki, Ronald. A Different Mirror. Little, Brown and Company, 1993.