Many issues relating to immigration remain hidden from the public eye, even if they are very present to those dealing directly with the subject. Two friends and fellow Damascus Road anti-racism trainers, Felipe Hinojosa and Regina Shands Stoltzfus, recently engaged each other on some of those hidden issues over e-mail.

Felipe Hinojosa: On the campus of the University of Pittsburgh, a local bar began advertising “Wet Back Wednesdays.” On this day, Corona beer is discounted along with 75-cent tacos. There has been, of course, considerable backlash. However, most telling is the how the bar owner noted that the bar has had “White Trash Wednesdays” and “Trailer Park Thursdays,” which seems to suggest, “What’s the big deal with using something against Mexicans?”

The problem is, and what I believe is often not talked about, is that “wetback” is a racial slur toward Mexicans that is both offensive and tied to a historical legacy of racism, systematic repression and border militarization against Mexican Americans, beginning in 1954 with something the border patrol called “Operation Wetback.”

Urban Connections - March 2008 1.On our street: Who are we? -- As we think about migration to the country we call home, we often miss a key part of the question  who do we define as we? 2. Immigration: God’s plan – J.P. Masih, an Indian pastor in Chicago, offers historical, missiological and present-day perspectives on immigration, from his own experience leading an immigrant congregation. 3. Out of sight, still in mind – Many issues relating to immigration remain hidden from the public eye, even if they are very present to those dealing directly with the subject. Two friends and fellow Damascus Road anti-racism trainers, Felipe Hinojosa and Regina Shands Stoltzfus, recently engaged each other on some of those hidden issues over e-mail. 4. Christ's call: Help the immigrants – Many members of Iglesia Unido de Avivamiento in Brooklyn, N.Y., were leaving or losing their jobs for fear of deportation. When pastor Nicolas Angustia considered his options and the call of Christ, his solution seemed obvious – the church should help its members gain documentation. 5. For true immigration information, run to the border – The economic interconnections between the U.S. and Mexico by trade agreements and government policies affect urban areas in profound, though not particularly healthy, ways. The people of God living in cities that reflect these economic interconnections must learn about immigration, border issues and trade. 6. Immigration resources available – If your congregation is interested in further exploring issues of immigration, from any side of the border, there are many available resources to explore. 7. Urban briefs: News from your street – News on immigration issues from across the church.

Mexican immigrants are often perceived as the new kids on the block when in fact our communities have been “citizens” (and I use that cautiously) of this nation since 1848 when the U.S. finalized its colonization of Mexico. (I’m being specific about Mexican communities here because mass immigration from Latin America did not begin in great numbers until about mid-century. The historical track of each Latin American group is different, but Mexican Americans and Puerto Ricans have a longer and more established history within U.S. borders).

We don’t talk about the historical legacy of racism against Mexican Americans so we are treating current immigration issues as if they have no historical precedent. For example, did you know that Chicana/os organized the largest anti-Vietnam War protest of any “minority” group in the U.S.? And yet, as we relive the Civil Rights movement, it is often portrayed as primarily a black movement.

Where are the stories of the many brown men and women who stood and fought against white racism and white feminism? Why does the church not highlight those efforts? It might better help us understand not only the past, but also the future trajectory of Latina/o activism in the 21st century.

Of course, the black power movement (don’t get me wrong, it was an incredibly powerful movement) heavily influenced both Puerto Rican and Chicana/o nationalist and feminist struggles, but our movement led to better wages and working conditions for farm workers, the inclusion of Mexican American and Puerto Rican history in some textbooks, bilingual education and desegregation of schools. In communities of faith, it led to Latino pastors for Latino churches.

When the history of racism is obliterated, immigration issues are contemporized and current immigrants get labeled as just another ethnic group living out the American dream. Nothing could be further than the truth.

This historical amnesia has led to the intensification of tension among black and brown communities. In Damascus Road training sessions, I have heard angry African-Americans talk about Latina/o immigrants not understanding the history of racism against black communities. The assumption is that immigrants are taking jobs from African-Americans and that immigrants don’t respect the black struggle. I remember one person noting that Africans were forced to North America through the slave trade while immigrants are coming to the U.S. by their own free will. The former is of course true, but the latter ignores the real systematic economic oppression of U.S. foreign policy and how that fuels im/migration. It too easily assumes that the immigrant from Guatemala or Honduras simply got up one day and said, “Wouldn’t it be nice to leave my family and go and work in a foreign nation?”

At the same time, many African-American and white communities know little about our struggle and often cannot name civil rights leaders beyond Cesar Chavez.

Of course there are hidden tensions that also exist among U.S. Latinos from different backgrounds and recent immigrants. It is all not rainbows and flowers on our end, but a community has been building since the 1960s, a sense of what some call “Latinidad.” That is, a shared sense of Latino identity. Within our own Mennonite church, a group of Chicana/os and Puerto Ricans began having these dialogues about what it means to be “Latina/o” even as they joined hands with black and Native Mennonites fighting white racism within the church.

peace,
felipe

Regina Shands Stoltzfus: Wow, Felipe. I will start with your term “historical amnesia” and how it has led to the intensification of tension between black and brown. I will agree with the word amnesia to a degree, but I think it is even worse when thinking specifically about the African-American community.

It is not amnesia – how can we forget something we never knew?

Growing up in a black community in the Midwest in the 1960s and 1970s, I was immersed in that historical moment you name – the de facto segregation in the north that faced my parents and their contemporaries as they migrated from legalized segregation in the southern cities and towns they had been raised in, the riots happening in the city I grew up in, the Civil Rights Movement and the Black Power movement – all of this activity was swirling around me as a child. I grew up with a strong sense of being a black female in a world that seemed to be coming apart at the seams because my people were reviled so much in American society. A movement was emerging and we were fighting back. But there was no parallel story that I was being taught.

What I observe in many black communities is exactly what you have named – that immigrants are treated as new kids on the block, because that is what people know. They know at least the high points of the historic struggle of African-Americans in this country. They know their own individual and family stories and they observe how in the 21st century these stories are not understood as part of an ongoing movement toward justice and equality, but as a done deal.

In other words, the work is not done, but America says, “We gave you freedom, we changed the segregations laws – WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?” Racism, they say, is in the past. Anything that’s wrong in your community now is on you.

Without the historical perspective, there is the perception that the African-American community is being pushed aside in favor of the new kids. Keep in mind that this is a Midwest perspective that I understand is very different from the realities on the border, and on the east and west coasts.

Your comments about the "Wetback Wednesdays" reminds me of a parallel phenomenon that has been occurring on college campuses across the country for a couple of years now. Students are hosting "ghetto parties" - white students come dressed as stereotypical images black people - in blackface and with afro wigs on, in many instances. The way knowledge of these parties come to light is when a student posts pictures on their Web pages, followed by the inevitable statement that there was no intent to offend. In the worst cases, attendees of these parties come dressed as victims of a lynching, complete with a rope around their necks. Last fall, after the noose incident at the high school in Jena, La., there was a rash of noose-sighting incidents across the country. These represent another facet of historical amnesia concerning acts of racist terrorism in this country. People have forgotten, or simply don't know about how lynching - the hanging of mostly black men, but some women as well - was a well-orchestrated campaign of terror against African-Americans, designed to keep the community afraid and under control. When people starting leaving nooses around as a "joke," it seemed many were genuinely mystified as to why African Americans were so upset. And yet the reality of lynching is not that far back in the history of this country.

Regina

FH: Regina, you are exactly right as far as my use of “historical amnesia.” The “not knowing” I think is a problem in both black and brown communities.

For Latina/os, this hit us straight in the face most recently when documentarian Ken Burns left out the stories of Latina/o contributions to World War II. We are seen as a people with no history here in the U.S. and I think that needs to change if we are to build effective coalitions.

On the other end, I am all too aware that immigrants often carry distorted views about African-Americans based on the media and their understanding of the U.S. racial hierarchy – whites are the ones in power, so “it is their country.” The consequences of this often play themselves out through violence, community tensions, and a lack of trust between communities.

But there are signs of coalitions that often take place at the grassroots level with families, black and brown, who unite to organize against violence in their neighborhoods or who come to each other’s aid in times of need. I’ve always felt like the greatest allies we can have in bringing effective immigration reform, where kids can go to college and where families do not have to live in fear, are African-American communities whose wisdom in bringing about systemic change is exactly what is needed.

The key is to not let the power of colonialism (i.e., the power to pit communities of color against each in support of white supremacy) to dominate how we relate in the 21st century. But it is going to take hard work. We cannot assume that a shared history of oppression and resistance will automatically lead to coalitions. These are processes that we need to initiate and work hard at without assuming anything.

peace,
felipe

RSS: I agree with you about aspects of the amnesia being a problem in both communities. While we were taught next to nothing about the histories of other people of color, even African-American history seemed to be centered upon the same few names. These were always presented as individual heroes, rather than people who were nurtured by and grounded in communities that supported the work they were able to do. This, I think, exaggerates further the distorted view of ourselves and of other dark-skinned people you speak of. The work at hand becomes protecting our own small, thin slice of the pie rather than making sure everyone gets fed, which is indeed the hard work you mention.

It seems to me that part of the work of the church could be to point to and lift up those models of partnership and coalition, and also to lift up the stories of how the church has been complicit in colonialism and the mantling of white supremacy. 

Regina

FH: I couldn’t agree with you more. We certainly cannot assume that black-brown alliances will come naturally, but I am hopeful by what has been happening at the grassroots level in trying to bridge the divide. If we are going to make things work we cannot rely on politics or institutions. This has to come from the bottom-up, from our own neighborhoods.

U.S.-born Latina/os and Latina/o immigrants have much to learn about the African-American experience in the U.S. One way I think this is possible is to push students and my church to begin thinking about history in horizontal terms. We are used to talking about black-white relations – white-brown, etc. – but this tends to only disconnect the ways in which white supremacy played off of both our experiences. This is a vertical view of history.

Looking at history horizontally allows us to examine black-brown history, not only in terms of relationships, but also in terms of common themes. Instead of talking about im/migration as a Latino phenomenon, we also talk about how it has played out in the lives of African-Americans. The same can be done with lynching, segregation, violence, colonialism/slavery, etc. The point here is how these racist experiences have affected communities of color across the board. In this way, we can begin to enhance our view of each other, and also learn how it is that colonialism has set things up so that we compete with each other for the crumbs coming from the white man’s table.

This is my hope. I want my community to learn about the tremendous struggles and incredible resilience of your community so that we can hope as well. I want your community to do the same so that we come to the table ready to talk as people who desire, thirst, and hunger for justice.

peace,
felipe

Felipe Hinojosa is a doctoral student in U.S. 20th century history at the University of Houston, working on a dissertation involving the Minority Ministries Council of the Mennonite Church. Regina Shands Stoltzfus is assistant professor of Bible, religion and philosophy at Goshen College while she works on a doctorate degree from Chicago Theological Seminary. Shands Stoltzfus is editor of Urban Connections. 

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