Reflections (On the Faces of Our Borders)

My Last Reflection

2007-04-21T17:40:00.000-06:00

You say you can't understand how they could come here illegally.
How they could disobey the law.
How they could not wait in line.

You see them as nothing but terrorists and theives.
Lazy figures who are less than human.
Who come to change us -- instead of being changed.

"May God grant me the serenity,
To accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference."

You refuse to look into the faces of those they come for.
The ones they leave behind.
The ones they send ahead.

What would you do -- if you couldn't help your child?
If you had nowhere else to go.
If you couldn't afford to raise them?

Not all of the faces of immigrants,
Are the faces of terrorists.
Some are the faces from your door you'd never turn away.

Many of them travel farther than you ever could --
Farther than you ever would.
By foot no less. Through hellish heat.

Only to be caught.
Deported.
Left to taste defeat.

There's no easy solution -- that much is true.
But to build a wall of cold hearts,
Makes me pity them, not you.

Who wouldn't risk it all --
To leave this all behind?
At the end of the day, couldn't you ask yourself:

Wouldn't you risk it all too?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

All photos taken by Kari Shaffer, except for the photo of the ground and the photo of the man sitting on the ground after being caught by the border patrol. Those photos were taken by Lauren Hillery.

The Joke of the Nation

2007-04-15T17:34:00.000-06:00

Photo property of WorldCantWait.net

It's amazing what people think is funny.

Back in February, NYU's College Republicans decided to play a game. "Find the Illegal Immigrant" consisted of someone wearing an illegal immigrant name tag and wandering around the campus area until found by one of the other participants. The person who located the "illegal immigrant" was then to be rewarded with a gift certificate.

The group's defense of the try-and-hide-and-we'll-seek-you-out game?

"The game is going to bring awareness" to the issue of immigration, said President of the NYU College Republicans Sarah Chambers.

Uh-huh. Right. Awareness to the issue -- or to the ignorance of those supposedly debating the issue? Bringing "awareness" to the issue is a nice line to throw out in your defense to the media, after you've been protested and attacked by fellow students and the community.

National news coverage doesn't add any pressure either, I'm sure.

Photo property of Ashley Phillips. ABC News.

Many people say things or do things -- then backtrack as fast as they can once the spotlight and pressure are on. Look at examples we've seen recently -- the media is filled with them.

Most recently?

Don Imus' career suicidal "nappy-headed hos" comment during his Imus in the Morning show a couple weeks ago.

. . . . . . . . . . .

There was also...

Michael Richards' not-so-funny Laugh Factory 2006 display when he yelled out at a disruptive audience member, "Shut up! Fifty years ago we'd have you upside down with a fucking fork up your ass!" Then he proceeded to use "nigger" multiple times.

Mel Gibson must not have really had passion for the Christ... otherwise, would he have made such anti-semitic remarks to a police officer when he was pulled over for drunk driving last summer? Jesus, after all, was Jewish.

Isaiah Washington got into a tumble with co-star Patrick Dempsey on the set of Grey's Anatomy when he referred to co-star T.R. Knight as a "faggot" last fall.

Rosie O'Donnell (though I love her to death) received a lot of criticism for using the phrase "ching chong" to represent the Chinese language.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Don't worry though, all offenders have since told the media that they are deeply sorry. But for what?

Sorry they were metaphorically caught with their pants down in public? Sorry they've been backed into a corner, where only an apology may grant them some salvation? Or truly sorry not only has such hatred festered inside of them, but that their actions were vocalized in a world where we are supposedly above and beyond such cultural differences? Were they just sorry they added fuel to the already blazing hot fiery hatred?

For whatever reason, this past year has definitely felt like the year of slip-ups. It may seem only fitting that NYU's College Republicans join in, though their lack of celebrity status may or may not have lightened the blow of the media.

What is a relief to know is that when racial slurs are spewed, many react. However, is (most of) our nation smart enough, sensitive enough, to realize that such hatred does not have a place in our society -- anywhere? Maybe not.

Harvey Fierstein brilliantly pointed that out in Friday's New York Times.

We still have a long way to go.

At least it's comforting to see that some of the younger generations are able to see the consequences of such a hateful society. Especially, when you can visually witness their compassion and sensitivity.

It's easy to spout off an excuse when pressured by the media to defend your image.

But true honesty and opinions -- such as are presented in the above video -- are thankfully still alive somewhere in America.

Faces Worth the Fight

2007-04-09T01:16:00.000-06:00

Note: Turn sound on to hear music with slideshow.

This past Thursday, some member of Border Beat traveled to St. Andrew's Clinic to do some reporting, some profiles, some photography... some video. Everything we saw and experienced in our day there is probably more than most of us can put into words. It was the first trip for all of us -- and at least for me, I went into St. Andrew's having never heard of it before getting involved with Border Beat.

Then again, none of us have ever needed health care so badly that we've had to go to St. Andrew's.

Jack Reed, Ren Clark, Lauren Hillery, Me, Amanda Hines, Nicole Mott.

At Border Beat, we are planning on making a special section in which to publish all of our articles, photographs and videos... and with everything we saw, I'm sure the section will turn out fantastic. There were just stories everywhere.

It's hard to not get caught up in everything, when you're there. All around you are children who are brought there because they have no options left. Some of them travel for hours for this once-a-month clinic; some come back every month, seeking care. It's hard to imagine the struggle they go through just to take care of their children.

I feel so niave when I look back on all of the times I just walked to the nurse's room when I was at school -- or when I had my mom simply drive me to the doctor. If I didn't feel good, I was always taken care of... and I never had to worry that I wouldn't receive the care I needed. My parents had insurance. My doctors accepted that insurance. My parents paid the co-pay. It was as simple as that. We picked up the prescriptions I needed and we were on our way. I never realized how lucky that was, because it felt so easy.

What these parents do in order to get care for their children, is not so easy. It's nothing like the life I had to live.

You can tell yourself all you want that you are going into an environment that is unfamiliar. You can prep yourself for what you are about to see. You can tell yourself you are there as a journalist, and try to force yourself to remain somewhat isolated.

It is ridiculously hard to stay as objective as possible -- and its hard to cut yourself off, in a way, from seeing those sad faces and wanting to scoop them up in your arms. You see, I love children. Head-over-heels love children. As easily as they make me smile, they also break my heart.

I know most people feel that way.

It's probably why Dolores Huerta said a week and a half ago at the Cesar Chavez Forum that we need to make children the faces of the immigration issue. We need to see the pain that is out there. People relate to children more. They see their negative actions more clearly when they realize how it is harming the generations that have to follow. We are more inspired when we realize there is someone out there worth the fight.

If St. Andrew's taught me anything -- it's that there are children worth the fight. Who knows what the right answer is to the "immigration issue." But its worth fighting for... a solution deserves to be reached because there are those who can't afford to not have a solution.

You know, this morning as I was getting ready, I was watching Lou Dobbs Tonight, on CNN. I couldn't help but cringe every time I heard them say "illegal aliens." It was almost like they refused to use any other term. Over and over again, the term rolled off their tongues as they discussed "BROKEN BORDERS."

They talked about how many jobs and how much money we lose every single year to illegal immigrants. They threw out facts and statistics left and right. At one point, they even said America basically gives away the cost of a "Mustang convertible" to each illegal immigrant family in the U.S. each year.

Yet, last time I checked, illegal immigrants weren't driving around in our mustang convertibles.

But there are kids crossing the border with their families to visit St. Andrew's Clinic every month because they can't afford surgeries that may or may not save their lives. Or at the very least --- help improve their quality of life.

(All photos taken by Kari Shaffer at St. Andrew's Clinic on April 5, 2007.)

Inspirational Voices

2007-04-01T19:36:00.000-06:00
How people can come from such meager beginnings and flourish into truly powerful spirits who not only rise above their circumstances for themselves -- but for other people -- truly makes you wonder why we all can't be strong enough to stand up that way.

They do the impossible.
And all it seems we can do is admire their courage.

For me, this has certainly been the year of inspirational voices. I almost feel I must have missed out on some great opportunities my first three years of college because I'm sure all of these opportunities just didn't walk onto campus my last year here. Maybe I had just been blind to them at the time.

Since November, I've sat in on lectures given by three of the most amazing examples of human courage.

Maya Angelou.
Chris Gardner.

(and most recently)

Dolores Huerta.

Now Maya Angelou made me laugh and cry - as cliche as that sounds. But it was the truth. I expected to like seeing her, but I didn't expect to be moved the way I was. I work in the box office of the theater she was speaking at in November, so I got to slip into unused company seats after we closed down the box office, right before she went on. To be 10 rows away at a sold-out lecture... to see 2,500 students, faculty, staff and community members all gathered around to see this one woman stand a podium, literally took my breath away.

Then just last week, I saw Chris Gardner speak at the same hall in which I witnessed Maya Angelou's powerful message and poetry readings. I had fallen in love with the movie The Pursuit of Happyness, which was based off of Gardner's book and life. Movies are great and they are powerful. They can make you see the world in a whole new light -- but to hear the man who lived the movie, and to see the man he's become since, also makes you take a moment to think, "Could that be me?"

And finally... someone I wasn't even expecting to be as impressed with (since both Gardner and Angelou had left such an impact on me.) Dolores Huerta.

She'll be 77 on April 10th. 77. And she's still as motivating as ever.

I went to cover Dolores' appearance on Friday as part of a celebration week being held at the University of Arizona. Saturday would have been Cesar Chavez's 80th birthday and the UA held discussion forums on campus, as well as this special lecture series at the James E. Rogers College of Law. In addition to Dolores, Antonio Bustamante, Chavez's former bodyguard, also spoke.

The meeting ran almost three and a half hours long, but the excitement in the room overflowed once Dolores entered. There had been a break planned in-between Antonio's talk and Dolores'. As everyone gathered outside to listen to music and eat, I walked off to the side to return a phone call I had missed.

As I was chatting, I noticed a woman in a blue dress-suit, standing off to the side. She was alone, separated from the crowd, with a cameraman at her side. She seemed quiet, small. Definitely not a voice of thousands.

I remember wondering if that was her -- having the cameraman there would have made sense, but why was no one talking to her?

I went back to my conversation and the next moment I glanced up and they were both gone.

As I filed back into the room with everyone else, I could sense the energy in the room. Everyone was waiting for Dolores -- and when she finally entered the room (quiet, small woman that she is) -- the room erupted into a standing ovation.

As she talked, her presence grew. You could see where the fire within her far overshadows her physical appearance. She must have been such a torch when she was younger, working with Chavez.

She has been arrested 22 times... and part of you can probably see why. She must have put up quite the fight.

But as she talked, she grabbed everyone's attention in the room and held it in the palm of her hand. I was so busy trying to take notes for an article, I had to keep stopping myself in order to truly listen to what this incredible woman was saying.

She may be the co-founder and first Vice-President Emeritus of the United Farm Workers of America. She may be a social activist and a prominent figure for the Chicago civil rights movement. She may also serve on boards for such organizations as the Feminist Majority Foundation.

But what I hadn't read before hand -- was that she is as FUNNY as she is inspirational.

This small, quiet woman outside the College of Law not only impressed me and had the audience soaking in every last word... she actually made them laugh.

When speaking of her pro-choice beliefs, she said as the audience's laughed:

"I'm the Catholic mother of 11 children! ...But that doesn't mean everyone should be the mother of 11 children."

Dolores Huerta is honest and frank. But she was the same as everyone else in that room -- simply human. And she had to admit, at times, she was scared.

But perhaps the greatest advice she left with the audience, was when she told us, "If you're not a little bit scared -- that means it's not important."

Dolores Huerta, Chris Gardner and Maya Angelou were all just people, trying to grow up in the same world our parents and grandparents were struggling to survive. Some of them had it easier than others, some had it harder. But the one thing all three had in common -- was they never let their circumstances define who they are.

And as I left Room 146 after Dolores' lecture, I realized I can't let my circumstances and my background define me. None of us can.

Otherwise, the world would have been a lot quieter without the likes of Dolores Huerta.

As she ended her speech, she encouraged the woman to raise their voices in the next election. She demands that we be heard. I was lucky enough to catch the last bit of her speech with my digital camera as she encouraged us to be strong. She encouraged the audience to clap and chant with her -- to bring our voices in unison.

But in the end, as you see, they were really clapping in unison for her --
And for the change Dolores' and those she inspired will bring to our nation.

Illegal Immigration... Since 1492?

2007-03-25T15:03:00.000-06:00

We are German. Irish. Polish.

We are Italian. Swedish. French.

Some of us are English. Hungarian. Romanian.

Many of us are African. Asian. Middle Eastern.

You see it everywhere -- one of the biggest "liberal" arguments for immigration.

"Illegal immigration since 1492."

We've all been there. Or stemmed from people who have been there. We all, in a sense, are daughters and sons of immigrants somewhere in our history because none of us were originally here. We all come from people who sacrificed to be here -- whether it was in time, money, health, history, family... Sacrifices, somewhere, were made.

That is why many say we, as children of immigrants, are here in the U.S. today.

The images are everywhere... from the media to cartoons to merchandise. Everyone seems to be making a statement in some way or another:

Many political cartoonists also have taken the opportunity to poke fun at, what some may say, is hypocritical of our society. Forbidding immigrants, when we ourselves are immigrants here?

There are even t-shirts that can be purchased, at places like Cafepress.com:

Whether you agree or not -- the argument is hard to ignore.
After all, it seems to be everywhere.

Maybe even in our own reflections.

All images found through Google images. None were taken or drawn by Kari Shaffer.

Everyone's a Little Bit Racist.

2007-03-13T03:17:00.000-06:00
Racism and judgments are everywhere you look.

They cannot be escaped and most of us make those judgment calls without even realizing we are making them. How many times have you found yourself on a darker street when you were alone, and felt yourself tense up at the sight of a stranger -- particularly one of another race? Maybe it doesn't even have to do with race as much as body type. If someone's dressed a certain way or walking/holding themselves a certain way -- most of us at least tense up a bit. We make a judgment call based on stereotypes at that very moment, with no knowledge of that individual or their background.

Those stereotypes, judgments, come from everywhere around us -- from the media, television, movies, parents, aunts, uncles, friends, advertisements, stories. We wouldn't feel the need to tense up if someone hadn't led us to those emotions in the first place. We are born into this world as trusting individuals, with little cause to hate or second guess anyone.

And as we grow up, we transform into judgmental people who often aren't even aware of their own hatred or misjudgments.

It's almost funny how blind people are to their own views of the world. So many of us claim to be open and understanding of multiple cultures, ethnicities, races, religions... but how many of us truly are as open as we claim to be?

Avenue Q, which won best musical in 2004, is a musical that uses Seaseme Street-esque puppets to hilariously (and often times, offensively) bring to life different issues adults face. Issues such as sex, relationships, careers... even internet porn are addressed in this brutally honest show.

Another issue Avenue Q addresses? You guessed it -- racism.

Photo property of Avenue Q.
Taken by Carol Rosegg.

The Avenue Q song, "Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" makes everyone who listens to it not only laugh -- but awkwardly aware of their own racism. The song brings more truth to one of the most difficult issues our nation faces than many songs have been capable of doing in recent years.

"Everyone's A Little Bit Racist" is a conversation sung between two characters -- Princeton and Kate Monster, with additional "neighbors" joining in on the song as it progresses. Princeton is an "average, white, fresh-out-of-college graduate" looking for work and living on Avenue Q. Kate Monster is a teacher who also happens to be... you guessed it. A monster.

A clip from the musical's official website..

Here is an exerpt from their conversation, where they even bring up judgements we make on a day-to-day basis on Mexicans in our community:

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Princeton and Kate Monster:
Everyone's a little bit racist -- sometimes.
Doesn't mean we go around committing hate crimes.
Look around and you will find,
No one's really color blind.
Maybe it's a fact we all should face --
Everyone makes judgments based on race.

Princeton:
Now not big judgments, like who to hire
or who to buy a newspaper from -

Kate Monster:
No!

Princeton:
No, just little judgments like thinking that Mexican
busboys should learn to speak goddamn English!

Kate Monster:
Right!

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

How many times have you been in a restaurant or in a drive-thru at your local Viva Burrito or Nico's or countless other places... wishing you service was done in understandable English so you could have confidence that your order was going to come out correctly?

I'm sure many of us would struggle just as much if the situation were reversed. I know I've never been good at learning second languages (and I've tried Spanish and German.) I'm not very proud to say.. after a year of Spanish and two of German... I can say very, very, very little. I can also understand even less when it's spoken to me.

The fact is -- just as the song proves -- EVERYONE'S a little bit racist. Including me. Yet trying to understand why we are that way -- and how we can change it -- all starts with acceptance.

After all, if we don't accept our own faults, we can never even begin to fix them.

"Everyone's a little bit racist -- it's true.
But everyone is just about as racist as you!
If we all could just admit, that we are racist a little bit,
And everyone stopped being so PC!
Maybe we could live in harmony!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

To listen to the entire song, which I highly recommend, you can click here.

To purchase the album or for more information on the show, visit their website at www.AvenueQ.com.

To view all of the lyrics, you can visit allmusicals.com, which lists the lyrics to countless productions and numbers... including those sung on Avenue Q.

Nogales... Part Dos.

2007-03-11T23:04:00.000-06:00
Another thing I learned during my trip to Mexico -- once we got past the wall and the images and the emotions that come with them -- was that in Nogales, there are two things to do. And both of them involve spending money -- shopping and eating.

Borderbeat's Amanda Hines, cashing in on some Mexican jewelery.

Now, when I go to New York City, I know when I hit Chinatown or Little Italy, I'd better have a lot of cash on me. Because whether I want to or not -- I'm going to end up spending it. Something will catch my eye, someone will call me over and show me all of things I am CONVINCED at that very moment I not only want, but need.

There's something more appealing about buying things in Chinatown (to me) than any other shopping area in America. For whatever reason, you are convinced you need that necklace, that wall decoration and that little trinket -- because no one else back home will have them. And that feeling, that desire, becomes even more powerful once you realize the item you were originally offered for only $20 is now down to $8. Suddenly, you feel like you've been drugged -- you can't pass up that much of a bargain! It wouldn't be the American way!

So you pull out the cash and trade it in for quality, soon-to-be-forgotten crap. Sure, sometimes you find treasures. But a lot of times, at the end of your shopping experience, part of you wonders what you are going to do with all that stuff you've refused to leave behind.

As you travel through Nogales, there are endless vendors to spend your money at.

Shopping in Nogales.

More shopping in Nogales.

Even more shopping, with two girls nestled in the corner selling items.

You could spend all day looking at different vendors.

And even more so than Chinatown or Little Italy, you are bombarded by the vendors in Nogales. As you work your way from vendor to vendor, you can't help but feel -- pressured. So many of the items are similar from block to block, yet each vendor wants you to purchase from them. It becomes more of a game -- who should you buy from? Who can guilt you into spending the most? And who just -- quite frankly -- won't leave you alone?

I can't count the number of free tequila shots I was offered or how many "Mexican boyfriends" this American girl was told she could take home. If there was ever a place that used flirting as a way to get customers, Nogales would be it. We had one middle-aged man in particular, following us from block to block, chatting with us and trying to woo us into purchasing anything he could. Finally, he let us go and we were on our way. As someone who hates when I'm bombarded at the mall by employees at the various cellphone booths, I started to grow weary very quickly of being begged and beckoned into purchasing items.

The one image you can't get past though -- is that of the little kids who walk around with trays, held by straps that are wrapped around their necks. They pretty much sell only three things -- hand woven bracelets, chewing gum and little toys -- mostly tiny, trinket animals with bobbing heads. When you look down into those eyes as they hold their tray towards your face, it's hard to resist.

There are countless other places to spend your money as well. From bakeries (don't get me started on the .50 donuts!) to leather stores to antiques to jewelry to clothing, you could find yourself spending an obscene amount of money in Mexico.

A quinceanera dress in a shop window.

Going to lunch in Nogales, was also a highlight. As we wandered around, we found ourselves in Leos Cafe.

Leos Cafe, where we had lunch.

Inside had a festive feel and within minutes of arriving, the place was packed.

A quinceñera dress in a shop window.

With so much to choose from, it was hard to decide what we wanted.

The menu at Leos Cafe.

Amanda chose coconut shrimp and rice.

Where I chose one of my favorites... tamales.

I can get tacos and burritos anywhere in Tucson -- but finding a good tamale is hard to come by. And my tamale was definitely worth the money.

Between my dish, Amanda's, an extra quesadilla, two bottles of water and two Cokes our total came out to only $15 (or 150 pesos.) Which was a great buy... only to save more money for the vendors.

In the end, I didn't come home with TOO much.

But I did manage to bring back three pairs of shoes ($29), a headband ($1.50), two necklaces ($6), a wall decoration ($8) and a full belly ($10 including tip).... bringing my total up to $54.50.

Not too bad for a day in Nogales.

"Sometimes I lie awake in the dawn with the hate for a generation that’s apathy born."

2007-03-04T12:03:00.000-07:00
Note: Turn sound on to hear music with slideshow.

This weekend, Amanda Hines and I drove down to Nogales to spend time on both sides of the border. For the first time ever, I actually stood next to the fence that separates Nogales, Ariz. from Nogales, Sonora. The messages graffitied along the Sonoran-side of the border spoke volumes -- in ways, they became works of art before our eyes.

You know, I've spent a lot of time since our visit yesterday, trying to decide how to best describe the wall and the messages sketched across it.

Sometimes though, your realize your own words simply aren't enough; sometimes you aren't even justified in trying to speak for others.

Maybe sometimes it's even best to let your photos speak for themselves, although nothing is the same as being there.

Sometimes I scream in the night,
Then robbed of the right to choose.
Wrong turnings that take us to a place,
That give us opinions and thoughts of our own.
But in truth we have known, we are robbed of the sun -
We’re robbed of the light that awakens our devil in turn.

Sometimes I lie awake in the dawn,
With the hate for a generation that’s apathy born.
I see the problem remains - when they keep us in chains,
When they hold us with vagabond remains.
Do they see us the same as the boys who came to torment them?
Do they see us the same?

Opinions at night, hold on through the fight.
Hold on ‘til we’re out of the door.
Opinions contain, they’re lost to the same -
While slipping right into their shoes.
Opinions, my love, we lost all we love,
But the love ain’t the last of us fools.
Opinions we had, opinions remain.
Opinions they gave us,
Opinions they’re all just the same.

Sometimes I wait for a cry from the people that hold us for fools.
Wherever it comes, its like down by the ones,
With everyone under one roof.
Whatever I say, Lord, they won’t see the day,
When it’s them and not all of us too.
I know I suspect, but for comfort I guess,
They continue like everyone of us that lays down the rules.

Opinions at night, hold onto through the fight.
Hold onto we’re out of the door.
Opinions contain, they’re lost to the same -
While slipping right into their shoes.
Opinions, my love, we lost all we love,
But the love ain’t the last of us fools.
Opinions we had, opinions remain.
Opinions they gave us,
Opinions they’re all just the same.

Opinions they’re all just the same.
Opinions they’re all just the same.

"Opinions," by Lee Broderick
Lyrics transcribed and all photos taken by Kari Shaffer

Expression (...filled with hidden truths...)

2007-02-24T23:54:00.000-07:00
I love postsecret.

If you've never been, it is one of the most popular blogs on the web today. In fact, the idea itself is genius.

It was a blog created two years ago by Frank Warren as a sort of artistic project. The idea was for people all around the country to mail in postcard-sized images with text on them (which they would create and write themselves) revealing their greatest secrets.

You know -- from serious to sad -- the thoughts you don't feel comfortable telling your closest friends, but somehow need to say.

And what started as a small project blew up into a cultural phenomenon. Thousands and thousands of these secrets pour in week after week. And each week on Sunday (or Saturday night -- if you're lucky!) Frank posts some of the "best" or "most powerful" secrets.

What does this have to do with U.S.-Mexican Border issues, you might ask? Or the Latino culture in general? Well. It's simple.

So many of the problems in this world come down to differences.

You see, within these secrets, everyone seems to be your best friend.

You can't judge the individual by how fat or tall they are, what they did or did not say at the most inappropriate of times, what background or future they have, race, religion or how 'truly' different they are from you. You can't tell whether or not they are legally here... or illegally.

At postsecret, all the differences are washed away and viewers are left to truly discover a part of themselves in someone else's secret.

The secrets are powerful. Beautiful. Heartbreaking. Hilarious.
Sometimes, they even leave you speechless.

One of my favorite post-secrets of all time even has Latino roots:

Another one, just posted this week, sparked my interest in writing this blog.

I mean, come on. Who hasn't felt that way? Who hasn't felt as if they couldn't talk to a girl/guy they liked because of something physical about them?

It then makes you start to wonder about the circumstances surrounding the secret. Why can't he talk to her? Would she not date someone of a different race? Is her family racist? What stereotypes is he fighting? Or is he just generally insecure with who he is?

And even more importantly -- who has made him feel that insecure?

Confessions

2007-02-18T21:06:00.000-07:00
I have a confession to make.

I've only spent about 30 minutes at the border in my four years at the University of Arizona.

I know, ridiculous right? How is it that I can work for an online border publication and have such little experience at the border? How can you report or reflect on something you do not truly understand?

I'm not quite sure either.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

My first (and only) trip down to Nogales was in January 2004. It was the beginning of my second semester of freshman year and my best friend, her parents, her brother & her brother's friends were in town for the weekend. We did the usual Tucson attractions, you know, Old Tucson and ...Old Tucson. Then her family decided it would be a good idea to go down to Mexico for the afternoon. The drive isn't that long and it would be really neat to spent some time down there, maybe get something to eat.

Rich, Kristen, Mike, Josh, Kari

So down to Nogales we drove. It's about an hour drive, but the time seemed to pass pretty slowly. Still, with five college kids in the car, we were able to laugh most of the way down there. Finally, we arrived and proceeded to drive over the border to Mexico.

The view from the car on the way down to Mexico.

Now, my friend's dad has always been a character. "Bob stories" are infamous and the things he says can usually catch you so off-guard you find yourself lost in tears of laughter. However, there are moments with him you know will be funny when you look back on them someday... even if that day just won't be today.

And in true Bob-form, within minutes of crossing the border Bob took one look around and decided he wasn't too comfortable in Mexico. It didn't look like there was too much to do.

View from backseat of our van in Mexico.

We U-turned the van around and sat in line for about half an hour, waiting to board back into the United States. We spent more time in line, waiting to return to the U.S., than we did in Mexico thanks to Bob. I thought Kristen's mom was going to hit him.

The vendors, walking up and down the lines of cars
who were waiting to enter the U.S.

We never even got out of the car. And thus ended my experience in Mexico...

Until now.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I've come to realize, the only way to grow and change your perspectives is to physically and mentally push yourself into situations that will help you embrace those changes. How could I possibly even begin to fulfill my duties as co-editor-in-chief of a border publication, when I've never even truly experienced the region we are writing about? Maybe I've witnessed some of the social distinctions and stereotypes in Tucson, since we are so close to those issues, but the region itself I have not even begun to uncover.

It makes you wonder though, how many people get away with writing about something they have experienced very little?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Thus begins my attempt to do more than I really have time for!

My most recent attempts include reading the following two books I purchased off of Amazon.com:

1. Enrique's Journey, by Sonia Nazario.
2. A Home on the Field, by Paul Cuadros.

The first one has been heavily recommended by my professor since day one, and I keep passing it in the bookstore on campus. The second book, A Home on the Field, was recommended by Olga Briseño who I wrote about last week; Olga hopes to have the author speak sometime this semester and it would be really fascinating to read his work before hearing him speak on the issue.

Besides, I love reading. Probably more than I love many other activities. Unfortunately school has tainted my passion for reading by sucking up my entire life and spitting it back out again with very little room (or desire) to read beyond the required textbook list. So this semester, I have been trying to read as much as I can for pleasure -- even if a book takes me a couple weeks to get through. Hopefully I will be able to make a lot more time for these two books, as I work my way through my semester. I am sure there is an endless amount of worth I can gain from both of them.

Other attempts I have made this past week include food, which I also happen to love.

Amanda Hines and I traveled down to one of Tucson's most famous Mexican restaurants El Guero Canelo to video tape our visit for Borderbeat.

I don't want to give away too much, because I'd like to leave some information for you to read in the article Katrina wrote and in the video Amanda and I captured... but it was quite the experience.

Sonoran hotdogs!

Maybe it's not exactly like being in Mexico... but any reason I can use as an excuse to go back as often as possible is a reason I am willing to accept!

Speaking of being in Mexico... that is the next trip I currently have in the works.

My friend Karla, who I referred to in my first blog, is from Nogales and is planning on taking Amanda and myself down there for three days in the beginning of March. Her parents already have an agenda planned, but Amanda and I are hoping to bring back lots of videos, photos, interviews and insights into Borderbeat upon our return.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Not that a couple of books, Mexican food and a three-day trip to the border will make me an expert on the issues that we are covering, but then again -- ANY great work does not simply come together in the matter of a day or even a year. The things we can truly be most proud of are the collaboration of years worth of effort and intrigue. In ways, it is sad that it is already February. Time works against us, as deadlines come and go and work never ceases to pile up. I'd better be careful -- I may just blink and find myself in line at graduation.

I'm not going to lie -- there are times when I even wonder what we are trying to do here. But then I look back and think about the things in my life that I have been most proud of... and sure enough, every single one of those events (at one time or another) I seemed to have lost a little faith in. Yet more importantly -- every single event also forced me to carry on, even when I was unsure. And carrying on, even when you are unsure of where you are headed, can produce the most satisfying of results.

All photos taken by Kari Shaffer.

The Influence We Have

2007-02-11T14:36:00.000-07:00
As journalists, we have a lot to take into consideration.

It’s not specifically the information, but more importantly it’s how we choose to handle the information that matters most.

Our voice, our writing has the possibility of influencing opinions far more than we may even realize at times. Simple words or phrases can trigger anything from a stereotype to a powerful emotion or image.

It was probably the biggest lesson I would learn this week. And it was a lesson I didn’t even think I needed to learn; but I did.

This week, I sat down with Olga Briseño, the creator and director of the Media, Democracy and Policy Initiative at the University of Arizona. I had originally scheduled a meeting with her in order to connect myself with possible interviews of people I might not otherwise have access. Olga is a fascinating woman, one I instantly had respect for the moment I entered the room. However, the people she has encountered and befriended not only stunned me, but really intimidated me. It made me question whether or not I was getting in way over my head.

From Pulitzer-prize winners to tragic childhood stories, the names and histories she discussed with me fully opened my eyes to the significant issues Latinos are dealing with in the media today.

You know, there are very few times I can recall here at the UA when a faculty or staff member sat down to spend almost an hour and a half with me – especially when they really had no reason to do so. Olga was not my professor, not my mentor. But even within the period of time we spent together it felt like she became one.

Olga made it clear from the beginning she wanted to make sure I understood the significance of the issues we were trying to uncover. Every story has an angle that can be spun, every piece has a way it can be written to influence readers.

Simple words can manipulate.

She started with the basics. “Illegal aliens.” The term is not only widely controversial, it is extremely offensive. To compare human beings with something so foreign that they are not even of the same world is us is not only offensive – but disgusting.

Simply searching the term “illegal aliens” can bring up several news publications around the country – including The Stamford Advocate and the Washington Times as just two examples. Imagine, instantly being able to google "illegal aliens" and two publications popping up right away who, as recent as last month, used “alien” to describe illegal immigrants. Quoted or not – the term is being repeated by the media and reinforced in everyone’s minds.

Also imagine how much it stung when I reread some articles we had been editing and realized I too had overlooked some reporters’ use of the term. I guess I had just heard it so much that in simple editing, it had gone unnoticed – by the reporter, the copy editors and myself.

Next Olga asked me how many times I had heard “packed” to describe immigrants. For example, it has been said before there multiple times in the news that a truck was found packed from top to bottom with illegal entrants crossing the border. But, she asked me, do you pack meat – or people?

Without even realizing it, we are treating them again as something less than the human beings they are.

Yet when terms like that slip in, it is hard to erase it from the average person’s mind. I had even grown somewhat accustomed to it.

She also used the term “herded.” We’ve all heard it before too (no pun intended.) We’ve actually heard that “illegal entrants were herded up” by police as if they were some sort of cattle being brought in for slaughter. Human beings cannot be herded… especially back across the border.

But these mindsets we allow to slip in through journalism have a ripple effect across the nation; an effect that will only grow until someone puts a stop to it.

Last week, when my interview fell through, I headed out across campus to interview random students, faculty and visitors about their thoughts on illegal immigration. The opinions/viewpoints were pretty much what I expected. Some greatly supported the immigrants, while others claimed a fence would solve all of our problems. Some even claimed illegal immigration wasn’t even a problem at all. But some of the people who claim a fence would solve the problem, really just got under my skin.

Although my first interview is still in the process of being set up, I feel as if I’ve already learned more than enough from my meeting with Olga to help better Borderbeat. Now that I have had my eyes opened a little more, I will be able to more critically analyze what information is being gathered, how it is being used and how it is being interpreted.

They are not illegal aliens, herded up and then packed into the back of a van. Legal or not, they still remain human just as we all do. And all humans deserve even just a little bit of respect.

The Reality of Journalism

2007-02-04T20:18:00.000-07:00
Procrastination is what has driven me through all 13 years of elementary, middle and high school -- that and talking, which is probably why I ended up procrastinating so much.

And I talk a lot.

I’m not going to sit here and say I don’t procrastinate anymore, now that I’m in college.

That would somehow imply I’m not normal, because pretty much everyone in college procrastinates. Just in the same way everyone in college naps. God, I love naps! I just took one tonight, even though I’ve been a tad busy.

See? Even in a blog entry I can procrastinate… even while I’m actually writing it.

And the point I was trying to get around to making (before I started procrastinating, which reminded me of naps, which I really wanted to take today and never got the chance to take) was this: sometimes, procrastination is frustrating.

I had my first interview set up for my first “Faces” profile. It couldn’t be until Tuesday afternoon, because of scheduling conflicts, but I figured I could handle Tuesday.

When is the story due? Wednesday. But I figured I could devote myself to the story that day – really dive into the interview, pull it together and pump out the material. After all, I had no other choice. My source could only meet that time and as a journalist, I have to make it work.

…Until the source called and left a message on Sunday night, saying we couldn’t meet on Tuesday because something came up.

Fantastic.

Now, where procrastination used to drive me, it now terrifies me. I live a busy life, I have a lot of responsibilities and a lot of times where I dedicate myself to things I really don’t have time for. But I make them work. I adjust my life and throw things around and come up with the time.

Since high school, I’ve become a much better judge of my time. I’m always on time for work (even if I always feel as if I’m running late) and I always have assignments turned in. I keep my commitments because I believe in them. Yet in journalism, I know commitments cannot always be kept and sources sometimes flake out.

So here I am, two days from deadline with a full day ahead of me on Monday; a day which holds pretty much no time for throwing together a story.

I guess we’ll see how the story unfolds. Maybe I’m just meant to tell a different story, or tell the one I was planning at a different time.

Either way – I have a deadline in my near future.

And prepared or not – I’m committed.

Holding the Mirror

2007-01-28T15:52:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been so afraid of failing at something, you find yourself having a hard time even trying?

I am currently planning and organizing my first "Faces" interview for Borderbeat. I've contacted some different Hispanic organizations on campus, to get a better idea of who I should interview, which direction to take, etc. Hopefully I will be able to get in contact with one of the organizations by Monday so I can try to arrange my first interview for no later than Friday.

But I'm nervous. And I shouldn't be. Especially going into journalism, this is something I need to get over and fast. Yet I don't think its the actual interviewing part that worries me every time, as much as it is the pressure to truly reflect the characters and values of those I'm interviewing.

It is so easy to spin an article, so easy to have your writing shift and instantly alter the reflection of those you have sat down with. They will have done their part by taking a couple hours to sit down with me and tell their life story -- but the bulk of the pressure falls upon me to adequately represent them.

That is what Borderbeat is all about to me, essentially -- adequately reporting and representing the people and the issues our nation are facing as far as immigration is concerned. It's a huge responsibility, especially at such a young age. I know we aren't the only ones out there reporting on these issues, but somehow to me, if even only one person's views are altered by reading something which will eventually be put up on the site, then we have been successful.

After all, it's hard to overcome stereotypes. They're everywhere. They are on television, on the Internet, in advertising, in conversation. Everywhere you turn, it is easy to find someone discussing border issues in a light-hearted matter. But sometimes the light-heartiness really has undertones of hatred; the hatred which shouldn't be allowed in a society that bases its beliefs in "all men are created equal."

It is funny to look back on our history and see how we've gone from an open melting pot to a country who views differences and other races as an issue that can be best resolved with heavily guarded borders, walls and deportation.

When I mentioned light-hearted jokes being everywhere you look...
I decided to look around YouTube.

It's amazing how far our nation has come, isn't it?

That is why I hope with each "Faces" profile I do (as well as each article published on Borderbeat), the mirror we are holding as a new-born publication is an accurate reflection of our subjects.

Reflections, after all, shouldn't lie -- they should only project the truth.

Truly Divided? Walls I've Built Up & Torn Down

2007-01-21T18:10:00.000-07:00

There are pivotal moments most people can remember that directly links to when their perspectives changed, be it over current events, social issues, beliefs or the likewise. At least, that’s how it goes in my life.

Really until May 2003, I had held extremely stereotypical, conservative views of homosexuality, mostly because of the environment I had grown up in and my parents’ religious foundation. I’m not proud of saying my opinions were formed originally because of my parents, but at the end of the day – it’s the truth.

(The neighborhood I grew up in near Pittsburgh.)
Not that I was hateful by any means, but I definitely felt the undertones of superiority which can only be felt by somewhat sheltered, white girls in middle class America. I had relatives that used (and sometimes, continue to use) slurs against every minority group out there. From nigger, to faggot, chink, wetback -- family members who I do know and love have used them all.

Some people just refuse to change; too set in their ways by their parents and their grandparents before them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yet my opinions were completed turned around towards the end of my high school years. It was after 2 a.m. E.S.T. and I had been on the phone with one of my best friends for hours already. After casually making a joke in reference to him being gay, there was the silence which I knew would change our relationship forever.

That night was the night he told me he was pretty sure he was bisexual, and then eventually he came out as gay months later.

Suddenly, I was the defender of gay people. I began to look at the issue in a whole new light – mainly because, someone I was extremely close to and cared about was being faced with his reality and people’s stereotypical perceptions of him.

Essentially, the same reasons I changed my awareness of Mexicans and immigration issues solely comes down to one undeniable truth: when an issue becomes extremely personal to someone, usually only then are they willing to see the world's biggest issues in a different light.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I had never had a Mexican friend until I moved to Tucson. That is just how it is. Whatever culture shock I might have had when I first moved here quickly dissipated as I became immersed in the culture that surrounded me everyday. When your life changes, sometimes you just change with it.

But once I moved to Tucson and fell in love with those who have come from Mexico, only then did I truly begin to see how beautiful their culture is inside and out.

(Daniel and Karla, two of my best Tucson friends.)
Suddenly, when people on the news or in the classroom tried to say immigration issues could best be solved with a wall, or a crack-down system, I imagined the friends I loved and adored being forbidden.

Or even worse... never having been here at all.

Their faces are the ones I see when I listen to culturally-blinded people insisting that no Mexicans are the best kinds of Mexicans.

Freedom of speech isn't always such a wonderful thing, is it?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first “Mexican-American” I guess you could say I fell in love with was Norberta. She triggered my initial alteration in my own Mexican-American perspective.

She is one of the fulltime employees at the convience store I work at on campus. To this day, she is perhaps one of the most loving individuals I have ever known. Hardworking and friendly, there are very few times I have ever seen this woman at work without a smile on her face – and I’ve worked with her for over three years now.

Basically, Norberta is just one of those women you meet but never forget. I’ve received more hugs from her than any other employee I’ve ever worked with; when she asks how you are doing, she truly cares about your answer. She’s also a woman of faith, which shows since I’ve never known her to say anything mean about anyone.

Norberta is not only loved by the entire staff – but truly lives her life to its fullest, no matter where she is or what she is doing. Perhaps that is what I admire most about her.

(Norberta, with another employee, Spring 2003.)
She would soon be just the first of many. Being so close to the border for eight months out of the year, I’ve come to know many, many Mexicans who have proven to be everything their stereotypes are not.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Slowly, but surely, over four years I began to uncover the reality that a person cannot be defined by where or how they were raised, only how their actions and words give birth to their truest identity.

We already have enough walls around our country and its people –

The walls stereotypes help build which continue to divide us all.

Old Reflections; Being Forced to Take a New Look

2007-01-14T14:32:00.000-07:00
I grew up in a small town, southwest of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

In fact, I don't even say Finleyville, because I know you will have no idea where it is.

I never moved; I lived in the same house my entire life. My grandparents lived across the street. The kids I went to kindergarten with became the young adults I filed in line with as we marched across the football field to accept our high school diplomas.

"Border related issues" were never something which caught my full attention. Personally, the border was not something that affected my everyday life. But still, I carried the same stereotypical ideals that many people in America still hold as truth -- the supposed "truth" in which everyday, more and more (uninvited, unemployed, unmotivated) Mexicans are flooding into our already jam-packed nation.

I believed, as many do, those people are the same people that are raising crime rates in America, stealing jobs from our own citizens, taking money from our nation and transferring it back into their own. Those "lazy Mexicans" are sometimes seen as bugs, rats to the "superior" citizens of this nation -- rats that are uninvited, unwanted and undesirable.

Yet when I moved to Tucson, Arizona to attend the University of Arizona, the stereotypes began to quickly disappear. Suddenly, I lived in an entirely different community than I was used to; and I began to discover the same truth that lies within every country, race, culture and heritage: the truth being that we as a people tend to define and stereotype. We place people in boxes, refuse to look past the faces and into the true reflections of a person's spirit.

I have met countless individuals in this area who have not only required me to change my perspective on our border issues, but to truly embrace our melting pot status as a nation. It is how the US was conceived after all and it is how we are able to grow.

I'm not here to say the border issues can quickly be resolved. I'm not claiming that some political position is right or wrong. What I am here to do, with my weekly column at Borderbeat.net, is to take a deeper look into the reflections I have encountered in our enchanting desert.

My reflections on the people I have interviewed and come to know will soon fill the entries of this blog.

Hopefully, my reflections will change your outlook on one of the groups we tend to stereotype the most -- our very own border crossers, our newest American neighbors.

And still quite possibly -- our soon to be discovered friends and family.