#undocunation

[latinarebels]

Mija, haven't you learned by now that there are fields of soldados swimming through your veins. #undocunation

[youngist]

Fighting to Stay: “If 11 million people lost fear, everything would look different”

by Camila Ibanez | Youngist is proud to co-publish this in partnership with Waging Nonviolence.

Carla Garcia spray-painted butterflies surrounded by the words  "migration is beautiful.” — Photo via Shutterstock

Last month, Carla Garcia and I sat in the middle of a conference room of the Mexican Federation community center in Salt Lake City, Utah. Garcia, whose name has been changed to protect her immigration status, was cutting out a stencil in the shape of a monarch butterfly surrounded by the words “migration is natural.”

“I want to see these on every sidewalk,” she said, smiling as she looked up. “Wouldn’t that be so beautiful?”

By seven o’clock, more women filtered into the conference room for a meeting of the Salt Lake Dream Team, an organization that was created to pressure Congress to pass the Dream Act after Senator Orrin Hatch presented it in 2001. Since the legislation’s introduction, the Dream Act has gone to the Senate floor multiple times, although never with enough votes to pass. Ironically in 2007, the year it came closest to passing, Hatch missed the vote in order to attend his grandson’s graduation. With many Dreamers increasingly disillusioned about politics and legislation, the Salt Lake Dream Team transformed into a group of mostly undocumented women focusing on stopping deportations on their own.

Garcia finished her stencil as Ana Canenguez arrived. A mother originally from El Salvador, she’s currently the focus of the Dream Team’s campaign to force ICE to use prosecutorial discretion to keep families together in the United States. The plan is to demand lawmakers present a private bill to grant the family legal residency — a last-resort step that comes only after all other forms of relief have been exhausted. This reality is true for the Canenguez family, who has applied for every immigration solution, including Deferred Action and asylum. All of her applications were denied.

Rebecca Hall, a retired law professor at University of Utah, explained the ideological challenge migrants face when applying for legal residency.

“The U.S-legal system cannot contemplate the fact that there is worldwide economic injustice that we have created through our neoliberal system,” she said. “And that’s why people need to leave (their countries of origin) … The legal system doesn’t even think that way. That’s not even considered a truth.”

“Senator Hatch is our main target, “ said Angie Rodriguez, another member of the Salt Lake Dream Team. To win a private bill for the Canenguez family, the group must persuade a member of Congress to present it on the floor. He’s the only representative in Utah with an even mildly pro-immigration platform, and he’s known for having a soft spot for families.

“We are first asking the ‘proper way,’ setting up meetings and such,” Rodriguez continued. “But knowing politicians, it will take a little persuading before any decisions are made,” she added, as the rest of the group giggled.

According to Rodriguez, a person’s immigration status can be changed instantly, a success they’ve already experienced in previous cases. Take, for example, the deportation case of the Avelar sisters.

“Our targets were Hatch and the field officer from ICE in our region,” Rodriguez recalled.

After a large press conference in downtown Salt Lake City, the sisters received a phone call from their lawyer saying that their case had been dropped.

“Apparently ICE received a call from the Attorney General of Utah telling them to use prosecutorial discretion to drop the deportation case,” Rodriguez said. “Just like that their deportation case was dropped.”

It’s hard to leave your children

When President Obama took office in 2008, the Department of Homeland Security publicly began prioritizing the deportation of immigrants with criminal records — even as it began rapidly accelerating the rate of deportations overall. In August 2010, the same administration issued a detailed policy telling ICE agents to try to avoid deporting parents of children under the age of 18. But even with these two policies enacted to place “focus on sensible immigration” — as Obama frequently declares in speeches — many who don’t fit this description still end up trapped in the system.

Canenguez, who first came to the United States in 2003, is a clear example of this oversight.

“It’s very hard to leave your children,” she explained during the meeting. “But you know what’s worse? You get up, your children say they are hungry, and you don’t have anything to give them to eat.”

Eight years after Canenguez first moved to New York City in order to earn money to send back to her family, two of her sons, Job and Geovanny, were becoming young men in El Salvador. At 13 and 15 years old, they found the pressures of joining a gang slowly consuming their lives and the constant harassment distracting them from their studies. Canenguez, by then living in Utah, had just enough money to hire a coyote to bring them into the United States. They were caught walking through the arid Arizona desert. After being detained for weeks, the two teenagers were released. They joined their mother in Utah but were placed immediately in deportation proceedings.

Even with her two sons scheduled to be deported back to El Salvador, Canenguez took comfort in being reunited with them. She fell in love, got married and gave birth to two U.S.-born children, now 6 and 7. And although she had two more young sons in El Salvador, she believed it would be a couple of more safe years until the gangs found them suitable for recruitment. Unfortunately, those years came sooner than expected.

Canenguez had been gone from her village for nine years when she received a call from one of the gangs. The message was clear: They would kill her sons unless she wired $25,000. Instead, Canenguez decided to raise the money to hire a coyote and bring them to the United States. Mario and Erick, who at the time were 12 and 10 years old, were caught at the border and placed in a Mexican orphanage, spurring Canenguez to cross into Mexico to begin what would become a long battle to get her children back.

Two months later they were released into her custody. She hired yet another coyote to help them cross back into the United States. After walking through the desert for miles, Canenguez realized she was running low on food and water. Fearing death, they decided to turn themselves in. After being detained for week, the three were finally allowed into Utah. Facing the same fate as her other two sons, Canenguez, Mario and Erick found themselves in removal proceedings.

“Before I had the help (of the Salt Lake Dream Team), one lawyer told me to go into hiding,” explained Canenguez. “That was my only option. And for one moment I was seriously thinking about it. My family and I would change states, and we would live in fear until the police caught us. Hiding like criminals.”

I was detained once

Within the year, the Obama administration will have deported a record two million people since 2008. Even as immigration reform once again becomes a White House priority, thousands of people are deported daily. This stalling by politicians has sparked widespread actions, from the “March for Dignity and Respect” that took place in more than 100 cities earlier this fall to the ICE shutdowns occurring across the country.

“It’s obvious the immigration system is broken,” Garcia said, as we road our bikes back from the meeting, stencils in hand. “Ana’s case has received a lot of media attention. Hopefully that will show people who would usually be complacent that they can speak up with their community behind them.”

I remembered what Canenguez had said during the meeting about reform for the other 11 million undocumented migrants in the United States. “We need to lose fear of speaking out …  It would be beautiful if the 11 million lost fear. Everything would look different. The more people that lose fear, the more power we have. In unity there is power.”

As we talked, Garcia stopped in a dimly lit area.

“You know, I was once detained,” she said quietly, looking over her shoulder before pulling the can out of her bag. “There were women in there from Poland, Mexico, two from Africa and a few from Brazil,” she continued while spray-painting her monarch butterfly on the sidewalk.

“I remember one day I French-braided my hair. One woman warned me to take it out; she said that the guards would think someone did it for me. But at the same time, she was really excited I knew how to do it. She asked me to braid her hair later, since it had been a while since someone has come through that knew how to,” she said.

She explained how they set up a lookout system and hid in the corner farthest from the guards. “I quickly made two braids and we used loose elastics from our socks as a hair tie,” she said. The no-braids rule was strictly enforced to stop romantic relationships, Garcia explained. But it was also to ensure there was no bonding, of any sort, between the detainees.

She stood up to admire the freshly painted butterfly and smiled. “First it’s braids,” she said. “Then it’s revolt.”

[youngist]

Until the President Stops Deportations, We Will Stop Them Ourselves

by Camila Ibanez | Waging Nonviolence

Six people chained themselves together and shut down the Eloy immigrant detention center Monday - Photo via Immigrant Youth Justice League/Isaac Steiner

Monday morning I woke at dawn and drove an hour from Phoenix to the small town of Eloy, Arizona. It was pretty warm already and I knew the Arizona sun would only grow hotter. I grabbed my bandana and prepared to chain myself to the entrance of one of the largest detention centers with the worst reputation in the United States. There were six of us in all — two men and four women. One was 16-year-old girl named Sandy Estrada. Her brother was detained inside.

“I am doing this so he and everybody else in there knows that we support them,” she said. “Obama has the power to keep families like mine together. He hasn’t done a thing.”

Eloy has enough beds for 1,600 people and has already had two men commit suicide inside this year. The prison was responsible for the placing of six of the Dream 9 — student activist who attempted reentry into the United States as protest July — insolitary confinement. The prison is run by Corrections Corporation of America, whose reported revenue has doubled throughout the 2000s as the federal government has contracted it to hold an increasing number of undocumented immigrants.

Another one of our group was a father of two children. As hours passed, he chanted “undocumented and unafraid!” and “nos tienen miedo porque no tenemos miedo,”which means, “they are scared of us because we aren’t scared.” Our bodies were locked together tightly, and if one of us moved too quickly we would all feel the pain of the heavy chains. The cops push us aggressively from time to time, but they said that with all the cameras around they wouldn’t dare arrest us. We remained wrapped in chains under the Arizona sun until we learned that Eloy Detention Center had shut down for the day. We returned to Phoenix after promising the guards we would be back until Eloy was closed forever.

 My journey to Eloy began four days earlier when I made my way to Arizona from Utah upon hearing very publicly about the shutdown of an immigration detention center. What intrigued me was the fact that there was absolutely nothing secretive or hidden about the upcoming action. People advertised the shut down in posters on Facebook and videos on YouTube. They put it out everywhere.

I had to get to Arizona in order to find out what kind of organizers would dare to be so transparent about direct action.

The planned events were part of the #not1more campaign pressuring President Obama to take administrative relief and put a stop to the deportations. Obama, who has been called Deporter in Chief by various migrant rights organizations, has deported nearly 2 million people during his time in office. With immigration reform stalled and no sign the deportation rate would slow down, #not1more decided to put together a conference for people around the country to share information and ideas on how to stop deportations themselves.

I was confused when I arrived at the immigration center in Phoenix and saw tons of children running around and grandparents lounging in the shade. When La Migra is mentioned in migrant communities, what comes to mind isn’t children playing and relaxation, and the atmosphere was jarring given the location. The center is where immigrants are brought and processed after a raid and are then transferred by bus to nearby for-profit detention prisons like Eloy.

The sunbathing grandparents didn’t match my conception of who normally orchestrates direct actions. Was this really the group that had declared it was going to “shut down ICE”?

The two-day conference featured breakout groups on topics such as cop watch and fighting deportations. All the discussions included an overwhelming number of parents and grandparents. During the last day of the conference Amelia Castianos stood up during a break out group and explained, “Immigration reform occurs each time we challenge the unjust laws. Immigration reform occurs each time we do an action.”

At one o’clock on Monday, 500 people gathered and marched to the ICE office. An impromptu fiesta broke out with flores de papel and music. It felt like a neighborhood block party. Anticipating the publicly advertised shutdown, the office had already shuttered for the day. In celebration, we hung a big banner in front of the offices declaring: “SORRY, WE ARE CLOSED BY THE PEOPLE.” Parents and children began to dance in a conga line. People placed colorful posters around the fence as police squads watched.

Across the country, protest and unity has been growing among immigrants and allies, making it harder for the politicians in Washington to ignore the issue. A week ago, 12 activists locked themselves to the wheels of an immigration bus, stopping operation streamline deportations for a day. One week before that, an estimated 100,000 people marched in every major city in the United States.

“Every day we are standing up to fight, organize and mobilize our people,” Castianos said. “The people in detention centers know they are not alone. They know that there are people outside that love them and are fighting for them.”

I didn’t bring any personal identification for the Eloy action because I knew that the other five were undocumented and didn’t have U.S.-issued IDs. While I was born in the United States, my indigenous parents migrated to Utah from Bolivia when my older siblings were young children. I was taught to assimilate and to never speak Spanish. God forbid I have any brown friends. I was told to try my best to be white. (I don’t begrudge my parents this upbringing. After realizing how hard it would be for them to move up in U.S. society, they wanted at least someone in the family to have a chance at their American Dream.) Fortunately, no matter how hard I was pressured to blend in with the overwhelmingly Caucasian state, the color of my skin made me find comfort in others that looked like me. Befriending other children of immigrations, who also had parents that worked multiple jobs and got paid very little, became my connection to my family’s past. I resolved to stand in solidarity with them — in any way possible.

Before traveling to Arizona, I had been organizing for migrant rights for years. But the Arizona trip felt more invigorating, more reenergizing than usual actions and protests. I struggled to identify why until finally, it hit me.

Those days weren’t about theory; they were about everyday life. From the Phoenix processing center to the Eloy prison, people weren’t challenging the legitimacy of the border based on a theoretical analysis or political ideology. Instead, these actions are what these communities simply call survival.

“Undocumented people can get picked up by border patrol in Tuscan just by asking for work on the corner,” said Tania Unzueta from National Day Labor Organizing Network. “So a lot of people view it as, ‘If I am going to get picked up by police [anyway], this is on my own terms and part of a larger movement struggle.’”

Throughout my time in Arizona, I could feel that the resistance is alive — alive in the hearts of the frontline communities. It is alive when a Dominican grandfather tells me that direct action is the “only way to continue la lucha.” It is alive in the building of communities through dinners and parties. It is alive each time we dance bachata ycumbia on ICE property. It is alive each time we speak our languages. The resistance is so alive that the more people try and stifle the voices the stronger the voice gets. It is alive every time we don’t wait for Washington and instead do the work ourselves. As we continue to move forward with the campaign, the motto has become, “Until the President stops deportations, we will continue to stop them ourselves.”

[pleasurekilledthevibe]

I'm working on a documentary series about my family, here is the first vid!

  A short and sweet recap of an amazing meal spontaneously prepared by my Uncle, a huge role model of mine. We are a family of immigrant from Guatemala and have struggled to find time in this country to have quality time for most anything, so every moment spent, with family especially, is too precious not to record.

[mgutierrezjr]

austin, tx

undocumented and unafraid.

[youngist]

The Movimiento Nacional de Pendejos y My Poem

Or, How DREAM activists Pulled Off the Common App Hoax

By David Ramirez and {Young}ist

David Ramirez speaking to NCORE as fake Communications Director of Common App

It took several months, almost a dozen people and several organizations (including Immigrant Youth Justice League, Freedom University and Fair Common App) to plan and execute the prank on Common Application Inc. – tricking three news outlets into spreading fake news that the corporation responsible for facilitating college application submissions had changed its policies towards undocumented students and issued a formal apology to the undocumented community. 

Information was received Tuesday evening that the video released on Thursday was of me, an undocumented activist, poet and a member of the Georgia 8. I did this because I am undocumented, my community is undocumented, and my community is under attack by the Common Application, which is stealing the hopes and dreams of my undocumented brothers and sisters across the country. I made the announcement because it needed to be said. I hope the Common Application repeats it word for word in the coming days.

This The Yes Men-style action was organized by myself and a group of self-described “undoculovers” in order to call attention to the barriers undocumented students face in all educational institutions – not merely Common App. Now it’s everybody else's turn to rise to the occasion as a movement, take action, and engage in purposeful dialogue to move people to the Left, in the direction of the immigrant justice movement.

I also want to posit this as an opportunity for people to critique their caper and employ ever-more creative, innovative actions. Several tactics have been employed by the immigrant rights movement and this is the freshest and best intersection of art and activism that we’ve have been able to produce.

This action is a prime example of the bravery, innovation and determination undocumented youth and our allies have brought to the migrant and educational justice movements. Signing on to the action because of its part in a broader organizing strategy – one that included clear, winnable, and deeply-felt objectives, identification of targets who could give activists what they want, and selection of tactics that would get activists closer to their goals – I agreed to impersonate the Common App Communications Director. 

My performative embodiment of Daniel Vargas, a wry caricature of American citizen and corporate elite, received press from the likes of Colorlines.com, VOXXI and Cuentame as if the Common App decision was real, and was trolled by a Huffington Post journalist on Twitter. 

Because of Georgia’s ban on undocumented youth enrollment in public universities, most undocumented students’ only option is to apply to private colleges. Unfortunately, over 400 of the private colleges partnered with Common App routinely discriminate against undocumented applicants by labeling them “international,” guaranteeing them a separate, unequal admissions process. According to one study, as few as 5% of undocumented students ever attend college. 

I have extended an invitation to Common App Executive Director Rob Killion to meet with them at the Georgia-based Freedom University, a volunteer-run project offering free college-level classes to undocumented students. Killion has not responded to my offer to discuss the hopes and struggles of undocumented students.

Reactions to my speech have varied, but the undocumented youth activist community has been overwhelmingly supportive of the action and view targeting of Common App as an important step in the fight for immigrant rights and educational justice. 

Mitzy, an undocumented Freedom University student, commented: "The Common Application oppresses our community, segregates our nation's higher education system by immigration status, so our community is fighting back. I feel like the headline should read 'Brown v. Board retracted: Supreme Court Blames Activists for Hoax Ruling.’"

My poem:

The Movimiento Nacional de Pendojos y Mamones Unidos, the organization I am president of, takes full responsibility for the planning and execution of this action. Jose Salaazar, acting Vice-President, was integral in building consensus amongst our members. He acted with such fierce competency that he gambled his position amongst our ranks.

DreamActivist Louisiana found us housing in New Orleans, our trip was guided by God himself, and our safety was secured by our love for one another. Together we march still. Marching marching marching marching. My name is Jorge Mena when he wears a beret, my father is Juan Mangandi, and I invite you to come out like me. Milk and Dada and a chorus of the merriest of illegal-lovers.

Extended thoughts: I think here we should move in the direction of our parents. By which I mean my undocumented ones. Let’s resonate with both demographics represented by each of yours when we consider messaging. Is that clear? We’re moving in the direction of inclusion in the ongoing immigration debate. Immigrants are a construction. “Undocumented immigrants” is our new base. We’ve come a way from “illegal-alien.”

Text Transcript

"COMMON APP" PRESS RELEASE:

The Common Application, Inc. announced two changes to the upcoming version of the Common App, the college application used by high school students across the country. The 2013-2014 version of the Common App (CA4) will become available Aug. 1, 2013 and will include these changes: 

"Undocumented American” will be added as an option in the demographics portion.

“Undocumented status” will be added to The Common Application Inc.’s non-discrimination clause, which legally binds the 527 member institutions who accept the application (2013-2014).

COLORLINES.COM ORIGINAL POST:

Undocumented students won a major victory in their fight for higher education access last week. On Thursday, The Common Application, Inc. the organization which organizes the unified college application students can use to apply to over 400 colleges, issued a formal apology to undocumented students who they’ve excluded from their work and materials for 35 years.

COLORLINES.COM UPDATE: Common Application Director of Outreach Scott Anderson has confirmed to Colorlines that no changes have been made to their widely-used college application. “The Common Application has not made any announcement regarding undocumented students,” said Anderson. Anderson also confirmed that despite a splashy announcement to that effect made at a higher education conference by a person claiming to be named Daniel Vargas claiming to be employed by the organization, “There is no one named Daniel Vargas on our staff or Board of Directors.”

The announcement of the changes is a hoax. Late Tuesday activists revealed that Daniel Vargas is in fact David Ramirez, an undocumented immigrant and activist. Ramirez addressed participants at the National Conference on Race and Ethnicity in Higher Education last week posing as a representative of the 35-year-old organization. Ramirez also claimed to be the communications director for the organization in a press release, which included a fabricated quote from Killion.

VOXXI also released a correction early this morning:

Late Tuesday the Common Application was forced to reply. Rob Killion, Executive Director of the Common Application, stated: 'There is nothing [new to share] about the way the Common App has approached undocumented students,' and explained that undocumented students continue to be excluded from the organization’s non-discrimination clause. 

VIDEO TRANSCRIPT

DANIEL VARGAS: "It is an honor to be here at NCORE. Today is a historic day and it is fitting for this moment to take place at this conference. Represented here today are faculty and administrators from some of the most prestigious colleges across the country, many of which are members of the Common Application. The Common Application and NCORE share a commitment to the values of equality, integrity, and access within American higher education.

"I am here today to announce two changes to the Common Application that will greatly increase college access for an entire community. But before I reveal what the future has in store, I need to address the past. Not too long ago, it was brought to our attention that we, The Common Application, were not upholding our own values. Today we apologize to the undocumented American community for years of discrimination.

"Every year thousands of undocumented students learn what it fully means to be undocumented when they realize that they have a 5% chance of attending college. Yes, according to one study, currently only 5% of undocumented youth ever attend college. A key reason for this is because private colleges unfairly and inaccurately label undocumented Americans as "international," which guarantees them a separate and unequal admissions process. This practice has been permitted and facilitated by the Common Application- until now.

"Today I'm here to announce that the upcoming Common Application is taking the necessary steps to make sure that all students, including undocumented students are treated fairly when it comes to college admissions. The updated demographics section will include the term "undocumented American," allowing these students to better self-identify. We are also updating our non-discrimination clause to include "undocumented status." This will ban admissions discrimination at over 400 colleges nationwide.

"In the coming days, people will call this change many things. But we gathered here know that equality is not radical but is common sense; and the undocumented American community, which is represented here today, knows that this change could not come soon enough. So for both NCORE and the Common App, our commitment to equality, integrity, and college access cannot end here. Indeed, this is where it begins. I encourage everyone here with twitter to take a second using the #UndocuEquality to show and voice your support for this change. Furthermore, I encourage all of you to help lead your institutions in welcoming this change and more importantly- in welcoming these students. Thank you."

[youngist]

Visit Original Link

It's the radicals versus the assimilationists. But wait, are we talking about the queers or the DREAMers? In this case, it's both!

Undocuqueer activist illustrator Julio Salgado discusses his political progression from painting a picture perfect portrait of undocumented students to a framework that recognizes even if your record isn't squeaky clean, you don't deserve to be deported. Highlights include:

a date with a gay Latino Republican,

using art to combat fatphobia and body-hatred,

and the "privilege" of being undocumented in California.

In We Want the Airwaves, Nia King seeks advice from other queer and trans artists of color who've figured out how to make art and make rent without compromising their values.

Keep up with Nia @artactivistnia.

[18mr]

Watch this fantastic short doc on three young undocuasians who are part of RAISE Our Story. Their diverse experiences are nevertheless bringing them together to fight for a path to citizenship!