Calling 2 countries home fact of life for many in U.S.
“Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all.” — Aristotle
I grew up in San Ysidro. The population then was under 27,000. Many who live in south San Diego County are binational U.S. citizens — literally meaning they get their health care in Mexico, but their education in the United States or vice versa. Poetically, we have one foot in Mexico and one in the United States.
As a child, I lived a 30-minute walk from Tijuana, where I would visit my cousins, aunts and uncles for the day. Then, after eating sweet bread and café
con leche (or, as we say it in the U.S., café au lait), we would say our goodbyes and I would go back to el otro lado/the other side (i.e., the U.S.). It was like going from San Francisco to Daly City, Studio City to Sherman Heights or Sacramento to West Sacramento.
When I would cross the border, the U.S. Customs and Border Protection agent at the port of entry would ask your nationality. You would say “U.S. citizen” and they would let you pass. Sometimes, if the agent felt like it, he would ask “What elementary school do you go to, Sweetie?” just to make sure you were a U.S. national. If the agent was feeling himself, he would ask for a driver’s license, passport or school ID.
Many binationals have made crossing the border a part of their life. We are not criminals. We just happen to live in a unique culture that is shared by anyone who has lived their whole life on the border of a country they happen to call home as well.
Although I haven’t lived in San Ysidro for years, I feel for my family, friends and peers who will now have second thoughts or that stinging fear in the back of their mind that they will be stopped by border agents and then held without reason by Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents for doing what they have always done — live their lives.
It is hard to explain this to someone who has never lived on the border. I know many see crossing the border as a big deal, or even dangerous. But as a binational person, I know it is not. It has never been shocking or risky. It is life. It is: Something we do because we had to — because we had loved ones who could not cross al otro lado/to the other side.
Something we needed to do — because we didn’t have health care in the U.S. and had to rely on the affordability and accessibility of Mexico’s health care.
Something we wanted to do — because our quinceañeras, birthday parties and weddings were there. Because it is our life. How can someone who lives in U.S. suburbia understand the complexities of border culture, immigration and the U.S.-Mexico boundary when one mostly hears racist epithets and criminalizing descriptive phrases toward a community of people?
Here’s how: Be empathetic. You don’t have to live by the border to respect our life and understand that we are rooted in two nations. That our blood, sweat and tears are pumped into both counties. That living so does not make us less patriotic, because we can say we love both countries. It makes us more American to admit we came from immigrants and appreciate where we came from.
People ask, “But what about the 1 percent of undocumented immigrants who ARE criminals?” Undocumented immigrants with criminal records do exist. But they are a low percentage that, unfortunately, is so over-reported as to associate a whole ethnicity with crime. Just as your neighbor or maybe your relative might have a criminal record, that does not mean your neighbor’s family or yours is full of criminals. Empower yourself with facts. The fact is: I used to cross the border almost every day. I am not a drug smuggler, but a loving cousin and niece. I am not a gang member; I was a student. I am not stealing jobs, I am a hardworking woman who got an education and a job. I am not a criminal; I have worked with juvenile detainees to further their education while incarcerated.
The fact is: The truth should not be behind a veil of equivocations.
Because it is easier to group the unknown, nameless undocumented immigrants and binationals with criminals and say they are all “bad hombres.” Because it is human nature — what we don’t understand, we fear.
It is not your fault. The narrative of “illegals,” “drug smugglers,” “criminals,” “keeping our country safe,” and “stealing our jobs” reverberated into the American political climate it is now — and it denied your empathy to steer your moral compass.
But the best part of today? You can choose what is right.
Thank you for listening to me. I needed to make my heart a little lighter.
Vanessa Nevarez is the communication officer at National Association of Hispanic Journalists Bay Area Chapter. She has lived in San Francisco, Washington, D.C., and Sacramento, but her heart remains wedged between the border wall of Tijuana, Mexico, and San Diego. To comment, submit your letter to the editor at http://bit.ly/ SFChronicleletters.