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autonomy models
Cuna tribe Cuna icons
" 10.5.00 D.Washington Valdez El Paso Times
Mexican nationality entitles someone to many of the privileges enjoyed by Mexican citizens, such as doing
business or owning property in Mexico. But nationality, unlike citizenship, doesn't entitle someone to vote, run for
political office or serve in the armed forces. To be eligible, a person must have been born in Mexico or must have a
parent who was. Mexico has granted nationality to 1,033 people in the El Paso area since the program began in
1998, said Mexican Consul Antonio Meza. "That's not bad considering that the Los Angeles area has 7,000, while
the total for the United States has reached 30,000," he said.
El Pasoan Elia Mares-Purdy, executive director of the World Trade Center El Paso/Juárez, obtained Mexican
nationality earlier this year. Her job requires her to travel back and forth across the border almost daily. "It's a lot
easier crossing into Mexico," she said. "I don't need a business visa or a tourist permit to visit the interior of
Chihuahua state." Mexico's Foreign Ministry estimated that 3 million to 6 million people in the United States are
eligible. Experts said the law could change the flows of people and money between the United States and Mexico
and might have cross-border political repercussions.
Mexican flag kindles passions pro & con
Marchers in recent protests carrying Mexican flags inflamed passions on all sides of the immigration debate. The controversy will likely fly again tomorrow, as community, religious and union groups plan to rally thousands of marchers in downtown San Diego to support legalization of undocumented immigrants.
Other organizers, however, say that the Mexican flag is too meaningful a symbol to be set aside, particularly by recent immigrants. They say the marchers should bring whatever flag they want to honor.
“It's good to see that everybody is very passionate about this issue,” said L.A. atty Tim Graney who was visiting San Diego when students marched through downtown San Diego 3.31.06. “But as compared to 3.25.06 march in Los Angeles, I think you saw many more American flags there, and I think that shows unity with the people of this country.”
For protesters, particularly students, the flag is a symbol of their heritage at a time when they feel their life in the U.S. is under attack. But the sight of protesters marching with Mexican flags has angered many people who see it as an affront to the United States, the very country by which the protesters are asking to be accepted.
Students say they mean no disrespect. The years of anti-immigrant rhetoric here and across the nation have deeply hurt them, they say. The flag is the most accessible symbol they have to show pride in their family's roots, not to assert Mexican nationalism.
The flags that have made their way onto the streets in recent protests more typically come out when Mexican immigrants display them for celebrations of their homeland's holidays or to cheer on their national soccer team.
As students made their way through Barrio Logan, neighborhood residents added to the sea of red, white and green by handing out their own Mexican flags.
Concerned that the Mexican flags waved during student marches in Oceanside were causing bad feelings and racial tension, the Oceanside Unified School District banned students from bringing flags of any kind on campus this week. The school superintendent has lifted the ban as of Monday, when the school district begins its spring break.
The use of a foreign flag in political rallies is not new. Historians point to their use during the mid-19th century as immigrant groups fought for acceptance and better living conditions.
The use of the Mexican flag during the protests was a hot topic for talk radio.
Some of the organizers of tomorrow's march have invited participants to march with the U.S. flag. They have requested that 10,000 flags be donated for the event. Javier Rodriguez, one of the coordinators of the massive march in Los Angeles, sees that idea as a hard sell, particularly among young people. |
Truxillo, 47, a professor of Chicano studies at the University of New Mexico, has said the new country should be
brought into being "by any means necessary." But in a recent interview, Truxillo said it was "unlikely" civil war would
attend its birth. Instead, he said, the creation of the Republic of the North will be accomplished by the "electoral
pressure" of the future majority Hispanic population throughout the region rather than by violence. "Not within the next 20 years but within 80 years," he said. "I may not live to see the Hispanic homeland, but by the end of the century my students' kids will live in it, sovereign and free." In the past, of course, wars have erupted when states seceded from either parent nation including the Civil War to keep the South in the Union and, in Truxillo's quick description, "the Alamo and all that," when Texas declared itself independent of Mexico. Truxillo said the Civil War settled the question of secession militarily but not in a legal sense. States do have the right to secede, he maintained, if as was untrue in the 1860s the rest of the nation is willing to let them go.
"How realistic is it? That's one of the key issues," Truxillo said of his proposal. "It's not unfeasible as a premise and
a realistic possibility when you consider global geopolitical trends. It could happen with the support of the U.S.
govt."
He said New Mexico is the first "minority-majority state" in which Hispanics and Indians and other minorities on a
national level outnumber non-Hispanic whites. U.S. census estimates of New Mexico's 1998 population: 52
percent Hispanic, Indian, black and Asian; 48 percent non-Hispanic white. The Hispanic population alone was
estimated at 40.3 percent. Texas is likely to become the next minority-majority state, Truxillo said, adding that
Hispanics are already in the majority in the border regions of all the Southwest states, largely because of a long
and continuing immigration from Mexico.
The "overwhelming bulk of Mexican immigrants are attracted by the American economic way of life," Truxillo said.
"Not as attractive to them is the American cultural way of life, but they are willing to make the exchange of
economic security for cultural anarchy.
8.23.02 Gustavo Arellano OC Weekly Outside a massive, vacant building in Anaheim, Meg Waters unloads Mexican produce from a purple Ford Ranger she calls "Barney." Waters' company, the Lake Forest PR firm Waters & Faubel, is hosting a morning news conference for Gigante, the Mexican supermarket juggernaut that ultimately obtained the building Aug. 20. As Waters arranges pastries, Ruben Smith, Gigante's legal counsel, asserts that the Latino community supports Gigante.
"You've read the letter, right?" Smith asks me. "The letter" is an Oct. 23, 2001, memo from Anaheim
Redevelopment Agency chief Elisa Stipkovich to the building's owner. In it, Stipkovich says Gigante wouldn't make
a desirable tenant, that the market would serve only Latinos, not the "wider demographic" Anaheim envisions.
Gigante claims that statement is racist and was the real reason for the city's refusal to grant the supermarket a
liquor license, a move that effectively killed Gigante's ambition. City officials say the Stipkovich Memorandum had
nothing to do with their decision; there are simply too many liquor licenses in this working-class neighborhood in
Anaheim.
Before I can tell Smith I've read the letter, Waters answers for me. From deep inside the bowels of Barney, she
says, "He doesn't believe that it says what we've been saying it does."
Today's conference is like a revival meeting, a celebration of Gigante's gentleness of spirit in the face of an evil too great to name. Maybe not that great. Everyone, including former Republican Assembly speaker, now mayoral
candidate Curt Pringle, agrees that Anaheim's move to block Gigante is about skin color.
Equally impressive is the podium from which the speakers will decry racism. It's heaped with mangoes, jícama,
Gigante-brand jams, dried chiles and soaps. Arriving English-language journalists and their support crews of
camera people, photographers, sound men and producers all stare at the exotic produce. In their hungry eyes, you can just make out the incipient breakdown of civilization.
Soon, Gigante's officers arrive in a fleet of Navigators and Acuras. Justo Frias, president of Gigante USA, sees
Waters' spread and jokes, "Wow! We don't even stock this in our stores!" Pringle pulls up and tells me he supports Gigante based solely on free-enterprise principles. The company is "a good corporate citizen everywhere," he says. "There's no reason why it shouldn't be here." Asked if his vocal support might have something to do with the power of the Latino electorate in his upcoming mayoral race, he fidgets, then replies, "That's not the political calculus I operate under" before fleeing to friendlier territory.
Amin David of the Latino civic organization Los Amigos arrives, shouting in Spanish to no one in particular, "There
will be a Gigante market here soon!" I ask David why Los Amigos supports Gigante's quest for a liquor license,
pointing out that his group has built its reputation in the war against proliferating liquor licenses. He says those
campaigns were aimed at keeping hooch hawkers away from schools.
When I point out that two schools-Adelade Price and Westmont Elementary, are down the street from Gigante, that we can almost see them, he says, "Yes, but it's beyond the 500 ft perimeter." |
What about Pringle? In 1988, Pringle, then an Assembly candidate from Garden Grove, hired private poll guards to
intimidate Latino voters on Election Day. Did not Lopez and David rail against him then? Is he not here today? "This
has nothing to do with Pringle," Lopez argues. "Anyone willing to speak out against Anaheim's refusal of Gigante is
welcome." But does he think Pringle is with them for his own political ambitions? "Everyone has their interest,"
Lopez says with a sly grin. "You have to ask him."
The press conference starts, but not before Waters tells Pringle & Lopez to stand side by side for the duration.
They suffer as we all do. The conference is a bore, a formality in which a succession of talking heads approaches
the microphone to preach the gospel of anti-racism, open borders, diversity, free markets, globalism and cheap
prices. David and Lopez accuse the city of racism (Lopez refers to the Stipkovich Memorandum as "market ethnic
cleansing"), but Pringle, a Republican, remember, eludes the charge nimbly when reporters question him. "I won't
use the same words [as Lopez]," he says, "but I feel the same sentiment."
Frias concludes the snoozefest by announcing that Gigante's CEO will fly in from Mexico to address the Anaheim
City Council on Aug. 20. And when he comes, he will teach them that local liquor-license regulations are no match
for the North American Free Trade Agreement.
But the conference ends, and I'm unchanged, unrepentant, bereft. Even when the cake comes, a monstrous pastel
de tres leches topped with cream, kiwis, pineapples and strawberries spelling out "Gigante." The press and
preachers descend on it, swallowing cake like they did Gigante's claims of injustice. Pringle shovels a generously
sized empanada into his mouth. Waters is suddenly everyone's mother, urging attendees to take food home. And
they do, pocketing the produce. A union worker cradles two mangos the size of babies; Lopez stuffs his suit
pockets with chocolate suckers.
Waters approaches me, politely offering a slice of cake, which I equally politely refuse. She insists. I finally relent
and take the chance to ask her about the media's response to her story of Little Gigante and the Racists of
Anaheim.
"I don't have to do a lot of explaining to them, except to you," she tells me. "Everyone gets it except the Weekly."
In her yellow-walled kitchen, Azucena prepares lunch of homemade corn tortillas, beans, cheese, salsa verde and
salad. The air has a slight sting from the spicy chilies in the salsa. Every few minutes, she turns to flip tortillas
warming on a stove-top griddle. In Mexico, when Azucena was carrying Jimena, now 6, she ate "everything natural,
no hamburgers." But making healthy meals was more difficult when her daughter, Sharon, was born a year later.
There were no relatives to help out while her husband and father-in-law were at work. She didn't know how to drive
or even where to get fresh food.
"With the first child I ate lots of fruits & vegetables," says Azucena, who worked as a nurse in Mexico and
would like to do the same here someday. "Pero aqui no." Traditional food was also the first thing Diana missed
when she came to U.S. from Ecuador 3 years ago. "Our food is really different," says Diana, whose second child,
Andres, was born in Sept.. "We don't like too much pre-cooked."
As soon as she gets home from her job as an administrative asst, "I start to cook," Diana says. "I'm always cooking
rice, vegetables, chicken." Even more than the food, Diana misses the web of support that encircled her when
Juan, her eldest, was born in Ecuador 9 years ago. Her parents & her two siblings, even her aunts &
uncles, were there to lend a hand and give advice. "All the family," she says. "When one of us gets pregnant, all the
family is considered, all the opinions."
Recently, she's arranged for an aunt to come live with them so she'll have help with the baby. It means their 2
bedroom apartment will be a little more crowded, but Diana doesn't mind. "In the old times, women didn't work
outside the home," she says. "But I have to work and my husband has to work. I had my mom beside me when I
had Juan Jose and she could tell me what to do. Now, I always call her."
While relatively little scholarly attention has been given to the effects on pregnancy of cultural forces like kinship
networks & religious faith, many clinic workers rank them high on the list of reasons their Latina clients have
healthy babies. Communal rituals like baptisms extended family under one roof create a welcoming climate for
babies.
It's intangibles like these that seem most vulnerable to the pressures of modern-day American life. Once cultural
supports are gone, health workers say, behaviors begin to change. For example, traditional practices like
breastfeeding and periods of rest for pregnant women & new mothers are hard to sustain when you're holding
down a low-wage manufacturing or service job.
The messages newcomers receive about mainstream culture can also work against good health. Diana was
surprised when doctors asked her whether she would be breast or bottle-feeding her new baby. "In our country, it's
always thought you will do breastfeeding," she says. "The doctors always try to do that. It's cheaper & easier."
Studies show it boosts infant immune systems and speeds the mom's post-partum recovery.
"Breastfeeding's not seen as cool or American," notes nonprofit Healthy Mothers Healthy Babies Coalition head
Laura Oberkircher. "A lot of the women become more hesitant about it." Messages come from other sources, as
well. "People arrive here and see all the worst things advertised on TV," says Latino parent educator Mary
DeCoster. "Pretty soon they're eating worse than most people here; they're actually eating Doritos for lunch."
Informal survey conducted last year by the Immigrant Health Initiative revealed that respondents were eating
between 5 & 7 meals a week at fast food restaurants. Such findings lead UNC health researcher Pierre
Buekens to this conclusion: "Acculturation is bad for babies," he says. "It's not bad for everything, but it's
bad for babies."
Researchers & community leaders agree that if left unattended, the paradox could quickly disappear.
Meaningful efforts to preserve it and improve health care generally for Latinos should take the culture of new
immigrants into account by building "upon the strong family values & connections within the Latino community"
the task force report states. Several of those approaches are detailed in the report's "best practices" section, with
special attention given to grassroots efforts to train Spanish-speaking immigrants to become their own health
educators & advocates.
When it comes to pregnancy, for example, "It's good to foster programs that continue to create networks amongst
women," says El Centro interim exec. dir. Angelina Schiovane, who runs just such a lay health adviser program.
"So maybe they don't have any longer their mother who can provide advice. But they have other friends of different
ages & experiences to continue that support network."
Such programs are a start. But more needs to be done soon health-care leaders say, if the next generation of
Latinas is to continue having healthy babies. "We need to do more learning about what are the strengths of Latinas
and develop strategies to maintain them," says Healthy Mothers Healthy Babies Coalition Oberkircher. "Because
once they're gone, it's hard to get them back."
Hilda, 18, came to U.S. from Guatemala 2 years ago with her boyfriend. Last month, she gave birth to her first
child, Rafael. He was healthy, at 6 lbs 15 oz. But her present circumstances are a sobering reminder of what the
future might hold. Hilda spends her days in a cinderblock apartment she shares with her boyfriend & 2 male
cousins.
Towels act as makeshift curtains for the windows. Water pools outside the front door and trickles across kitchen
linoleum inside. The concrete floor in the living room where she sits on an old cot cradling her son is bare &
cold. When social workers referred her to Baby Love, Hilda was hesitant about getting help. She worried that if she
signed up for the program, health officials might take custody of her baby or send her back to Guatemala.
Hilda plans to apply for food stamps & Medicaid for Rafael, whose tiny face is an echo of his mom's elfin
features. She & Elisabeth Palmer of Baby Love discuss the services he's eligible to receive. But when Palmer
asks, "What would help you most right now?" Hilda fixes on something far less bureaucratic.
"To be with family," she replies.
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