In May of 2011, ATC & FMC brought a group of musicians on a fact-finding trip to Tucson, AZ to explore the multitude of issues at play in the immigration reform debate, including the role of the criminal justice system and media rights, and to hear directly from affected communities and experts. What follows is a first-hand account written by musician and retreat participant, Martín Perna, founder of the musical groups Antibalas and Ocote Soul Sounds.
Part I: Landing
In late May of 2011 I travelled to Arizona to participate in a retreat with eight other musicians from around the country. It was bittersweet. The first night began magically in a nature and wildlife preserve in the heart of the Sonoran desert a few miles outside Tucson. Shielded from the glowing lights of the city, hundreds of stars lept at our eyes through the darkness. We filled our bellies on local food–corn, squash, nopales, beans and apple pie. At the dinner table, poet and arts administrator Roberto Bedoya and musicians Salvador Duran and Joey Burns welcomed us with stories of Tucson’s diverse and rich cultural scene of past and present. Just as we eased in to our surroundings and the food began to settle, we had to hurry to leave by 10PM so the local animals–coyotes, snakes, lizards, and birds– could get a few hours of peace undisturbed by humans. This foreshadowed the fragility and struggles that we would see over the next few days.
Part II: Backstory
Arizona has been a battleground of sorts for centuries, from the initial Spanish conquests, extermination, displacement, and enslavement of native peoples to the early 20th century when it became the landscape for the unparalleled greed and speculation of mining and agricultural barons and real estate speculators. Excluded from the spoils of this growth are the native populations such as the Pascua Yaqui (Yoeme), Seri, Tohono O’odham, Gila River Indian Community, and the Cocopah that have occupied the land for millennia, their Spanish-speaking Mexican cousins who for nearly 400 years counted Arizona as part of the northern territories of their nation, and working class European immigrant populations who were exploited and repressed alongside Mexicans and Natives in the fields and mines for the sake of Arizona’s explosive economic growth in its period as a territory and then a US state from 1912 forward.
While Arizona has always been home to migratory populations, immigration is the defining issue in the state and vigilantism and hate speech are becoming normalized in society. Before national borders were delineated, native populations and later European populations migrated northward and southward through Sonoran desert as weather patterns and economics changed. In the Mexican revolution, thousands of refugees moved north temporarily or permanently during the violence that engulfed the country. In the Great Depression, to clear land and job opportunities for whites, the US government forcibly deported over 30,000 US citizens of Mexican descent to Mexico, regardless of whether they had any family ties or even spoke Spanish. In the 1940s, as native and Latino Arizonans dutifully filled the ranks of the armed forces, the US sent to Mexico for thousands of braceros–Mexican temporary workers–to help fill labor shortages in agriculture to feed the nation during World War II. In recent years, migration to and through Arizona has increased exponentially as it continues its history as a main entry points for migrants from the Global South seeking peace of mind and economic possibilities in the United States. Many, but not all, are Mexican, fleeing drug violence and the economic hopelessness due to the negative effects of NAFTA, the machinations of US-sponsored political and economic hit men, and decades of internal political corruption.
Part III: Reality
The next morning we woke up to the ugly side of Arizona, the fearful, paranoid petri dish for extremist right wing legislation that is wholly un-American despite its empty attempts at flag waving, nationalist rhetoric and media manipulation. We visited Nogales, an ancient trading center that straddles the Arizona/Sonora, Mexico border. Nogales has no natural dividing lines between its the US and Mexican sections yet the city’s body sawed in half by innumerable steel and concrete barriers and heavily militarized checkpoints. Before we were chased away by some very touchy border guards, we touched the newly-constructed fence, a massive, imposing symbol of fear, arrogance, and amnesia. Just a few feet away on the other side, on the other side of the thick steel bars, we saw the same faces, smelled the same warm tortillas and heard the same rhythms floating through the air.
Down in the town, we visited a courageous bilingual charter school, where one of its founders explained the school’s history, mission, and its success in teaching interculturalism versus multiculturalism as a means to provide students strong foundations for cultural identity, self determination, and mutual respect. We accompanied a lively group of teachers and students to City Hall where they practiced danza, ancient Pre-Columbian dances. The rhythms from the pounding drums echoed from the concrete buildings across the street, punctuated by cars honking in solidarity. As the sweet copal smoke rose up from a seashell on the curb, the danzantes floated in step across the pavement, arms length from passing cars. A few feet away, several of us joined with students as they held large banners in English and Spanish protesting racist anti-immigrant laws and the whitewashing of education. After an hour or so, we all reconvened to the taco truck in the parking lot and replenished ourselves with tacos, tortas, and gorditas. In between bites, the elder danzante explained to us that they practice danza at the same location nearly every day of the week. While these students and teachers don’t make the news or the pages of Spin magazine, their connection with audiences is much wider, deeper, and critical than what most of us are able to achieve in a club, at a festival, or over the airwaves. They teach us authentic ways to speak truth to power rooted in community and cultural traditions that refuse to die.
Over the four days, we met with a US Congressmen, a former state DA and mayor of Phoenix, student artist-activist-organizers, human rights lawyers,immigration rights advocates, teachers, poets, musicians, and visual artists, learning about the political and social history of the city of Tucson, the state of Arizona, and the Sonoran desert. In downtown Tucson, we visited a Federal courtroom and watched brutal fast track legislation strip undocumented migrants from across the world of their basic human rights and spirit them off to remote publicly-funded private jails. Under this microscope we were able to clearly see the viruses of fear, racism, and corruption that have created a toxic political environment that spawns dehumanizing laws and poisons the American Dream. While each person we spoke with shared different experiences and areas of expertise in this desperate situation, there were a three common messages: The first one was: “Arizona is a uniquely magical place and like the rest of America has an ancient, rich, diverse, and bloody history.” The second one was: “We need your solidarity and creativity. Come to Arizona. Bear witness. Share your art and your voice with us. See what the papers don’t report.” The third was the most ominous: “Your state may very well be the next Arizona. Mobilize.”
Part IV: Reflection
The retreat was overwhelming. It has taken me months to process and make sense of everything in the midst of touring, travelling, gigs, and catching up on life. In the 3 months that have passed, I find myself telling these same stories I wrote about to my friends and family in the occasional press interview. I remember the camaraderie and friendships that were born and rekindled, and the privilege of being able to spend quiet, meaningful time with musicians whom like me spend most of the time zig zagging around the country and the planet. Finally, I am grateful to have shared in a focused space to learn, share, enjoy, commiserate, and figure out how to mobilize and collectively shift the balance of power towards justice and dignity.
*Tucson photos courtesy of Media Literacy Project
