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extend access to Modern Fiction Studies
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REVIEW-ESSAY
mfs
Louis Mendoza
Modern Fiction Studies, Volume 40, Number 1, Spring 1994. Copyright © by Purdue Research
Foundation. All rights to reproduction in any form reserved
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120 MFS
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MENDOZA 121
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[t]he current Latino and Asian immigration to the U.S. is the direct
result of international conflicts between the so-called "First" and
"Third Worlds." The colonized cultures are sliding into the space
of the colonizer, and in doing so, they are redefining its borders
and its culture... . The First and Third Worlds have mutually pen
etrated one another. The two Americas are totally intertwined.
(Warrior for Gringostroika, 45-46)
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MENDOZA 123
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MENDOZA 125
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basis are Luis Alberto Urrea's Across the Wire: Life and Hard Times
on the Mexican Border and Debbie Nathan's Women and Other
Aliens. Unlike Martinez's book, the stories told by Urrea and Nathan
are written in a prose style that is wrought with the emotion of first
hand experience and which exhibit a sense of personal investment
in their subject matter. Nathan's book is a collection of journalistic
essays; clearly written for an educated audience, her essays are
witty and acutely analytical of the social power wielded by the media.
Urrea's book, on the other hand, is organized in chapters that
introduce individual people or places to the reader. His narrative is
about his personal Odyssey over a period of four years in and out
of Tijuana as a translator for a ministry conducting relief work in
the cotonias (undeveloped, unincorporated communities, sometimes
created by land squatting, usually with no public services or utilities).
Knowing their motivations for living on the border and their occasion
for writing offers some insight into their portrayals of the border.
Urrea's book is highly personal. In the preface he calls it a book
of fragments in which he tries to penetrate the veneer of the many
euphemisms for the border. Urrea wants the stories he narrates
about the lives of the people that live in the colonias of Tijuana to
add a human dimension to our understanding of the border; he
insists that we comprehend their reality—their hourly, daily, and
yearly existence. He is not interested in presenting the prepackaged
tourist version of the border experience. Rather, he wants to implicate
everyone in the conditions of poverty, squalor, starvation, and de
humanizing demands of border survival: "Learning about their pov
erty also teaches us about the nature of our wealth" he says (2).
Consequently, he insists that the reader discard any romantic notions
about los fronterizos: "Poverty ennobles no one; it brutalizes common
people and makes them hungry and old" (2).
Urrea's stories are intended as an exposé of the criminal nature
of the human condition along the border. He engages his readers,
the nearby San Diegans, Californians, and Mexican nationals, in the
hope that they will share his outrage. He is further motivated to tell
the stories that he does because, he says, the people he speaks
of have urged him to do so: "They believed that if you knew where
and how they live, then they wouldn't simply fade away, relegated
to as pointless a death as the lives they have been forced to live"
(3). Of the many people he writes about who eke out a living on
the border economy, Urrea focuses on those who reside more or
less permanently in the border region, "the outcasts of an outcast
region," as he call them. Along the border, time and space mean
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MENDOZA 127
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MENDOZA 129
essays are reprints from periodicals such as The Village Voice, The
Texas Observer arid The Chicago Reader. She writes with the intent
of offering an educated and politically progressive audience an al
ternative to the mainstream media's depiction of events on the
border. There is a prevailing perception about the border that says
that the flexible unique nature of law and survival there results from
the border's distance from the federal capitals. But she does not
let the nation state and the prevailing economic system off the hook:
.. . more and more, late 20th century capitalism everywhere is
basing its survival and growth on making people work for long
hours at rock bottom wages without unions or occupational safety
or decent housing or environmental controls—in other words vio
lating tenets of human decency and dignity whose enactment into
reality and statute was part of the historical project of the past
century. (12)
She asks the ominous question about the two governments' laissez
faire attitude toward the border: Is life "on the lawless frontera ...
actually the avant guarde of our larger cosmopolitan manana?" (12).
With this question in mind, she brings together essays that focus
on people who might otherwise be termed "outlaws," but whose
activities are often judged illegal or wrong because such a deter
mination makes control over them easier, or cheaper, or more con
venient than confronting the larger social problems or anxieties that
need to be addressed. Women, in her eyes, are particularly vul
nerable to the manipulation of social values and many social fears
regarding change are manifested in phobias about female sexuality.
But the ways in which women have responded to the social, political,
cultural, and economic exigencies have proven insightful and are a
prelude to further change, one that we should listen to and learn
from.
In "The Eyes of Texas are Upon You," the opening essay of
the book, Nathan takes the title of a popular state song meant to
inspire patriotic feelings of warmth, endearment and protection and
demonstrates the chauvinistic, racist, regionalist and classist atti
tudes built into the culture of the border, attitudes that can be
reduced to a vaguely defined but very particular fashion "look" that
distinguishes one's citizenship status. While the "look" doesn't guar
antee one's safety, it may allow you passage past "the final arbiter
of fashion," the border patrol. She uses the harsh terminology of
the border, calling people "mojados," "wets," "illegals." But it is
part of a subversive sarcasm for her to adopt the tone of a ster
eotypical Texan in order to mimic the people who complain even
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130 M FS
while they are benefiting directly and indirectly from the exploitation
and vulnerability of others. For instance, Nathan notes the hypocrisy
of residents who constantly complain about illegal immigration, and
go on to take advantage of a "divine" right to cheap labor: "After
all, if God hadn't wanted us to have $1.50 an hour maids, waitresses,
and minimum wage mechanics and onion pickers, He wouldn't have
created the border patrol. Chase them around in a squad car, kick
'em back to Juarez every once in a while, and they'll work hard
without demanding things like social security benefits or public health
care" (23).
With no lack of appreciation for the political and economic nature
of the border, Nathan points out that the tortilla curtain, the chain
link fence along the Juarez/El Paso border, was built during the
Carter administration, disproving any notion that it is only the most
hardline right wingers who believe in erecting barriers to stop the
"invasion" from the south. Her analysis is astute; she recognizes
that the contemporary migration is spawned by the current crisis:
"postcapitalism's very efforts to jack up its falling profit rates have
naturally fueled the global wanderings of people as well as money"
(23).
As a reporter for the El Paso Times, Nathan had the opportunity
to cover Margaret Randall's immigration trial in 1986. The critical
examination of Randall's search for citizenship may seem odd here
for it is about a renowned author's quest for citizenship and her
battle with the INS. Yet Randall's story is telling with regard to the
seemingly arbitrary exercise of power that occurs along the border,
a power that is in fact highly charged with ideological significance.
Nathan is brutally honest about Randall's self-indulgence and self
absorption as a member of the 60s New Left. She accomplishes
this by way of reviewing Randall's early books, much as the INS
does in assessing her political views. Her critical readings of Ran
dall's life and literature are contrasted with that of the INS agents
who read every word literally. Nathan, on the other hand, reads
them as typical of the arrogance and hypocrisy of American radicals.
Her assessment of the actors in the case as bland, tired, and sad
looking makes the entire trial appear pathetic. In characterizing the
political atmosphere of the times to contrast with the era of Randall's
early writings and the present day, Nathan describes the contem
porary political scene with her customary trenchant wit as "not so
much Amerikkka as Ameriggga—i.e., morally muddied, politically
slogged down, boring, demoralized, televised, and ultra-commodi
tized" (98).
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MENDOZA 131
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MENDOZA 133
lern they face now and again. Each time they leave the country they
must reenter illegally" (xix). Furthermore, this outsider status allows
them cultural and political insight about life in the U.S. The letters
are full of critical commentary about films and music, as well as
political commentary on social issues, such as the abusive use of
pesticides and local and national elections. An especially interesting
letter writer is Angela Gomez, from Mexico, who goes to school and
volunteers for Radio Bilingue in Southern California. In the section
"Insubstitutable Comrades" Gomez describes her first impressions
of being in the U.S. where a hostile environment exists, especially
for Latinos. To support her claim she cites the killing of 17 year old
Ismael Ramirez by INS agents, an occurrence that she notes is
frequent (this killing is explained in detail in an America's Watch
Report that is reviewed next). Clearly, the lives of many of these
people are marked by violence both at home and in the U.S. The
letters from El Salvador speak of violence by the state army and
the guerrillas. One letter, whose origins are unclear, is a death threat
addressed to all "who work there," at CARECEN or El Rescate in
California. The letter identifies specific individuals and says they will
be "disappeared." This form of intimidation and violence is not
unusual in the violent climate of a civil war; its horror, however, is
magnified when it becomes an inescapable force that tracks people's
actions and movements in the United States.
Siems notes that the border can be seen as a network of
"intricate international, linking paths of products, jobs and money
but for many it is a "hard, practical matter" that must be confront
each time it is crossed. It always involves danger, a loss of agenc
and its crossers often assume a fatalistic attitude about their chances
of a successful crossing. Crossers are used to being chased, if not
at the border, then at the bus or train station, or in the fields or
factory where they find work. In his introduction, the author says
that these experiences become stories that are transmitted back
and forth. No one comes to the border with rosy, naive expecta
tions—yet they still come, for the opportunity to work, to enjoy the
"luxuries" that many of us consider basic (hot water, toilets, carpet,
etc.). These are the things that mark the difference between the so
called Third World and the margins of the First World, and often
the most that they can expect to experience as an "illegal."
The stories told about border crossings by the above authors
are partially corroborated by America's Watch 1992 eighty-one page
report entitled Brutality Unchecked: Human Rights Abuses Along the
U.S. Border with Mexico. This report focuses on abuses by INS
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MENDOZA 135
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MENDOZA 137
The Other Side: Fault Lines, Guerrilla Saints and the True Heart
of Rock 77' Roll by Ruben Martinez is a collection of writings that
signals the emergence of journalist essays as a new force in Chicano
literature. (Other high-profile writers of this genre would include
Richard Rodriguez, Elizabeth Martinez, and Guillermo Gômez-Pena).
Many of Martinez's essays are reprinted from the LA. Weekly, where,
until recently, he maintained a regular column. Others are excerpts
from his journal, selections of poetry, and previously unprinted ma
terials. Martinez, born of a Mexican father and a Salvadoran mother,
in many ways represents the internationalization of U.S. Latino cul
ture. Although Mexicans still comprise the largest subgroup of Latinos
in the U.S., more and more Central Americans have arrived over
the last 15 years, many of them the logical result of an aggressive
U.S. foreign policy that has displaced hundreds of thousands of
people throughout Latin America. Now, many barrios of the South
west, Midwest and Northwest that were once predominantly Mexican
have been infused with other Latinos. Martinez's essays combine
political commentary with social satire, cynicism with idealism. His
frank appraisal of the current moment bespeaks a new breed of
leftist intellectual who is keenly aware of both the pitfalls and the
pragmatism that fuel identity politics. He also has a sharp eye for
the ways in which lumpen culture rebels at not only the mores of
mainstream society, but those of its own community as well. Power
is disbursed, be it at the hands of the graffiti artists of East L.A. or
the rockeros of Mexico City. At times, Martinez is wry, pithy, and
smug in his assessment of post-New Left politics: "Mine is the
generation that arrived too late for Che Guevara but too early for
the fall of the Berlin Wall" (1). His observations of the current moment
bespeak too the political angst and uncertainty of a middle class,
anxiety-ridden, self-aware postmodernist whose fragmented self is
nostalgic for a time when it was acceptable to at least believe in
the idea of unity: "I must hold on to some hope: that the many
selves can find some kind of form together without annihilating one
another" (2).
There are 23 entries in The Other Side, eleven of which are
reprints from various magazines and periodicals. The book contains
vivid photographs of Martinez's family and street life in L.A., San
Salvador, and Tijuana. Martinez's essays are the musings of a trav
eler who crosses borders and who has come to discover that trav
eling alone cannot heal the wounds of history, of capitalism, of
technological and political difference—especially during times of war
and natural disaster. He is both witness and active participant in
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CONCLUSION
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MENDOZA 139
WORKS CITED
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