Also, see the other posts in this series by Ana Maria Fores Tamayo:

1. Anti-Immigration Murrieta Nasties Battle Besos, Not Borders
2. McAllen’s Sacred Heart Leads Efforts Helping Refugee Families
3. Helping with the Refugee Crisis at the Border: A Photo Essay

Although this seems a bit backward —starting with our Austin visit before getting back to writing about McAllen (my first piece of the series)— it does make sense because, if we had never gone to Austin, we would never have ended up in McAllen. And there we witnessed one of the best examples of people working together, piecing together shards in whatever way they could, in order to help families and children in need.

If you know anything about what is going on with immigration these days, however —with the divisive factions between those who oppose anything brown with those who want to welcome good people, as their own parents, grandparents, or great grandparents were welcomed once— it has become a very heated debate.

Supporting the Immigration Murrieta is Against

So, with the anti-immigration folks from Murrieta stinking up the facts nationally, they have capsulized the bigotry of many.

Even the news does not really know how to report such blatant hatred for children. But just as these people have received their undue publicity —which is what they want, a moment in history— we on the other side decided to call them out, to have them answer their own hypocrisy.

On Thursday, August 9th, we drove down to Austin to stand up against these Murrieta folks. What was supposed to be an entire convoy of people had trickled down to almost nothing, five or six people at most: was it fear of others? Was it realizing they might be wrong to go against innocent children, no matter the color?

In El Paso, they had been rebuffed.

“El Paso is the safest city in the nation,” said Fernando Garcia, executive director of Border Network for Human Rights. “It’s a welcoming city … No racism, no xenophobia. That message is not welcomed.”

Who knows if these Murrieta vigilantes made up the threat against them in El Paso, or they were really intimidated with guns. No matter what happened, however, they were too afraid to show their faces in immigrant friendly territory, so they packed their bags and went on to Austin. They figured that anti-immigration lover Rick Perry would welcome them to his hometown.

But even Perry turned them away.

When we got to Austin for the rally mounted against these Murrieta bigots, it was about 103 degrees, 105º at the hottest. We were one of the first to arrive; we weren’t even sure there would be a protest, it was so hot. But soon enough folks began to appear, in their shorts and tank tops, carrying their water bottles to guard against dehydration. Everyone sported good camaraderie and quickly made friends.

The directors of the event, Norma Vallejo and Chris Ledesma, had purposely chosen to have our meeting in front of the Capitol, because we did not want a confrontation with the Murrieta nasties. We were protesting in peace; we wanted people to become aware of these little children who were innocent. But the “Murrieta militia” was ready for action, it seemed. They were bored with their endless gazing at the border road with nothing but border road…

At peak time, there were 30 to 40 of us, a nice number. We held our posters in the hot torrid sun, and we sang our songs of peace & fraternity. Chris Ledesma played his jarana, a small guitar-like instrument, while another colleague played its smaller version, called primera. We all joined in.

In contrast to our number, the other side seemed ridiculous. Some were camouflaged in army fatigues, carrying their baldheads and hatred with mistaken pride.

So when the Murrieta militants realized we were at the front of the capitol building, they strutted over to cause trouble. The baldie started to yell, shoving a bullhorn right into our faces; at the same time, he would roar, “don’t touch me; don’t touch me.” He was going berserk.

We tried to ignore him. The more he shouted, the louder we sang our songs of love. But it was a tense few moments, as folks from our side could not help but scream back in self-defense, trying to mitigate his irrational behavior. I chanted over the hubbub: “queremos a los niños; bienvenidos todos; besos, not borders.”

At length, a petite wallop of a woman stepped up to him. He towered over her with his bullhorn in hand, trying to intimidate her with his size alone.

But she would have none of it.

While he shouted like a maniac, she asked him calmly: “Where are you from, Sir? Where are your parents and grandparents from?”

“Italy,” he countered.

“So you’re an immigrant too, then,” she replied.

“Oh, oh, oh… I… I love immigrants…!” he retorted.

“Then what the hell are you doing, sir? Either go away quietly, or join us in welcoming the children.”

Anti-Immigration Murrieta Style: “I Love Immigrants”

As always, there is such energy when people come together for a common cause. When we are divided, and we do not see what it is that divides us, we begin to get into trouble. As I watched these people, and I participated in this action of love, I thought about the parallels with Academe: the common threads running between the marginalization of adjunct faculty & grad students, with the rest of the tenured academics on the supposed other side.

Then I thought of this balding neo-Nazi who was just a plain old frightened man afraid of losing his country. I thought of this man who just does not work things through, does not realize that people are telling him lies so he will go against what is good and noble: helping children. He does not understand they have poisoned his mind with that divide-and-conquer mumbo jumbo, brought in from the neo-liberals or what have you.

I thought that was an interesting parallel to what is going on in the Ivory Tower.

I am not one to use much terminology or big words, but I know what I see in people: I see fear. And on Thursday, August 9th, when I saw that man with the bullhorn trying to out-voice us, that is just what he was doing— spewing out the rhetoric of hatred that someone other had taught him, because he was afraid.

Is that what is going on in Academia? Are we being confronted —falsely— for someone else’s gain? Someone who has nothing to do with what is good in Higher Education? And are we following that groupthink because of fear?

When the 75-year young wise woman asked that belligerent beast of a man calmly, with a voice of love, “Where are you from, sir? Think before you speak… “

I knew.

We do not speak the truth often enough. We do not ask questions. We are afraid to.

Besos, not borders,

Ana M. Fores Tamayo, Adjunct Justice

For more information about adjuncts’ fight for equity, read more on Fores Tamayo’s page (https://www.facebook.com/AdjunctJustice) or her TUMBLR site (https://adjunctjustice.tumblr.com).