While the ideological battles on immigration reform continue to rage, I offer this poem, written by the 16-year-old daughter of immigrants who have made Santa Fe their home. The poem by Mildred Rodrigues, reproduced here, appears in the International Folk Art Museum’s current exhibition, “Between Two Worlds: Folk Artists Reflect on the Immigrant Experience.” WE SURVIVE Every day as we wake up People are already up and working, Up and walking, Up and running for their lives. Crossing deserts, crossing rivers Under the hot, burning sun Through storms and rain With thirst, with hunger Overwhelmed, depressed, crushed, torn Overall, terrified, frightened Scared that that will be the last day Scared to be caught because They left their family, lost memories, They left their land, language, and culture Because there weren’t enough jobs, Therefore, no money, therefore no access to good education or to good nutrition for their family, no opportunities. They left to the “land of opportunities.” “the land of the free,” “the home of the brave,” They left and when they arrived, They were criticized, they were discriminated against, They were called ugly names, the wetbacks, aliens, illegals, Brown people, brown people because we are not humans, we are just colors. Yet they still keep going, They still survive, We survive. I have a question: If Latin Americans are called wetbacks for crossing a river, Then what are your ancestors called for crossing an entire ocean?
Posted on: Sat, 22 Nov 2014 18:25:06 +0000
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