Growing violence in Ciudad Juárez

I was reading the New York Times yesterday evening and ran across an article by Dan Barry titled "This Land: Border Towns Across Rio, Worlds Apart in Drug War." The article brought me to tears. As I've mentioned before, I spent some time in the border region of El Paso and Juárez back in 2002, so as I read of the escalating violence, increase poverty, and growing fear of those bound to life on the 'wrong' side of the river, in my mind I couldn’t help but see the faces of the children and families I met while I was there.

I wonder if Christina is still running the children’s library and organizing HIV/AIDs efforts in her impoverished community. I wonder if Alma – whose house burned to the ground while we watched – is safe somewhere. And I wonder about the children I met -- Carlos, Junior, Melissa, Armando, Esperanza, Elian, Jonathan, and the others. Most of them would be in their early teens now. Are their families still together? Are they split across borders, hundreds of miles apart? Are they involved in the cartels? Are they safe? Did those who wanted U.S. citizenship receive it? Those seeking asylum? Are they in school? I know that I will never have the answers to these questions. So, when I read the Times article, I can’t help but wonder if the slain children, the families trying to figure out how to survive, the communities torn by violence, drugs, and poverty have the faces of people who shared their meals with me, told me their stories, and offered me their kindness.

The article talks of walking across the border. I’ve made that walk. It names streets and describes markets on both sides of the river that I’ve frequented. It describes communities that, for a brief time, welcomed me into their membership.

I read this article, and I don’t know what to do about it. I feel very far away. And very small. In the article, they mention the work of Annunciation House, which is the organization that hosted me while I was in the region. They are continuing to serve as a voice for the voiceless, a hand of aid to the helpless, and a source of comfort and solidarity for the downtrodden. So, as I struggle to make sense of the continuing terror overtaking Juárez, I direct our eyes to their work. Perhaps we can support them as they support others.

Further Readings/Resources:
NYT 2/13/10 "Border Towns Across Rio, Worlds Apart in Drug War"
10/8/09 "A Place at the Table" - a video documentary about the work of Annunciation House
NYT 4/16/09 (video) "Juárez: Children in the Crossfire"
NYT 1/23/09 "Two Sides of a Border: One Violent, One Peaceful"
AP 2008 "Drug Violence: Mexico hit by rising wave of drug-fueled violence"
TIME.com 2001 "The New Frontier/La Nueva Frontera"
The El Paso Times' continuing look at escalating violence in Juárez.

(Image courtesy of Annunciation House)

Border Crossing

I had a piece of creative nonfiction published recently in the Women's and Gender Studies Program newsletter at DePaul. I thought I'd post up a link here in case you wanted to give it a read. (Mine is the last article on the page, if you don't want to read through the whole newsletter. The title they've given it is "Crossing Borders.") My piece is a reflection on some time I spent on the El Paso/Juarez (US/Mexico) border probably eight years or so ago. I was working with a wonderful organization called Annunciation House trying to better understand the connections between my own life in the United States and the lives of those living and working in Mexico, particularly those on the border. Annunciation House has a really powerful slide show that offers some images and information for added context, if you're interested.
Peace.

Are Oompah Loompas an incarnation of Mexican gods?

Apparently I am veering away (at least momentarily) from the generally "focused" approach I try to bring to the blog. Today I have been pondering the undeniable likeness between Deep Roy (of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - the remake - fame) and an artifact I saw at the Museo Nacional de Antropologia while in Mexico City. (I honestly cannot remember which time period or region of Mexico from which the figure came. I'll pay better attention next time. Promise.) Now, Roy was born in and has spent much of his life living in Nairobi, the capital city of Kenya, and his parents are Indian. Thus it's all the more striking, and satisfying, to me that his stone likeness would come from a third continent. Maybe he's related to the gods of Mexican mythology. Who knows. But it's worth pondering, don't you think?

Hey Kelly, where've you been?!

I have been gone for a while (almost two months, it seems). Can you find it in the goodness of your hearts to forgive me? (Or at least start reading again?) I've been flirting with the idea of getting back online for a while, but the world has been a bit of a whirlwind and I needed a bit more time to resettle myself.

The primary reason I've been absent is that I have been out of the country for a while and without consistant, reliable access to the internet. I spent several weeks in June and July living and learning in Mexico. I was involved in a short term study abroad program (through a partnership between DePaul and the CIEL program at the Universidad de La Salle in Mexico City) and also did some travelling around on me own. And yes, a "young thing" like me travelled Mexico alone. Horrors did not befall me. In fact, I met some wonderful new friends and worked diligently to explore and situate the many warnings heaved upon me prior to my departure for Mexico, realizing quite promptly that while attention, tact, and sensitivity were required in my everyday interactions abroad, those "precautions" are strikingly similar to those that are a regular part of my everyday, "safe" life State-side. I guess that's the gift of experiencing things yourself; you are reminded (as is the repeating lesson of life) that what you're told is not always the truth as lived through your own experiences. Thankfully, my time travelling alone gave me space to explore both the physical richness of Mexico as well as my own thoughts about it. While companionship and group-shared experiences hold powerful offerings for growth, sometimes independence yields equally powerful opportunities to process your own thoughts and feelings in a time and space more suitable to your own growth. (Ya feel me?) Anyway, I'm back. And to answer your questions (because people seem to only ask two -- you should work on changing that): "Yes, it was a good trip, and yes, you can see pictures."

One of the reasons I've been hesitant to get back online is that I have this deep desire to "do justice" to my time and experience in Mexico. It's hard to convey to folks the richness of one's own experience in just a few words or images. But I've been working pretty hard trying to. I did this big final project about my travels for class, I've been organizing and sorting photographs (both mine and others) for public displays and thank you packages being sent back to the Mexico, I've been designing program brochures advertising the study abroad opportunity for future students, and so forth, and in some ways I've been finding all of the value judgements I've been making in the process difficult on my mind. Every photograph is being assigned a meaning. Who is being represented (and forgotten)? What stories are being told (or not told)? What images will evoke the desired responses from viewers? What images are close enough to American stereotypes yet different enough to take viewers from what they know to one step closer to a "bigger truth"? And myriads of other questions. I find myself spinning in this representational, storytelling world that is full of hope for growth and change beyond those who travelled themselves, but also threatens to further ingrain stereotypes, injustices, incorrect perceptions, and all sorts of unhelpful things. As I continue to search my own photographs (there are nearly 1200, y'all; I'm a photo-freak; we knew this, right?), I'm continually asking myself what it is that my photographs are saying. Is it possible for this American born and raised girl to catch the soul of Mexican culture in a photograph? Or will the images always be filtered through the lens of my own cultured experience and minds' eye? I photograph things that strike me -- a human being with a very set history that frames how I view the world. That vision changes as I learn and do new things, but will always be through the lens of "me." So what does that mean for my photographs -- my visual markers of cultural meaning, both mine and that which is foreign to me? Who knows.

So, here are some photos. BUT, for once I haven't sorted them to suit a specific, manipulative or thematic purpose (other then narrowing 1200+ images to roughly 50). They are photographs from my time in Mexico that I find beautiful. And not always "beautiful" because they are of beautiful things, though they may be, but because they have meaning to me for whatever reason. Take a look. Make a comment. It's "Mexico through the lens of Kelly, as she tries to leave behind the 'meaning' and find value in mere 'being' instead." (That title is much too long...)

I'm looking forward to being back to chat about other stuff soon. Hope you're all well. 'Til next time...