This column originated from Sol del Valle and has been translated for our English readers.
“The discovery of ourselves manifests as knowing ourselves to be alone; between the world and us, an intangible, transparent wall opens: that of our consciousness.” – Octavio Paz
During one of my visits to the Carbondale Public Library I happened to find a book that caught my attention, due to its provocative title: “Our Migrant Souls: A Meditation on Race and the Meanings and Myths of ‘Latino’” written by the Guatemalan-American sociologist and journalist Héctor Tobar. Those skilled in writing say that short titles are preferable, but provocative ones are memorable, and Tobar’s work falls into this category.
Immediately after borrowing the book, I began to flip through it. Each page was more revealing, full of personal experiences from the author — of his parents as undocumented migrants who settled in Los Angeles, fleeing a bloody war — and stories of discrimination based on race, ethnicity, language, physical appearance, economic status and much more.
Today, being discriminatory is, to say the least, an act of total ignorance. From the perspective of biology and anthropology, all human beings belong to the Homo species. Within this genus, we can speak of approximately eight species, including Homo sapiens — modern humans, all of us, from the inhabitants of the most remote islands of Asia to the tip of Patagonia to the rural United States. We are all human beings.
The physical differences between us, such as skin color, eye color, hair and height, due to adaptations to a variety of climates and food conditions, are a result of our survival as a species and our vast cultural, linguistic wealth and more.
Insisting upon these clarifications, however, is justified by the resurgence of what Julio Ortega called “defensive neurosis,” fueled by the discourse widely spread by the executive power in the United States and the apparent victory of the far-right in parts of Europe and the Middle East. This neurosis brings with it “stereotypes, hatred and violence,” and as Ortega adds, “The paranoia of racism is a disease of the national body,” a regrettable mindset of modern human beings.
Among the many reflections that Tobar discusses in his book, I will elaborate a little more on two that seemed revealing and of great importance for the political context at all levels.
First, the mutual need of the immigrant and the American for the advancement and sustainability of the country’s wealth, where the contagious perfectionism of American culture and the permissiveness of banking and trade laws help immigrants navigate through the turbulent waters of the world’s largest economy.
At the same time, the contradictory immigration laws put millions of people against the wall, who live their day-to-day lives immersed in this dichotomy; almost like a social antinomy, where leaving the system means either returning to their country or living in constant paranoia.
Examples of this contradiction are Florida laws SB-2C and SB-4C, which have been signed by Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. SB-4C establishes an automatic death penalty for any undocumented individual found guilty of capital crimes, such as murder or armed kidnapping.
SB-2C establishes greater collaboration between state law enforcement and Immigration and Customs Enforcement, creating a new state-level crime for any individual who enters or is living in Florida without documentation. In addition, state benefits for migrants will be eliminated in almost all social areas, from the judicial to the educational, and students at public universities will lose access to tuition reductions starting in July 2025.
Another absurd example is a bill proposed in Mississippi, which seeks to enable bounty hunters to track down undocumented individuals for a reward of $1,000 in state funds.
Both examples of the U.S. politicized legislative system pave the way for increased social polarization, not only from the American towards the immigrant, but vice versa. This could risk falling into “cultural autism” or, even worse, “regional endogamy.” What is the purpose of this rejection? Why is the persecution and hunting of human beings still a subject of discussion in a place that calls itself the most advanced country?
The interconnections, diffusions and necessary coexistence which the American and Latino share across the country can create an impressive cultural blend. At the macro level, this can be reflected in language, religious beliefs, festivals and more. At the micro level, we see alliances and associations between the American and the Latino — from the immigrant child interacting with the children of Americans to the owner of a construction company hiring Latinos for being “hard workers,” or the one who entrusts the management of a property to their Latino worker because “he does everything” and “is honest.”
These interconnections and diffusions are discussed by Octavio Paz in his work “The Labyrinth of Solitude,” specifically regarding the figure of the Pachuco. “He has lost — the Pachuco — his place of belonging, but he builds his space of affiliation,” he wrote. This loss of belonging is negative for the Mexican writer, and this affiliation of American culture with Mexican traits is rejected by Paz. However, and contrary to him, I believe that this affiliation is necessarily essential and results in the cultural richness mentioned earlier.
That Mexican-American urban tribe marked the beginning of a cultural transformation that has influenced and given rise to some of the most relevant urban tribes, such as the cholo or the chicano. This influence can be seen today in the “oversized” aesthetic, an inseparable characteristic of the Pachuco that has made its way to international fashion runways in places like New York or Paris — in part, thanks to designer Willy Chavarria, son of a Mexican and Irish parent.
This influence is not limited to fashion but has also passed through the music industry, where danzónes and Mexican regional music have collaborated extensively with seemingly different genres like hip-hop or pop. A clear example of this is rapper Kendrick Lamar’s collaboration with mariachi singer Deyra Barrera on three songs from his latest album, a timely and circumstantial example since he performed as the halftime-show artist at the Super Bowl.
These mutual exchanges have led to the blending of cultures and values, of belonging and affiliation, in a country marked by massive migration since its founding.