Illegal Immigration

The Border Project: ‘Anchor baby’ law stirs controversy

Democratic State Rep. Matt Heinz, one of two representatives for Arizona's 26th District, points out the complicated district borders that pieces together the geopolitical landscape of southern Arizona.The Mexican border stretches from the far left side of the map, continuing out of the frame. (Photo by Meredith Bennett Smith)

Sitting in the yellow illumination of her trailer’s porch light, Luz Imelda Ramirez ticks off the opportunities now available to her three daughters, all because of a small piece of paper certifying their birth on American soil. Ramirez, originally from a poor community in Sonora, Mexico, is an illegal immigrant. But her children were born here in Tucson, and therefore are United States citizens. It is a distinction Ramirez does not take lightly.

“Thank god my children are citizens, because they will be able to go to university,” she said. “My oldest has good grades and got a scholarship. That’s why I came here, for my children to have a different life than I had.”

Luz Imelda Ramirez 1 from Pavement Pieces on Vimeo.

Spread between Tucson’s Davis-Monthan Air Force Base and the beginning of Route 86, Ajo Way is a scrubby stretch of fast food restaurants, graying storefronts and trailer parks. As late afternoon faded into evening , several families gathered in Ramirez’s adopted community, sitting on white plastic chairs, eating tortilla chips and rehearsing just what to say if ever questioned by the Tucson police.

To the dozen or so men and women — all currently residing in Arizona illegally — running a red light is not a minor violation — it can lead to the discovery of their unlawful status, the beginning of deportation proceedings and the destruction of families already living in a state of apprehension and instability.

Arizona Senate Bill 1070, one of the most sweeping and stringent anti-illegal immigration statutes in decades, was just the beginning.

SB 1070’s author, State Sen. Russell Pearce, is now drafting a new law, unperturbed by the immediate federal injunction blocking the bill’s most controversial provisions. His proposed legislation would prohibit hospitals from issuing birth certificates to children born in the U.S. to undocumented parents, a right guaranteed them by the 14th Amendment.

The issue has re-popularized the term “anchor baby,” used by some to describe children born to undocumented parents. Originally coined in reference to young Vietnamese who traveled by boat to the U.S. in the early 1980s and ’90s, the term itself has spawned angry debate. Introduced into today’s lexicon of immigration rhetoric by such high-profile conservative personalities as Ron Paul, Lindsey Graham and Bill O’Reilly, it has infuriated many immigrant advocates who say the term is pejorative and dehumanizing.

Semantics aside, the Grand Canyon State, wielding its frustration with the federal government like a flare gun, seems intent on focusing national attention on immigration reform by any means necessary, including the passage of legislation that critics say outwardly defies the constitution of the United States.

“Here in Arizona, the legislature has a long tradition of completely disregarding not only our state constitution … but certainly disregarding the federal constitution,” said State Rep. Matt Heinz. “(Sen. Russell’s proposed legislation) would be just another in a long line of examples of that body completely disregarding the constitutional rights and privileges of our citizens.”

Tuscon State Rep. Matt Heinz from Pavement Pieces on Vimeo.

Heinz, one of two Democrats who represent Arizona’s 29th district, lives on a narrow, colorful lane  in the heart of his constituency in Pima County, which includes parts of Tucson and Littletown. Elected in 2008, Heinz is also a practicing physician at Tucson Medical Center.

As planes from the nearby Air Force base roared noisily over his courtyard, Heinz explained the conditions that have recently made his state such a fertile environment for radical immigration reform.

“Arizona is a very proud and independent state, with a bit of a libertarian streak” he said. “That is one of the reasons I love the state, and one of the reasons why we sometimes get in a little bit of trouble.”

In recent years, Arizona’s longstanding belief in the importance of state autonomy has coalesced with an acute frustration at the federal government’s perceived lack of effort to fight illegal immigration. SB 1070 represented a boiling over of these emotions, and the citizenship legislation is an indication the problem is far from resolved.

This frustration with the federal government reaches across party lines.

Representative Vic Williams, a Republican from the 26th district in southern Tucson, campaigned in 2008 on his proud support of the Sen. Pearce’s legislation.

“Our federal government has refused to do anything,” Williams said. “Arizona has changed the national discussion in this country. We have struck a nerve.”

Nerve or not, prohibiting the issuance of birth certificates in U.S. hospitals is in direct conflict with the language of the Constitution. Section One of the 14th Amendment states, “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside.”

Some proponents of Pearce’s proposed bill seek to challenge the current interpretation of the amendment. However, established case law protects the rights of all children born in America, said Nina Rabin, director of the Bacon Immigration Law and Policy Program at the University of Arizona. “I think it’s clear that (such a challenge) would be a losing battle,” Rabin said. “I mean, it’s not a realistic thing.”

Williams did not dispute the wording of the amendment. Instead, he argued that its intent was being abused.

“Now we have hospitals that advertise abroad that you can come here to the U.S. and have your child,” Williams said. “You can plan your vacation around it. … I don’t know if that was the original intent of the 14th Amendment.”

So would such legislation, seemingly in defiance of the federal government, pass in Arizona? Heinz certainly thinks so.

“I’ve heard the governor has already signed off on this,” Heinz said. “And ultimately, if something like this gets through our Senate and House, based on what happened this past Senate, I imagine, unfortunately, it will be signed by the governor.”

Williams refused to officially endorse the legislation. But he did point to strong grassroots support for Pearce’s proposed bill among his constituents. If put to a vote, the bill will have “overwhelming support” back home, he said.

Williams should not count on support from Ramirez, who objects to the proposed law on both legal and logistical grounds.

“Well, it’s very unconstitutional, because the children will be neither from the United States nor from Mexico,” Ramirez said. “It will be a problem for them when they grow up, when they’re going to school. What documents are they going to present? It’s just illogical. It’s not like they’re animals without papers.”

Oblivious to a debate that, if enacted retroactively, would dramatically alter his future, a little boy, no more than 3 years old, threw chunks of gravel at Ramirez’s latticework porch, his mouth stained blue by the melting peanut M&Ms he clutched in his hand. His young mother sat a few feet away, watching as volunteers from the immigrant advocacy group Derechos Hermanos led a role-playing exercise. Although initially the adults chuckled awkwardly as they sat in their “car,” the laughter stopped as the “police officer” began to badger both driver and passengers, demanding picture IDs and proof of legal status. The policeman finally ordered the driver and one of the passengers out of the vehicle and radioed “la migra,” the Border Patrol, to come pick them up. The tension among those observing was palpable.

“Really, the worry in the community is that (parents) are going to be taken away from their kids,” Ramirez said. “That they’ll be sent back to Mexico, and their children will be stuck here in the United States alone.”

Luz Imelda Ramirez 2 from Pavement Pieces on Vimeo.

Their fears are real.

Teresa Guerrero works for the Tucson Unified School District, in the government programs and community outreach office. Every year she sees countless children pulled out of school or forced to live with friends or relatives after their parents get deported. Sometimes mothers or fathers will live in Mexico during the week, only able to visit their children across the border on weekends, she said.

At her Phoenix law practice, Judy Flanagan works with undocumented parents fighting to stay in the U.S. with their children. But she said the reality is cases like these are “next to impossible to win.”

Parents of so-called “anchor babies” cannot file their own citizenship petitions until after the child’s 21st birthday. If the parents stayed in the U.S. illegally for longer than a year following the birth of the child — and Flanagan claimed many do — they will have to wait an additional 10 years before beginning the application process.

Ultimately, Ramirez said illegal immigrant parents want the same things for their children as parents whose families have lived in this country for generations.

“Every mother wants their children to have a better life than they did,” she said.

In the war that is Arizona’s constant struggle with immigration reform, Sen. Pearce is preparing to open up a new front. But as Ramirez looked with satisfaction at the aftermath of the Derechos Hermanos meeting, it was clear the opposition forces were already gearing up for the fight.

“I used to be afraid to say I don’t have documents,” Ramirez said. “But now I’m no longer afraid. Because a piece of paper doesn’t make you any different than me and that’s what I’ve learned at these groups. Because I’m a human being, I have rights.”

For more information:

http://azstarnet.com/news/local/govt-and-politics/article_52e0cc70-dba0-11df-9feb-001cc4c03286.html

The Border Project: Deported man plans to cross again

In Nogales, Mexico, the border wall is decorated with art and spray painted messages. This says, 'Walls are scars on the earth.' Photo by Rachel Morgan

Nogales, Mexico — Jose Estrada* was deported to Mexico five days ago. In three days, he plans to cross the border again.

“When they pick(ed) me up, they asked me, ‘Why you keep trying to cross?’ ” he said of the Border Patrol agents who caught him. “And I tell them, ‘I’m hungry; I’m hungry.’ ”

But Estrada hasn’t always been hungry. Prior to his deportation, he lived in the United States for nearly 20 years.

Although he wasn’t a legal citizen, Estrada had a house, a truck and several jobs. He worked in Kansas on a cattle farm, and most recently in Phoenix, where he made $12.50 an hour working in the fields, laying concrete and landscaping.

Six months ago, Estrada was driving his truck in Phoenix when he was stopped by a police officer.

“This is the problem that (every) Mexican has,” he said. “I don’t know why they stop Mexicans for the brown skin. Why? I don’t understand.”

Estrada is a small man. He wears jeans, a T-shirt, and carries a jacket and plastic bag. On his head sits a baseball cap with one word: “Arizona.” Estrada wears it proudly, like a badge of honor.

He has a playful demeanor and often laughs, flashing his silver-capped teeth.

After they are picked up at the border trying to illegally cross into the United States, many immigrants are brought back to Nogales, Mexico, where they take buses home or attempt to cross again. Photo by Rachel Morgan

Now, he sits in a bus terminal in Mexico. About 50 others, mostly young men, sit on a large, shaded slab of concrete in old rows of upholstered seats that were ripped from buses. They all carry jackets — practical garb for those who attempt to navigate the harsh desert and cross the border under the cover of night.

None of these men have been successful in their journeys. They have all been deported and are awaiting buses that will take them back to their hometowns in Mexico.

Aid workers say they often see the same people again and again at the bus terminal after failed attempts to cross the border.

“I always say, ‘It’s nice to know you’re safe, but not under these circumstances,’ ” said Hannah Hafter, a volunteer for No More Deaths, an aid organization for illegal immigrants.

Many deported immigrants will return to their hometowns via this terminal. Estrada, however, doesn’t plan to go back. He needs to get back into the U.S. to support his family.

Estrada is separated from his wife and has five children — four daughters and a son. Along with his parents, they live in Sinaloa, Mexico, in the northwest part of the country.

“I need to make money because (my children) are in school, and I need to make money to pay for their computers,” he said. “I need to make money for my kids, my mother, father — to pay for birthday parties, Christmas, piñatas.”

Estrada’s strategy for crossing the border is rather unique: He rides a bicycle in the pitch black desert night, darting off the side of the road when he sees headlights.

“It’s so dark, and I wear dark clothes so they no see me,” he said. He declines to name which roads he frequents, so the Border Patrol doesn’t “look out” for him.

He said he’s tried to get papers to cross back into the country legally.

“I need papers, but they won’t give me papers,” he said.

But with his track record of being caught crossing the border illegally, obtaining legal papers may be difficult.

While Estrada is unsure of a solution for his problem, he does have a backup plan.

“I need to find an American girl to marry me on the other side,” he said with a mischievous grin.

*Names have been changed.

The Border Project: Wrangling the border

Wrangling the Border from Sarah Tung on Vimeo.

DOUGLAS, Ariz. — It is now common to see border-patrol agents barrel along the dry, rocky roads in their distinct white trucks, leaving clouds of dusty dirt and bouncing pebbles in their wake. Despite at least one complaint about their driving speed, the rural residents they serve and protect have appreciated their increased presence.

“I think without border patrol, we wouldn’t even be here,” said Wendy Glenn, a rancher in southeast Arizona. “We were just inundated with people and trash.”

More than half a year after local rancher Robert Krentz was shot and killed on his property in Arizona, efforts to increase border security have improved, according to many ranchers in the state.

For the last century or more, ranchers have had a “live-and-let-live” relationship with migrants, said Tom Sheridan, an anthropology professor at the University of Arizona. But the large influx of migrants crossing the U.S.-Mexico border 10 or 12 years ago was overwhelming to both the ranchers and border agents.

Cindy Coping, president of the Southern Arizona Cattlemen’s Protective Association, witnessed this progression firsthand. Coping, 54, and her husband have owned Malpais Ranch for 15 years — long enough to see the influx of migrants from across the border.

When the Copings first bought their property, only a few people made it to their land 55 miles north of the border in the central desert, she said. Then, about 10 years ago, they started to travel in large groups and vehicles. In the last two years, the presence of drug cartels has created a new border dynamic.

“Now (immigrants) are coerced into dealing with the drug cartels,” Coping said. “They’re incredibly violent people. It’s impacted both us and the people coming across, too.”

Coping estimated she has had thousands of interactions with the illegal immigrants who cross the border through the nearby reservation. “We’ve saved dozens from certain death and dehydration, and some of them we just give them food and water, and send them on their way.”

According to Coping, border patrol is now doing a better job than before, but she is still worried about her personal safety. “There’s just too much violence and it surrounds us all the time,” she said.

In Cochise County, ranchers have also witnessed a stronger presence of border agents in their backyards.

“The border patrol has had a very poor presence in the past,” said Anna Magoffin. “Whereas now … (with) the resources they have, if we call, they come.”

But this change came months too late. In recent years, Arizona ranchers, including Krentz and his wife, had been “asking and pleading” for federal help at the U.S.-Mexico border for years, according to Mary Jo Rideout, a rancher from Red Rock.

Pat King, who owns a ranch near Sasabe, Ariz., recalled the underwhelming government response.

“I wrote a letter to the president (and) to our legislators,” she said. “The silence was deafening. It just keeps going on year after year, and we don’t see an end in sight.”

It wasn’t until Krentz’s death in late March, as well as the overwhelming national attention the SB 1070 created, that politicians began to pay attention to the large contingent of unified ranchers calling for border security.

“When (Krentz) got killed, we all just said, ‘That’s the end of it. We’re tired of that crap,’ ” Cochise County rancher Gary Thrasher said. “We took (this election year) as the ideal time to … say something.”

Even with Homeland Security’s stronger presence at the border, illegal immigration and drug smuggling are still considered major safety concerns.

“Ranchers living along the border … face very real threats,” Sheridan said. “They never know whether the next group of people they meet are just poor people (looking for jobs), or whether they’re drug smugglers. Their perception of threat is very real.”

King, who lives about 35 miles north of the border on Anvil Ranch, said it has recently become more dangerous. “We’re seeing more and more of the groups going through, and they’re armed.” South of interstates 10 and 80, it’s as if there is no law, she said.

Despite the threat of imminent danger, most ranchers, including King, staunchly refuse to leave.

“We have a remarkable country, and there is no other country in the world I want to live … and by golly, I’m going to fight for it,” she said.

Immigrant groups rally for DREAM Act

A pair of activists from El Centro Del Inmigrante, an organization that advocates for the DREAM Act, march toward Washington Square at a Wednesday rally. The act failed to pass the U.S. Senate the night before. Photo by Meredith Bennett-Smith

The air outside Judson Memorial Church was thick with the unmistakable warning signs of an approaching thunderstorm, but inside the sanctuary, 18-year old Monica Vega stood calmly behind the podium and boldly stated that she was breaking the law.

“I am undocumented,” the teenager said, “and I am not afraid to say it. And I am going to keep fighting for the DREAM Act until it gets passed.”

Vega spoke at a Wednesday evening rally organized by the New York Immigration Coalition.

The group held the rally to both protest the failure of the U.S. Senate to pass the Development, Relief and Education for Alien Minors Act, and to reaffirm its commitment to keep fighting until the act is signed into law. The DREAM Act would provide a way for undocumented students living in the U.S. before they are 15 to apply for legal resident status, providing they graduate from high school and go on to college or the military.

The rally, which was billed as a candlelight vigil by its organizers, took place in Union Square. An ethnically diverse group of men, women and children started lining up around 6 p.m., many of them carrying hand-lettered posters and signs.

Led by Christina Baal, an immigration advocate with the NYIC, the block-long demonstration headed down University Avenue toward Washington Square and Judson Memorial, with marchers shouting “Yes to Education, No Deportation,” and “What do we want? Dream Act! When do we want it? Now!”

A man carrying a sign exhorting passing motorists to “Honk for the DREAM Act” enjoyed sporadic success, while one pedestrian muttered, “Yeah, deport them,” under his breath as he walked past.

For many, the night was a rallying cry, as an array of speakers stood up one by one to exhort the crowd not to give up and to keep fighting.

Baal’s opening comments set the general tone for the evening.

“This is not over, our dreams are not over,” he said, gripping the podium. “A vote does not decide when dreams die — we do. And we’re here today to say that they’re not dying tonight, they did not die yesterday, and they are not dying anytime soon.”

Political wrangling — heightened due to the close proximity of the Nov. 2 congressional elections — ultimately blocked the National Defense Authorization Act, traditionally a bipartisan and fairly routine package. The act, which included $752 billion in military spending, also included the DREAM Act amendment and a repeal of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy barring gays from openly serving in the armed forces.

The act would have passed had Democrats secured four more votes in order to break a Republican filibuster.

Former Marine Domingo Diaz, who is gay, was discharged from the Corps after he was “outed.” Diaz is still not an American citizen, a status that would change under the DREAM Act’s servicemen provision. Diaz said he is also passionate about a repeal of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy.

“I can go to war,” Diaz said. “I can die protecting the rights and constitutional amendments of United States citizens, but I’m still not considered one. And I think it’s appalling, I think it’s ridiculous. … All these children want is a higher education. We want a chance to better ourselves, to be productive members of society, to be able to be taxpaying citizens and help repay the massive debt this country has given itself.”

A strong current of patriotism pervaded throughout the event. “We all love America,” Vega said at one point. “And we will love America, whether or not they pass the DREAM Act.”

Leticia Amanis, executive director of La Union, a community organizing group committed to the rights of immigrants, said many don’t recognize how valuable immigrants are.

“I think New York State recognizes more the value of immigrants,” Amanis said. “But probably if we were in another state, it would be another situation.”