Day Three in Guadalajara

Tuesday was day three of the Rhizome program.

Before we started out for the day, I was chatting with Tran (Rhizome's executive director) and learned something fascinating about Mexico: When a new political party takes over, something like 6,000 Mexicans lose their jobs. What we would think are civil service positions are treated as political jobs that change hands when power shifts. Apparently, even the look of government websites changes. I know that US politicians have bandied about a similar idea, angry about only being able to make top-down agency changes. It seems like madness to me. Talk about instability and a total loss of institutional knowledge.

Soon, we headed out for the official start of the day. We walked to one of my favorite places to visit in any city -- the metro! Y'all. It is gorgeous. I'm talking DC-style double-height ceilings. Art. Cleanliness. Sure, it doesn't go many places. Guillermo Célis had told us the day before that building an underground metro system was difficult because Guadalajara sits on something like 15 underground rivers. So lately the city has been investing in above-ground light rail.

Anyhoo. Enough waxing poetic about public transportation. 

We took the metro to meet up with Robert ("Bobby" "Lucky") Hernández to learn about his journey from Los Angeles cholo gang member who served time in the United States to deportee addiction counselor running a rehab shelter for other deportees. The story is as powerful as that short intro suggests.

Robert spoke to us in English, which, he pointed out, is his language. It is what he dreams in.

We learned about the unexpected challenges Robert faced as soon as he was deported. For example, it took him 5 years to get a copy of his US birth certificate, which he needed to get work authorization. As a result, he took on undocumented jobs in Mexico--washing cars, working in peanut and sweet potato fields.

We also learned about his long road to becoming a licensed addiction counselor, how his own personal experience helps him connect with addicts and institutionalized individuals. He's proud of the fact that he's never been to jail in Jalisco, his top marks on his licensure exam (99.9%, a record!), the fact that his mom acknowledges that he has changed, the people he has helped (one is a pilot, another a gamer, two are managers with large companies), being paid to talk to the police about addiction, and his work establishing Chicano Fest in Guadalajara.

Living in Mexico as a deportee has not been easy for Robert. He talked about the difficulties of belonging. How Mexicans don't want him--someone the US rejected, someone with a criminal record, someone once affiliated with gangs. Yet he is Mexican. He is American. He is formerly incarcerated. All these things, none of these things, and more.

Beyond these complex questions of belonging, it is clear that Robert's shelter is financially on the edge. The ceiling is sheet metal with gaps that let rain in. He told us that he's busy drying more than 40 blankets that got soaked in the previous night's storm. Flies are everywhere, biting our skin. The toilet is broken and has to be operated with a water bucket. One shelter guest is working for a call center ("Hi there, how can I help you?") while around the corner others are using electrical tools to shear through metal. It's a chaotic scene. If any law students want to do a major fundraiser, his organization could really use the help.

After a lunch of traditional torta ahogada with Robert, we rode the metro again (woot woot), heading across town to meet up with Liliana Orozco and Marcela Pérez to learn about their organization: Caminantas.

Caminantas is an organization dedicated to helping migrant women in Guadalajara--be they from other countries or other parts of Mexico. They connect women with resources to help regularize their immigration status (if there is a path to regularization), flee and/or recover from family violence, and find employment in Guadalajara. It's a social network movement--creating and widening support for migrant women.

A few things really struck me about their comments. I've known since my own law school days (more than two decades ago now) that Mexican police frequently dismiss claims of family violence. What I did not know, but learned from these spakers, is that they're particularly dismissive of claims by migrant women. Moreover, migrant women face discrimination from private entities. It's entirely legal in Mexico for a privately-owned bus company to refuse to sell a ticket to a foreigner or for a bank to refuse to open an account for a foreigner.

An interesting theme tied the morning and afternoon conversations: stereotyping. Robert talked about how he is stereotyped daily by Mexican police who look at him and still see an LA gang banger. The women of Caminantas talked about the stereotypes that hamper migrant women in Guadalajara--namely that they are hypersexual criminals who have migrated solely for economic gain.

After these heavy talks, we had a few hours to ourselves. I went with some of my cohort to check out Churros La Bombilla, which is Guillermo del Toro's favorite churro spot. I had the churro ice cream sandwiches with house-made ice cream. Delicioso!

We regrouped in the evening and set out to experience lucha libre. I'd never been to a lucha libre event before. The antics in the area were nothing short of acrobatic. Competitors jumped from the top of the ropes to land on their opponents--inside and outside the ring. They swung each other around in fast twisting motions. I can't say that I could follow all of the story lines, but how can you not get behind a pirate facing off against the pink panther?

Meanwhile, the crowds were chanting cheerful obscenities at each other. Not the wrestlers, mind you, the other attendees. The upper level shouts at the lower level. They retort. The primary theme of the chants appeared to be "your mom." There was an odd affinity for chunky men to hold up their shirts and wiggle pot bellies at the opposing crowd. I wished I had a cheat sheet for the chants, but I found one at a stall selling hats and masks on the way out.

Here is my cohort for the week. Tran is at the bottom right, with volunteer Anabelle on her left. Us students from L to R: Leonard (law student), Claudia (communications manager with Immigration Hub), Fabiola (Texas Impact, educating religious communities about immigration), moi, and Miriam (law student).

-KitJ