I just finished another delegation, my third, filled with firsts. It was my first delegation with two vans because we had so many participants (and therefore both MaryCruz and I having to drive most of the time)... the first time thinking about logistics for 24 people... the first time taking into account BorderLinks' typical visits and incorporating interests of the group for almost two weeks of programming...
... the first time seeing where the border wall in Agua Prieta ends and a simple guard rail preventing vehicle crossings begins...
... the first time I had to take a group out of Mexico early due to safety concerns (we are all fine, thank goodness, and this is why we work with community partners on the ground who have a good read on the community)... the first time bridging two different colleges in one group... the first time having Latin@ participants with undocumented family members...
... the first time visiting the Nogales dump where people live and try to make a living sorting through trash to reuse/recycle/sell items...
... the first time meeting with amazing community partners such as Tierra Y Libertad Organization, the Florence Immigrant and Refugee Rights Project, and the Tucson Youth Poetry Slam...
... and the first time making pupusas - a tradition from El Salvador where you essentially fill thick corn tortillas with beans, cheese, and sometimes meat. What an awesome way to celebrate the end of our time together!
It was tough, and I am tired. But I've been filled with a writing energy that might run out soon, so I might as well run with it while it's here!
I had brought my first delegation to see part of a symposium at the U of A (University of Arizona) called "What It Means to Be Human," and that is where I first saw the Tucson Youth Poetry Slam share some of their work. It was amazing to hear youth voices and see youth strength processing everything that goes on in their community that is filled with trauma like inequality, homelessness, family separation, detention, deportation, language and cultural division, political tension. So when the group leader of this delegation mentioned it would be good to see examples of how the border communities are perhaps expressing the reality of the border through art and performance, I immediately thought of them, and the co-director Sarah Gonzales agreed to do a workshop with us!
Now, I've never considered myself to be a poet. I don't think anyone in our delegation would have considered themselves as such. So we entered the space not knowing what to expect and with a high level of apprehension about having to write and share our own work. But it was simply amazing how accessible they made spoken word and slam (the act of competing in spoken word). By the end, through a couple of amazing examples by the 15-year-old and 18-year-old workshop leaders, two simple writing prompts, and some performance advice, we all had written pieces and turned out a collective creative piece about where we consider ourselves to be from.
We were split into two groups, and one half wrote on "My city sounds like," and my half wrote on "My city tastes like," which leaves up to your own interpretation what "city" you identify with and what thoughts and memories you associate. Mine ended up weaving together contradictions I've found through romanticized ideas about the Midwest, my personal experience growing up in a mostly Jewish suburb of Minneapolis, and ethnic enclaves and urban struggles of Minneapolis/St. Paul. We all started from a simple premise and made it our own. At the end of two hours, we each were on our way to some amazing personal poems, and we had woven together pieces of our individual work and performed the whole. Wow. We amazed each other as well as our workshop leaders, and now we have some new skills we can hone and pass on to others.
You never know what will come out of you. You get to own your experience and, if you choose to, share it with others. Here's what I came up with in those ten minutes we got to write, and I'd encourage you to try the exercise too!
My city tastes like challah,
lutefisk,
hotdish and savory and heartyness;
meat and potatoes to sustain you to grow corn for others.
My city tastes spiceless.
My city tastes like traditions:
Norwegian,
Somalian,
Hmong,
Mexican,
Ecuadorian,
Vietnamese,
Thai.
My city tastes like salads in the summer and soup in the winter.
My city tastes like living off the land, feeding the community, but no grocery stores for miles.
My city tastes like charities, food pantries, and sometimes emptiness.
My city tastes like nobody wanting to be the one to eat the last bite.
There you have it. That's what I got for today. This was a really intriguing exercise for myself and these students to do in Tucson, coming from all different parts of the country. It was two hours where I could be a full participant as well, allowing myself to be guided by the workshop leaders. I really look forward to further collaboration with the Tucson Youth Poetry Slam, and potentially more writing springboarding off of these prompts as well!
Until next time!
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