Nebraska = The New Arizona?
Seriously? Really? Were some Nebraskans not awake during the shootings?
Not only has anti-immigrant legislation comparable to Arizona's been introduced this session (Governor Dave Heineman ran on that promise), but so has legislation eliminating multicultural education in the schools--again, similar to Arizona's, but tucked inconspicuously in among a bunch of educational budget issues (clever: using the budget woes to fight the culture wars). My rockin' boss Amelia Montes, the Director of the Institute for Ethnic Studies, will be testifying on Monday down at the Capitol against LB333.
Banning such education makes a sinister kind of sense, though. Education has always gone hand in hand with power. Strip away people's chance to gain knowledge of their history, struggles, and the hands-on specifics of how change got accomplished, and they'll be rendered conveniently mute, subservient. They won't know the successful strategies of their predecessors or have the chance to be inspired by their courage and perseverance. They'll internalize the racism that's thrown at them every day, and they'll feel shame. They'll work hard, keep their heads down, feel fearful.
But only for a while. Oppression never lasts. Truth always wins out in the end, and people always, always rise up, driven by a deep sense of worth, justice, and equality.
But it takes work and struggle. If you're in Nebraska and want to protest the imposition of Arizona-style laws onto our lives, you can attend the Rally for the Good Life on January 27th. Meet on the west side of the Capitol, by the statue of Lincoln, at noon. If you want to learn more about immigration, my favorite local bookstore is hosting a film & discussion series this spring. Indigo Bridge is one of the coziest places in downtown Lincoln, so come drink coffee, bring a friend, and talk with strangers about a situation that affects us all. The series is called Beyond Rhetoric: An Open Discussion on Immigration, and four documentaries will be screened, starting next Thursday, the 27th, and ending in March.
As I teach Chicana & Chicano Literature to my lovely, bright undergraduate students this semester, I feel weirdly aware of being in the middle of history: history being made, contested, hammered out. We're reading the speeches of César Chávez right now, and his words from the 1960s (!) couldn't be more timely and pertinent.
These are strange days, people. Interesting times (as in the classic curse). In way too many ways.
It's curious. I teach with the awareness that some of my fellow Nebraskans feel hostile toward what I do every day in the classroom. Sometimes this awareness of teaching at the center of a storm energizes and invigorates me, giving my work a strengthened sense of urgency and purpose. Sometimes it's just an ordinary day. Sometimes I feel sad, or weary, or vulnerable.
But no matter how vulnerable I feel, I will not--despite the new legislation State Senator Mark Christensen has introduced, LB516--be toting a gun. Híjole. Sometimes you gotta laugh to keep from crying.
I'll end with some words from César Chávez himself: "When people are involved in something constructive, trying to bring about change, they tend to be less violent than those who are not engaged in rebuilding or in anything creative." Published in 1969; still ringing true.
Chávez called violence "the shortcut." In contrast, positive change-makers are patient. We're in it for the long haul.
Not only has anti-immigrant legislation comparable to Arizona's been introduced this session (Governor Dave Heineman ran on that promise), but so has legislation eliminating multicultural education in the schools--again, similar to Arizona's, but tucked inconspicuously in among a bunch of educational budget issues (clever: using the budget woes to fight the culture wars). My rockin' boss Amelia Montes, the Director of the Institute for Ethnic Studies, will be testifying on Monday down at the Capitol against LB333.
Banning such education makes a sinister kind of sense, though. Education has always gone hand in hand with power. Strip away people's chance to gain knowledge of their history, struggles, and the hands-on specifics of how change got accomplished, and they'll be rendered conveniently mute, subservient. They won't know the successful strategies of their predecessors or have the chance to be inspired by their courage and perseverance. They'll internalize the racism that's thrown at them every day, and they'll feel shame. They'll work hard, keep their heads down, feel fearful.
But only for a while. Oppression never lasts. Truth always wins out in the end, and people always, always rise up, driven by a deep sense of worth, justice, and equality.
But it takes work and struggle. If you're in Nebraska and want to protest the imposition of Arizona-style laws onto our lives, you can attend the Rally for the Good Life on January 27th. Meet on the west side of the Capitol, by the statue of Lincoln, at noon. If you want to learn more about immigration, my favorite local bookstore is hosting a film & discussion series this spring. Indigo Bridge is one of the coziest places in downtown Lincoln, so come drink coffee, bring a friend, and talk with strangers about a situation that affects us all. The series is called Beyond Rhetoric: An Open Discussion on Immigration, and four documentaries will be screened, starting next Thursday, the 27th, and ending in March.
As I teach Chicana & Chicano Literature to my lovely, bright undergraduate students this semester, I feel weirdly aware of being in the middle of history: history being made, contested, hammered out. We're reading the speeches of César Chávez right now, and his words from the 1960s (!) couldn't be more timely and pertinent.
These are strange days, people. Interesting times (as in the classic curse). In way too many ways. It's curious. I teach with the awareness that some of my fellow Nebraskans feel hostile toward what I do every day in the classroom. Sometimes this awareness of teaching at the center of a storm energizes and invigorates me, giving my work a strengthened sense of urgency and purpose. Sometimes it's just an ordinary day. Sometimes I feel sad, or weary, or vulnerable.
But no matter how vulnerable I feel, I will not--despite the new legislation State Senator Mark Christensen has introduced, LB516--be toting a gun. Híjole. Sometimes you gotta laugh to keep from crying.
I'll end with some words from César Chávez himself: "When people are involved in something constructive, trying to bring about change, they tend to be less violent than those who are not engaged in rebuilding or in anything creative." Published in 1969; still ringing true.
Chávez called violence "the shortcut." In contrast, positive change-makers are patient. We're in it for the long haul.
Faye said:
You wrote:
"Truth always wins out in the end, and people always, always rise up, driven by a deep sense of worth, justice, and equality."
I must admit, I have begun to wonder if the world will continue in this way. When I think about Darfur, Native Americans, the Middle East, Sarah Palin and the like, certain radical, violent forces gaining ground globally while it seems as if few notice or pay attention...I now have some fear that the narrative most of us are used to, the end we are used to expecting or hoping for no matter how long it might take, might be under siege.
But I still have hope, and certainly hope is personified in everyday heroes.
January 24, 2011 8:17 PM