Obviously this isn’t a comprehensive list and will be updated as more are remembered or learned. So, list will be updated as needed. Currently/Continually working on it.
JANUARY: WELCOME TO A NEW YEAR!
Capricorn (Dec 22-Jan 19) 1: Josette Simon 2: Erica Hubbard, Renée Elise Goldsberry 3: Angelique Perrin, Nicole Beharie 4: Vanity, Jill Marie Jones, Miss Tina Lawson, Lenora Crichlow, Alexandra Grey, Coco Jones, Sindi Dlathu 5: Ms. Juicy Baby 6: Betty Gabriel, Jacqueline Moore, Tiffany Pollard, Armelia McQueen, Tanyell Waivers 7: Blue Ivy Carter, Ruth Negga, Sofia Wylie, Zora Neale Hurston, Zaraah Abrahams 8: Butterfly McQueen, Ryan Destiny, Cynthia Erivo 9: Amber Ruffin, Flo Milli, Anais Lee/Mirabel Lee,
10: Kathleen Bradley, Sisi Stringer, Teresa Graves 11: Adepero Oduye, Aja Naomi King, Amiyah Scott, Kim Coles, Mary J. Blige 12: Cynthia Addai Robinson, Erinn Westbrook, Issa Rae, Naya Rivera, Zabryna Guevara 13: Janet Hubert, Andy Allo, Shonda Rhimes 14: Adjoa Andoh, Vonetta McGee, Emayatzy Corinealdi 15: Regina King 16: Debbie Allen, Aaliyah, FKA Twigs, Sade 17: Eartha Kitt, Indya Moore, Michelle Obama, Ann Wolfe, Quen Blackwell 18: Ashleigh Murray, Estelle 19: Simone Missick
Aquarius (Jan 20-Feb 18) 20: Rukiya Bernard 21: Anastarzi Anaquway 22: Blesnya Minher, Dwan Smith 23: Lanei Chapman 24: Kenya Moore, Tatyana Ali 25: Ariana DeBose, Jenifer Lewis, Tati Gabrielle, Etta James, Willow Nightingale 26: Angela Davis, Anita Baker, Bessie Coleman, Ciera Payton, Desiree Burch, Sasha Banks, Zara Cully 27: Betty Adewole 28: Tyra Ferrell 31: Kerry Washington
FEBRUARY: HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH, SIS!!!
3: Ellen Thomas 6: Mame Anna Diop, Heir of Glee (Phillicia Deanell) 7: Essence Atkins, Kirby Howell Baptiste 8: Quintessa, 9: Alice Walker, Camille Winbush 10: Yara Shahidi, Uzo Aduba 11: Kelly Rowland, Brandy 12: Latrice Royale 14: Danai Gurira, Aniela Gumbs 15: Amber Riley, Lynn Whitfield, Meg Thee Stallion, Zuri Reed 16: Hailey Kilgore 18: Emelia Burns, Genelle Williams, Toni Morrison
Pisces (Feb 19-Mar 20) 19: Caroline Chikezie, Angela Meryl, Ariel Alexandria Davis 20: Rihanna 21: Aunjanue Ellis, Ann Ogbomo 22: Genneya Walton 23: Niecy Nash 24: Kasi Lemmons, Tawny Newsome, Dede Lovelace 25: Geffri Maya 28: Rae Dawn Chong, Tasha & Sidra Smith 29: Augusta Savage
Aaron Bobrow-Strain | The Death and Life if Aida Hernandez | Farrar, Straus and Giroux | April 2019 | 28 minutes (5,637 words)
Since the move to Douglas, Arizona, Jennifer had spent less and less time at home. She was distant and irritable. Her anger encompassed her mother, her mother’s abusive boyfriend Saul, American schools, and the whole United States. At the nadir, she started lashing out at her sisters Aida and Cynthia. And then, in 1998 or 1999, she left for good.
The morning Jennifer ran away, Aida was the only other person home. She watched her sister dump schoolbooks from her backpack and replace them with clothes. She knew what was happening without having to ask and figured it was for the best. On the way out, Jennifer said that a friend would drive her across the border. After that, she’d see what happened.
Aida kept quiet over the next day, even as Luz began to worry about Jennifer’s disappearance. She knew that her father would call soon to let them know that Jennifer was safe and would live with him in Mexico. The call came eventually, and then the sisters were two.
This was Aida’s fifth-grade year. Things got so bad during that period that Saul bought Luz a house to keep her from leaving. It was a dirty white bungalow with a sharp stone wall around a dirt yard. It had the usual sewer roaches and broken feel, but Aida and Cynthia found a secret paradise in the yard. There, under a thick, strong sycamore, was a cinder-block casita with one room, a bathroom, and a metal door that locked. The sisters immediately saw its potential and staked their claim.
A previous occupant had piled the outbuilding with junk and boxes and broken exercise equipment. Aida and Cynthia stacked the junk in a corner, shoved the exercise equipment aside, and scrubbed the place clean. They decorated with dolls and pictures cut from magazines. One of the rumpled storage boxes coughed up a radio that worked.
The two sisters retreated to their hideout whenever they could. They cleaned and decorated and tuned in music. Britney Spears and the Backstreet Boys still fluttered their hearts, but Aida had begun craving Tupac and Snoop Dogg, too. When a good song came on, Aida and Cynthia would lock the metal door, turn up the radio, and dance.
Before they knew it, night would seep into their sanctuary. In the cooler months, it came with mesquite smoke from woodstoves. In warmer months, moths and beetles flicked around lightbulbs. The evening chorus of dogs barking and helicopters buzzing over the border alerted them that it was almost time to leave. Finally, they’d smell grilled meat and roasting chilies drifting across the yard. At this signal, Aida’s stomach twisted. She returned to the main house wondering if the food she smelled was meant for her.
That year, Aida felt that Luz spent all of her grocery money on elaborate meals to keep Saul happy. The sisters, on the other hand, often got cups of ramen. Aida was growing, and one Styrofoam Maruchan didn’t touch her hunger. “Tragona,” “comelona,” her mother would tease, but it wasn’t funny.
One night, Aida and Cynthia found a sack of Mexican birote rolls abandoned in a cupboard. They were golden and flour dusted and still smelled vaguely of bread. Aida didn’t wait to sit down at the table or even get a plate for the crumbs. She stuffed half a roll into her mouth — and yelped. Her teeth ricocheted. She paused for a moment to glare at the basalt-hard roll. Then she adjusted her grip and began to gnaw. Cautious Cynthia followed her lead, sawing and chiseling bread dust with glee.
At the dining room table, Luz had just set steak and rice in front of Saul, but he forked his plate in annoyance.
“Can’t they chew quieter?” He directed this at Luz.
The girls went rigid, expecting their mother to lash out at them for upsetting the man. Aida held her roll tight and started to shake.
Instead, Luz reeled on her partner.
“I’ve already lost one daughter because of you. I’m not going to lose another.”
Aida and Cynthia scattered to their casita before they could see what happened next. With the door locked and the music on, they didn’t notice when Saul left. Nor did they see Luz take her purse and get in the car shortly after that. Only much later, when they smelled burgers frying across the yard, did they venture out of hiding. Luz had gone to the store and returned with the ingredients to make hamburgers and all the fixings for her kids. Later, she showed them an inflatable swimming pool she’d purchased for the yard.
Luz had absorbed the blows of Saul’s violence for years. When he lashed out at her children, though, she revolted. Something shifted in her. He had gone too far. That year, Luz made a promise to Aida. “As soon as you finish fifth grade, we will leave him.”
* * *
Sarah Marley Elementary remained Aida’s haven away from home. Any excuse to stay after the final bell was welcome. She played basketball, sang in the choir, and joined the D.A.R.E. program. Luz, exhausted from violence and endless hours of work, did not show up for Aida’s games or parent-teacher conferences. But in May 1999, she did show up for graduation.
On the morning of the ceremony, Luz presented her daughter with a new dress. It was long and baby blue with small embroidered butterflies — the exact dress Aida had pleaded with her mother to buy for graduation. Luz brushed out her daughter’s bangs and styled her curls to look like Selena. Aida added hair glitter to the look and felt like a sunburst again.
Fifth-grade graduation marked the end of elementary and the beginning of middle school. It was a big deal, and Aida was called up several times to receive recognition. She was so happy she almost forgot her mother’s promise.
As fast as two toddlers, two preteens, and a woman loaded with all their possessions could move, they moved.
By the time the event finished, glitter had drifted onto Aida’s cheeks and nose, and she clutched a tall stack of awards. She held them up to Luz, one by one, reading the English and explaining what each one meant: “Student of the Month,” “Student of the Week,” “First Place in the Sarah Marley Mile Run,” “Girls’ Basketball Team Participation Award,” “Honor Roll,” and “Certifi ate of Promotion to Sixth Grade.” She wanted her mother to appreciate each one.
“Let’s go,” Luz replied.
Luz, Aida, Cynthia, Jazmin, and Emiliano walked twelve blocks home instead of waiting for a ride from Saul. Aida, still admiring her certificates, had to run to keep up.
At the white bungalow, Luz ordered the girls to gather whatever they wanted to take with them into bags. As fast as two toddlers, two preteens, and a woman loaded with all their possessions could move, they moved. It was a two-mile walk to the port of entry, but it took even longer through back alleys and side streets. Any of Saul’s drivers would have called the boss if they’d seen the family carrying its possessions down the streets.
For the second time in three years, Luz and her children crossed the international line.
* * *
Part of Aida expected her old life to rematerialize — Mom, Dad, Dad’s house, the tienda, and the playground. Instead, she got an unfinished cinder-block room near the railroad tracks in one of Agua Prieta’s most cutthroat neighborhoods. Mexico was not her place anymore, or her choice.
They spent the last days of May 1999 camped at an aunt’s house while Luz acquired a junk car and a place to live. The new house was half built and half in progress, a condition not uncommon in the city’s poorer neighborhoods. It lacked door locks, and until Luz installed dead bolts, the five of them squeezed into the car to sleep safely at night. A year earlier, they had locked themselves in their apartment in Douglas and worried about migrants sleeping in their car. Now they were the ones bedding down in a vehicle.
As if to keep the needle of their lives pointing to red in the absence of Saul, Luz began to direct her anger at Aida. Almost twelve, Aida had a new maturity shooting through her blood, and she argued back. One day, Luz and Aida clashed so hard that Luz buckled. She pulled back and begged on her knees for forgiveness. It was too late. While Luz sobbed, Aida stared a thousand miles past her.
Then, partway through Aida’s sixth grade, Saul found them. The border was no obstacle for him. He plied Luz with all his feather-haired, ripple-muscled charm, and soon he was visiting regularly again.
Aida endured. She’d lived with violence for so long that she almost couldn’t remember another way of life. But she could remember one thing: her father lived nearby. One afternoon toward the end of sixth grade, Aida set off on foot across Agua Prieta to her father’s house. And just as Raúl had welcomed Jennifer back a year or two earlier with quiet joy, he also welcomed Aida.
* * *
“Now that you’re here, there are things you need to know,” Jennifer said the first night she and Aida spent together at Raúl’s house. Aida understood then that, at last, she would get the truth about her parents’ separation. Jennifer didn’t sugarcoat it.
“Mom left Dad because Dad hit her all the time, and at the end Dad hit her because she had been with Saul for years. Emiliano and Jazmin are Saul’s kids, not our dad’s.”
All the signs had been there for Aida to put together. Her dad’s furious outbursts. The long visits to their “family friend” that Luz had dragged Aida to, Saul’s special treatment of Emiliano and Jazmin. But she’d been so little when it happened. Eight-year-olds didn’t put clues like that together. She remembered how ecstatic her father had been when Emiliano was born. Finally, a boy after four girls . . . and it wasn’t his. That is messed up, Aida thought.
None of it excused Raúl’s violence. But it explained a lot about her life. As Aida grappled with betrayals wrapped around betrayals, an empty space ripped inside her. Luz had raised her with contradictory advice. “Your biggest goal should be to find a man who can support you,” she’d say, followed immediately by “Never let what happened to me happen to you.” True or not, to Aida’s early teen mind her mother’s philosophy had wrecked all of their lives. Who is she to tell me what to do? From now on, I live how I want, she resolved.
In this, Jennifer proved an able mentor. For Aida’s thirteenth birthday, she organized a party. Before leaving the house, Jennifer took her aside. Long baby-blue dresses with embroidered butterflies were out. Jennifer dressed Aida in a white tube top and baggy pants that slung below her hips. The older sister pulled Aida’s hair back tight and wrapped it in a bandanna. No glitter was applied. She brushed on white cake foundation and wings of electric-blue eye shadow. Brown lipstick outlined in even darker brown finished the makeover.
“You should shave your eyebrows, and just pencil them in,” Jennifer suggested, but Aida declined. Still, she wore hoop earrings that night and swaggered from the hips. The new look was good.
At the party, Jennifer pressed a warm forty into her hands. Aida drank half of it in one go and liked it.
Aida was only thirteen, but she had seen all that she needed of the world. Enough to know that no one would ever tell her what to do. She remembered herself weak from hunger and punished for not speaking into the dispatch radio. She remembered getting passed over at school and lost in a new country. Not knowing where she’d live next and hustling through the streets with her possessions in plastic bags. And “hide from la migra,” and “cero uno a base.” Aida had seen all those scenes through perfectly clear eyes. So if the world blurred and spun a bit when she drank, she was fine with it.
* * *
Raúl worked as a security guard from seven at night to five in the morning. Jennifer showed Aida how to act like a good girl until he left. Then they stripped off their school uniforms and slipped into party clothes. Sometimes they skated back into Raúl’s house only minutes before he came home to tumble into bed at six or seven. Jennifer taught Aida how to attend school still high on weed and whiskey. And she helped set Aida up with a guy to teach her the most important lesson of all.
Aida loathed him and the way he pawed her. In all other regards, she was an adept student of Jennifer’s life lessons. Soon she surpassed her older sister in the art of smashing into the world. She wanted to be messy and bladelike, and she was.
The playground outside Raúl’s house had changed in the few years since they’d played there as girls. All of Agua Prieta had changed since the city found itself thrust into the business of clandestine border crossing. Aida started hanging out with a pack of older kids who convened at the playground every night. They weren’t a real gang, but they thought it would be cool to be one. When one of the girls learned to hot-wire cars, Aida and her friends spent their nights fishtailing onto Agua Prieta’s paved boulevards and smashing the suspensions of the stolen cars on its rutted dirt roads.
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The extended family observed Aida’s exploits from a distance. Agua Prieta was still a small enough town that gossip traveled fast, and gossip about Aida provoked knowing head shakes. This one hit la mera edad de la punzada hard, they clucked. Aida’s family called girls’ puberty “the age of the stabbing pain,” an apt metaphor. Aida had impaled herself on it fully.
Only when reading books did Aida feel accompanied in life. At some point, she had discovered Sandra Cisneros’s House on Mango Street. She kept the thin book close and read it over and over again. Esperanza, the main character, was a Mexican American girl Aida’s age. Esperanza traversed her Chicago neighborhood in the company of two girls, as close to her as sisters. They found adventures and usually skirted violence, but abusive fathers, sexual assault, and poverty riddled their world. Esperanza survived it all, writing down her story in order to get by. La mera edad de la punzada left gashes in Esperanza, and the struggle to make a place in the United States never ceased. Like Aida, though, she vowed to carry on, no matter what. “I have begun my own quiet war,” Esperanza wrote, and Aida concurred.
* * *
Aida burned through most of seventh grade this way. She read some, skipped school, and ran wild. Her father didn’t know what to do, and relatives, not wanting to bother Luz with bad news, kept her in the dark. Then, one cyanotic dawn, Aida slipped into Raúl’s house as usual and found both her parents waiting. Half stoned, the night still vibrating in her head, Aida realized that she hadn’t seen her parents together in years. Even though she knew that she was about to get hell, the sight of them sitting at the kitchen table made her smile.
It didn’t last long. Luz’s stare — which had also become Aida’s stare — bored holes in her daughter. Raúl laid out the facts.
“I cannot take care of you while I’m at work, and your behavior of late has been less than correct.” He always spoke formally that way. “As much as it brings me sadness, you will need to go live with your mother.”
* * *
Posters went up in the spring of 2001 advertising a day of Cinco de Mayo horse races. It promised to be a historic event. Reeling from years of record migrant flows and divisive border buildup, the mayors of both Douglas and Agua Prieta wanted to restore a bit of borderlands spirit. They won permission to take down a stretch of border fence west of town. Race organizers would replace the barrier with a plastic railing running straight down the international line. For five hundred meters, a U.S. horse and a Mexican horse would rocket along the geopolitical divide, each one on its own side. Organizers expected ten thousand spectators, half in the United States and half in Mexico. The day’s festivities would remind residents what it meant to live in DouglaPrieta, a single community enriched, not endangered, by the border.
Organizers billed the event as Douglas and Agua Prieta’s “second annual” International Border Horse Race. The “first annual” race had run forty-three years earlier in 1958, pitting a champion Arizona thoroughbred named Chiltepin against Relampago, one of the most famous horses in Mexico at the time. Relampago, owned by a nightclub impresario from Agua Prieta, won.
In 1958, race organizers staged the match on both sides of the borderline to get around animal quarantine regulations. In 2001, the race would defy another kind of border regime — this one focused on undocumented migrants.
Reeling from years of record migrant flows and divisive border buildup, the mayors of both Douglas and Agua Prieta wanted to restore a bit of borderlands spirit.
When the day came, Mayor Ray Borane presided over the event with noble words. “They say enemies build walls and friends build fences,” he declared. “Well, today we take down the fence to show that we are more than neighbors — we are friends and family.”
The races attracted fifteen thousand spectators, far more than expected. Horses with names like El Sapo, El Bobito, and El Rayito thundered down the track in twenty-second flat-out sprints. Between races, Mexican bookies waved rolls of bills and dipped across the line to take bets in Arizona.
U.S. spectators hustled across the track to buy Tecate when American vendors ran out of beer. A woman arrayed in a charro suit performed an impromptu horse ballet. And the Border Patrol hung back, unwilling to interfere. For some, the binational event seemed as if it might mark the beginning of a new DouglaPrieta. For others, it seemed like a last hurrah.
* * *
The second annual International Border Horse Race was not the only effort to resist the stiffening border at the turn of the millennium. Around that same time, Rosie Mendoza joined Frontera de Cristo. This was a group of people from Douglas’s faith communities horrified by the human cost of prevention through deterrence. Frontera de Cristo worked to mend connections between people and places. It organized development projects in Agua Prieta and education programs for Americans interested in understanding immigration at a deeper level. The group also helped found and staff the Migrant Resource Center in Agua Prieta. Volunteers in the small building on the Mexican side next to the port of entry welcomed recent deportees. They distributed shoes, blankets, hot coffee, and food — some migrants’ first meal in days. Volunteers helped the castaways telephone relatives in places like Chicago, Iowa City, and Greenville, South Carolina. They bandaged feet that were bloody and blistered after treks through the desert. Sometimes, they just held people shell-shocked by their violent traverse through Mexico, the desert, and then detention.
When they weren’t helping the living, Frontera de Cristo members vowed to remember the dead. Every Tuesday evening, as rush-hour traffic idled through the port of entry, community members carrying white crosses gathered near the wall. Each cross bore the name of a migrant who had died in Cochise County. For as long as it took, the assembled fellowship read each name aloud, followed by a simple cry, “presente” — you are still here with us. Rosie Mendoza participated in the vigil often. She called out each name, exactly as written on the cross, as loud as her soft voice permitted. But in her heart, every name she uttered stood for the dead man she’d seen at the bottom of the ditch in August 1997.
* * *
On the other side of the spectrum, the Old West bluster of angry ranchers drew displays of solidarity from across the country’s right wing. Inspired by images of armed residents like Roger Barnett taking a stand against “invasion,” anti-immigration activists poured into southeastern Arizona. One of them, Glenn Spencer, had been protesting Mexican immigration to California since the early 1990s. When he heard what was happening in Douglas, he declared California “a lawless, lost state” and decided to make a stand in Cochise County. Southeastern Arizona would be his battleground against what he said was a Mexican assault on white America. Spencer founded the American Border Patrol, an organization with militia trappings, in 2002. After reading about Roger Barnett, the Texan Jack Foote created a similar organization, Ranch Rescue, and began to patrol private land in Texas and Arizona.
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Undocumented residents like Aida stayed off the streets when a new contingent of ersatz border defenders rolled into town. Less vulnerable residents openly criticized the vigilante invasion. For some, civilian patrollers were well-meaning imbeciles who got in the way of real law enforcement; for others, they were the shock troops of white supremacy.
If most Douglas residents distanced themselves from militia-style border defenders, the question of what to make of federal forces was more contentious. Was the appearance of heavily armed agents, National Guard troops, stadium lights, fencing, and military-grade hardware a salvation? Or a hostile occupation?
Competing views on border security upended the town. Angry white ranchers drew national attention, but residents’ opinions about intensified border enforcement didn’t always cleave along racial lines. More than a few Mexican American residents supported immigration restrictions and tougher border security. Years of large-scale migration through the town had exhausted everyone.
Residents also acknowledged that vocal support for border security provided a way for Mexican Americans to position themselves as “real” Americans in the hierarchy of racial nativism. And no other law enforcement agency in the country hired more Latinos than the Border Patrol. “It’s kind of like the Irish,” one retiree from Pirtleville observed. “When they first got here, they were discriminated against. They didn’t get influence or make their way [in America] until they moved into law enforcement.”
Prejudice against the new generation of darker-skinned, more indigenous-looking border crossers also inflamed hostility. With their ancestry squarely located in the supposedly whiter reaches of northern Mexico, Douglas’s norteños sometimes looked down on migrants from southern Mexico and Central America.
On the other side of the spectrum, the Old West bluster of angry ranchers drew displays of solidarity from across the country’s right wing.
Rosie Mendoza was not from southern Mexico, but she came from a northern Mexican family of indigenous descent; this was more common than stereotypes of “white” norteños acknowledged. Her grandfather Cipriano had been an indigenous dancer and healer. She herself had first come to the United States without papers. But Rosie’s three children, growing up as citizens in post-1997 Douglas, believed that undocumented immigration was something that involved distant strangers — foreign-looking Mayans from Chiapas or Guatemala. They struggled to imagine their mother as “an illegal.”
“Is it true that you were a wetback, Mom?” Rosie’s youngest son sometimes asked in a teasing tone.
“Mom, guess what?” her teenage daughter might needle. “I’m going to take the Border Patrol exam next week.”
“Ay, mijo, mija, don’t you know that Jesus was an illegal too?” Rosie would spar back, and then hug her kids.
Rosie’s daughter wasn’t going to take the test, but Rosie could have accepted her choice if she did. Rosie even dated a Border Patrol agent for a while. When he brought romantic sushi lunches to the clinic, she made him wait outside so he didn’t scare her clients. They kept work talk to a minimum and agreed to differ about the border.
“But, you know, guapo,” Rosie would tell him to soften their disagreements, “I’m really glad that you have a job.”
This was a major factor complicating Douglasites’ response to the new paradigm of border enforcement: the town had become partly dependent on border security spending. In fact, increasingly, it seemed to Rosie that border security wasn’t much more than a government job creation program. In some respects, she was right: by 2007, one in thirteen employed adults living in Douglas worked for law enforcement. That rate would continue to increase over the next decade. By comparison, only about one in ninety-five New Yorkers worked for law enforcement. In Tucson, the figure was one in a hundred. In Phoenix, only one in two hundred.
For men in Douglas, the rate was even higher: one in seven employed men in Douglas wore a law enforcement badge of some kind. Law enforcement jobs carried wages and benefits that had not been seen in Douglas since the smelter closed. Border Patrol, Customs, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA), the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms (ATF), police officers, prison guards, and sheriff ’s deputies constituted a kind of economic elite. Their spending helped keep the town afloat. Children aspired to join their ranks, and even immigrant rights activists made bleak jokes about taking the Border Patrol exam when money was tight. At the community college, a federal grant program helped local students prepare for that test. “Pathways out of Poverty” was its revealing name. Even Aida’s family was part of this new economy: Aida, her mother, and her sisters were undocumented, but one of their U.S. citizen relatives worked for the Douglas Police Department. Another one worked security at the port of entry.
‘Ay, mijo, mija, don’t you know that Jesus was an illegal too?’
Douglas had, in many respects, become a new kind of company town — a Homeland Security company town. But the town’s burgeoning new industry did not emulate Phelps Dodge’s benevolent paternalism. Nor did it invest in community life as PD once had. As much as Douglas depended on security money to survive, border security never produced the kind of positive ripple effects the smelter had provided. Most of the billions of dollars lavished on border enforcement by Congress flowed to outside contractors. Wall construction, high-tech infrastructure, and even vehicle maintenance enriched firms based elsewhere. When the Department of Homeland Security built a new border wall, it “didn’t get the materials from B&D Hardware” on H Avenue, the director of a regional economic development institute joked.
On the personnel front, Border Patrol increasingly hired new recruits from non-border communities, and most new agents refused to live in Douglas. They feared the entanglements that would come with living in a community they patrolled. Most preferred to commute from places like the military town of Sierra Vista an hour away. A top city official described this pattern in stark terms: “It’s like the military that goes into a war zone, does its thing, and then goes back. They don’t leave any benefit. It’s not the same as if they were part of the community.”
Two sectors of the economy that even nonresident agents helped keep afloat were Douglas’s restaurants and convenience stores. Even that economic benefit came with risks. Owned by a family of Pentecostals, El Chef was one of the town’s most popular Mexican restaurants during the boom years of border security. Both Homeland Security employees and the town’s immigrant rights activists could agree on its out-of-sight food. The family’s vibrant church crossed political divides in much the same way. Services there united undocumented residents and Border Patrol agents in prayer and fellowship. But despite that ability to cross divides, El Chef almost closed when a new-to-town Border Patrol agent believed that he’d been served a drink with spit in it.
After the incident, the agent sent an email to more than six hundred law enforcement officers calling for a boycott. It wasn’t the first time Border Patrol agents had targeted a restaurant over an imagined offense. But El Chef was particularly dependent on customers in uniform. The restaurant immediately felt the impact. Ninety percent of its Border Patrol customers refused to return. ICE and Customs joined the boycott. In the end, it took intervention from religious leaders, the mayor, and veteran law enforcement officers to undo the damage.
If PD had been a benevolent paternal figure, the border business was like an abusive stepfather, one young Douglasite who’d moved away to attend law school observed: The purveyors of border security moved in without permission. You were stuck with them. In equal measures, you hated them and you depended on them.
* * *
Rose thought this analogy made literal sense. Her work exposed her to tragedies of the sort that didn’t make headlines on CNN or Fox. She saw the ways expanding security made life less secure for many. The glorification of militarized enforcement — and the violent organized crime that followed in its wake—abraded the lives of women in particular. Not all domestic violence and sexual assault could be attributed to militarized masculinity on the border, of course. Many factors complicated the cases that came through Rosie’s clinic. But she insisted that common explanations for violence against women — especially ones purveying stereotypes of poor people or macho “Latin culture” — missed crucial factors. The increased vulnerability Rosie saw in her work, she realized, was, in part, the unexamined collateral damage of a border war.
Rosie witnessed the new border regime make women more vulnerable every day. Start with the border crossing itself. Rape was a ubiquitous part of the price women and girls paid to traverse the militarized border. This wasn’t an intentional result of U.S. policy, but it wasn’t accidental. Since the mid-1990s, the U.S. government’s overarching border security strategy was designed to make unauthorized border crossing more dangerous.
Once women were in the United States, fear of immigration enforcement also bred vulnerability. Abusers threatened to call the Border Patrol on their undocumented victims. Being pushed deeper into hiding made undocumented immigrants more dependent on perpetrators and less likely to report violence. This was particularly true when U.S. legal residents and citizens committed that violence.
Douglas had, in many respects, become a new kind of company town — a Homeland Security company town. But the town’s burgeoning new industry did not emulate Phelps Dodge’s benevolent paternalism.
Rosie’s Border Patrol boyfriend once defended his job, bragging about the rapists and wife abusers he helped deport.
“That’s good,” Rosie agreed. “But a lot of the time, when it comes to protecting women, you don’t even understand that law you’re supposed to enforce. You detain a woman, and you have no idea all the different kinds of visa programs and legal remedies she might qualify for. You just deport her so you don’t have to deal with the hassle of getting her a hearing.”
Crime rates in Douglas, like those in most California, Texas, and Arizona border communities, were not notably higher than in the rest of the country. But policing had begun to exert an outsize cultural influence on the place. What happened when law enforcement permeated the fabric of a place? Even as she started to fall in love with a Border Patrol agent — a good man — Rosie knew that few professions had higher rates of perpetrating domestic violence than law enforcement. Combined with economic displacement, life in a law enforcement company town bred conditions in which gender violence thrived.
* * *
Charlie Austin Worried about the other side of this equation. Law enforcement buildup had a counterintuitive impact on illegal activity. Instead of saying that Douglas had become a security company town, it made sense to say that it had become a security and insecurity company town. As with Prohibition in the 1920s, massive increase in border security made the business of lawbreaking more dangerous but also more lucrative.
During the peak years of the border crisis, it seemed as if nearly everyone made money: grocery stores, hotels, car lots, taxi companies, gas stations all benefited from smuggling. Entrepreneurial locals rented their houses and garages for use as stash houses. And the more vans packed with migrants banged over rutted back roads, the more tire merchants sold.
As prevention through deterrence quintupled the price of unauthorized border crossing in Douglas, ever-more-organized criminal actors sought to enter the market. Drug cartels discovered that they could make more smuggling people than they could trafficking marijuana or meth. They were far more sophisticated and skilled at the work. Watching cartels take over the business of human trafficking was like watching a violent, ruthless Walmart elbow its way into town while the mom-and-pop places went under. Highly profitable human smuggling hardly disappeared in the face of increased enforcement, as policy makers had hoped. It just got more consolidated, concentrated, and sophisticated. And more dangerous for everyone.
For Rosie, this symbiotic relationship sometimes made it hard to distinguish between the harmful effects of law enforcement and lawbreaking. They appeared not as opposing forces but as two different movements of the same machine — a machine that made women more vulnerable to violence. Smugglers preying on migrants and Border Patrol agents enforcing (or abusing) laws both played a role. Each helped strip migrants of money, options, and humanity. When understood as two movements of the same machinery, the fact that organized crime and assault had grown in stride with an expanding border security apparatus was less surprising. Despite abundant lip service paid to protecting migrants from criminal exploitation, in practice U.S. border security policy had outsourced the ugliest work of “deterrence” to violent gangs.
When Charlie retired in 2007, he had accomplished plenty to be proud of in his long career. He had found it thrilling to be at the center of the national drama while free-flowing resources rolled in. And yet he wondered whether it was all worth it. Or worse, if the country’s approach to border security had inflamed the very problems he was trying to prevent. So much spending on border enforcement was like a doctor giving medicine to treat a disease unaware that “the disease was feeding off the medicine.”
Douglas residents argued about these changes over coffee and sweet bread at La Unica Bakery. They argued over smoky barbacoa at family celebrations. When one cousin worked for the Border Patrol and another worked for the cartels, weddings and quinceañeras could be tricky. In churches like the one run by the owners of El Chef restaurant, Sunday services could yield strange commensality: a Border Patrol agent deacon might give immigration advice to an undocumented deacon over doughnuts and coffee, each one wondering how an encounter between them outside church would go. By 2001, these kinds of strange relations constituted Douglas’s new normal — life in one of the most heavily policed small towns in the country.
***
Aaron Bobrow-Strain is a professor of politics at Whitman College, where he teaches courses dealing with food, immigration, and the U.S.-Mexico border. His writing has appeared in The Believer, The Chronicle of Higher Education Review, Salon, and Gastronomica. He is the author of White Bread: A Social History of the Store-Bought Loaf and Intimate Enemies: Landowners, Power, and Violence in Chiapas. In the 1990s, he worked on the U.S.-Mexico border as an activist and educator. He is a founding member of the Walla Walla Immigrant Rights Coalition in Washington State.
AVISO A LA COMUNIDAD: PERSONAS UBICADAS EN LOS ÚLTIMOS DÍAS
Lima, 30 de abril del 2019
Ellos aparecieron ……... Comunícale a familiares y amigos
La Policía Nacional del Perú, a través de la División de Investigación de Personas Desaparecidas de la Dirección Contra la Trata de Personas y Tráfico ilícito de Migrantes, como un servicio a la comunidad brinda la relación de personas ubicadas, en los últimos días, con el fin de brindar tranquilidad a la ciudadanía.
ÑAUPAY PIÑAN ESMERALDA LUDDY 12
BEJARES CRUZ LESLY 22
CUBAS ANTICONA ROBERTO CARLOS 39
LAZO CHAVEZ LILY GABRIELA 42
AQUINO ROJAS JHON ISIDRO 37
CULLA HERRERA LUIS ANGEL 14
AGUILAR ANTAY MIGUEL ANGEL 14
URIBE NEGRI ADRIANNE ELIZABETH 37
MENDEZ CARHUAVILCA EYMIL 14
MENDEZ CARHUAVILCA ZAMANTA 12
CARHUACUSMA EUSTAQUIO LIZ PAOLA 20
HERRERA ROJAS LUZ ELDI 58
CAPANI CCANTO MIRTHA 16
HUILLCAS PIPA LEYDI 14
RUIZ VELARDE GENESIS JANIRE DAFNE 15
CARDENAS PECHE PAUL DENNIS 37
OLIVAR ARNESUITO PAMELA ROSY 15
VELEIRO BATISTA LUCIA AZUL 18
MACHICAO RAFFO ANA VIRGINIA 62
SUASNABAR PALOMINO MONICA NATALY 25
SALAZAR CARDENAS LEIDY TATIANA 30
MAURO CARMONA NICOLE ALESSANDRA 15
DEFILIPPI RODRIGUEZ GIANCARLO E. 61
OYOLA BERNALES RAUL FRANCISCO 62
YAFFINO GUSIEFF GIANELA ALEXANDRA 17
PORTILLA DIAZ MARIA ELIOT KERUBINE 22
HUAMANCHOQUE CCAPA JUAN 31
COCCHELLA TELLO GIUSEPPE LUIGI 21
ADRIAN ROJAS YOMMER NICANOR 21
SOLIMANO CORDOVA CLAUDIA 42
IPARRAGUIRRE CUCHO CARMEN 61
HUILLCA CCAMA JULIO CESAR 36
BARCENA RODRIGUEZ JUANA LAURA 66
RIZZO CASTILLO MARIA DENNISISSE 40
ACUÑA GABRIEL NAYELI ROSISELY 14
QUISPE MATAMOROS SOFHIA VALESKA 0
MATAMOROS CONTRERAS SONIA 23
DE LA CRUZ VALENZUELA MARIA SELENE 48
GUERRERO MALCA CARLOS ALFREDO 44
MATOS ANTICONA VANESSA ESTELA 16
CHAMORRO BOHORQUEZ MARIA LUCINDA 36
OMONTE HUAMANI CANDELARIA 65
DIAZ MENDOZA LIZ JACKELYN 23
SILVA DIAZ GILMER 63
GALVEZ ANDAMAYO MARIA LUCERO 18
RIVEROS ROGGERO TRIANA ALEXANDRA 13
BECERRA CONDE ESTEBAN MARIO 78
COSME VICENTE ESTRELLA ARACELY 13
DIAZ SORIA FRANCHESCA 14
RIOS VALDEZ ANTUANET MILAGROS 13
SOLIS PAUCAR KARELIN KARINA 22
ARANETA ECHEGARAY ADRIANA 17
CUZCANO FERNANDEZ SERGIO A. 19
LEON FLORES NANCY ROSARIO 14
ALLASI ALFARO IVETTE MELANNI 20
PEREZ LAPA GESENIA STEFANY 21
ROBLES CHACA ANGIE DAYANA 16
MANTILLA AGUILA JACKELINE PILAR 13
HUACHACA ARROYO RAQUEL RUTH 16
RUIZ MARTINEZ ANGEL 53
ESPINOZA SOLORZANO YENNY 16
ROBLES VALLEJO AMALIA ELIZABETH 44
ORREGO CRUZ VANIA XIMENA 26
ALCANTARA GUERRERO ROSALINDA 84
CORONADO SOTILLO ENRIQUE ZIK 39
FERNANDEZ QUIJANDRIA NAHOMY K. 14
SANTOS ZEVALLOS MAX EDUARDO 22
GONZALES VERA GABRIEL ANTONIO 26
ROMERO GUTIERREZ ZOE ALISMAR 16
DIAZ CALLA DE HINOSTROZA FRANCISCA 87
FERNANDEZ ROSAS YUARLY JOSE 12
TELLO TORPOCO CINTHIA ROSARIA 16
PACHECO VARGAS DANA ISABEL 16
FLORES ACUÑA JAIR JOHN 16
CORTIJO GUERRERO ELENA ESTHER 26
GUERRA FLORES ROMI MARCELA 16
DURAN ALBUJAR KENNY RICK 16
MARCANO GARCIA KEVIN YUNIOR 26
GAMONAL CALOGGERO MARJORIE K. 14
GAMARRA RIOJAS JOSE ANTONIO 69
GONZALES CHOQUE ALEXIS ERNESTO 11
REVOREDO BAZAN ALFONSO LUIS 56
CAMPOS VALDIVIA LUCIA ANDREA 30
FARFAN YENGLE ALEJANDRO JORGE 84
SANCHEZ DIAZ JORGE 42
RIQUEZ FUENTES JHOAN FREDY 43
TOLEDO GUTIERREZ FRANCHESCA A. 11
PERALTA MEDINA NUIRIA MILAGROS 19
NECIOSUP CHAVEZ DAYANM KRISTELL 15
GARCIA SALAS GIOVANNI YAREL 16
LANAZCA HUAMAN JUANA 37
CARHUAPOMA CONCHA SHEYLA SOFIA 20
CELIS HUACCHA MAYCOL SMITH 4
ALMEYDA DE LA CRUZ GLADYS JULIANA 23
LUJAN ROMERO JULIA IVETTE DEL CARMEN 28
ORELLANA CABRERA SIRO 49
ARAUJO VALLEJOS ALVINA 53
FLORES MORALES ANNUR GUIMEL 13
OMOSIFUEN PEREZ JIMENA ASHLY 20
LABRA NOALCA SERAPIO 48
MELVILLE KEVIN PAUL 22
PEREDA BENITES JAYRO ROBERTO 34
ALVARADO BERMUDEZ LUCCIANO NICOLAS 14
UGARTE CHAMBI GLADYS 45
CHIMBE CAMONES KIMBERLY JAZMIN 13
MENGUNOGUL ZEYNEL 72
ZUÑIGA CUSI LISET KAREN 16
SANCHEZ CHAVEZ JHEFERSON JESUS 14
LAURENTE MAYHUA YESENIA 21
TUNANTE CARUANAMBO RAMON 69
PAUCAR HILARIO PEDRO PABLO 23
MENESES OCHANTE YAKELYN BLANCA 12
SALAZAR HUAMAN ALAN JESUS 10
LUCERO PAEZ YESSENIA YADHIRA 19
QUIROZ ZELADA JOSE ANGEL 60
FARFAN SOTA ALEX WILFREDO 13
GAMARRA HOYOS ROSA ANGELICA 24
URREA LETICH FRANCO ANTONIO 18
ESCAJADILLO TORRES MARIA JULIA 55
LEON ALARCON MARIANA 29
BALTAZAR HERNANDEZ CAROLINA A. 22
VILCA DELGADILLO HEIDY 13
CASTILLO RODRIGUEZ SANDRA DUBERLYS 20
MARTINEZ PAULLO MARY CRUZ 18
PEREZ CASALLO RUDY DENYS 11
LUDEÑA CHIRINOS DANGERSON MOISES 13
MENDOZA ANDRADE LUIS DANIEL 28
FARFAN SOTA ALEX WILFREDO 13
ROMERO LLIMPI WILLY 72
OROZCO SEMINARIO ADRIANA JOSE 17
CARDENAS MENDEVIL TAIS 14
PALACIOS HURTADO JHAYMIRA ISABEL 15
HUAYLLINO CHALLCO SILVIA 17
PALACIN PALACIOS PERCY ROYSI 13
BENITES PRADO ROSA MAYUMI 17
PUTPAÑA GUERRA GRACIELA 43
LOZANO CABADA DIEGO ARMANDO 33
REBAZA MENDOZA DHARLEY MILAGROS 18
HUAMANI PEÑA GERARDO 57
PARADO CAMARENA MARIELA LUZ 14
CONCHA CARRANZA CARLA ANA MARIA 16
ALVARADO LOPEZ JOSE LUIS 16
VILCA RODRIGUEZ BRICILDA CLAUDIA 19
HUAMAN VIVANCO ROSMERY 17
IZQUIERDO HUAZANGA NELLY DEL CARMEN 24
ARROYO DURAND JOAQUIN GAEL 14
HUANCA CHOQUEHUANCA YESHENIA 16
LEONARDO ACEVEDO ANDREA ALEXI 15
GOMEZ PORTUGAL CAROLINA ANTONIETA 18
GUERRERO CIPRIANO SOFIA KALESSI 1
CIPRIANO GUTIERREZ VALERIA THAIZ 12
IBARRA ORDOÑEZ ESTEFANI ROSARIO 13
VASQUEZ PACHECO LUIS ENRIQUE 29
QUISPE PALOMINO JUAN SILVESTRE A. 13
HUILLCA PALOMINO TATIANA 14
UNCHUPAICO LIMAS MADAHI SARITA 13
MARIN PEÑAFIEL OLIVIA 18
MEDINA ANTICONA SHIRA VIANY 15
VILLAR LAURO DAYANA SUSAN 13
VIZCARRA PEREZ GUSTAVO ALFONSO 16
USCAPI ALVAREZ JULIO CESAR 33
CUSIHUAMAN CONDORI DACIA HANNA CHA 16
CAILLAHUA CENTENO CARLOS 51
GASPAR AGUILAR JUAN DIEGO 8
PALOMINO LIMA YUSGALI CARMEN 13
BEJAR DELGADILLO PERCY 10
CORREA VILELA ELIDA MABEL 80
FABIAN CUYUBAMBA FRANSHESCA ODALIS 16
RIVADENEYRA SILVA PEDRO JOSE 11
QUISPE SILVA ELENA MILAGROS 20
CHAVEZ PORRAS YARET KRIS 12
CARDENAS ALARCON FIDEL ANGEL 28
INFANTES JUAN DE DIOS YAJAIRA M. 26
REYES CAMPOS JORGE AARON 23
ROJAS GONZALES RUTH REBECA 16
BALLON TARAZONA ANA NATHALY NAYELI 17
GUZMAN POMA CECILIA ENMA 29
PALOMINO CARHUAS SULY ANAIS 18
SANTIAGO ZUASNABAR SANDY KIARA 13
TEJEDA QUISPE CRISTIAN 15
PRUDENCIO CCONCHO ERIKA ALEXANDRA 15
HUERTA COCHA SANTA ELSITA 17
BARRANTES GRADOS JOAQUIN ANDRE 15
ROJAS ROCA ROSILDA ELZET 17
BERNAOLA RAMOS CESAR ALEXANDER 16
TUME ZAPATA STEFANI NALLELY 17
CRUZ TORRES JOSE CARLOS 15
CASTRO HUILLCA JULIO 26
SALVATIERRA ORE JOSE MARCELINO 62
AGUILAR VASQUEZ VALENTINA 80
SINCHICAMA ROMAN YOVANITA GABY 16
ARIAS CHAMBI MARGOT 14
TORRES EGOVAIL JOSE LUIS 14
CAÑARI VERGARAY JHAIR SEBASTIAN 10
AMPUERO PALOMINO ZOYLA 70
CORRALES HOLGUIN MILEYDI 9
QUISPE CHILO MIGUEL 73
FERNANDEZ GONZALES JEYSON YURI 29
ORE ORE GREICY LIZETT 38
BARDALES ESPINOZA MARY CARMEN A.C. 16
ALCAZAR FRY MARIELLA DEL ROSARIO 39
ALCAIHUAMAN HUAMAN ZULMA 25
LEZANO SARDON LUCIO SAUL 68
BANTICO LUIS CLARIN ROSITA 12
FERNANDEZ HERMOSA JHAN CARLOS 14
VELA MARCOS JEIDY FIORELLA 16
YPANAQUE YOVERA JULIO CESAR 9
AVILA MENDOZA YULIYA 13
TORRES TANGOA MILAGROS SOFIA 15
CAMORETTI AVALOS EDUARDO 25
QUISPE LLACTAS WALTER ALVARO 16
GARCIA GARCIA KROFER WILLY 25
ARANCIBIA AGUIRRE LYNEY ASHLEY 15
SUPHO CHURA MARIA FERNANDA 14
MERINO CRIOLLO ANA MILETH 16
INGA LLACSA GABRIEL JESUS 28
GALA YEPEZ MILAGROS EVELYN 37
APAZA JIMENEZ SUSANA 15
CONDORI HUISA RINA 16
DAVILA CANTORIN IVAN ENRIQUE 20
LLANTOY SOLANO GUILLERMO E. 59
RUIZ CORAJE LUZ BELEN 14
CRUZADO MUÑOZ JUAN 72
ROQUE FLORES SAUL ALEJANDRO 24
MOSQUERA MORALES YESID ALEJANDRO 9
HOSPINAL CUSI CAMILO 19
BARAHONA BAJARANO SUSSANA ESTELA 43
ARTEAGA GARCIA JHOSELIN NOEMI 17
VALENZUELA GALINDO CLODOALDO 79
MIRANDA CABALLERO JORGE EDGARDO 71
BLANCAS ORDOÑEZ ANTONY BRAYAN 14
QUISPE VILLALVA NEISI SOLEDAD 16
CASTRO HUAMAN YSABEL AYLI 15
GARCIA MARIN JUSTO MARTIN 48
ESCOBAR TAIPE VILMA 32
SALVA VELIZ RUTH SENDY 15
RODRIGUEZ MIRANDA LUZ ANALI 15
INUMA PEREZ DAMARIS IVETH 14
MORENO DOMINGUEZ GROELANDIA 59
ROMERO MAYHUA YULISA ELIZABETH 8
QUISPE APAZA VENJAMIN AARON 3
NUÑEZ VALDEZ MAURICIO GABRIEL 25
YARASCA CUELLO NAYELY MARIA 17
HUARCAHUAMAN QUISPE THALIA E. 14
CAMERO PACCO SHIRLEY JULIA 13
RAQUI SOLIER FRANCHESCA 12
RAQUI SOLIER VALERY 5
YARANGA TUPIA FLOR DAMARIS 15
TAFUR VALLE ADRIAN 6
SOTOMAYOR CANO JHEIMI JHIULIANA 17
MUÑICO REYES KIMBERLY LILIANA 16
BALDEON VELI BASILIA 82
JAUREGUI SOCOALAYA IVAN ABEL 30
BERDEJO CALLAPIÑA FLOR ROSALIA 13
CCORAHUA SANY LUIS ANGEL 13
MAMANI MAMANI GLENY AURELIA 17
PEÑA MISHARI BOIMAR 17
AVILES CANCHO RAQUEL 17
AMES HERRERA ANAIS YINA 14
GAUNA ARIZA JOSE DAVID 8
ELIAS FLORES NICOL STEFANY 18
TEJADA QUISPE CRISTIAN 16
QUISPE CHUCO BONIFACIO 85
ARANDA PARDO ANGIE JERUSALEN 15
SALDAÑA ZAVALETA WILSON RODRIGO 27
LOPEZ HINOSTROZA STEFANY AYLIN 15
ZEVALLOS VELIZ ROSALY 14
ROMERO AGUIRRE NORMA PATRICIA 18
GRANADOS ONSIHUAY FLOR DE MARIA 17
MAYORGA MOSCOSO DIEGO ARMANDO 33
FRANCO QUERALES AMIRET DEL CARMEN 13
YUCRA CORDOVA JOSE ANTONIO 16
ZEVALLOS AUCCASI DAVID BENJAMIN 18
VILLALVA ALFARO KINVERLY JHADIRA 13
ARANDA VILCA HELLEN MAYLIN 17
PAITAN MARCA POOL HAIRO 15
HERMOZA PERALTA RUTH ESTER 16
FLORES GARCIA HELEN TATIANA 16
PEREZ OLAVE ASHLY VALERY 17
PUMA MITMA MARIBEL LUCERO 14
JARA VILLALOBOS YOJHAN 17
LAURA LLAMACPONCCA JOSETH 16
SANTOYO DURAND KATHERINE 16
BARRIOS QUISPE MARCO ANTONIO 15
GAMARRA ASTETE LUCIANA ZOE 14
LAURA FLORES ALVARO 7
VIDAL GRANADOS ZARAI AGRIPINA 14
ARONI HUAMAN SHARON ESTEFANY 15
BALAREZO MEJIA APRIL JULIETH 18
CUSI ROCA ESVILDA MIREYA 14
COPARA CHACON MARTIN MIGUEL ANGEL 72
MALPARTIDA TUMIALAN ENZO FABRICIO 11
USTO ARANIBAR MARIA FERNANDA 14
AZUCENA RIOS CUSY AMIRA 21
AZUCENA RIOS ADRIAN EVAN 4
FLORES CANCHANYA LIZ JHOSELYN 15
SANCHEZ ADAUTO KALUMA SAMANTHA 15
BETETA MANDUJANO ANAHI EVELYN 16
QUISPE PALACIOS LAKSHMI MAYERLY 14
GARATE CCASANI MERI 25
FLORES HUAMANÑAHUI ROBERET ANTONY 32
GARFIAS MIDEYROS STEPHANO ANTONIO 14
SANTIAGO ACEVEDO SANDY YOSELYN 17
ALBINO MORALES EVELYN 17
PEDRAZA QUISPE MARIA 62
AYUQUE GUILLEN AIDA LUZ 16
CURASMA CCOLLACONDO MARIA DE LOS A. 16
ATACHAGUA RODRIGUEZ SHIRLEY X. 15
FLORES MILLA ROSMERI SANDRA 14
RAMIREZ ALCAZAR LIAM NAOMI 14
LEVA ALCARRAZ HECTOR ROSALIO 27
QUISPE TICUÑA JESUS 7
ESPINOZA VILLA FERNANDA 9
ACUÑA RADO REYNALDO 85
QUISPE ALATA MATEO 17
MOTTOCCANCHI CCOYO DIEGO 10
RAYMUNDO AMACHI JOHAAN EDUARDO 16
CARBAJAL VELASQUEZ DEYSI MARICELI 22
GALLARDO HUAMAN NAYLY NATSHUE 13
CARDENAS MUNIVE MARIA FERNANDA 15
MARTINEZ CALZADA FREDDY JENRY 32
GUTIERREZ CAMARGO ELVIS 4
FLORES BERNA NICOLE VERONICA 17
DIAZ MIRANDA JOSE ELEUTERIO 81
LOPEZ HURTADO LEANDRA ALEJANDRA 13
LAURA QUISPE NANCY 23
MASUDA CANALES TEODORO ALEJANDRO 49
AUCCACUSI SANCHEZ CRISTIAN GONZALO 15
SANCHEZ VALENCIA ANTHONY JOEL 17
MUNASCA HUARIPATA NILTON 15
CUEVAS OCHOA ALDAIR LEANDRO 22
REYES BARZOLA FERNANDO 16
MATOS ENRIQUEZ FREDY PETER 50
QUISPE PICHARDO JUAN LUIS 15
HUAMAN QUISPE JEAN CARLOS 15
BAUTISTA LOPEZ MARGARITA 28
QUISPE ZULUAGA ESMERALDA 17
CHISE HOLAYUNCA TERESA 44
TAPIA GIL TEJADA QUISPE ANDERSON 14
CHOQUEHUANCA DURAND MARIA ISABEL 13
UMPIRE RAMOS RUHT KAREN 17
VALLEJOS CHAVEZ NELLY VIOLETA 36
HUAMAN HUAYLLANE LUIS RICARDO 15
CHUMBIRIZA PARCO SHEILA YANINA 13
CORNEJO VALER WILFREDO 16
ROSAS YARLEQUE MICHELLY EATEFANY 17
VILLEGAS QUINDE LILIANA LISBET 14
OCHOA RENGIFO DANISSA LILI 17
OCHOA RENGIFO DANISSA MARIET 13
HINOJOSA SANTOYO JOEL DANTE 31
PIÑA TANGOA EDMUNDO 83
PEREZ CASALLO RUDY DENYS 11
PASAPERA HILASACA TASHA ESTHER 13
FERNANDEZ MARCELO VANESSA VILMA 13
CALDERON SOTO JAQUELINE ESTEFANI 13
GUTIERREZ MEDINA PORFIRIO 81
PALACIOS HURTADO JHAYMIRA ISABEL 16
ISUIZA CABRERA GREIS TATIANA 14
CLEMENTE NUÑEZ MARCO ANTONIO 25
PALACIOS HURTADO JHAYMIRA ISABEL 16
Amigo ciudadano:
Si Ud. tiene conocimiento del paradero de alguna persona desaparecida, comunicarse de inmediato a los teléfonos 330-7068 / 431-8140, 942072845; o a los correos electrónicos [email protected], de la División de Investigación de Personas Desaparecidas PNP sito en la cuadra 4 de la Av. España-Primer Piso -Cercado de Lima.
...You are light, you come from the light source of divinity, therefore you are a divine being, a creator, you are light, and you bring with you all the universal knowledge, which will lead you to walk with wisdom in this life that you came to experience. You are light, you create with your mind what you decree with the word, and when you embrace creation with Love…it is then that magic happens and miracles happen, nothing is by chance, everything is by chance of your creations. You are light, connect with your interior and you will reach that knowledge that will make you reach the divinity that we call God. You are light, let love flow in you, and knowledge will flow taking you to a path without fear and without attachments. You are light, you came to walk on this planet called Earth, with steps of simplicity, to act with humility and kindness, and to give and receive Love. You are light, your mission in this life is to remember where you come from, what you came for, and to where you have to go. You are light, you are Love, you are a divine being. You are the light, I am the light, therefore we are all one. My being of light recognizes your being of light!
Architecture inspires, Architecture motivates, Architecture revitalises, is metaphysical….or beyond the physical nature. Many parts of the human existence can be considered to be metaphysical: thoughts, feelings, memories, dreams, ideas or any other thing that goes beyond the physical word we live in. Humans have dealt with these intangible elements of life since the beginnings of consciousness. How do you feel entering here? There? It expand you, or shkring you? Cozy, cold, protects you, scares you? How do you want to feel? How to find inspiration here? Wood? Concrete? Dark, light?
Like Khan would say:
“Inspiration is the feeling of beginning at the threshold where silence and light meet. Silence, the unmeasurable, desire to be, desire to express, the source of new need, meets light, the measurable, giver of all presence, by will, by law, the measure of things already made, at a threshold which is inspiration, the sanctuary of art, the Treasury of Shadow.”
LOUIS I. KAHN, BETWEEN SILENCE AND LIGHT
La Magia de la Arquitectura…
La arquitectura inspira, la arquitectura motiva, la arquitectura revitaliza, es metafísica… o más allá de la naturaleza física. Muchas partes de la existencia humana pueden considerarse metafísicas: pensamientos, sentimientos, recuerdos, sueños, ideas o cualquier otra cosa que vaya más allá del mundo físico en el que vivimos. Los seres humanos se han ocupado de estos elementos intangibles de la vida desde los inicios de la conciencia. . ¿Cómo te sientes al entrar aquí? ¿Ahí? ¿Te expande o te encoge? ¿Acogedor, frío, te protege, te asusta? ¿Cómo quieres sentirte? ¿Cómo encontrar inspiración aquí? ¿Madera? ¿Concreto? ¿Luz oscura?
Como diría Khan:
“La inspiración es la sensación de comenzar en el umbral donde se encuentran el silencio y la luz. El silencio, lo inconmensurable, el deseo de ser, el deseo de expresar, fuente de nueva necesidad, se encuentra con la luz, lo mensurable, dadora de toda presencia, por la voluntad, por la ley, medida de las cosas ya hechas, en un umbral que es la inspiración, el santuario del arte, el Tesoro de la Sombra.”
Tu peor enemigo, y gran amigo sera tu mente, no solo porque conoce tus debilidad y fortaleza, pero es quien las crea…
PARA CERRAR BIEN LOS CICLOS…
Agradece la experiencia. Todo problema vino a enseñarte una lección, no a acabar contigo.
Agradécele al espejo. Agradece a esa persona por venir a hacer consciente lo inconsciente.
No ames por necesidad o te volverás adict@ a la compañía e incapaz de ser feliz sola.
No pierdas tus días pensando en lo que no fue, en tus errores o en lo mal que te trata la vida. El pesimismo atrae lo negativo.
No vivas siendo víctima, las víctimas no tienen poder, no asumen su vida.
No desperdicies la vida intentando desesperadamente ser aceptad@.
No desistas. Sigue tu sueño, tu sueño no debe depender de la aprobación de alguien más.
¿Porqué te quedas encerrad@ cuando la puerta está totalmente abierta?
Lo que se va, tenía que irse. Lo que no funciona, no era para ti. Cada uno de tus fracasos es una lección más, que te ayudará a construir un futuro de éxito, si tienes la suficiente autoestima para no dejar de intentarlo.
¡Mírate! ¡Estás viv@!
¡Tus ojos ven!
¡ Tu piel siente!
¡Tus oídos escuchan!
¡Simplemente así de sencillo.
Vive la vida!…
Your worst enemy, and great friend will be your mind, not only because it knows your weaknesses and strengths, but it is the one who creates them…
TO CLOSE THE CYCLES WELL…
Be thankful for the experience. Every problem came to teach you a lesson, not to kill you.
Thank the mirror. Thank that person for coming to make the unconscious conscious.
Don't love out of necessity or you will become addicted to the company and unable to be happy alone.
Don't waste your days thinking about what wasn't, your mistakes or how bad life treats you. Pessimism attracts the negative.
Don't live being a victim, victims have no power, they don't assume their life.
Don't waste your life desperately trying to be accepted.
Don't give up. Follow your dream, your dream should not depend on someone else's approval.
Why do you stay locked up @ when the door is wide open?
What goes away, had to go. What doesn't work wasn't for you. Each one of your failures is another lesson that will help you build a successful future, if you have enough self-esteem to keep trying.
Look to you! You are alive!
Your eyes see!
Your skin feels!
Your ears listen!
Just that simple.
Live your life!…
Conozco el trabajo efectuado por mi estómago y sé que representa mi modo de digerir, absorber e integrar los acontecimientos y las situaciones de mi vida.
Los estirones en el estómago están vinculados con frecuencia a una necesidad de amor, de “alimento emocional” y de alimentos.
El alimento representa el afecto, la seguridad, el premio y la supervivencia.
Si vivo un vacío cualquiera en mi vida, querré colmarlo con el alimento, en particular en los momentos de separación, muerte, pérdida o escasez de dinero.
El alimento también puede ayudarme artificialmente a “liberarme” de las tensiones materiales o financieras. Siento como una carencia indispensable para mi supervivencia.
La fermentación, por su parte, procede del hecho que no quiero enfrentar ciertas emociones que vivo con relación a personas o situaciones. Pongo estas emociones de lado, pero éstas siempre son presentes, se acumulan, “fermentan”, bajo el efecto de mi actitud “ácida”.
Rumio constantemente ciertas situaciones que viví y que “no digiero”. Por lo tanto tengo tendencia a “rumiar” situaciones pasadas y a vivir las mismas actitudes y las mismas emociones negativas. Éstas me quedan pues en el estómago.
Es muy difícil para mi estómago digerir emociones no vividas. Al estar mi realidad en conflicto con mis sueños y mis necesidades, esto me lleva a vivir diversas emociones. No expreso mis contrariedades, estoy irritado. La ira y la agresividad rugen en mí, pero las reprimo. Ya está! La úlcera y los ardores de estómago están aquí. Tengo grandes miedos, mi digestión se hace laboriosa porque mi estómago es nervioso y frágil. ¿Cuál es la situación de mi vida “que no digiero”? Vivo gran inquietud, sobre todo debido a mi débil confianza en mí, lo cual hace difícil la aceptación de mis emociones.
Los dolores de estómago se producirán cuando vivo una contrariedad en el campo de mis finanzas personales o de mi vida profesional.
Ciertas situaciones son tan repugnantes y asquerosas que mi estómago rechaza digerirlas. Reacciono frente a mi realidad de un modo negativo y “ácido” y padezco indigestiones y nauseas.
La digestión es muy lenta si el estómago está tenso y rígido, evitando que cambios se produzcan en mi vida.
Tomo consciencia que debo revelar más apertura en la vida y acepto que las situaciones y los acontecimientos están aquí para hacerme crecer. La aceptación permite transformarlos en experiencias y la presión o la tensión desaparecen.
Cada caso es único, no basta con conocer cuál es la emoción Inconsciente, que genera el problema. Hay que realizar un trabajo interior serio y profundo. En la sesión de Bioterapia, se realizan preguntas puntuales sobre tu historia y así se encuentra la raíz del conflicto, de lo que originó lo que vives actualmente.
Biodescoding-Heals the Body and Mind…
Emotional conflict of the STOMACH:
I know the work carried out by my stomach and I know that it represents my way of digesting, absorbing and integrating the events and situations of my life.
Stomach spurts are often linked to a need for love, "emotional nourishment" and food.
Food represents affection, security, reward and survival.
If I experience any void in my life, I will want to fill it with food, particularly in times of separation, death, loss, or lack of money.
Food can also artificially help me "free" myself from material or financial stress. I feel like a lack essential to my survival.
Fermentation, for its part, comes from the fact that I don't want to face certain emotions that I experience in relation to people or situations. I put these emotions aside, but they are always present, they accumulate, "ferment", under the effect of my "acid" attitude.
I constantly ruminate on certain situations that I experienced and that I “do not digest”. Therefore I have a tendency to "ruminate" past situations and to live the same attitudes and the same negative emotions. These are for me in the stomach.
It is very difficult for my stomach to digest unlived emotions. Since my reality is in conflict with my dreams and my needs, this leads me to experience various emotions. No express my disappointments, I'm irritated. Anger and aggression roar in me, but I suppress them. It is done! Ulcer and heartburn are here. I have great fears, my digestion is laborious because my stomach is nervous and fragile. What is the situation of my life "that I do not digest"? I live with great restlessness, especially due to my weak confidence in myself, which makes it difficult to accept my emotions.
Stomach aches will occur when I experience a setback in the field of my personal finances or my professional life.
Certain situations are so disgusting and disgusting that my stomach refuses to digest them. I react to my reality in a negative and "acid" way and I suffer from indigestion and nausea.
Digestion is very slow if the stomach is tense and rigid, preventing changes from taking place in my life.
I become aware that I must reveal more openness in life and I accept that situations and events are here to make me grow. Acceptance allows you to transform them into experiences and the pressure or tension disappears.
Each case is unique, it is not enough to know what the unconscious emotion is, which generates the problem. You have to do serious and deep inner work. In the Biotherapy session, specific questions are asked about your history and thus the root of the conflict is found, from what originated what you are currently experiencing.
Carrying out meditation is not the same as carrying out prayer, in prayer the person asks for something from the God of his belief, and meditation is becoming aware of the internal divinity that each one of us possesses.
The purpose of meditation is to know oneself in depth, to put aside limitations, beliefs, and negative energies, and to channel negative emotions that make us create illnesses and create difficulties in life.
It is a different way of living in harmony with us and the environment, it is putting aside the fears and limitations of our ego.
Even when we have a difficult situation, meditation helps us to have confidence that this difficulty is to help us grow and that we will overcome that difficulty with resilience.
It is advisable to meditate daily to dissolve and resolve these limitations.
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No es lo mismo hacer meditación que hacer oración, en la oración la persona pide algo al Dios de su creencia, y la meditación es tomar conciencia de la divinidad interna que cada uno de nosotros posee.
El propósito de la meditación es conocerse a uno mismo en profundidad, dejar de lado las limitaciones, creencias y energías negativas, y canalizar las emociones negativas que nos hacen crear enfermedades y dificultades en la vida.
Es una forma diferente de vivir en armonía con nosotros mismos y el entorno, es dejar de lado los miedos y limitaciones de nuestro ego.
Incluso cuando tenemos una situación difícil, la meditación nos ayuda a tener confianza en que esa dificultad nos ayudará a crecer y que la superaremos con resiliencia.
Es recomendable meditar diariamente para disolver y resolver estas limitaciones.
Vive la vida como si fueras un tren en marcha.
No te arrepientas de las paradas que dejaste atrás, mira hacia adelante.
No le ruegues a nadie que suba a bordo, pero haz que aquellos que realmente quieran ser parte de él…se sienten en la primera fila.
No le ruegues a ninguna persona, porque nadie merece sentirse tan importante, ni tú tan miserable.
No pierdas el tiempo con alguien a quien no le interesas, quiérete, dignifícate, valórate, quien te quiere te busca o te lo hace saber de algún modo, no mendigues, no recojas migajas, ni ruegues amor a nadie, no corras por quien no camina por ti, no muevas montañas por quien no levanta tan siquiera una sola piedra…
Una vez leí que:
“El secreto no es correr detrás de las mariposas… es cuidar el jardín para que ellas vengan hacia TI”
La vida no solo son trenes a los que hay que subir, a veces son estaciones en las que hay que bajar…. .🧡
que pasen un lindo dia!
☺️🤗🤗😘😘❤️❤️✨💫🍃🌻🌹