The story of immigration is often told in terms of fences and Congress and federal spending. But the true stories are those of people who have lived it. Journalism students at Southern Oregon University have spent several months collecting these stories and photos as part of a Capstone project. They are presented here, edited by Journalism Instructor Terrie Claflin.
Articles:
The challenge of life as an illegal
It is a peaceful noon with bright sun. A group of men hang out in the parking lot in front of their houses talking in Spanish.
Lady Vanderlip notices her cell phone ringing in her car. But she ignores it to keep enjoying the conversation. After a while, she opens a small door at the bottom of the garage and goes inside, without knocking.
"I'm a member of this family," she says figuratively. The dining room is filled with the smell of Mexican traditional dishes. "Smells nice," Lady says looking at the leftovers on the table covered with white tablecloth. "I often eat here."
A man with a shy smile under his cap greets Lady as she arrives. "Pedro" has known Lady for five years. She teaches Spanish at Southern Oregon University and has become friends with Pedro and the others who live in this crowded home
Hard road to citizenship in the United States
Her story, though secretive, is shared with millions of other illegal immigrants. Soccorro was born and raised in Morelia, a little town west of Mexico City. Her family had a history of breaking the law to be able to live in the United States. When she was little, her father would tell her stories about the wonderful country north of the border. She grew up believing that the United States was a country where mommies and daddies went to work, and kids went to school, and families lived in big houses in nice neighborhoods. She knew that someday she would call the United States her home.
Folkdancing tradition will change
Dancing and clapping, two dozen people circled musicians as they brought alive the Greek Miserlou, the Israeli Zemer Atik, the Bulgarian Cocek.
Melting pot still a global one
In all the stories about immigration, the most common face is Hispanic. However, people from all over the world come to the United States to look for better lives.
Talent teen holds culture close
Niria Garcia's high heels clicked on the hardwood floor lit by the twinkle of a disco ball. Her strapless white satin gown, overlaid with sheer silver flowers, matched the glitter of her eye makeup. She wore her long, dark brown hair upswept, twisted and pinned to expose her dangling silver earrings, which danced when she moved. Her male counterpart wore a black suit.
As the young couple made their way to the center of the Roller Odyssey's floor, 10 other skate-less pairs followed. On this Saturday, the venue hardly resembled a roller skating rink. Adorned floor to ceiling with lavender and white ribbons, flowers, and balloons, it accommodated more than 300 men, women, and children — most of whom sat at long white tables eating, drinking, laughing and chattering. Little girls in puffy dresses flitted around the open floors chasing boys and balloons as parents and grandparents snapped photos.
A mountain of gift boxes towered near an exquisite cake, and a collection of giant glamour shots made up a shrine to the guest of honor at this celebration — which acknowledged the transformation of a girl to a woman — a Quincienera.
The beauty in being different
Just ask her about the obstacles she has had to overcome.
With a strong voice traced with a faint Spanish accent, MariaSandra Deras will openly answer questions about her past.
The cosmetologist with subtle streaks of red woven into her shiny black hair helps customers chose from a variety of lipstick and eyeliner from behind her counter at Macy's telling customers that if she can be beautiful, so can they. Her energy is obvious, even from a distance.
MariaSandra — or Sandy, for short — was born 22 years ago in Durango, Mexico. Her family trekked illegally across the Texas-Mexico border in hopes of finding a better life when she was an infant.
Her father, Jesus, had lived in the U.S. since he was 15, working in orchards to support the family and save enough money to hire a Coyote — a paid immigrant smuggler — to guide the rest of his family across the border. The fee he paid, which now is around $3,000 to $5,000 per person, cost Jesus $500 per person plus $500 extra for a van ride to Florida where he lived.
Name left at border in search of new life
An American story began in 1993 at the border between the north and south. At the checkpoint between Tijuana, Mexico, and San Diego, Calif., a father, a mother and a 1-year-old girl wrapped in a blanket and held close in her mother's arms, crossed into America and began a new chapter in their lives.
They crossed with a pretense of legitimacy. Passports and visas in hand, the family claimed they were taking a vacation to the United States. In reality, the names on those documents were left at the border. Over the next year the passports expired, but the "vacation" continued. Without names, without a home, without the ability to communicate their needs, the family followed the California roads further north to Southern Oregon.
Their life in America was now "illegal." And the little girl had no name.
Determined advocacy
At 7:30 most every morning, Carlotta Woolcock goes swimming. For her, it is the calm before the storm, a bit of peace. When she is done, she dries off, heads across the lot to 203 N. Oakdale, and tries to save the world.
By 9 a.m. she's in the modest, two-story, wood-plank building with sparse rosebushes and a 10-year-old bullet hole through a front window mostly held together by tape. At first glance, the headquarters of the Northwest Seasonal Workers Association doesn't look like much.
But the building itself serves as a metaphor for what NSWA hopes to accomplish. The structure was built in 1908, and was in such disrepair that the NSWA purchased it in the 1980s for the price of the property. Since then, the group has worked at improving the building. One such effort — a porch remodel — resulted in the revocation of the once crumbling house's historical status. But NSWA is more interested in the future than the past.
"We take what's falling down and build it back up," says Woolcock, NSWA operations manager, making stacks of the many projects on her oft-shared desk. "We do the same things with communities."
Editorial: Series makes issue a human one
We are pleased to have the Southern Oregon University Journalism Capstone project back in print at the Ashland Daily Tidings. The eight-part series, which began Monday on our front page and will continue into next week is part of the graduation requirements for SOU's journalism majors.
Though students completed much of the work for these stories last year, they have particular relevance this week with pivotal news on immigration in America coming from a seminal court trial in Scranton, Penn., and President Bush completing a tour of Latin American countries in the hope of using what political leverage he has left to broker a bipartisan solution.
The president favors sweeping legislation that toughens border security, makes temporary worker status easier and seeks a more permanent solution to the millions of illegals already living in the United States. But such legislation faces opposition from those who wish to show no leniency to people already living and working among us on one side, and from those who resist tougher immigration laws on the other.
