Linda Victoria
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I'm an aging gabacha with enough talent left to use in service to the majesty of what remains of the Sonoran Borderlands and its heritage. Butchered, blown up, tunneled under, scraped up, walled off, it manages to endure -- magnificent, mystical, and 'full of sound' to those who listen. This searing corner of the universe is timeless. The threads of pre-history blend with today and add to the wonder of this semi-tropical desert that exists nowhere else on earth.
As a Euro-American (Scottish mutt), I am aware that I am here under the stain of Manifest Destiny. My home sits on O'odham land that was Mexico until 1854. Arizona didn't become a state until 1912. I am also aware that being of Northern European ancestry entitles me to privileges reserved for Anglo America only-- excluding even its true native-born. |
Living near the border over the years has taught me a lifetime's worth about humanity and humility that I wouldn't have learned otherwise and I am eternally grateful. Border communities have strong binational cultures and histories and, contrary to nativist tales, remain among the safer communities in the country. Moreover, we are intimately connected with Mexico and all Latin American countries-- even as demonizing and black market brutality is now a way of life on both sides of the border. Predatory systems will exist in our country and theirs for as long as power grows and money flows. The persistent rays of light are those of the ephemeral human spirit. It never ceases to inspire me.
Nuestra Señora in an alley, Nogales MX
I was born and raised in a conservative religious movement called "Moral Re-Armament (MRA)" headquartered on Mackinac Island, Michigan. In 1964, a scion, "Up With People", was conceived and put down roots in a lovely old MRA holding in downtown Los Angeles. Our family was relocated with it. Like all religious/ideological movements, both were wolves in sheep's clothing -- but both were rooted in racial and cultural diversity. We were always comfortable in mixed and minority-white surroundings. Living in the LA harbor during the turbulence of the 1960s was like living beneath a freight train rumbling overhead. The ideological war over Viet Nam reduced the hundreds of thousands of hapless Americans to pawns as they were fed into the real war meat-grinder. At high schools in Downtown and East LA, Chicano "uprisings" were actually massive student walk-outs protesting drop-out rates and sub-standard education. The first Watts Rebellion in 1965 was especially horrific. We carpooled with Sing-Out/Up With People friends who lived there. Cesar Chavez & Delores Huerta established the United Farm Workers Union against a cascade of conflicts with white powers that-be. Bobby Kennedy died in the same downtown LA hospital I was born.
The 1960s were a train-wreck of movements and assassinations, many out of California but all were magnets on J. Edgar Hoover's radar. In MRA/UWP, we were all about being the forward vision in the fight against godless Communism and human immorality. But what I saw were blacks, Mexicans and hippie degenerates--"rabble rousers"--targeted and brutalized by police with support from higher up. It played out in my high school and in community gang fights. In the news however, city leaders were standing against crime and moral decadence and we stood by them. UWP would gain a number of big name celebrity and corporate allies and for a time published a slick magazine called PACE. Our exuberant Up-With-People performances were built to spread a positive challenge to anti-war protests and counter-culture movements wrapped in a "God loves all people" envelope. But at home I'd sing & play Joan Baez's There But for Fortune in the quiet of my room.
As the 70's rolled into the 80's, I was lost in the wasteland in New Mexico and forgot everything... but it did seem like the dust had settled and maybe we had evolved away from White Supremacy, Commie-hunts and the relentless stalking of minorities and their leaders. The 90's would roll in before I could find my way out of the wasteland. New Mexico's 'enchanted' lands and a love of trail running and hiking the canyons were enduring life-lines. "There but for fortune"...
Even as an Arizonan, I remained relatively unaware of the potency of the White Race Card until the 45th president slapped it on the table and called for action. From the mid-90's through the rise of border militias and the Tea Party, I saw only parts of the elephant-- never the whole thing. Unknown to most (including me) was how Big Money, Big Tech, and big egos with big visions were tapping into the same feed trough in the Anglo-American Bubble. Surveillance capitalism took over the world and by 2016, the Great Restructuring of America was well underway.
Nonetheless, even after the Jan 6th Insurrection, the ephemeral human spirit found its way to shine through a slender young black woman from Watts.
The 1960s were a train-wreck of movements and assassinations, many out of California but all were magnets on J. Edgar Hoover's radar. In MRA/UWP, we were all about being the forward vision in the fight against godless Communism and human immorality. But what I saw were blacks, Mexicans and hippie degenerates--"rabble rousers"--targeted and brutalized by police with support from higher up. It played out in my high school and in community gang fights. In the news however, city leaders were standing against crime and moral decadence and we stood by them. UWP would gain a number of big name celebrity and corporate allies and for a time published a slick magazine called PACE. Our exuberant Up-With-People performances were built to spread a positive challenge to anti-war protests and counter-culture movements wrapped in a "God loves all people" envelope. But at home I'd sing & play Joan Baez's There But for Fortune in the quiet of my room.
As the 70's rolled into the 80's, I was lost in the wasteland in New Mexico and forgot everything... but it did seem like the dust had settled and maybe we had evolved away from White Supremacy, Commie-hunts and the relentless stalking of minorities and their leaders. The 90's would roll in before I could find my way out of the wasteland. New Mexico's 'enchanted' lands and a love of trail running and hiking the canyons were enduring life-lines. "There but for fortune"...
Even as an Arizonan, I remained relatively unaware of the potency of the White Race Card until the 45th president slapped it on the table and called for action. From the mid-90's through the rise of border militias and the Tea Party, I saw only parts of the elephant-- never the whole thing. Unknown to most (including me) was how Big Money, Big Tech, and big egos with big visions were tapping into the same feed trough in the Anglo-American Bubble. Surveillance capitalism took over the world and by 2016, the Great Restructuring of America was well underway.
Nonetheless, even after the Jan 6th Insurrection, the ephemeral human spirit found its way to shine through a slender young black woman from Watts.
"The new dawn blooms as we free it
For there is always light,
if only we're brave enough to see it
If only we're brave enough to be it.”
- Amanda Gorman, American Youth Poet Laureate
For there is always light,
if only we're brave enough to see it
If only we're brave enough to be it.”
- Amanda Gorman, American Youth Poet Laureate
So beautiful the vision. The path lies only through a collective will to claw and cliff-hang in order to keep basic Eternal Truths alive-- one of which is that ALL people are created equal. Only then can there be liberty and justice for all.
Truth is The Dream. Hiding within every human being, I see Truth as a Universal Fugitive of sorts-- a fragile force that has the capacity to rise against all odds and light up others, or succumb to fear and manipulation in its host. In a world now ruled by big money, big tech and big egos, the absence of truth is the easiest and often chosen way to live. Liberty & Justice are game pieces reserved for the "chosen" and for those who can pay to play. Meanwhile, Nature bats last and we are at the bottom of the 9th. We cannot make honey without sharing in the fate of bees. "We have met the enemy and it is us."
Still, the human spirit shines most brightly through the places it has been broken. It can be seen in people helping one another in times of crisis. And in survivors of violence and suffering who become wounded healers for others. And in those risking life and limb to go for the truth... some survive, some don't. Truth is a double-edge sword. To me, Truth is where God is made visible.
In a post-truth country living a life with truth in it is what matters most to me. I find it in the simple abundance of life's wonders. My family. My dogs. The birds in my yard, creative projects around my 40's hodgepodge house. The Serenity Prayer.
My spiritual home has always been in nature, and the sweet desert air is kind to my joints. Arizona skies are as dramatic as the land. Zuni farmer Jim Enote put it beautifully: "We are part of a Collective Magnificence." Ed Keeylocko recognized it too when he mused, "A person has to get back to the land... it creates thought."
Indeed true. Once one cuts through centuries of human bullshit, it's a wondrous welcome home.
Truth is The Dream. Hiding within every human being, I see Truth as a Universal Fugitive of sorts-- a fragile force that has the capacity to rise against all odds and light up others, or succumb to fear and manipulation in its host. In a world now ruled by big money, big tech and big egos, the absence of truth is the easiest and often chosen way to live. Liberty & Justice are game pieces reserved for the "chosen" and for those who can pay to play. Meanwhile, Nature bats last and we are at the bottom of the 9th. We cannot make honey without sharing in the fate of bees. "We have met the enemy and it is us."
Still, the human spirit shines most brightly through the places it has been broken. It can be seen in people helping one another in times of crisis. And in survivors of violence and suffering who become wounded healers for others. And in those risking life and limb to go for the truth... some survive, some don't. Truth is a double-edge sword. To me, Truth is where God is made visible.
In a post-truth country living a life with truth in it is what matters most to me. I find it in the simple abundance of life's wonders. My family. My dogs. The birds in my yard, creative projects around my 40's hodgepodge house. The Serenity Prayer.
My spiritual home has always been in nature, and the sweet desert air is kind to my joints. Arizona skies are as dramatic as the land. Zuni farmer Jim Enote put it beautifully: "We are part of a Collective Magnificence." Ed Keeylocko recognized it too when he mused, "A person has to get back to the land... it creates thought."
Indeed true. Once one cuts through centuries of human bullshit, it's a wondrous welcome home.
"All life is holy, all life is one" - by Vera Louise Drysdale, my mother. Circa 1970
