“You can watch a documentary and you can say, ‘well this is too bad.’ But at the end of the day it’s just something you’re watching on TV. You can turn that off. And go about your day.”
I love documentaries. Ask me what my favorite kind of movie is and I’ll say documentaries every time. Back home my self-care time would be a face mask and a social documentary. My mom would joke that I had to take some time off, but this filled me.
Documentary after documentary something started feeling off. I’d get mad at myself after watching the 13th or The True Cost or maybe an episode of Tales by the Light about kids in the slums of India.
The majority of the population of all generations was okay with hearing and seeing problems. They didn’t feel personal conviction. Early on I knew this wasn’t the case for me.
Conviction after watching documentaries is what led me to this mission trip. I’d watch a movie about college sexual assault statistics, research the problem, memorize and share the facts, and still feel useless. I had to do something, but what could a 16 year old do.
Walking the walk became the most important thing I could do, and it led me right to a God that fights for justice. An upside-down kingdom where the poor, disable, young, female, and marginalized were first in line. That is how I found God again, searching for justice.
I’m an immigrant. First-generation if you count the fact that I was born in Colombia. Second-Generation if you count that my mom was raised in the States. Immigration might be a topic that doesn’t affect your family, neighborhood, or town. I grew up in Miami. I joke around with people here in Costa Rica that Miami is barely a part of the United States because it is so richly Hispanic and diverse and functions entirely different.
Immigration stories were the setting for my friends, students, family, neighbors, and church. They strongly affected how I would grow to see the world.
There’s the person who crossed the border for his family, there’s the family fleeing from political unrest, there’s the teen girl who would be deported.
The stories are endless and they all remain vivid in my mind. You might not get it in a personal sense, that’s okay. Stick around. They all have one thing in common. It’s the phrase that I remember dearly hearing in my childhood. “We want you to have a better future.” It wasn’t until years later that I started to hear the stories of my parents and grandparents childhoods. The lack of food, the effect of corruption and big drugs, the lack of support for families, the violence.
Sometimes immigrants go to the States looking for asylum. The stories of women who have been abused and stalked by men and simply want to flee exist. The families fleeing mass protests, corrupt police and governments, and poverty exist. But most of us arrive chasing the well-marketed American Dream. The United States is painted as a land free of poverty and abounding in resources, opportunities, and freedom. Why wouldn’t you want to go there? Why wouldn’t you put your tail on the line to allow your children to have the world?
I would do it, regardless of the consequences. Would you? What if you weren’t blessed to have been born in a prosperous country? What if the odds weren’t in your favor?
During my time in Costa Rica I’ve spent a lot of time in a slum community that is composed predominantly of Nicaraguan immigrants. It helped me see immigration as a universal issue. However it was also an interesting dynamic to observe. I had a long conversation with our ministry host in Talamanca about it. My dad says that Costa Rica is the Switzerland of Latin America. It’s a country that offers significantly more freedom, resources, and opportunities than most other Latin countries. My host mentioned that sometimes the mentality towards immigrants from other Central American countries is negative. Going to Costa Rica is a shorter and safer trip for fellow-Central Americans than going to the United States. In certain circles the mentality towards immigrants is the same one most Americans hold.
The kids I hang out with are looked down by their Costa Rican classmates. They’re less than because their family ran towards peace. They are labeled criminals, job takers, and government-dependent people. Sound familiar?
Our political climate is so quick to judge. This isn’t so and so’s administrations fault. This has been building up for decades. Illegal immigrants do pay taxes, they do hard and unwanted jobs for low pay because it’s more than what they got back home, and they do not wait on the government to help them. We fight for the life we’ve dreamt of.
Now one disclaimer before I continue, we immigrants (legal or illegal) are not victims. We are not to be patronized. Being warriors runs in our blood. We are strong and resilient people who fight for our right to a safe and good life. We are problem-solvers. We are prideful in our culture. We refuse to enter the victim mentality because all that does is paralyze us. While society and the government don’t grant us freedom, we live in it. Being an immigrant brings challenges, but we stand tall and persevere. We can’t sit and cry, we have a family.
My people, they’re incredible. They hold tight with one hand to their heritage and with the other the promise of tomorrow. I’m writing this at 2am and I’m overwhelmed with love for my people. We might be different than you, we might look different. We might cook, dance, or live differently. But we’re just as beautiful. We have the same right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. You might not get us, or understand us. That’s okay. Just love us as we will love you…welcoming you into our homes, with warm hospitality and loving you as if you were family.
Illegal immigrants are being unjustly deported, children are still being caged, tanks are a common site in certain immigrant communities, families are being torn apart. These aren’t just anecdotes, these are people I know, who have sat at my table, who have worshipped alongside me, who have looked up to me, who I’ve loved as Jesus loves us. But these aren’t just the stories of immigrants from my land, immigrants come from ever corner of the earth searching for a hopeful future.
I’ve chosen to be a vessel of change for my community. Will you do the same?
Ask yourself:
What problem in the world affects you? Are you a victim of it or do you embrace the challenge? How will you stand up and be the change?
I’ve written a lot about feeling connected to my roots here in Costa Rica. It’s true, but there’s also the other side. World Racers don’t tend to be the most diverse group out there. At training camp all the minorities recognized just how big the disparity was. It’s a challenge. I love my culture and feel no need to be ashamed of it, but it’s weird to be the only one who enjoys in it. I’ve had to come to terms that even though not everything is about race, that I will have a different experience. My perspective is different and it’s easier to feel isolated and out of place. I have to fight so that I allow myself a seat at the table. I spent an evening in a wooden kitchen with indigenous women. Mercedes Sosa was right when she said, “Give your hand to the Indian, it will do you good.” I had an experience that other racers could not relate to. I found my roots, I found a woman with the same heritage of me. And what she told me was to be proud of my people. I didn’t realize how much I had to hear this.
I have to be okay with enjoying my culture by myself. And that is one thing I’m not used to. As mentioned before, Miami is quite the diverse city. Spanish music, empanadas, and jugo de lulo are easy finds. Even if I’m in a room full of strangers, there’s at least half can share in my culture. At home I can blast my grandpa’s music and dance as I choose, even if that’s with a broom. Then my sister will join in with my parents. That’s not always the case here. I can’t just show up blasting Grupo Niche or some Soda Stereo. Trust me it gets weird fast. Moments of rest are when I have the room to myself and music that touches the deepest part of who I am. There are parts I can share, there are parts I can’t.
So for all my world racers who don’t look or live like your peers, I see you. Even if you haven’t embarked on the journey yet, you’re valid. For everyone who can’t live out their culture, you’re beautiful in all the heritage God gave you. We’re all God’s children, but we’re also allowed to live different experiences.
