Illegalize
Interstate 10 ties Los Angeles to Phoenix.
The 100 degree heat reminded me of Mexicali in the summer. It also reminded me to move slowly, to sit, to stand, and to watch.
The two buildings that house the Arizona State Senate and the House of Representatives are each a bit smaller than the Dorothy Chandler Pavillion. In the early evening on Wednesday a group of 10 year old girls dressed as angels prayed in front of the buildings in thanks that a judge invalidated parts of SB1070, a law approved by legislators in these buildings.
While still light out Yenni Martinez lit one of the girl's candles as her sisters adjusted the wings on their backs made out of wire clothes hangers. She wore a button that read, "I could be illegal." She and others here talked about having undocumented relatives ready to leave the state to neighboring Colorado or New Mexico, anywhere where they didn't feel pursued.
As light dimmed, the summer clouds moved in but spared us a soak. A mariachi belted out the quasi-religious, melancholy "Un dia a la vez" on the Radio Campesina stage. The stage had an outline of a United Farm Workers eagle around the faces of the band Los Tigres del Norte.
As the embers of the sunset died and night fell the angel-girls kneeled around the Virgen de Guadalupe. It was a prayer meeting. It could have been a wake or the celebration of a community risen from a state of siege. Which one is left to be seen.
The next day was the first day of the law to rid Arizona of illegal aliens.
Several hundred people began congregating in front of the Maricopa County Courthouse, across the street from a grove of palo verdes. I'd never seen one before. Of course our Southland geography is peppered with avenues and peninsulas named after the tree but I'd never seen one. Its trunk is green. The thin branches hold all the moisture they can extract from the desert. It seems perfectly suited for this heat.
Lots of canary yellow banners proclaimed the Unitarian mantra for the day, "Standing on the Side of Love." That was one faction. Other factions opposed to SB1070 screamed pleas to arrest Sheriff Arpaio, accused supporters of racism, fascism, and membership in the KKK. Signs at other protests urged destruction of racism and imperialism with communism.
Police in riot gear formed strategic phalanxes as protesters took over the street. A fluorescent green-cap wearing representative of the National Lawyers Guild told me this had all been negotiated. The activists would be allowed on the street for 30 minutes and then would be arrested after the action was declared by police an unlawful assembly.
The kabuki performance included an SB1070 supporter with a cute sign supporting cuddly-bear Sheriff Arpaio. Kristen Larson, a software designer, didn't stick around for long holding her sign, saying she was afraid to express her views.
There would be arrests later that day in front of Arpaio's jail as protestors slowed his deputies from fanning out into the neighborhoods and bringing 'em back in handcuffs.
Later, in front of the State Capitol building, Gloria Godoy debated immigration with an SB1070 supporter who wouldn't give her name. She held a "No Amnesty"sign. Godoy immigrated from Guatemala to Los Angeles and was part of the caravan of several hundred loud, pumped-up L.A. activists who'd come to Phoenix to offer comfort to SB070 opponents.
"I come from Guatemala, I born over there, now I have invitation to go visit my my country has history, high culture, I love you," Godoy said and repeated these last words several times. The SB1070 supporter replied, "the point is that we're all Americans. I'm not Irish American... ...we need to assimilate, we need to love each other and work this thing out peacefully. But until that we don't need an amnesty because that could bring more people in and it's going to be chaos."
For a brief instant, two individuals on opposite sides of the immigration debate and part of larger camps in conflict and confrontation agreed to love each other as the afternoon thunderstorms pelted the dry earth with rain.
