The degree of Xenophobic hatred displayed by white people in 9500 Liberty is shocking. That this hatred was stirred up and fueled by several outside interest groups is deeply disturbing. That community members running for re-election collaborated with these outside interest groups to create an "election issue" around immigration is downright ugly. That "probable cause" legislation has since been passed in Arizona and Alabama is an insult to the U.S. Constitution. In the kind of America I want to be a part of, elected officials show leadership by bringing members of a community together--and this means members of all colors, genders, religions, classes, ages and education levels--for the common good. They uphold the laws that create a framework for the equality of all Americans--even recent immigrants from a place some fear is overtaking our country.
Steve Nolt, co-author of Amish Grace, about the Amish response of forgiveness to the Nickel Mines school shooting, challenged viewers to summarize or explain the point of view of someone with whom they did not agree in this film in his discussion of 9500 Liberty at Goshen College. There are some characters in this film so loathsome to me that I find it difficult to practice this form of compassionate communication. But setting aside my own emotions, what I see is fear. Fear that a vision of America, held dearly by these individuals, is threatened. The America they wish to preserve is white, is right, adheres to extremely authoritarian and simplistic ideas of God, religion, and privilege. Their vision of America threatens my vision of America--a vision that rejoices in opportunities for people from all races, cultures, and creeds to live together in mutual respect granting the right to life, liberty, and happiness to each other.
Photo from The Boston Globe online
The film Park made with Eric Byler is titled after the address at which Gaudencio Fernandez began painting posters protesting Prince William County's "probable cause" resolution and prejudice against its Latino citizens. These posters galvanized and gave voice to members of the Latino community and served as yet another form of media protest during this complex time. But finally these posters moved beyond conciliation to accusation, and the last one was torn down by the city in 2009, after the "probable cause" language was removed from the law. Perhaps this was because the poster accused Anglos of sponsoring genocide against Native Americans and referred to the racist tactics of Hitler. These are not bridge-building words, but they do hold Americans accountable for the promise of equality for all.
In the vision of America I want to be a part of, people meet at the borders and build bridges. Prince William County, Virginia is far from the U.S. Mexico border, but 9500 Liberty clearly showed that many borders exist within the county--borders that divide rich and poor, Latino and Anglo, those who fear immigrants and those who welcome them as fellow citizens. While I saw little border-crossing in this film, I did see bridge-building in the peaceful persistence of Alanna Almeda and the blog she started, in the ways in which Elena Schossberg and others had the courage to confront Supervisor Corey Stewart with their disappointment in his collaboration with extremist hate groups, in interfaith dialogue about the situation, and even in the use of Spanish by one supervisor who attempted to explain to the Spanish-speakers at the town meeting that the "probable cause" law would not harm them. Gaudencio Fernandez was also attempting to cross borders by posting his messages across from the Amtrak train station and next to a major highway where they would be seen by everyone.
The border is not just a legal demarcation between nations. It exists wherever people live and it is created in the mind. What was missing for me in 9500 Liberty was the portrayal of border-crossing in this film--of Latino and Anglo families socializing, working together, collaborating in leadership. The invisible borders between people need to be open for traffic is we are to successfully counter the hate bred by fear.
To open and cross these borders I need to have a good sense of my own boundaries--who I am and where I come from. But my boundaries should be more like the semi-permeable membranes of cells that the steel walls of the border between El Paso and Juarez. This means I need to be interested in people from other levels of society, other races, cultures, and speakers of other languages. This means I need to see humanity first in all of my interactions. It means I have to tolerate--learn to listen to--points of view I don't agree with, lifestyles that are different from mine. And it means that I need to be open to change. Which is scary. But also exciting.
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