Borderzine (https://borderzine.com/category/voces-blogs/page/11/)
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP Liberal Arts Honors students during the spring 2013 semester. EL PASO – Life was beautiful until the year my grandpa started forgetting. The first time I noticed his memory loss I was 15 years old and he was 75. Grandpa walked through the front door, sweaty and breathing hard. “Mickey, ¿qué pasó?
EL PASO – The skyline in El Paso changed forever on Saturday April 13 when the two ASARCO smokestacks imploded leaving an empty space, a day prior to the demolition of City Hall. The stacks fell in slow motion, as if slowly saying goodbye to their longtime home. Viewing the demolition from the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP) parking lot across from Interstate 10, I reflected on the experience I had writing a story on the last-ditch efforts to save the stacks. The stacks had a profound historical impact on the city and many people wanted to stop the demolition. The first event I attended was a protest lead by El Paso AWARE, an organization that focused on stopping the demolition until proper testing was done.
EL PASO — El Paso erected a 10-story office tower in 1979 to be this fast-growing West Texas city’s new City Hall. At 9 a.m. on April 14 that multi-million dollar edifice came tumbling down in a planned implosion making way for a very controversial baseball park. Numerous individuals who worked at various times in and around that iconic building have been pumped for every possible story to fill newspaper columns and would-be experts spouted second- and third-hand information during interviews. The long and the short of it is that El Paso is now a little bit poorer due to the destruction of another piece of history to make way for the personal aggrandizement of certain prominent individuals. This building symbolized the promise that this city had in the seventies and still has today.
By Anu Sachdev with Dr. Lucía Durá
EL PASO –“It is like therapy,” said Marlene, who found herself acknowledged in a university class. Another student, Karla, said, “I have changed!” And many more continued to chime in during casual conversation before the Tuesday evening class. So what was happening in this class? I thought about my own experience as a student for over twenty years spending a good deal of time looking for the right opportunities to make myself heard. Sometimes I was successful, but most of the time my thoughts found comfort internalized within me.
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP Liberal Arts Honors students during the spring 2013 semester. EL PASO – Last summer I was standing in front of the Martyr’s Monument in Dhaka, Bangladesh. There was this being, an old man, lying on a thin mat. He looked like he was dying there as people walked around him, unchanged. One, two, three…I could count his ribs. His arms and legs were as thin as a broomstick, bones jutting out like knobs in wood.
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP Liberal Arts Honors students during the spring 2013 semester. EL PASO – When I told my Mom I was going to be a published writer, she said to make sure my stories were on audio-tape so she wouldn’t have to do any actual reading. Dad then joked that she’d have to learn how to read first. Whether or no they knew how serious I was, my parents always told me to do what I loved, even if it meant not studying a “safe” major like business or nursing. Neither of my parents, or anyone else in my family, has ever shown an interest in writing, creatively or otherwise.
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP honors students during the spring 2013 semester. EL PASO – All my life I have had problems with identity. I identified as a Mexican-American, but was always wondering what makes me Mexican-American. Is it because I am dark-skinned, or because I eat Mexican food? What constitutes Mexican food anyway – Taco Bell or Chico’s Taco’s?
Which Way is North
Social scientists and social change practitioners have found the normal bell-shaped curve to be of immense value when making inferences about population parameters from sample statistics. By paying attention to the mean values and standard deviations in a normal distribution with a representative sample, one can predict — with a high degree of confidence — the odds in favor of, or stacked against, solving a problem (see Figure 1). Normal bell-shaped distributions, for instance, can tell social change practitioners that most African-American children who grow up in poor inner-city neighborhoods, in a single parent household, would be highly unlikely to finish high school in a timely manner and/or graduate with a college degree; or that most Pashtun women living in remote and mountainous communities of Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Province will be at high risk for pregnancy-related complications that could jeopardize their health and the health of their newborn; or that most poor, uneducated and newly-married women in the highly patriarchal and rural areas of India’s Bihar State will be highly unlikely to exercise their free will in adopting a contraceptive method. Simply put, a normal curve distribution can give social change practitioners insights on the nature and scope of a problem in a population, including what is normative – i.e. what is the most likely case, scenario, or outcome for most of the people. In all likelihood, most poor African-American students of inner-city neighborhoods will not finish high school in time; most married women in Khyber Pakhtunwa will face pregnancy-related complications; and most poor married women in rural Bihar will not be able to practice birth control of their free will.
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP honors students during the spring 2013 semester. EL PASO – “He just died.” That’s how I heard that my older brother was dead. He had developed pancreatic Cancer at 31 years old, and had been deteriorating ever since. The doctors had told us that everyone who lived two years after diagnosis never had a reoccurrence for the rest of their lives. That was encouraging news, until we found out that the survival rate is four percent.
There are certain individuals who have made an impact on the American psyche whether they intend to do it or not. In the last few years, one of those who has made such an impact in both the worlds of entertainment as well as the world of politics is a man by the name of James George Janos. The reader may know Mr. Janos by his stage name, Jesse Ventura, politician, actor, author, veteran, broadcaster, body guard and former professional wrestler who went on to serve as the 38th Governor of Minnesota from 1999 to 2003. Ventura was born James George Janos, on July 15, 1951, in Minneapolis, Minnesota, the son of Bernice Martha (née Lenz) and George William Janos, both of whom were World War II veterans. Ventura’s older brother served in the Vietnam War.
EL PASO – Winter cold is blowing and Christmas trees and lights are set up around the mall as a line stretches around the Cielo Vista Mall into the Foot Locker on the drop date for the latest Air Jordan 11 “Playoff” sneakers. Worn by the National Basketball Association’s phenomenon Michael Jordan of the Chicago Bulls. The Jordan Brand has remained a popular and growing one-billion-dollar investment even after Jordan retired. The release of a new model Air Jordan still causes a shopping frenzy among the so-called sneaker-heads – consumers who will go to any extremes to buy a pair of the shoes at an average price of $185 every month. The fascination sneaker heads have with these shoes goes beyond just the Air Jordans, says Bryan Polk a sneaker-head living in Baltimore.
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP honors students during the spring 2013 semester. For as long as I can remember, we were at the church building every time the doors opened. Most families go to church once, sometimes twice a week. As the son of a Southern Baptist minister, our family was there a minimum of three times each week, and sometimes more often. Church life was part of who we were and a defining aspect of our identity.
Teaching and Learning and Caring Blog
I crossed the border for the first time in six years, used my current passport for only the second time. The sweetness of Mexico hugged me with glad and colorful arms along with the melancholy of my absence. From my settlement of San Juan, New Mexico, I drove to the Tucson Bead Show for the craziness that this city stages every February. This was only my second time to attend, to spend hundreds of dollars on beads that would become, in the coming year, creations of adornment that make me happy to make and make people happy to wear. Putting Sheriff Joe Arpaio, Governor Jan Brewer, and Senators John McCain and Jeff Flake into a guilty corner, I drove from Silver City to Lordsburg through Texas Canyon and into the metropolis.
Editor’s note: This blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP honors students during the spring 2013 semester. I used to be a real Mexican. I know because I have a little black cassette tape that was made 32 years ago. It’s an artifact of another time. A time I don’t remember well.
Editor’s note: this blog is part of a series of first person essays about identity written by UTEP honors students during the Spring 2013 semester.
The cold air penetrated the visible skin between my gloves and my jacket as I hurried up a long flight of stairs to catch the train to work in direction Alexanderplatz. My breath, warm and visible, was seeping through my scarf and mixing with the melting delicate snowflakes that were coming down from the heavens. It was a cold winter morning, typical Berlin. Once inside the train, I found a seat and rapidly put on my headphones to have “my 15-minute concert” of the usual British Rock bands that make me wish I had a similar accent so I could use words like “daft” or “trousers” and the occasional “Oi!” without people looking at me weird for having an American accent. Two stations away from my destination, a young couple with a child sat next to me.
Through her reporting and activism, Mexican journalist Marcela Turati, recipient of the 2013 Lyons Award, is giving voice to those who lack political power and access to the media. Marcela Turati tried to hide her tears, but the rainy season was still weeks away and teardrops were hard to disguise. As I approached her, she quickly turned her face, trying to hide her pain. But it was too late. It was May 2011.
PHOENIX – It was Benjamin Franklin who once said that guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days. Well, what would you think of a guest who has been a non-paying guest at a hotel for over 80 years and shows no signs of leaving or three children who run and play in the halls at all hours of the day and night? The Hotel San Carlos has been a major attraction in Phoenix, AZ since it opened on March 19, 1928. Though it has never been considered a five star hotel, at the time it opened it was considered one of the best places to stay in the area and kept that high class reputation for many years. Consider if you will, the list of famous guests who stayed at the San Carlos routinely when in the Phoenix area.
EL PASO – Life is always full of challenges and for someone with a disability it is even more difficult, but Esperanza Valdez a senior at Horizon High School has overcome the obstacles placed in her path by muscular dystrophy to pursue her dreams.
She wants to be known as someone who has accomplished her goals. She wants to take the opportunities available to her to obtain a college degree in accounting. For someone without a disability this would not seem so hard. She was born apparently normal and started developing as a regular kid, but before long the muscular dystrophy took over her body and made her wheelchair bound. By the time she started school she was not able to walk.
Teaching and Learning and Caring Blog
MIMBRES, N.M. – Have you noticed all the women on television these days who are wearing sleeveless dresses? Is this some sort of fashion trend started by Michelle Obama, or do women have a higher metabolism nowadays that keeps them warm? Did they turn up the heat in the studio? Are the camera lights that hot? When I was part of the working world, I was always freezing in the conference room.
CD. JUÁREZ – Los restos óseos encontrados en la Sierra de San Agustín, municipio de Práxedis G. Guerrero, pertenecen a tres menores de edad desaparecidas en los años 2009 y 2010 – Lizbeth G., de 17 años, Yessica P.,15 y Andrea G., 15. Entre los cientos de casos similares también está la joven Jéssica Leticia Peña, secuestrada en el centro de Juárez el 30 de mayo del 2010 cuando iba a buscar trabajo, según se publicó el 11 de noviembre en el periódico La Policiaca, D.F.
El 17 de febrero de 2012 el presidente de México, Felipe Calderón Hinojosa, declaró que, a dos años de que iniciara la estrategia para buscar mujeres desaparecidas llamada “Todos Somos Juárez,” la tasa de homicidios disminuyó un 57 por ciento. Para entender realmente los logros de “Todos Somos Juárez” tendríamos que hacer un recuento de los hechos estableciendo un panorama, ya que, a partir de 1993, el número estimado de mujeres asesinadas hasta el año 2012 asciende aproximadamente a más de 700, aunque la cifra real se desconoce. Según el Centro de Justicia para Mujeres de Cd.
MIMBRES, N.M. – Every child has a nose for sniffing out hypocrisy and a heart for fairness. Maybe we become more vulnerable to hypocritical arguments as we age. Otherwise, politicians and lobbyists would be exposed as emperors without clothes in a heartbeat. Then they would be shamed and silenced. Or, maybe they continue to believe that if they keep repeating an untruth often and loudly, it will magically become true. And it seems to have become so with a segment of our population that is suspicious of government, any government, but especially government led by a black man.
Just change: media, stories, and actions
By Moushumi Biswas
EL PASO – As a journalist-turned-academic, I was at a vantage point last fall when I decided to intern with the Media Changemakers (MCM) as its Media and Communication Specialist. On the one hand I was an outsider, a media professional who had years of experience in communicating with the community as a reporter and photojournalist; on the other, I was looking at the community from the point of view of the academy. Thus, I was able to straddle both sides as I worked with the MCM, an interventional platform of the Social Justice Initiative (SJI) of the University of Texas at El Paso’s Department of Communication. Dr. Lucia Durá was my mentor and Dr. Arvind Singhal and Bobby Gutierrez, my co-mentors. This internship was part of my Community Literacy Internship service-learning class, which I took in the fall as part of my doctoral coursework in Rhetoric and Composition.
By the time most of you read this, I will be a U.S. citizen as I am taking the citizenship oath this morning. Instead of covering the story as a reporter, I will be an active participant in today’s naturalization ceremony at the El Paso convention center. It has been a long, and sometimes harsh, road. The journey for me officially started eight years ago, when I came to the U.S. with an H1B visa to work as an editor for Al Día, a Spanish publication of The Dallas Morning News, which was launched in 2003 with the purpose of serving the growing Hispanic community in the city. Luckily, the company decided to sponsor me for permanent resident status, which allowed me to apply for U.S. citizenship after holding a green card for five years.
The Mimbres, NM – OK. I officially can’t take it anymore. I heard Andrea Mitchell, MSNBC’s chief foreign correspondent, say “ma-kismo” (machismo) on air this week. I did a double take. What did she say? What was she trying to say? And she is the FOREIGN correspondent?
EL PASO – I can’t help thinking about Doogie Howser, M.D. For those of you who never saw it, Doogie Howser was a show starring Neil Patrick Harris (before he became NPH of Harold & Kumar fame) about a teenage genius that became a talented surgeon. Every episode ended with him typing on a computer about what life lessons he’d learned during that week’s episode. So, here I sit, looking at a blinking cursor trying to find a way to wrap up my college career as a whole. I began way back in 2001 at El Paso Community College where I finished my basic courses and moved on to the University of Texas at El Paso in 2009. Like many other students, I have worked my way through college, there were years I did not attend school and I switched majors, twice.
EL PASO – Ever since high school, I was categorized as one of the students who could never get a college degree, but now I am only months away from earning my diploma at the University of Texas at El Paso, part of the first generation in my family to graduate from college. In high school they had two kinds of plans, the advanced and the general plan. The advanced plan was for those students identified as college material and the general plan was for those students tagged only as high school graduates. My first D in geometry prompted the counselors to switch me to the general plan. Although they said I could still attend college, they pulled me out of geometry and put me in consumer math, which was an interesting class but not a class I feel I really needed.
EL PASO – I am extremely content to have been part of this risky play, The Fever Chart. It changed my perspective of the Arab-Israeli conflict and I hope the production taught other young minds to not be oblivious to a continuing war that is happening this very second. The Arabs and the Israelis have been ripping each other to threads ever since I can remember. War kills love and joy, along with piles of people. And the only question I ask myself is this.
EL PASO – The Pew Hispanic Center estimates that there are more than 1.7 million undocumented students in our nation. This is the case of my friend Ana, a 26-year old political science college student. Ana and I grew up together in a small mostly Anglo town in Kansas. For the security of Ana the location and her full name will not be disclosed. I never noticed any differences between us; we both always embraced the American culture rather than our Mexican roots.
Juárez, the war-ravaged border town, welcomes back Juan Gabriel, and hope
CIUDAD JUAREZ – This city, along with its prodigal son, the mega-star known as Juan Gabriel, has seen better days—we all have. The world-renowned singer with the thinning, dyed hair, wrinkles, and a few too many pounds walked forcefully on stage. Never mind that his voice was a bit raspy, his steps a bit wobbly. There he was, in full splendor, dressed in white with brown and green trimmings. Like Juárez, he was still standing.
EL PASO – Smelter Town, a deserted ghost town on the north side of the Rio Grande inhabited for a century starting in the late 1880s by residents who worked for the copper smelting company that would become ASARCO has no inhabitants but is loaded with history. I was born in the late 1980s and I had heard stories from my grandma about her time living in Smelter Town when I was young. Of course, then I was a child who didn’t care about any of those things. I just wanted to play videogames, or run around outside pretending I was Indiana Jones with my rope which I imagined was the famous whip from the movies. I do remember news stories that were being reported about ASARCO in the 90s.