JE #8

I did not know much about the Juarez Femicides prior to entering the class. Although I saw Bordertown in 2006 when it first came out, I was still young and unaware of the violent nature of our border. During my second year, a close friend began “Semana de La Mujer” in tribute to Latina womyn, their resiliency, and most importantly the Juarez Femicides. Yet despite my association with this particular event, I was still blind of the realities women faced at the U.S-Mexico border. Eithne Lubheid provided much clarity as to how U.S Government policy was violently implemented at the border and policed gender and sexuality at la frontera in Entry Denied. Though the first chapter does a magnificent job at enumerating the contents of the book while mentioning several immigration policies that were put into effect for the sole purpose of monitoring certain “types” of people at the border, chapter 4 “Looking Like a Lesbian” is one of her most moving chapters for me as a person who identifies as LGBT. She states that under the McCarran-Walter Act, “the Senate committee of the Judiciary had recommended in the 1950 that “classes of mental defectives [who are excludable] should be enlarged to include homosexuals and other sex perverts” (78). Upon entering the subject of gender and sexuality at the border, I was in disbelief that the U.S had explicit policies that prohibited certain genders and sexualities entrance into the U.S. I definitely thought it was possible and more of a de facto scenario, but not a specifically implemented policy in black and white. Furthermore, these historical policies Lubheid highlights explains how such an absurd concept of LGBT individuals as sexual deviates, was heavily reinforced at the border, filtering particular “kinds” of people America wanted for its country. Imagining myself as one of those migrants, I cannot help but fear if an authority could sense my queerness and violently murder me or take advantage of me sexually. Not only would there be an invasion of my mind through colonization, but a possible invasion of my body or complete dispose of it. In connection to the gruesome acts against mujeres and queers at la frontera, La Profe’s novel Desert Blood does a great job at tying the historical and political facets of the horrific situation of Juarez into a narrative that is accessible to most. My sister’s name is Irene, so following the plot progression and learning what happens to Irene in the story was nerve wracking as I couldn’t help but imagine what if it was my sister in the desert. The thought continually haunts me and one particular moment in the book brings me to that dark place so many mujeres do not escape in the desert. Chapter 24, when we see that Irene has been captured in a run-down house in the middle of the desert in disgusting living situations, I could not help feeling the fear rush up my spine as it did with Irene. “She doesn’t scream anymore…trying to breathe really shallow so her allergies don’t flare up and close her nostrils again”(175). At this point of the novel, it does not look great for Irene. Although she is saved at the end of the novel by her sister, she still has to deal with her traumatizing experiences for the rest of her life. The most interesting social critique I felt the novel provided was that these misogynistic massacres occurred because of patriarchy, and men’s inability to accept that women could take hold of their life, and survive at the border. Not only did they have the power to be productive, but also to reproduce. Thus sick males felt the need to put women “in their place” by mutilating their bodies and leaving them for the desert to swallow. Thus, Gregory Nava’s Bordertown with Jennifer Lopez provided an excellent visual to what exactly happens at the border. Lauren, a very colonized character in the film not only finds herself connecting to her roots, but also understands that this is more than just a murder, but a sick state of mind that is breeding at the border, with hundreds of bodies to prove it Eventually the question turns from “who done it,” to “why do it?” Overall, each one of these texts has broadened my understanding of the Juarez Femicides immeasurably, and more importantly has made me think about my privileges as a male and how I can use that privilege to leverage support onto those that need it.