Stories That Cross Borders: A Week with BorderLinks
In October I spent a week in Tucson, AZ and Nogales, Mexico with a BorderLinks delegation, and I came home carrying stories that are continuing to form and inform me of how to be a neighbor.
One of our first activities was a legal immigration simulation. Each of us was handed a scenario (personal story) and asked to find a lawful path into the United States. Most of us couldn’t. Some paths simply didn’t exist; others meant waiting years, sometimes more than a decade, for status or a green card.
I’ve heard “just do it the right way” my whole life and am understanding that the “right way” is a continuous moving target. The rules shift over and over, and the people often left waiting are the ones who pay for it.
The question I wrote at the top of my notebook that day was: who is affected by these changes, and who benefits from them?
Inside the courtroom
On Tuesday we sat in on federal court for Operation Streamline, the program that prosecutes migrants for crossing the border in fast, group hearings. People are charged with illegal entry or re-entry, which are federal crimes. Most are assigned a defense attorney who practices criminal law and may know little about immigration law.
The process moves quickly. That speed is often described as kindness, since it gets people out of detention sooner. What I saw felt like a lack of due process for the sake of efficiency.
The people who shared their stories
The most important part of the week was listening. Names and some details below are changed to protect the people who trusted us.
A man who spoke out. He fled violence in his home country after speaking out against it and was labeled a political “terrorist.” He sought asylum here and was treated as a criminal, including time in detention. He believes our stories matter because they break down stigma, and that we need critical thinking in every part of life.
A father and daughter in Nogales, Sonora. He told us people are labeled “bad” or “good,” but most people on both sides of the wall are good. U.S. laws often make life harder for families in Mexico, and then those families are blamed for crossing. His daughter, a mother of eight, hosted us for lunch. She described long factory shifts for little pay, but also a neighborhood where people care for one another.
A trans woman who keeps giving back. She has survived beatings, threats, and shame. She watched a friend die on the journey to the US. Today she helps other trans women get out of detention and into safety. She wants her story to be told with truth and boldness.
A man on the trail. We hiked a desert route that migrants use and left water and snacks along the way. We met a man who had traveled from Central America, trying to reach his family. Hugging him before he walked on was a sacred gift to carry home with me.
Tohono O’odham land. While with the Tohono O’odham people, a young woman told us about her own migrant family and her protests to protect sacred land from the border walls destruction. Her story cut through what we hear from mass media, and it was a beautiful reminder that witness, blessings and rituals in our faith matter, especially when being threatened.
What I believe more deeply now
Standing at the border wall was heavy and overwhelming. Yet I believe when we choose to look away from the pain others carry in their stories it’s a disservice to those who can’t step out of their circumstances, so neither should we step out of the listening, seeing, and being with those on the margins. Not everything is my work to do or yours. But we can hold stories with truth, speak up, and keep discerning each day what work ours is. May we believe that each story is sacred. Each moment of care brings a little heaven to earth.
On the last morning, I wrote a prayer in my notebook: may this experience keep cracking me open, so that I am forever changed by it.
What is next?
Art, music, and stories were everywhere in that week, as forms of resistance and as ways of building hope and centering the people with lived experience. What remains central for me is living faithfully into the questions and living faithfully in each story as someone who is centering the sacred act of listening.
Here are the questions I’m asking myself, and I invite you to carry them too:
What are you grounded in when the news gets loud?
Whose stories have you heard firsthand, and whose have you only heard about?
How does what you’ve read here connect with what gives your life meaning?
What is one act of care that is yours to do this week?
If you want to learn more, BorderLinks leads other delegations like the one I joined.
