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America
Dreamed
By Rosa Martha Villarreal
Perhaps it is only appropriate to begin a conversation about the future of
illegal immigrants in America with a reference to the Mexican anthropologist
Guillermo Bónfil Batalla and his insights about what constitutes a
"civilization project." Appropriate because it is not lost on the American
public that it's our neighbor Mexico that has made the most significant
contribution to this population and because Mexico's recent nationalistic
rhetoric has arouse skepticism, fear, and contempt in the American public. A
prominent argument among the fiercest opponents of normalization of this
illegal population---or, to use a politically incorrect term, amnesty---is
that Mexican nationals constitute a threat to the very core of what it means
to be an American. This is where Professor Bónfil Batalla's definition
provides a provocative point for discussion.
When Bónfil Batalla coined the term "México profundo," he divided the
national consciousness in terms of nationalistic, political project which
began when Mexico declared its independence from Spain, replete with all of
the symbolism of a nation-state. He then described the other Mexico, the
composed of the spirit and aspirations of its native peoples and their
worldview. This, said, Bónfil Batalla, was the true collective soul, the
true nation, uncorrupted, real because it has been dreamed, and stifled by
the machinations of the political system.
Ironically enough, one can say that there, too, is an American equivalent to
this world of the profound. Except that, reflecting the character of
Americanism, the definition evolved not from the intelligentsia, but from
the soul of the people, the descendants of immigrant peasants: The American
Dream. As a loyal American of Mexican descent, I take personal offense at
the misappropriation of this cherished concept by extremists and special
interest groups in America, misguided and mettlesome Mexican intellectuals,
and cynical Mexican government officials. I am annoyed with the
aforementioned folks because they regard the American Dream as the
equivalent to an employment agency.
As I remind my students at the college where I teach, the American Dream was
and is the fulfillment of the desire that the individual could be free to
aspire to his most profound desires regardless of his background, his
bloodlines, and pedigrees. The American Dream is the Jeffersonian trust in
the wisdom of the people, not the ruling class, and certainly not the
intelligentsia, who, although well-meaning, are frequently so disconnected
from the lives of common men and women that their concern is perceived as
patronizing, and correctly so.
The American Dream is the elevation of the individual over the group.
Though one's past is an integral part of one's identity-a position I
reiterated as a creative writer as the Mexican landscape dominates my
fiction---the manner in which one's ethnic identity is recalled is
ultimately the spiritual project of the individual. For example, my parents
were born in Mexico and immigrated (yes, legally) in 1954. Being
well-versed in the history of both countries, I consider the conduct of my
country (U.S.A) in the Mexican-American war to be less than honorable.
However, I harbor neither resentments nor irredentist desires. Though
right-wing interlocutors have tried to smear Americans of Mexican descent as
anti-Semites because of the support of some radical Chicano groups for the
Palestinian cause, I am a supporter of Israel. My sympathy is based less on
the fact that my ancestors were Spanish Jews who like today's Israelis faced
an existential dilemma, but, rather, on my perso
nal political convictions of supporting a liberal democracy in a sea of
dictatorships. This is the spiritual aspect of the American Dream: I can
create my own identity and shape my own convictions and not be beholden to
traditionalism or group-think. Regrettably, the position voiced by both the
Mexican government and members of the Mexican intelligentsia is that because
my parents were born in Mexico, my loyalties should and interests should lie
with Mexico. My creative fascination with Mexico, yes; my political
loyalties, no.
Which brings me back to the initial problem facing the American body
politic: what to do with the millions of men and women and their children
living illegally in America? Should we give them amnesty? Perhaps that is
the only humane and workable solution. But this is the opportunity for the
body politic to articulate what it means to be an American versus an
American citizen. To be an American is to embrace the America that is
desired and dreamed. The American dream signifies the freedom to define,
create, and if necessary, recreate the self. Perhaps what is most
frustrating to me is that in this debate about illegal immigration is that
people of Mexican descent have been cynically defined as a group rather than
individuals. How ironic.
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Rosa Martha Villarreal is a descendent of several founding families of early
Spanish colonies. She is the author of acclaimed historical novel,
Chronicles of Air and Dreams: A Novel of Mexico, and most recently The
Stillness of Love and Exile (Tertulia Press, May 2007). For more info,
visit
www.tertuliapress.com.
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