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First there was the AAA public education initiative called Understanding Race, a rich multimedia and interactive traveling exhibition that began touring around the country in 2007, nearly twenty years ago. For visitors to the exhibit and those who access the array of resources on the project’s website, the information brings cutting-edge, eye-opening knowledge about race and racism. Today, in too many places across the country, there are politically inspired, reactionary initiatives to silence such knowledge. Nevertheless, the scientific facts are there and the long history of race and racialization is documented. Remaining also are the human stories of those harmed by racism.
Now comes the AAA’s second public education project: Understanding Migration, and another fantastic exhibition called World on the Move: 250,000 Years of Human Migration. As an association volunteer for many decades, I was around when ideas for a second project were floated. In my first “President’s Column” for Anthropology News, I described World on the Move, still in its incubation stage:
Building on AAA’s past achievements and looking to the future, I expect to help bring anthropology more fully into the public conversation about critical local and global social issues and policy debates. This includes World on the Move, AAA’s new Public Education Initiative on migration, a timely, enduring, and difficult to discuss topic that matters to anthropologists and to the larger public. World on the Move has great potential that has yet to be fully realized. It ties to many anthropological concerns, past and present and across the subfields. In the present moment, processes and dynamics of contemporary migration intersect with the global political economy, involving law, labor, ideology, policy, war and more. There are the chronic conditions that lead to the refugee crises we see on the ground and in the waters. People are moving, displaced from their homelands. Objects (including antiquities) are also moving, displaced from their homelands, another kind of crisis. From so many angles, perspectives and locations, anthropologists have a lot to teach each other and a lot to teach the world about this topic.
World on the Move is now on the road, making its way to public libraries across the country. It came to my town last November, news I learned from Ed Liebow, AAA’s former Executive Director who worked tirelessly to bring about Understanding Migration. New Rochelle, New York is an ethnically diverse, edge city, located less than 20 miles from midtown Manhattan, and home to a large proportion of immigrants.
And there it was at the New Rochelle Public Library—an engaging, accessible, and interactive exhibition—just as we imagined it might be so many years ago.
Credit:
Leah Horowitz
A photograph from the New Rochelle Public Library exhibition.
Tobe Sevush, the library’s Program Director, explained how she made it happen: Seeing an announcement about the exhibit, Tobe applied for and received a grant from the American Library Association to bring it to our library. She also coordinated with teachers and students at the local public high school to showcase student projects designed to complement the exhibition. One evening it was student dance performances; another was the closing night’s event. Drawing on their own experiences of migration, students would perform their original slam poems. I got to be part of the last evening’s events.
It was thrilling. Six talented high schoolers bravely shared their migration stories in powerful spoken word poetry. The stories were often poignant and painful, always beautifully told and performed, touched with grace and humor. Two are featured here, by public high school students Isaac Evans and Neiva Franco. They have much to teach us and the world about this topic.
A Defined Mystery
Isaac Evans
This poem isn’t for empathy or sympathy.
Nor is it for satisfaction in the retelling of traumatic history.
To put it simply, it’s to tell with a straight face and define my origin and its mystery.
We were born free.
Born in our land.
Born with our own culture.
Born without a prick in our minds.
Without a prick to pick our lives from our land.
Without a prick to take chains; throw them on our hands.
Without a pick of cotton to bruise our plans.
Without a stick to beat us, their whip on-hand.
Culture stolen, languages mixed up, now each other we couldn’t comprehend.
Placed on a boat, we scrammed.
Our minds too weak to stand.
Our minds like scrabble,
Now in voodoo we dabble, to try and take a spiritual breath of air.
Contemplation of suicide
and inspiration unrecognized
led to those who swam.
Jumped off the boat to find land
but ultimately…died.
Ripped from our parents, questioned by white men and white women.
Stripped from our culture.
And scrabbling for an answer.
Why? Why me? Why us?
Our answer? I don’t know. Just because.
Growing up accusation towards white men sounded mind bending.
But don’t let them sugarcoat the truth, this journey was tormenting.
Whips that tore off our skins and hate began our lamenting.
Shame that picked at our brain without therapy for venting.
We felt less than humane, now black mental health rates look depressing.
I don’t know what legend in my ancestry broke free from this bondage of pain.
And maybe they never did.
Maybe legislation broke the chains.
But this is the point that I’m saying.
Coming into the world, if I’m Black,
there’s a white man waiting for my blunder in the chess game that we’re playing.
They can’t see the effect of having a loss in culture because they know where they’re from.
The loss of a culture makes classrooms very awkward.
And sometimes it feels like a classroom of Black people has our origins backwards.
Now I’m more American than I’m African.
I know my family has come from slaves, but our country is a mystery.
The identity of my ethnicity is a blank underline in my history.
I’m grateful to be here, with all this luxury and technology.
Living a life directed wherever my God is calling me.
Even glad I can brush my teeth and use some listerine.
But unfortunately, one thing that was lost was my history.
Like really, 23andMe charges $100 dollars to find out what type of black I am.
That’s a shame.
Dang, man
So honestly, this poem could be for sympathy.
A little bit of satisfaction in retelling my history.
But still putting it simply, telling with a straight face my origin and its mystery.
“Querer es Poder”
Neiva Franco
“Querer es poder”
My mama projects
Whenever I tell her about some set goal I have for myself
I’m a pretty determined person
Applying to College
Ooof was that something
I’m first generation student
Whose parents can’t English
We can’t really afford this traditional “ideal” of the American college experience
That whole big state school and dorming style up north
Where the land is quiet and isolated
But within is loud and full of energy circuits
Parties and meeting new people
I knew I was alone on this
Most of my friends were planning on going far
Far away
To meet the world
Or go to the big city
Arms open with opportunity and prosperity
Forced into the actual real world
Where there is no pause
Being set right in the middle of contagious chains of energy
Eyes wide open
I knew though that it would be “unrealistic” for me
But just for me?
I was the first in my family to go through this whole process of applying
And boy was it stressful
I had no guidance
But myself
I didn’t want to disappoint my parents
at the same time satisfy them
I knew that all my hard work would pay off
And I knew it was going to be tough going on all on my own
But I still did it though
I filled everything out
Translated documents to my parents
forms, application, aid forms
You name it
Submitting everything
And here I am
Rejected from my dream school
But redirected to the best school
And there is a lot more where that came from!
But I didn’t do it
It was my parents
Mi mama y papa
You see, I’m from hot grounds
Where the roads are made of big old fat rocks
Rocky hills
Manzanillo, right next to the ocean
That is where my mamma and papa are from
And they came here
Left it all, family, the love, warmth and comfort from home
To the unknown “promise land”
My mamma build a House!
A House!
Just to leave it
For me
For us
Many of us hear but don’t LISTEN
Of our blessing
Our purpose
Why are we here?
It’s up to us to allow ourselves to change
To discover
In any movement toward “our plan”
“Querer es poder”
Mamma stresses that we have the power to want and be capable of doing so
We are only stopping ourselves from achieving our own personal legend
