The Latino Rebellion
Published in L'Humanite
(France) on 13 April 2010
by Bruno Odent (link to original)
(France) on 13 April 2010
by Bruno Odent (link to original)
Translated from
by Hodna Nuernberg.
Edited by Laura Berlinsky-Schine.
They were the first victims of the subprime housing sharks. Now they are the people most affected by unemployment. But the anger of the Latino-American immigrants of New York has also translated into an immense upsurge of fighting spirit. A report from the Bushwick neighborhood.
“Within a few months, I lost my house, my job and ...” A metallic din interrupted Juan Hernandez. It’s impossible to communicate on Irving Avenue’s sidewalk in the ear-shattering frenzy of the elevated tracks that wind past, just above the rooftops. Juan, a 42-year-old Nicaraguan man, arrived in the United States 20 years ago and has lived in Bushwick ever since.
A victim of the infamous subprime loans — those mortgage loans for the “poor” intended to enable them to achieve equity — he experienced, in a couple months, a frightening sequence of events, which has become routine in this neighborhood between Brooklyn and Queens: ever climbing interest rates. Juan and his wife, who have three children, could no longer pay their bills. The value of their mortgage became greater than the property itself. It was impossible to sell it. The house was seized and the “American Dream” rapidly turned into a nightmare, now that both spouses have lost their jobs. “They practically fired me overnight,” explains Juan, who had had a relatively well-paying job as a salesman in one of the Manhattan stores of a huge drugstore chain. The visible subway and its raw power, whose trains run directly suspended in their metallic frames, the rails above the void, crudely set up, without even a device to lessen the wave sounds, is a symbol of the abandonment and isolation of the neighborhood. Bushwick, for years the home to a large part of the Latino immigrant community (numbering three million people of New York’s total population), is a true third-world enclave less than 30 minutes from the heart of Manhattan.
Irving Avenue. The street, riddled with potholes and littered with rubbish, is lined with small blockhouses of three or four floors, striped on the rear by dilapidated and rust-eaten fire escapes. It is in one of these blockhouses that Juan and Sonia Hernandez have managed to take up residence after the seizure of their former home, by paying an exorbitant rent for a minuscule three-room apartment to a “sleep-merchant.” The interior of the apartment, neat and attractive, contrasts with the sordid environment, as if thumbing its nose at human indignity, filth and injustice. The children are all smiles and full of energy, despite being cramped in the tiny apartment. They aren’t even allowed to play in the hallway. Sonia shakes her head and sighs, “There are rats the size of cats…”
The immigrant community is the most affected by the crisis that erupted so violently in the space of 18 months. The doubling of the unemployment rate had an effect of cascading social downgrades. After their dismissal, those who belong to the middle class generally find another job. But they are, for the most part, overqualified for their new positions and they are, of course, less well-paid. “And so it goes, all the way to the lowest social classes, where the effects are felt the most terribly,” points out economist Mark Brenner, a researcher at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst and the current host of Labornotes, a progressive association in Brooklyn and a purveyor of documents ... arguments for trade unions, as well as alienated wage-earners, who wish to organize themselves.
Sonia found work in a Subway. “It’s exhausting,” she says. “It pays no more than the minimum wage” ($7.25 an hour in New York state, about 5.50 euros). As for Juan, he relies on various under-the-table odd jobs, which pay even less. “I’m back at square one, in the same situation as I was in when I first arrived in the United States!” he says with a bitter smile on his lips. That means accepting the same jobs as the illegal immigrants. Maximum exploitation guaranteed. And, for several months, those wages have been less than $3 or $4 an hour (2.2 to 3 euros). “It’s simple,” Juan continues. “The guy tells you, ‘Either take it or I’ll give it to one of the dozens who are outside waiting.’”
Terrifying "competition." Practically half of Bushwick’s population is currently without papers, according to an official study. They are among the 12 to 14 million total in the United States. “But how could I blame them?” continues the ex-salesman. “The majority are Latinos like me and everyone here houses one or more illegal immigrants. Often it is a family member,” he adds in an unsure voice, his eyes welling with tears. He later revealed the reason for this sudden outburst of emotion. Juan had sheltered his younger brother for a long time, before he was arrested and sent to a sinister detention center where he was held for six months before being deported to Nicaragua.
The very circumstances of this arrest allow us to better understand the reasons for the climate of fear that hangs over the entire Latino community of Bushwick. One morning, like so many others, Javier, Juan’s brother, arrived at the usual meeting spot, under one of the pillars of the elevated rails that passes above Myrtle Avenue. A large white truck was waiting for him and the other illegal immigrants, who thought they were headed, as the day before, to a ship repair yard many kilometers away. However, the men who were driving them that morning turned out to be immigration officers in plainclothes.
Make the Road (Se Hace el Camino), an organization that emerged from the neighborhood a dozen years ago, which today numbers some 7,000 members, fights for the rights of migrants, whether they are illegal immigrants or salaried workers. Their comings and goings are incessant at the association’s headquarters on Grove Street. Several murals on the wall depict crowds of migrants with raised fists and are unambiguous. It’s a struggle for everyone all the time that is taking place here. A lawyer, Yorelis Vidal, one of the association’s leaders, explains: “Our primary function is to provide a haven for migrants, a place where they can escape the fear and feel confident. Because to fight for and assert one’s dignity, one must first escape the constant anxiety."
The association was fully involved in the huge mobilization last March 21st, when some 200,000 people gathered in Washington on the Mall, between the White House and the Capital, in order to demand immigration reform. This reform was meant to be understood as a massive legalization of undocumented immigrants. A demand that figured, at least as a subtext, into the promises of Barack Obama, whose election sparked such great hope among the Latino community.
For now, however, nothing has come of it. On the contrary, the new administration has processed some 400,000 deportations, a record number. Though the president continues to claim that he favors immigration reform (as he asserted during his video address to the protestors in Washington), he still wants to take a bipartisan approach and he has entrusted the solution to two senators, Charles Schumer (Democrat) and Lindsay Graham (Republican).
The main points of the preliminary draft that the two men just presented around the end of March calls for the creation of a biometric social security card to prevent illegal immigrants from working, a “security reinforcement” on the nation’s borders and the implementation of a “difficult but fair” procedure leading to legalization. Not much, as we’ve understood, to assuage the worries of the immigrant community. Nieves Padilla, one of Make the Road’s leaders, does not hide her frustration. “Obama talks and talks," she says. "But he doesn’t do anything. He has promised us change. But for now, if there’s been a change, it has amounted to increased suffering for millions of people who have lost their jobs or have been deported.”
Juan Hernandez, who acquired his American citizenship long ago, had never used his right to vote until November 4, 2008. His disappointment is only equaled by the hope he had placed in the Democratic president. “It’s all over. I feel like I’ve been duped. I’ll never vote again!” he said in an unequivocal tone.
The anger among those who have been most affected by the crisis could weigh very heavily on the political balance. Almost 80 percent of the Latino community voted for Obama. The signs of electoral disaffection appear to be significant on this side, as it generally is from those who suffer from job loss. “A question that is nagging the entire society,” affirms an AFL-CIO delegate, who specifically adds, "Everyone is affected directly or now knows at least one unemployed person in his entourage.” Among those disappointed with Obama, the temptation to abstain from voting, noticeable in polls, is already being felt in a concrete way: the president’s party lost Massachusetts, one of its strongholds, this past January. This greatly worries the Democratic elected representatives, whose numerous seats will be threatened during the mid-term elections next November.
"More than ever we must rely on our own strength," notes Nieves Padilla of Make the Road. The association has recorded some spectacular successes. It succeeded in bringing a suit against a chain of athletic stores that pays its employees less than minimum wage and paid them no compensation for holidays and overtime. The company lost the lawsuit and was ordered to pay some $1.1 million (about 800,000 euros) to its employees, practically all of whom were Latinos. “In order to carry out that fight, we worked hand in hand with the commerce and distribution union, RWDSU (Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union),” explains Nieves Padilla. Against the backdrop of converging interests evident in the context of the Latino community’s increasing militancy, this relationship has resulted in the proliferation of joint initiatives. The unions thus provided much of the logistics for the gathering in Washington on March 21st. And in New York, the main trade unions of the Big Apple will, for the first time in 50 years, renew their link with the demonstration on May 1st. The slogans chosen by the participants are explicit: “Rights for immigrants and jobs for all.”
"We must show our determination," emphasizes Rhadames Rivera, the leader of the city’s public services union SEIU (Services Employees International Union). A Latino himself, he is one of the primary leaders of the gathering in New York. "The emergence of this force is perhaps a way to make President Obama remember his promises,” he says. Juan Hernandez is not convinced. But he will be at the gathering on Saturday, May 1st, with his Bushwick friends and his entire family.
“Within a few months, I lost my house, my job and ...” A metallic din interrupted Juan Hernandez. It’s impossible to communicate on Irving Avenue’s sidewalk in the ear-shattering frenzy of the elevated tracks that wind past, just above the rooftops. Juan, a 42-year-old Nicaraguan man, arrived in the United States 20 years ago and has lived in Bushwick ever since.
A victim of the infamous subprime loans — those mortgage loans for the “poor” intended to enable them to achieve equity — he experienced, in a couple months, a frightening sequence of events, which has become routine in this neighborhood between Brooklyn and Queens: ever climbing interest rates. Juan and his wife, who have three children, could no longer pay their bills. The value of their mortgage became greater than the property itself. It was impossible to sell it. The house was seized and the “American Dream” rapidly turned into a nightmare, now that both spouses have lost their jobs. “They practically fired me overnight,” explains Juan, who had had a relatively well-paying job as a salesman in one of the Manhattan stores of a huge drugstore chain. The visible subway and its raw power, whose trains run directly suspended in their metallic frames, the rails above the void, crudely set up, without even a device to lessen the wave sounds, is a symbol of the abandonment and isolation of the neighborhood. Bushwick, for years the home to a large part of the Latino immigrant community (numbering three million people of New York’s total population), is a true third-world enclave less than 30 minutes from the heart of Manhattan.
Irving Avenue. The street, riddled with potholes and littered with rubbish, is lined with small blockhouses of three or four floors, striped on the rear by dilapidated and rust-eaten fire escapes. It is in one of these blockhouses that Juan and Sonia Hernandez have managed to take up residence after the seizure of their former home, by paying an exorbitant rent for a minuscule three-room apartment to a “sleep-merchant.” The interior of the apartment, neat and attractive, contrasts with the sordid environment, as if thumbing its nose at human indignity, filth and injustice. The children are all smiles and full of energy, despite being cramped in the tiny apartment. They aren’t even allowed to play in the hallway. Sonia shakes her head and sighs, “There are rats the size of cats…”
The immigrant community is the most affected by the crisis that erupted so violently in the space of 18 months. The doubling of the unemployment rate had an effect of cascading social downgrades. After their dismissal, those who belong to the middle class generally find another job. But they are, for the most part, overqualified for their new positions and they are, of course, less well-paid. “And so it goes, all the way to the lowest social classes, where the effects are felt the most terribly,” points out economist Mark Brenner, a researcher at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst and the current host of Labornotes, a progressive association in Brooklyn and a purveyor of documents ... arguments for trade unions, as well as alienated wage-earners, who wish to organize themselves.
Sonia found work in a Subway. “It’s exhausting,” she says. “It pays no more than the minimum wage” ($7.25 an hour in New York state, about 5.50 euros). As for Juan, he relies on various under-the-table odd jobs, which pay even less. “I’m back at square one, in the same situation as I was in when I first arrived in the United States!” he says with a bitter smile on his lips. That means accepting the same jobs as the illegal immigrants. Maximum exploitation guaranteed. And, for several months, those wages have been less than $3 or $4 an hour (2.2 to 3 euros). “It’s simple,” Juan continues. “The guy tells you, ‘Either take it or I’ll give it to one of the dozens who are outside waiting.’”
Terrifying "competition." Practically half of Bushwick’s population is currently without papers, according to an official study. They are among the 12 to 14 million total in the United States. “But how could I blame them?” continues the ex-salesman. “The majority are Latinos like me and everyone here houses one or more illegal immigrants. Often it is a family member,” he adds in an unsure voice, his eyes welling with tears. He later revealed the reason for this sudden outburst of emotion. Juan had sheltered his younger brother for a long time, before he was arrested and sent to a sinister detention center where he was held for six months before being deported to Nicaragua.
The very circumstances of this arrest allow us to better understand the reasons for the climate of fear that hangs over the entire Latino community of Bushwick. One morning, like so many others, Javier, Juan’s brother, arrived at the usual meeting spot, under one of the pillars of the elevated rails that passes above Myrtle Avenue. A large white truck was waiting for him and the other illegal immigrants, who thought they were headed, as the day before, to a ship repair yard many kilometers away. However, the men who were driving them that morning turned out to be immigration officers in plainclothes.
Make the Road (Se Hace el Camino), an organization that emerged from the neighborhood a dozen years ago, which today numbers some 7,000 members, fights for the rights of migrants, whether they are illegal immigrants or salaried workers. Their comings and goings are incessant at the association’s headquarters on Grove Street. Several murals on the wall depict crowds of migrants with raised fists and are unambiguous. It’s a struggle for everyone all the time that is taking place here. A lawyer, Yorelis Vidal, one of the association’s leaders, explains: “Our primary function is to provide a haven for migrants, a place where they can escape the fear and feel confident. Because to fight for and assert one’s dignity, one must first escape the constant anxiety."
The association was fully involved in the huge mobilization last March 21st, when some 200,000 people gathered in Washington on the Mall, between the White House and the Capital, in order to demand immigration reform. This reform was meant to be understood as a massive legalization of undocumented immigrants. A demand that figured, at least as a subtext, into the promises of Barack Obama, whose election sparked such great hope among the Latino community.
For now, however, nothing has come of it. On the contrary, the new administration has processed some 400,000 deportations, a record number. Though the president continues to claim that he favors immigration reform (as he asserted during his video address to the protestors in Washington), he still wants to take a bipartisan approach and he has entrusted the solution to two senators, Charles Schumer (Democrat) and Lindsay Graham (Republican).
The main points of the preliminary draft that the two men just presented around the end of March calls for the creation of a biometric social security card to prevent illegal immigrants from working, a “security reinforcement” on the nation’s borders and the implementation of a “difficult but fair” procedure leading to legalization. Not much, as we’ve understood, to assuage the worries of the immigrant community. Nieves Padilla, one of Make the Road’s leaders, does not hide her frustration. “Obama talks and talks," she says. "But he doesn’t do anything. He has promised us change. But for now, if there’s been a change, it has amounted to increased suffering for millions of people who have lost their jobs or have been deported.”
Juan Hernandez, who acquired his American citizenship long ago, had never used his right to vote until November 4, 2008. His disappointment is only equaled by the hope he had placed in the Democratic president. “It’s all over. I feel like I’ve been duped. I’ll never vote again!” he said in an unequivocal tone.
The anger among those who have been most affected by the crisis could weigh very heavily on the political balance. Almost 80 percent of the Latino community voted for Obama. The signs of electoral disaffection appear to be significant on this side, as it generally is from those who suffer from job loss. “A question that is nagging the entire society,” affirms an AFL-CIO delegate, who specifically adds, "Everyone is affected directly or now knows at least one unemployed person in his entourage.” Among those disappointed with Obama, the temptation to abstain from voting, noticeable in polls, is already being felt in a concrete way: the president’s party lost Massachusetts, one of its strongholds, this past January. This greatly worries the Democratic elected representatives, whose numerous seats will be threatened during the mid-term elections next November.
"More than ever we must rely on our own strength," notes Nieves Padilla of Make the Road. The association has recorded some spectacular successes. It succeeded in bringing a suit against a chain of athletic stores that pays its employees less than minimum wage and paid them no compensation for holidays and overtime. The company lost the lawsuit and was ordered to pay some $1.1 million (about 800,000 euros) to its employees, practically all of whom were Latinos. “In order to carry out that fight, we worked hand in hand with the commerce and distribution union, RWDSU (Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union),” explains Nieves Padilla. Against the backdrop of converging interests evident in the context of the Latino community’s increasing militancy, this relationship has resulted in the proliferation of joint initiatives. The unions thus provided much of the logistics for the gathering in Washington on March 21st. And in New York, the main trade unions of the Big Apple will, for the first time in 50 years, renew their link with the demonstration on May 1st. The slogans chosen by the participants are explicit: “Rights for immigrants and jobs for all.”
"We must show our determination," emphasizes Rhadames Rivera, the leader of the city’s public services union SEIU (Services Employees International Union). A Latino himself, he is one of the primary leaders of the gathering in New York. "The emergence of this force is perhaps a way to make President Obama remember his promises,” he says. Juan Hernandez is not convinced. But he will be at the gathering on Saturday, May 1st, with his Bushwick friends and his entire family.