A Wall in Virginia

A wall ? You have a wall ? Seated two hundred meters away from the wall, the lady at the Office of Tourism has seen nothing, heard nothing. The wall, 12 meters long by 3.6 meters tall, is visible from her window, but she “doesn’t know what it means (or what its function is). She does not know how to deal with the problem of immigration at Manassas. She shies away [from commenting directly], “I have been here only a couple of years.” It is then useless to tell her, but thanks to the internet, the wall that she doesn’t want to see is known as far away as Japan.

The Office of Tourism typically concerns itself with ancient history. Before being devoured by the surrounding suburbs, Manassas was just a small village in Virginia bisected by a single railway line. The first major battle of the Civil War occurred there in 1861. That day the Confederates were the victors, causing the Unionists to cross back over the Potomac River and fall back all the way to Washington. The Potomac then stayed as a (southern) border. One used to say, “It’s still the old South here.” And so said Annabelle Park, a filmmaker who worked on a history of the wall and who prefers to stay on the other side of this ancient frontline in Maryland.

The wall has an address; 9500 Liberty Street. To tell the truth, that is only a piece of it. The rest is a house that burned down two years ago. The owner, Gaudencio Fernandez had gone to fight an arrest, prompted by the city council, which had devastated the Hispanic community. It was July 10, 2007. That day, the council had decided that local schools would no longer accept the children of illegal immigrants and from that point on, the police could control the status of immigrants. Fernandez, who had carried an American Passport for the last 15 years, took a piece of black cloth, a piece of red and a large white sheet that he affixed to his wall, “Stop your racism towards the Hispanics. We pay taxes; we build your beautiful homes. And while our brothers and our sons fight and die in Iraq, you separate our families.”

To understand agitation among Latinos, one must know that in the United States, immigration is a major prerogative of the government. The local police cannot control legally the status of an immigrant. Over the last couple of years, the system has become more tolerant. An illegal alien can drive, sign a lease, or even take out a loan to buy a house without being interrogated about the status of his visa.

In the community of Manassa, the Hispanic community has doubled in the last six years. The workers have come, attracted by the prospect of jobs in constructions and at nearby Dulles airport in Washington. In effect the suburbs themselves were constructed thanks to the Latinos. An immigrant carpenter makes around 10 dollars and hour. A unionized one makes 35 dollars an hour plus the cost of health insurance. “The businessmen have been able to construct two houses for the price of one,” explains Fernandez. But the housing bubble has burst. The former tolerance towards the immigrant workers has disintegrated.

Exasperated by Congress’ inaction, local communities have decided to take matters into their own hands.

The wall in Manassas has become the battle cry of the rebellion. The city council, which carries a Republican majority, had its reelection on its mind. The tension has grown. Insults are hurled, “This is the United States, and there are too many people like you here.” Signs of the Ku Klux Klan have begun to appear, “It’s the same arguments the Blacks use; we are the ones that fought for America.” The cloth was pulled down and the wall burned by a Molotov cocktail.

In November, the council was reelected. Ever since, Manassas has been a little calmer. The calm has even started to become a bit depressing. Apart from a couple of families, the local skating rink, that faces the ancient train station, is largely deserted. “The immigrants have left,” says Larry Hevner of the local library. Several thousand people have left the city. Rather than separate from their family, many left together for New York. Others returned to Mexico. “[In Mexico] there is true liberty,” says Manuel, 16, the son of Gaudencio. “Here the police are watching us all the time.”

Gaudencio Fernanzez stayed on as the guilty conscience of this little burg. He has remade his wall. On it he added a picture of the Virgin Mary and several American and Mexican flags. The message has been slightly toned down, “We must become the change we want to see in this world. Darkness cannot conquer darkness, only the light can do that.” Annabelle Park has helped in the reconstruction. Of Korean origin, she arrived with her parents at age nine. Today, she fights for Barack Obama. According to her the Latinos feel that, “betrayed by everyone, only the Democrats understand [their problems].”

On his shirt, Gaudencio still wears an adhesive saying “Vote.” For Obama precisely, “but at this stage, I don’t trust anyone.” His revolt has not slowed down at all. The land at Liberty Street is his. He has finished all the payments and he is an American. He knows full well he has rights. For those that refuse to come and see he wall, he has planned a new and larger project. This time, he wants to have a work of art, a fresco 60 meters long by 4 meters high. The painting will recount a “history of American oppression against the Indians, the Blacks, and the immigrants.” And not to displease the Office of Tourism, the new wall will also tell, “the true history of the American whites.”