This piece was submitted by UC San Diego student and UCSD Guardian photographer A. Raya
Moments in history flashed through my mind like scenes from a movie as I witnessed the disturbing Instagram post for the first time. You know him. If not, I’m referring to the video that captured a white UC San Diego lecturer spewing hate in the form of random jokes toward two custodial workers who reportedly spoke Spanish outside his classroom. Robert Ternansky asks his class, in complete confidence, how to say cool in “Mexican.” After receiving laughter from his audience, he ends his racist rant with, “let me know if they start running around here with their guns.”
His words are a reminder of the very painful past endured by the Latino diaspora within the American empire. There is a tradition of dehumanization, organized abandonment, exclusion, and subjugation of Latino people by the beneficiaries of settler colonialism and the systems designed to protect it. This is a phenomenon all too familiar to survivors of this story – myself included. Racism is a force that serves the interests of a very few wealthy individuals whose extractive and exploitative capitalist tyranny is destroying our planet. Racism keeps the masses divided, distracted, and in constant fear of our neighbors. Where there is division, there can be no consensus, healing, or progress toward change that can move our society toward a more just future. This is a project that becomes more urgent in the face of growing economic inequality and climate catastrophe. Episodes like the racist organic chemistry professor can be generative in that they force us all to confront the rifts between us, as well as the difficult history that can help explain them.
History proves that the attitudes of the masses have real social implications. The pattern of dehumanizing Latino peoples as a way to justify violence against them begins with the occupation of Latin America today. The Spanish-funded expedition led by Cristóbal Colón resulted in the massacre of indigenous peoples and the destruction of entire ecosystems as settler colonialism disrupted the natural balance between indigenous stewardship and their land. However, this genocidal behavior was rationalized with language that considered indigenous people to be savage, savage, and non-human beings incapable of governing themselves or responsibly managing their land.
This rhetoric went on to fuel many of the US government’s covert operations that toppled democratically elected leftist leaders and movements in countries such as Guatemala, Nicaragua, Honduras, and El Salvador, to name a few. The US government’s foreign policy reflected a belief about the inability of the citizens of these nations to exercise their sovereignty and democracy. The implications? Decades of bloody civil wars and US-backed dictatorships in these regions. Go ahead, check my facts.
Flash forward to the streets of Los Angeles in the mid-20th century—a time when the police were beating and bruising Chicanx, despite being disproportionately recruited and dying overseas for the war effort. An increase in urbanization during this era led to racial tensions that were exacerbated by the LA news media, constantly using Chicanx youth as scapegoats for rising crime. The LA Police Chief’s testimony during a very famous court case highlights these beliefs. He described Mexican youth as peculiar and dangerous because of their “desire to use a knife or any deadly weapon” as a result of their descent from “bloodthirsty Aztecs”. Sounds familiar, right? These beliefs led to the outbreak of violence in LA against Mexican youth by military personnel stationed in San Diego. On June 3, 1943, determined to “teach the greasers a lesson,” a small army of mostly sailors and marines went into LA barrios with guns, brutalizing any visible Latino youth. This series of events is collectively remembered as the Zoot Suit Riots. With the police turning a blind eye, this violence continued for days and spread across American cities.
In 2016, Donald Trump’s language describing Central American immigrants as “bringing drugs, bringing crime” and “rapists” effectively distracted the masses from the reality of the situation. The southern borders are overrun with political refugees, most of whom are women and children from the Caribbean and Central America seeking asylum from violence and threats to their physical safety.
The examples are endless. The point is: stories matter. Stereotypes of hatred, xenophobia and racism set the preconditions for violence. When we invoke this kind of language, we do so in the interest of saving lives, not simply out of hypersensitivity. Ternansky’s words are the same hateful and dehumanizing rhetoric that has branded Latinos as violent and dangerous for centuries, feeding the idea that we need assimilation and control. This keeps prisons overcrowded with black and Latino faces, police officers knee-deep in necks, and segregation as a central force in our society that impedes social progress as a whole.
Dear Whites,
Racist people are tired of teaching you how to be good allies. The work in the white community should also be facilitated by the people within it. Do it better. Quickly.
Now enough about the hurt, let’s talk about the healing. Furthermore, I urge you to embrace the deeply healing forces made possible through community. There are places that exist in San Diego that love, honor and celebrate you. In my quest to feel connected, I tried to capture some of these places in sunny San Diego.
I urge you, go to these spaces like honey bees and feed on them. The spaces below are painted with colors of tradition and culture that cultivate safety in a material and physiological sense. I hope you will enjoy visiting these places and do so with a sense of respect for the locals, of course.
This ride begins in Balboa Park at the Centro Cultural de la Raza, located at 2004 Park Blvd., San Diego, CA. Originally an abandoned water tank, the space was transformed into a Latinx center for arts and culture as a result of community activism in the 1970s. Here you can find rich history, movement art, exhibitions, workshops and a safe place to be Latinx, whatever that looks like to you. This is also home to the monthly Tianguis de la Raza, a market designed to promote an autonomous economy and community building. Don’t miss the next one on November 20!
Next, let’s travel to Logan Heights, a historically Latino neighborhood about 20 minutes from campus and accessible by trolley. Despite years of gentrification and heavy displacement, the cultural gems that house Chicanx culture and history in Logan Heights survive. Libuela Books Store is one of these places. Here you’ll find a warm and welcoming energy, as well as an opportunity to support a Latino, queer-owned library. Don’t see the book you’re looking for? Don’t worry, the staff will order it for you and text you when it arrives. Visit this libuela soon and often. Our mind is our most powerful weapon enhanced through the sharp edges of our books.
Fittingly, just down the street is the Chicano Historical Park, a site whose existence is the result of Chicanx courage and a fierce commitment to defend the barrio’s right to self-determination. Chicano Park calls Latinos to a revolutionary, community-oriented state of mind. The new Chicano Park Museum and Cultural Center that houses the rich history behind Chicano Park is open Friday through Sunday and is staffed by community members eager to welcome you. Trust me, it’s worth every penny in gas. The history and political education accessible here is invaluable.
Our communities are places where we can go in an effort to confront the dangers of racism in a healthy way. When we immerse ourselves in our history, culture, and society, we create opportunities for joy, safety, dialogue, and strategy building. I leave you with a quote from the Centro Cultural de la Raza website, “as many in our community are hurting, we must support and protect ourselves and the community spaces that bring us together.”
Long live the cause and my people.
Photo: A. Raya
