Migration through Literature. A project of UNAM Chicago and the Directorate of Literature

When we thought, at UNAM Chicago, to publish a book that would reflect the complexity of migration, but above all the life stories of its protagonists, the former Director of Literature and Reading Promotion at UNAM, Ana Elsa Pérez Martínez, brought the idea of doing it with us with a literary approach. We never hesitated.

Narrar lo propio. Migrantes de México en Chicago (To Tell One’s Own. Mexican Migrants in Chicago) is an essential book, but, as professor Sylvia Aguilar Zéleny—who masterfully conducted the workshop with the various authors—suggests in the prologue that it is a book “that brings to the table necessary discussions reflecting the relationship between Mexico and the United States”. To publish this book becomes a need, or as Ana Elsa Pérez, would say, “it is almost urgent” given the climate of intolerance prevailing today in the United States. 

Chicago today is nothing like it was some years ago, let alone a few decades ago. For some time now, Mexican and Latin American migration has had a significant impact on the labor force in Chicago, with significant flows of immigrants working in construction and especially in the service industry. However, these same migrants have also faced challenges such as discrimination, or lack of access to health and education services, challenges that today once again arise, perhaps more drastically. 

While it is true that Chicago has always been one of the most progressive cities in the United States, as well as a sanctuary city, meaning that it has public policies designed to limit the city’s collaboration on migration matters with federal authorities, the fact is that the influx of migrants, particularly Venezuelans, who have been sent in trucks from Texas by it’s ultraconservative governor, has once again brought the migration issue to the forefront of the debate, and in an unfavorable light. Even the very character of being a sanctuary city, which has been a distinctive source of pride for Chicago, is the center of passionate discussions that highlight the face of intolerance. Furthermore, as usual, intolerance is accentuated by the fluctuations of US domestic politics which in election times use migration as a scapegoat to influence public opinion, particularly that of Anglo-Saxon population, which may be easily seduced, but increasingly worrisome to the African-American population.   


THE PROTAGONISTS
At a time when migration and cultural diversity are central subjects in public debate, where extreme positions have led to a toxic environment, Narrar lo propio stands as a powerful testimony to the Mexican experience in Chicago and as a reminder that, ultimately, we all share a common humanity that transcends borders and cultural differences. 

Speaking of migrants’ stories from literature, from their own voices, gives us that “privileged view” to which Guillermo Pulido, Director of UNAM Chicago, refers, from which we can admire “a community in constant evolution that has left an indelible mark on the Windy City”. A city composed of one-third Hispanics, 80 per cent of whom are of Mexican origin. 

This valuable compendium of narratives not only immerses us in the experiences and perspectives of the authors but also sheds light on the evolution of political, cultural, and artistic movements undertaken by Mexicans in Chicago for at least five decades, as well as on the political context, both local and federal, that has shaped these experiences from the 70s to the present day. 

A direct precedent of Narrar lo propio can be found in Palabras migrantes: 10 ensayistas mexican@s de Chicago (Migrant Words: 10 Mexican Essayists from Chicago), a compilation by José Ángel Navejas (El Beisman Press, Chicago, 2018 [see box]) that includes a text by a protagonist of Narrar lo propio: Maya Piña, who in Palabras migrantes confesses that she was not born a woman or an immigrant but became one along the way. Thus, Franky Piña, Mexican, transgender, lesbian, and immigrant, is now Maya Piña, a woman who has paved the way for the benefit of many other migrants who have followed her closely. 

Maya is a revolutionary. She has brought to the University of Chicago—the very home of the Chicago Boys and cradle of several Nobel prizes—an important Spanish Language Book Fair  that opts to defend the right to write literature in our language in the United States. 

Glimpses of this revolution in favor of Spanish have also come from within that prestigious institution of higher education. Olivia Maciel, another of our essayists, a Ph.D. in Spanish and Latin American literature from the University of Chicago, shares with us in Narrar lo propio how Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz and Octavio Paz impacted her life and inspired her love for words and literature. Olivia is another case of a Mexican woman deeply committed to the movement of writing in Spanish in the United States. 

And from here I migrate to Margarita Moreno: mother, educator, and advocate for multilingual education, who reminds us from the intimacy of her family life of the importance of bilingualism. It is undoubtedly moving to see her determination to maintain a connection with the Spanish language and to transmit Mexican culture to her children. This aspect is representative of the experience of many migrant families who struggle to keep their cultural identity in a bicultural environment. 

Throughout these stories we can confirm what Rosa Beltrán told us during the Fourth Week of the Spanish Language organized by UNAM Chicago in the spring of 2023: 
 
“Speaking Spanish in the USA,” Beltrán reminds us, “is also an act of resistance.” Indeed, the authors of these essays have resisted. Today, 60 million of its inhabitants speak Spanish, that is 19 per cent of the population. 

But resistance also manifests in other areas. Alejandro Romero, our Mexican Quixote in Chicago and one of the most prominent representatives of the muralist movement in that city, speaks openly about the transformation of urban neighborhoods due to gentrification. And Carlos Arango, a rebel with causes, also reminds us of these transformations when he recounts with peculiar nostalgia how Mexico embedded itself in Chicago since the 70s and how it has been changing the urban landscape. Arango, former director of Casa Aztlán—the first institution promoting Mexican culture on record—direct protagonist of the student’s movement of 1968 and one of the most emblematic leaders of the 2005 and spring 2006 rallies that changed the face of Chicago, proudly extols the statue of the Benemérito de las Américas that lies in the heart of Michigan Avenue but at the same time laments, along with Alejandro Romero, that this is no longer the Chicago that saw them arrive. 

La Villita, a neighborhood that every year brings together the community in the El Grito parade and remains the second largest source of income for Chicago after the Magnificent Mile, gives an idea of the power of our diaspora. There in Pilsen, there are iconic institutions like the National Museum of Mexican Art that continue to be an anchor for a Mexican community proud of its culture and traditions. But it is also true that the demographic of the emblematic neighborhood has changed. People with greater purchasing power have begun to populate more and more streets of that neighborhood, displacing many of our compatriots. 

Through stories like those of Juan Díes and Héctor García Chávez, Narrar lo propio highlights prejudices, stigmas, and ignorance that still persist in very large sectors of American society. “You don’t look Mexican,” is a phrase that many of us have faced, as if Mexicans came out of a mold. Both authors have undertaken truly commendable efforts from their respective trenches to reverse this situation. Juan, a musician, founder of Sones de México—a non-profit cultural organization, twice nominated for Grammy awards—has promoted traditional Mexican music like no other. And Héctor, who currently serves as director of graduate programs in gender studies at Loyola University, proposes the establishment of an “official decalogue” to help gringos understand what it means to be a “real Mexican.” 

The text by Nora Sotelo raises important issues such as family, personal betterment, love for art, and the empowerment of women. She describes her mother as a strong and hardworking woman who put food on the table for her family. A magnificent cultural manager, Nora’s essay gives us the portrait of a family that, due to the circumstances of their migration status, has learned to swim against the current and fought a thousand battles. Her case is a testimony to perseverance and tireless struggle that is itself a legacy to her loved ones. Having to face family separation in order to obtain personal wellbeing for her children and that they may make their desires come true, speaks of the quality of human being that Nora is. 

Finally, Gissel Escobedo’s text represents the hope of a better future. It focuses on the importance of the “Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals”, DACA program, in her own life. The DACA program provided temporary relief to undocumented immigrants who arrived in the United States as children, allowing them to work and study legally in the country. She tells us how the 2016 elections and immigration policy impacted her life and that of her community. She expresses feelings of fear, uncertainty, gratitude, and determination throughout the narration and resorts to figurative language to emphasize emotions and experiences. Thus, Gissel speaks to us of the “waves of fear” that invaded her due to her vulnerable migration status and with the utmost dignity, she refuses even to utter the name of that orange-faced threat that poured into the 2016 elections in the United States and that eight years later threatens again to come to power. 


LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL   
Through literature and essay, these ten stories allow us to understand a little more about Mexican migration to Chicago in all its complexity, from the challenges that involved significant mobilizations to the obstacles that currently lie in the hands of the courts. These texts invite us to reflect on the importance of listening to and understanding the voices of migrants, recognizing their contributions to the city of Chicago and the United States as a whole, a country divided as never before, but in which voices like that of Gissel Escobedo coexist, who in her essay reminds us that despite the darkness there is “light at the end of the tunnel”. 

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