16/7/2010
Anyone who has spent any significant amount of time in Ottawa would have to be blind not to notice the ubiquitous presence of shawarma.
Actually, when I think about it, I’m pretty sure the city’s blind are also well aware of the meat sandwich’s prevalence; you can practically smell the garlic everywhere.
But as much as I love meat in a pita and the variety of mystery sauces with which it comes, I often crave the tacos and anticucho I used to buy from street vendors in Arequipa, Peru. In no way an epicurean—or really knowledgeable about food in any way—I have no shame in admitting I often find myself in my neighbourhood Quickie Mart in the early hours of the morning, craving the microwaveable chimichangas and burritos exposed by the blinding fluorescent light.
The other night, though, my usually vacuous inner-monologue was briefly interrupted by a serious thought:
“If I were in… say…Phoenix right now, dressed in these cut off jean shorts and this stained t-shirt, with no identification on me—would they deport me to Mexico?”
It’s pretty laughable, I guess. I mean, it’s been a nice summer and I’ve got a pretty sweet tan, but I’m pretty goddamn Teutonic, and pretty goddamn sure I could eat a burrito with impunity anywhere in Arizona.
But ever since Governor Jan Brewer signed Senate Bill 1070 I’ve had this recurring nightmare where I’m in something like John Howard Griffin’s “Black Like Me”, except I’m posing as a Mexican, and I’m swept up in a raid on a burrito stand, and despite the overwhelming sadness of the Chicanos and Mexicans in the back of the CBP truck, some are singing some old mariachi folk song a cappella, except the lyrics have been changed to tell the story of a gringo who was stupid enough to pose as a Mexican and go to a burrito stand in Arizona.
But then I wake up and think—no, they can’t do that. It’s racial profiling. It’s the DEFINITION of racial profiling! And now I read that David Salgado, a 19-year veteran of the Phoenix police department has had a nightmare of his own. At least that’s why I think he’s currently doing what he’s doing.
I imagine his nightmare goes something like this:
David’s doing his patrol in Phoenix and comes across a few Hispanic-looking individuals eating some sort of Hispanic food outside a stand selling said food, and suddenly he’s faced with a new dilemma: is there “reasonable suspicion” these individuals are here illegally? All signs point to yes. He goes in to investigate the matter further and thinks about how hungry he is and about the food he ate growing up—he is of Hispanic descent after all.
They look…Mexican. They’re eating…Mexican food. They’re pretty close to the Mexican border. He asks a few questions and realizes one of them doesn’t have identification. He claims to have gone out without his wallet.
Does he make the arrest based on “reasonable suspicion”? The guy doesn’t have much of an accent—but what does that really mean?
He gets out his handcuffs and the guy says, “You’re arresting me for looking Mexican. That’s illegal. I’m gonna sue your ass.”
And David thinks, “Yeah, I am. And yeah, you’re right. And what the hell do I do now? ”
In reality, I know very little about David Salgado. I don’t know if he looks in the mirror, sees hypocrisy, and feels compelled to act—or if he’s really just confused about how he’s supposed to do his job. But I do know that when you force people to hide their culture, when you shame them into hiding who they are—you risk creating a problem much bigger than the legions of sin papeles mowing lawns and cleaning houses in contemporary America.
For those who can’t see why I find it disturbing that Hispanic-Americans in Arizona now have to carry identification with them everywhere they go for fear of “reasonable suspicion” they’re illegal, I ask—would you go to a burrito stand in Arizona if you looked Hispanic and didn’t have any proof on you that you were a real American?
I wouldn’t.
Not unless they gave me some sort of insignia I could put on my shirt.
But wait. No. That wouldn’t work.
It kind of reminds me of what they used to do back in Germany…
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