By Jeromel Dela Rosa Lara '23
(Op-ed originally published in The Boarderline, Oct. 27, 2020)
On August 3rd, 2019 — a little over one year ago — 23 people were massacred when a white gunman traveled to a Walmart in El Paso, Texas, to kill Latinx people. In a country where there are more mass shootings than days in a year, the El Paso massacre quickly became a major news headline.
At that time, my mother and I were staying with our relatives in New York City. We are all first-generation immigrants to this country. My mother and I came to the U.S. from the Philippines in 2011. We lived in Chicago for seven years, and we were in New York on our way to move to Boston.
Before traveling to the Walmart in El Paso, the gunman posted a violently anti-immigrant, white-nationalist manifesto to 8chan, describing his motivations for the massacre. For me, this shooting — one fueled by a white man’s hatred of immigrants — only affirmed the presence of xenophobia, racism, and white supremacy to which I was first introduced when I arrived in this country. I was warned by my adult relatives that immigrants like me are discriminated against here. I was taught to expect that white people would not see me as their equal, and that I shouldn’t trust their words and actions, because, regardless of the way they behave outwardly, they will always look down upon me for my brown skin and non-American accent.
The shooting in El Paso occurred three weeks after the President of the United States told four congresswomen of color to “go back” to their countries. That was followed three days after by a campaign rally in Greenville, N.C., where white supporters chanted “send her back” in reference to the President’s attack against Congresswoman Ilhan Omar, who is from Somalia. These events gained substantial coverage, where chyron news headlines flashed across the Internet and television coverage. Stories in bold letters reported what immigrants from the House floor to a Walmart in El Paso have faced in this country during that summer last year. In his manifesto, the El Paso gunman used language similar to that of the President, whose racist, anti-immigrant rhetoric has been a staple of his presidency. In that same year, his campaign rallies referred to asylum seekers coming to the border as an “invasion;” when his supporters shouted “shoot them,” he made a joke about it.
But such national attention on the plight of immigrants that occurred then now feels fleeting. One year has passed, and it feels like the rest of the country has moved on. According to data from The Washington Post, it takes about three weeks for Americans to stop paying attention after a mass shooting. One year has passed since the El Paso shooting. Does this nation still remember that one year ago, the deadliest attack on Hispanic people in modern U.S. history took place? Are we paying attention to the fact that right now, Latinx and Black people are disproportionately getting sick and dying from COVID-19 because of structures of systemic racism? Are we paying attention to the fact that immigrants and asylum seekers are being stopped and turned back at the U.S. border, crammed into unsanitary and dangerous camps, while detainees in ICE facilities are being put at risk of contracting COVID-19 without any recourse?
Greetings! I am Jeromel, and I am a sophomore at Cabot House (Semper Cor, Semper Quad, Semper Cabot!) studying Comparative Study of Religion and Ethnicity, Migration, and Rights. I was born in the Philippines, and I lived there for 11 years before immigrating here to the U.S. with my mother in 2011. We have moved around from place to place across the country. I have lived in San Diego, Chicago, and Boston. Right now I am on campus at Cambridge, Mass.
I am a student deacon at MemChurch, and I am so drawn to this church community where faith entails, as Ralph Waldo Emerson puts it, “the light of rising and of setting suns, with the flying cloud, the singing bird, and the breath of flowers.” My biggest interests in life are journalism and the Humanities. I love reading, hearing, and seeing people’s stories as reflected in books, art, and music (so much admiration to UChoir) where you would almost always see me before the pandemic (and hopefully after) in libraries, museums, choral and orchestral concerts, and cultural events.
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