Читать книгу Seeking Refuge - Maria Cristina Garcia - Страница 6

PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The idea for this project began in Austin, Texas, in the late 1980s, when I was writing my doctoral dissertation on Cuban immigration to the United States. Before I began my daily ritual at the computer, I allowed myself an hour at a local coffee shop to load up on caffeine and sugar (the graduate student's “fix”) and to read the morning's headlines. A very different immigration story was playing out in the Texas state newspapers. I read about Central Americans who escaped civil war in their homelands and crossed vast stretches of territory to find safety and employment in North America. I read of shelters and halfway houses as far north as Buffalo, New York, where hundreds of people waited for their asylum hearings, their transportation to Canada, or the opportunity to return home. I read of the detention centers emerging along the US-Mexico border to house thousands facing deportation. And I read of “sanctuary workers” who willingly violated immigration law and risked prison to protest what they considered to be an immoral foreign policy. Following this morning ritual, I walked home to write my history of the post-1959 Cuban migration, a group that seemed so fortunate by comparison, despite their own poignant stories of separation and persecution.

Through research and lived experience, I became starkly aware of how politicized refugee policy can be. The US government assisted the Cubans because they fled a hostile communist government during the peak years of the Cold War. Laws were bent if not broken to accommodate them. The Cuban Refugee Program, first established in 1961, invested over nine hundred million dollars in these refugees by the mid-1970s, to help them retool for the US labor market but also to help local economies to accommodate the newcomers with as little strife as possible. The US news media were generally positive about these new arrivals (at least those who arrived during the first two decades). Articles in major newspapers and news magazines celebrated the Cubans' democratic and entrepreneurial values—their familiarity—and helped to convince Americans that they were worth welcoming. This moral and financial investment in their future on the part of so many institutions, chief among them the US government, played no small role in helping the Cubans to adjust to their new society and become among the more “successful” immigrant groups in the twentieth century.

The nation faced a totally different scenario with the arrivals of the Salvadoran, Guatemalan, and Nicaraguan immigrants. This time, the administrations of Reagan and Bush insisted that those who fled the civil wars in Central America were not true refugees, but rather economically driven migrants. During the 1980s fewer than 5 percent of Central Americans were successful in their petitions for asylum; and no government aid packages were granted to assist in their accommodation. This time it was certain sectors of the US population that argued that the United States had a moral obligation to assist the refugees. Debates over immigration and foreign policy took place in town halls, churches, and college campuses across the United States, creating a climate conducive to change. But ultimately, it was the federal courts that mandated changes in asylum policy and in detention and deportation procedures.

These two very different experiences inspired my research and writing these past years, and I had a personal connection to both stories. My family, like thousands of other Cuban families who arrived during the 1960s, benefited from the Cold War struggles between the United States and Cuba. It mattered little whether the doors to the United States were opened because of humanitarianism or politics. The goal was to escape the violence and paranoia of the revolution, and return to Cuba when it was safe. In the meantime, the United States offered peace, economic opportunity, and, more important, choices. Eventually, exile became permanent residence for many of us, a story that needed to be told. However, I was also committed to documenting the experiences of my Central American neighbors in Texas: people who also fled the violence of a paranoid state, but who faced a much more difficult challenge gaining acceptance into the United States. I hope that I have done justice to both stories.

Like all authors, I face the difficult challenge of naming (remembering) all the friends, students, and colleagues who helped with the research and writing of this book, either through valuable criticism of one or more chapters, or through discussion and debate, or through the support and friendship that made the process easier. I hope they will be proud to be in some way connected to this work. I thank Teresa Palomo Acosta, Julia Kirk Blackwelder, Cynthia Bouton, Derek Chang, Sherman Cochran, Ray Craib, Nicole Guidotti-Hernández, Itsie Hull, Michael Jones-Correa, Carol Kammen, Michael Kammen,Walt LaFeber, Harold Livesay, Tamara Loos, Angel David Nieves, Mary Beth Norton, Dick Polenberg, Suyapa Portillo, Mary Roldán, Gabriela Sandoval, Joni Spielholz, Eric Tagliacozzo, Betty Miller Unterberger, and Hector Vélez. Portions of this work were presented at seminars and conferences, including the American Historical Association; the Comparative History Colloquium at Cornell; Princeton University; and the University of California at Berkeley. I thank the students and scholars who offered feedback and helped to make this a stronger work.

I am indeed fortunate to have had two wonderful academic jobs since I defended my dissertation: at the Department of History at Texas A&M, and now at the History Department at Cornell University. I thank my colleagues at both institutions for the intellectual exchange in meetings and seminars, cafés and dinner parties, and even hallways—an exchange that has made me a better teacher and scholar.

During the writing of this book, Robert Morse Crunden, my dissertation director at the University of Texas at Austin, passed away suddenly. I want to acknowledge his mentorship over the years. Bob's enthusiasm for my topic and his encouragement helped me immensely during those difficult years in graduate school.

I thank the staff of the History Department at Cornell, especially manager (and good friend) Judy Burkhard, as well as Barb Donnell, Maggie Edwards, Jennifer Evangelista, and Katie Kristof, who make going into the office such a pleasure. Their stories, jokes (often at the faculty's expense), and parties make the History Department a unique place to be. In the Latino Studies Program, Marti Dense made my job as director so much easier. If I got any writing done during that three-year period as program director, it was thanks to Marti's efficiency, talent, and willingness to run interference. I thank the students—undergraduate and graduate—associated with LSP for their energy and commitment to the program, their probing questions and feedback, and their appreciation.

I could not have done my work without the assistance of many talented and resourceful persons at libraries and special collections in Mexico, the United States, and Canada: the staff of the John T. Olin Library at Cornell University; Nettie Lee Benson Latin American Collection at the University of Texas at Austin; Biblioteca Central, Universidad National de México; Catholic Archives of Texas; Immigration and Refugee Board, Documentation Centre, Ottawa; Lauinger Library, Georgetown University; Library of Congress,Washington, D.C.; National Archives of Canada, Ottawa; National Security Archives, George Washington University, Washington, D.C.; and the presidential libraries of Geroge H. W. Bush, James E. Carter, and Ronald Reagan. I want to single out three persons in particular—David Block and Ida Martínez at Olin Library, and Margo Gutierrez at the Benson Collection at UT-Austin. David located many important sources for me. Ida expanded the Latino Studies collection at Cornell, which assisted my research and teaching. Margo has helped develop what I think is the best collection of Latino/Latin American materials in North America, which is my research home away from Olin Library.

Financial support for this project came from a variety of sources. The initial research was made possible by a summer stipend from the Louisville Institute and a Faculty Development leave at Texas A&M. The Canadian Consulate General in Dallas, especially John Morrow, facilitated a research grant that allowed me to consult special collections in Ottawa. At Cornell, financial assistance came from the Return Jonathan Meigs Fund of the History Department and from university study and administrative leaves that provided the time to research and write.

This is my second book published with the University of California Press. The first publishing experience was so positive that I naturally turned to them with my second manuscript. Senior editor Naomi Schneider believed in the project and assigned two excellent outside readers, who offered valuable suggestions for revisions. It is a much stronger book thanks to their input. Assistant editor Sierra Filucci and production editor Jacqueline Volin have generously guided the project to its completion. I am also grateful to Robin Whitaker for her copyediting and to Chalon Emmons for her editorial assistance. Jimmy Dorantes of LatinFocus provided the wonderful photograph for the book cover.

Finally, but no less important, I thank my family for their love and support. My husband, Sherm Cochran, is the kindest and most generous man I know. My mother, Chary García, is my spiritual anchor. My brother, Joseph, and sister, Victoria (and my siblings by marriage, Renee and Eddie), are there for me in more ways than I can ever list. My aunts, Nini and Martha, are the best examples of what an aunt should be. The integrity and commitment of my cousin Antonio Pérez and his wife, Carol, are inspiring. My nieces and nephew, Isabelle, Natalie, Cristina, Allie, and Nick, fill my life with laughter and adventures.

I dedicate this book to my father and grandmother, who died within months of each other, as I began the research for this book. Whatever talents I have, they helped nurture. Whatever person I am, and hope to be, they inspired.

I know that I will remember more names after I send these pages to press. Please know that you all have my gratitude and appreciation.