“We need to bring back humanity to this nation, to stop the dehumanization of people of color.” Gretel Rodriguez speaks softly, but emphatically. “We need to stop sanctioning who’s human and who’s not. We shouldn’t determine whether they’re worthy of rights based on skin color or immigration status.”
Rodriguez is one of a handful of activists who began a hunger strike July 10, under the banner of “Abolish ICE.” They set up camp in the park next to the Chula Vista Border Patrol Station, and have maintained a constant presence since then. Despite the title, their goals are both broader and more specific than just dismantling Immigration and Customs Enforcement. A handwritten sign on a whiteboard includes demands to reunite the immigrant families separated by ICE, an end to for-profit prisons in California, and removal of the travel ban applied to primarily Muslim countries, among others. Rodriguez points out that all of the specific goals address injustice and that although their platform is expansive,
“We’re connected by these injustices, and the moment we are divided, we are weakened.”
She is joined by Marco Amaral, a fellow high school teacher. Together, they explain the thinking behind the hunger strike. “Everyone is fed up after a million marches,” Amaral says.
Rodriguez, the group’s spokesperson, chimes in, “None of those marches had demands attached. Outrage is righteous, but doesn’t bring results.”
Both Rodriguez and Amaral tap into their personal experience as fuel for the protest. In his classroom, Amaral is exposed daily to students who have suffered traumas due to immigration status. He recounts listening to students who have fled cartel violence in Mexico, leaving in the middle of the night to get to safety in the US. Other teens with whom he works fear deportation, have deported parents, or are protected by their DACA status. He recognizes the effect that immigration status has on students’ ability to focus in school.
Rodriguez encounters similar situations among her students, but her reasons for addressing immigration issues are more personal. Her mother crossed the border when she was pregnant with Gretel, accompanied by a four-year-old son and a two-year-old daughter.
Rodriguez grew up hearing the story of how her brother almost drowned in the Rio Grande, and how a janitor stumbled upon her cold wet family and hid them until they could get to safety. Both siblings went on to become citizens, one serving in the military in Kuwait and one becoming a school principal. Rodriguez’s older three brothers were born in Mexico, and were unaware of their undocumented status until they were adults. “My mother didn’t want them living in fear,” Rodriguez explains. Now protected by the Dream Act, one brother is a police officer and another an entrepreneur. When asked if the US has a right to protect its borders, Rodriguez is thoughtful. “I understand that we have to have some sort of process, but it has to be humane. If we really want to fix this, we in the U.S. can’t create the storm, and can’t cry about it later.”
Although the core group of protesters is small, they have been accompanied by hundreds of solidarity strikers, according to Amaral. People join them in their fast during the day, or come at night to help ensure their safety. Organizers say that the vast majority of the interactions have been positive, although one man drove into the park, tore down one of their signs while yelling at them, and sped away.
Rodriguez has experienced more harassment, much of it comments about her weight. She shrugs off comments such as “Good riddance,” and “Starve yourself,” remembering standing outside the Otay Detention Center and hearing children inside screaming and crying. “If the kids can stand it, how can I get bothered about fat-shaming?”
Despite their dedication, they are aware of the magnitude of their goal and the potential harm to their bodies. Their diet has been limited to water and jars of tea prepared and prayed over by Native American healers. A medical team checks in with them daily, assessing their health, and checking their vital signs, reminding them of the possibility that one of the hunger strikers may become physically debilitated. Rodriguez admits to having been naïve about the physical effects of a hunger strike, while Amaral is realistic about their chances of success. “For us to abolish ICE through a hunger strike would mean death or near death for us.” He hopes their action, designed to last at least ten days, will effect change at a local or state level, and claims a win if even one of their seven demands are met.
To many, their desires seem radical. Although these are “revolutionary steps,” Amaral affirms, “This is a pedagogy of love.”
