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They remember the Alamo, but I’ve never been

Snapshots

Today we flew into Texas and settled in before beginning our work at Texas State University tomorrow morning.  We began our journey with an early 8 am flight first to Dallas, and then to San Antonio.  I was definitely tired after the flight, but that quickly dissipated as soon as I got off the plane.

Group photo of Beyond Borders team members at the airport
Amanda, Dr. Latham, Dr. O’Daniel, Justin and Helen at the airport

 

Once we arrived, we were able to spend a little time sight-seeing around San Antonio.   Lunch was our first stop, and we decided to go to a restaurant called Moses Rose’s Hideout.  Apparently when you enter you’re supposed to knock on the door, give a secret password, and do something embarrassing for all the other restaurant goers to see before you’re allowed to enter.  Unfortunately for us, it was lunch and we were the only ones there, so we did not get to embarrass ourselves.  Regardless, the food was amazing.

Beyond Borders team members group photo at the Alamo
At the Alamo

After lunch we decided to visit the Alamo, as I had never been there before.  I was
astonished by the beautiful architecture and gardens we walked through.  I was excited to learn more about the history of the Alamo, but I kept getting distracted by the beautiful scenery, and of course the souvenirs in the gift shop.

Beyond Borders Team Members wearing bonnets
Fun at the Gift Shop

Subsequently, we decided to drive up to San Marcos to prepare for our week of lab work. On our way, we stopped at Buc-ee’s, which when I asked if it was a gas station turned out to be quite an understatement.  Not only was the gas station huge, but also the store itself.  They seemed to have everything and anything I could want at a rest stop.  And of course, we couldn’t resist taking a photo with the Buc-ee statue.

Beyond Borders Team Members in a group photo with Buc-ee the Beaver
Buc-ee the Beaver

Once we arrived at our hotel in San Marcos and settled in, we headed to H-E-B to buy lunches and dinners for the week.  The rest of the evening was ours to relax and prepare ourselves for the tough, but fulfilling work to come.    While many of the team members had been to these places before, I thoroughly enjoyed hearing the stories of years past and making new memories.  I really appreciated getting to see some of the sites of San Antonio today, and even more excited to get to work tomorrow morning.  I’m thrilled to be participating in this humanitarian effort with this group of people.

–Helen

Lead by Example

Reflections

“Why do you do this?” is a question I return to each year because it’s one of the first questions I am asked by people learning about our efforts on the border. My response has consistently been “Because it is the right thing to do.”  But the more I work within the midst of this humanitarian crisis, the more I ask myself “For who?”.  Who is benefitting most from our work in south Texas? Is it the unidentified individuals? The families of the missing? Myself?  As a professor of biology and anthropology I spend my days trying to simplify a complex reality for my students. Yet I’ve been working in the complex reality of the Texas-Mexico border for several years and have been approaching it with an embarrassing naievity.  I made it so simple in my mind and in my explanations that I now find myself questioning my own oversimplified statements from years past.

Award winning author Adriana Paramo (Looking for Esperanza) visited UIndy and spent several hours with my students and I talking about her work with migrant women and our work on the border. “How do you know they want you touching their loved ones?” her question was simple but I wasn’t sure how to respond.  The individuals that have been identified and repatriated to date were returned to families looking for closure, so I hadn’t considered the fact that not all families would feel that way. I hadn’t considered that some families would view our analyses as a guaranteed extension of purgatory for their family members, or be insulted by what they view as cultural insensitivity. But I return to the fact that most of the families of the missing want answers. As trained anthropologists, we approach our work with sensitivity and cultural understanding of the many different groups of people and cultures we may potentially encounter. As forensic scientists we approach our work with respect and a sense of responsibility in providing dignity for the dead.

Is it me? Am I doing this simply because it makes me feel good? There is a sense of satisfaction that comes with doing something you feel is right. But there is also an overwhelming sense of stress and fatigue that is inherent in this type of work. Any type of volunteer work that forces you to the brink of physical and mental exhaustion cannot be purely selfish in nature. If I merely wanted to feel “good” I could find other venues that were less time consuming and closer to home.  I would find something that didn’t leave my body and mind questioning my decisions to put myself so close to my breaking point over and over again.  As we prepare to leave tomorrow I have to remind myself that this year not only am I responsible for my own health and well being, but also for my daughter who is due in July.

So why is this the right thing to do? It is right because hundreds of people should not be nameless and forgotten after having died in our country.  Children and spouses should not suffer wondering what happened to their loved ones. And while I have come to recognize the fact that our work will not be the “right thing to do” for everyone and in every situation, it is the “right thing to do” for most.  Year after year I have seen my students grow as they experience a harsh reality very different from their own privileged lives.  I use this work to teach my children and my family about being thankful, humble and kind. In a time when many question the entitlement of the next generation, I see many young people (from my university and others) leaning humility, compassion and understanding in a way that would not be possible without immersion in this humanitarian crisis.

There are many smart, compassionate and dedicated people working in the middle of this crisis everyday.  I respect them in a way that I am unable to put into words because I can come home and separate myself from this situation in a way that they cannot do. They do not do this because they get paid, they also do this because they feel it’s the right thing to do. While we all have different ideas and different feelings as to what “right” means, I am proud to be a small part of this amazing group of people who fight for basic human rights in life and in death. Who treat all people with dignity. Who embody compassion, humility and humanitarianism.  And who lead by example.

~KEL

Purposeful Disorientation

Reflections

As our departure date draws near, I find myself going through my usual pre-fieldwork lists of “things to do” and “things not to forget.” Human subjects protection protocol – completed. Recruitment scripts, interview guides, and informed consent documents- printed. Digital recorder – packed. Business cards – packed. Spare batteries, flash-drives, methods reference books, laptop computer – packed, packed, packed, and packed. As with any research trip, the right equipment and preparation is essential to project success. But, as a cultural anthropologist on this trip, my preparation is a bit different than that of my forensic science colleagues. Simply put, I’ve joined the team in order to study the process of migrant identification and repatriation. Thus while my colleagues prepare to do the work of identification, I’m preparing to do the work of immersion research.

 
Over this 10 day trip, I’ll be a participant observer with the Beyond Borders team. This means that I must prepare to physically assist the team (as is appropriate for a non-expert) while studying what the team does and why. I’m the proverbial “outsider” who hopes to become an “insider” by learning to see and understand this crisis from the vantage point of my fellow team members. The learning curve, as you might imagine, in this context, will be steep.

 
I’m typically nervous at the beginning of a new project and find myself wondering, “Have I spent enough time doing my background research?” “Will my interview guides elicit meaningful data?” How will the community feel about and react to my presence?” Because it is based on immersion in a social setting, ethnographic research is always uncertain terrain. I’ve had many wonderful fieldwork experiences with HIV-positive communities. I have been generally lucky that so many care providers and women living with HIV/AIDS have been welcoming, patient hosts. I’ve also, however, had many de-stabilizing experiences where my outsider status has been problematic to the extent that I’ve denied entry, asked to leave a setting, or, once, chased out by a well-meaning son protective of his mother’s HIV-positive status. What these instances have taught me is that ethnographic research is always an uncertain terrain. And, because of that, part of my preparation for research includes a process that I call “purposeful disorientation.”

 
“Purposeful disorientation,” highlights the mental process of preparing for the sense of social alienation that cultural anthropological fieldwork entails. It may also highlight the emotional work of preparing oneself to conduct research in a setting characterized by conflict, violence, and/or trauma. As the trip draws near, I’m mindful of how much I don’t know about forensic science and locally-specific conditions of this crisis. I am mindful that my role as a participant observer is completely contingent on the good will of others. I am mindful that the course this research project is therefore uncertain and, in many ways, not up to me. I am also mindful that the work of “Beyond Borders” may be understood in some ways as a confrontation with violence. This effort bears witness to mass death on the border and brings to the forefront of our concerns questions about why this situation of mass death happens and what these deaths can, should, or do mean. At the same time, this fieldwork setting is also, at least partially, defined by humanitarian response and a refusal to accept invisibility and silence as appropriate responses to border death. As a cultural anthropologist, my job is to dwell on the complexity and uncertainty of all that this work entails, carefully unraveling why the pathways of action and response look the way they do and what this might mean for those involved. This is the “stuff” of cultural anthropology, the information and experience gained from the precarious position of an outsider-insider. It’s a strange and disorienting place to be, but I’m thrilled to be here.

Dr. Alyson O’Daniel