A Tide of Immigrants, a Quilt of Dreams,
and Citralli's Message
and Citralli's Message
Among the huge crowd of thousands who congregated in the National Mall in Washington, D.C. to
dramatize the need of an immigration reform, the yearning of thousands of students represents the
future of another dream: the American Dream.
dramatize the need of an immigration reform, the yearning of thousands of students represents the
future of another dream: the American Dream.
Multimedia coverage for Barriozona by Pedro Ultreras Watch Video View Photo Gallery
Washington, D.C. March 21, 2010. I am on a bus returning to New York. The immigrant march in
Washington, D.C. was very crowded. According to organizers, about 200 thousand people attended from
all over the country.
I had come to the march interested in getting the sense of our very own people’s feelings, older men and
women of humble demeanor. I set myself to the task of walking around the famous National Mall, and
what I found surpassed my expectations.
Many of the people were in wheelchairs, being helped by a relative. Others were in small groups like
Pedro Tayon, a native of Guatemala who has lived in New Jersey for the last 15 years. I saw him at a
distance, his head wrapped with a towel, one half showing the colors of his country’s flag and the other
half the colors of the United States flag. He was holding a sign reading “We work for America”, and
behind him was the impressive Obelisk.
Tayon and the two friends who accompanied him assured me they were in the country legally but that
they were there to show their support for others who aren’t. Oddly, this was the same assurance I
heard from most of the people I spoke with. However, there was something that made me doubt their
assertion, as I looked into their eyes I sensed in their words fear to tell the truth.
There, I also met Vicente Godinez, a sixty-year old Mexican man with gray hair and an abundant
mustache. He was standing under a tree, in a firm position and holding his head up. He had a sign in his
hands that made him look very proud. Reading what he wrote gave me chills: "My son served proudly in
the U.S. Army." Godinez told me he has been living in the United States for 35 years and was there
demonstrating because one day someone had done the same thing for him.
Among the things I saw in the midst of the thousands of demonstrators, I came to something that highly
called my attention. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of young people putting up a good fight
by marching to obtain the Dream Act. There was a group of these students from the state of Tennessee
who were marching wearing their graduation cap and gown. I thought this was something very powerful,
and I saw in their eyes the need to continue bettering themselves, and their desperation in knowing that
after graduating from high school there is no future for them at a university.
Feddy Quiteño, one of the group’s leaders, told me that he and the others had already graduated from
the university but that they were there also representing some of their classmates who did not attend
out of fear. He said that all in attendance have a family member or know somebody who is in that same
situation. He stressed the fact that they cannot allow the future of the Latino community to be cut short
because undocumented young people are prevented from going to college.
Something even better, I got to meet another group of young people who had come from Indiana. They
were holding a huge sign painted on cloth, a sort of quilt made out of colorful squares that they called
“The Quilt of Dreams.” This large cloth sign represents the dreams of some 500 students, each square
spelling out their individual dream they yearn for: “I want to become a doctor”; “I want to graduate from
high school and go to college,” “I want to be a professor,” and many, many other similar dreams.
What these students told me was also very powerful. They mentioned that 75 thousand students who
graduate from high school don’t get to go to college for lacking their legal documents. They also
mentioned the future and the potential consequences if this country fails to educate them or the benefits
if they are allowed to become legal residents. These young people were carrying signs about the Dream
Act. There were Asian and Middle-Easterner young people as well. They all shared the same problem and
struggle for the same cause.
This time, in comparison with other marches, I saw many parents and many young children holding flags
or signs. Some of these kids, minding their own business, were there just playing on the ground with
little toys. Others appeared annoyed for being there. But I also saw those who, in spite of their young
age, seemed to understand the magnitude of the issue by the impressive phrases written on the signs
they were holding: "Mam & Dad R not A Criminals," (sic).
That was the message of young Citralli Ochoa, whose parents are Salvadorians. Her sign left me
breathless. Oddly, Citralli’s parents told me they’re legal in the country but were there also in support of
others who aren’t.
In more than one occasion my eyes became watery with the things I was reading or with the stories
people were telling me. I am no longer the “insensitive” journalist I used to be. The quilt of dreams had
its effect on me. Or perhaps it was Citralli’s message.
The original version of this article was written in Spanish. English translation by Eduardo Barraza.
Washington, D.C. was very crowded. According to organizers, about 200 thousand people attended from
all over the country.
I had come to the march interested in getting the sense of our very own people’s feelings, older men and
women of humble demeanor. I set myself to the task of walking around the famous National Mall, and
what I found surpassed my expectations.
Many of the people were in wheelchairs, being helped by a relative. Others were in small groups like
Pedro Tayon, a native of Guatemala who has lived in New Jersey for the last 15 years. I saw him at a
distance, his head wrapped with a towel, one half showing the colors of his country’s flag and the other
half the colors of the United States flag. He was holding a sign reading “We work for America”, and
behind him was the impressive Obelisk.
Tayon and the two friends who accompanied him assured me they were in the country legally but that
they were there to show their support for others who aren’t. Oddly, this was the same assurance I
heard from most of the people I spoke with. However, there was something that made me doubt their
assertion, as I looked into their eyes I sensed in their words fear to tell the truth.
There, I also met Vicente Godinez, a sixty-year old Mexican man with gray hair and an abundant
mustache. He was standing under a tree, in a firm position and holding his head up. He had a sign in his
hands that made him look very proud. Reading what he wrote gave me chills: "My son served proudly in
the U.S. Army." Godinez told me he has been living in the United States for 35 years and was there
demonstrating because one day someone had done the same thing for him.
Among the things I saw in the midst of the thousands of demonstrators, I came to something that highly
called my attention. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of young people putting up a good fight
by marching to obtain the Dream Act. There was a group of these students from the state of Tennessee
who were marching wearing their graduation cap and gown. I thought this was something very powerful,
and I saw in their eyes the need to continue bettering themselves, and their desperation in knowing that
after graduating from high school there is no future for them at a university.
Feddy Quiteño, one of the group’s leaders, told me that he and the others had already graduated from
the university but that they were there also representing some of their classmates who did not attend
out of fear. He said that all in attendance have a family member or know somebody who is in that same
situation. He stressed the fact that they cannot allow the future of the Latino community to be cut short
because undocumented young people are prevented from going to college.
Something even better, I got to meet another group of young people who had come from Indiana. They
were holding a huge sign painted on cloth, a sort of quilt made out of colorful squares that they called
“The Quilt of Dreams.” This large cloth sign represents the dreams of some 500 students, each square
spelling out their individual dream they yearn for: “I want to become a doctor”; “I want to graduate from
high school and go to college,” “I want to be a professor,” and many, many other similar dreams.
What these students told me was also very powerful. They mentioned that 75 thousand students who
graduate from high school don’t get to go to college for lacking their legal documents. They also
mentioned the future and the potential consequences if this country fails to educate them or the benefits
if they are allowed to become legal residents. These young people were carrying signs about the Dream
Act. There were Asian and Middle-Easterner young people as well. They all shared the same problem and
struggle for the same cause.
This time, in comparison with other marches, I saw many parents and many young children holding flags
or signs. Some of these kids, minding their own business, were there just playing on the ground with
little toys. Others appeared annoyed for being there. But I also saw those who, in spite of their young
age, seemed to understand the magnitude of the issue by the impressive phrases written on the signs
they were holding: "Mam & Dad R not A Criminals," (sic).
That was the message of young Citralli Ochoa, whose parents are Salvadorians. Her sign left me
breathless. Oddly, Citralli’s parents told me they’re legal in the country but were there also in support of
others who aren’t.
In more than one occasion my eyes became watery with the things I was reading or with the stories
people were telling me. I am no longer the “insensitive” journalist I used to be. The quilt of dreams had
its effect on me. Or perhaps it was Citralli’s message.
The original version of this article was written in Spanish. English translation by Eduardo Barraza.
Pedro Ultreras is a journalist, photographer and
filmmaker. He is the director of the movie 7 Soles and the
documental La Bestia. He currently lives in New York.
E-mail: ultrerasp@me.com
filmmaker. He is the director of the movie 7 Soles and the
documental La Bestia. He currently lives in New York.
E-mail: ultrerasp@me.com
| MARCH TO WASHINGTON, D.C. March 21, 2010 |
| Hispanic Institute of Social Issues © 2006-2011 All rights reserved. webmaster@hisi.org |
Published by the Hispanic Institute of Social Issues in Phoenix, Arizona
|
| HISTORY IS ABOUT TO CHANGE Grassroots Journalism |
HISTORY Thousands seeking an
immigration reform crowded the
National Mall and surrounded the
U.S. Capitol in Washington D.C. on
March 21.
immigration reform crowded the
National Mall and surrounded the
U.S. Capitol in Washington D.C. on
March 21.
THE QUILT OF DREAMS This large
cloth sign represents the dreams of
some 500 students, each square
spelling out their individual dream
they yearn for.
cloth sign represents the dreams of
some 500 students, each square
spelling out their individual dream
they yearn for.
| M U L T I M E D I A By Pedro Ultreras |
UNITED IN THE STRUGGLE Unlike
other marches, in this one there
were many parents and young
children holding flags or signs.
other marches, in this one there
were many parents and young
children holding flags or signs.
| VIDEO |
