March 24th Street
By Eduardo Barraza
BARRIOZONA
March 24th, 2006
BARRIOZONA
March 24th, 2006
In a mighty expression of free assembly, the thousands of people who participated in the march to demand humanitarian
immigration laws on Friday, March 24, manifested not only their growing discontent with the political oppression directed
at them, but also showed a force that had remained latent for years. The march, Phoenix’ largest ever, visibly and
eloquently expressed what many prefer not to see: the demographic reality of a multiethnic and multicultural crowd that,
with or without documents, is a fiber of the national fabric. This human fiber, formed by the conglomerate of individuals
from Latin America in the United States, cannot continue to be ignored and much less extirpated without affecting the life
of this country. The immigrant fiber is part of this great nation, and that is why the mainstream felt the effect of the
manifestation.
The march in Phoenix and other multitudinous protests that took place in large cities across the country, have propagated
a cry that is echoing in the deafest of ears, and shaking the status quo of a society who, accustomed to the clandestinity
of a marginal population, scandalizes and scares before their drive. Thousands and thousands of human beings have
come out of their anonymity, not to be passive spectators, but protagonists in the national debate, and to take control and
responsibility of their destiny and their course. Therefore, aside from being a historical event, the march in Phoenix posed
a peaceful challenge without precedents.
The demonstration in Phoenix on 24th Street and on March 24th goes beyond a numeric symbolism; it is expressed more
effectively by the colossal amount of people who traveled on this traffic artery. Knowing the exact number of participants
does not matter. The most relevant aspect was the evidence itself of the river of people flowing on the pavement,
streaming from a minority demographic sector and economically disadvantaged, to the core of economic prosperity and
political power on Camelback Road. The river of the multitude stayed within the riverbed, even though the emotions of
many Anglos erupted, flooding Phoenix’ mayor’s office with phone calls, who became “upset and frustrated,” and the first
City mayor to have a march of this magnitude.
Thus, on the shady asphalt of 24th Street, a multicultural diversity, a multiethnic exuberance, and the verbal Latin
American echo of a crowd, changed history and wrote the first paragraph of a new chapter in a nation of immigrants. Step
by step, and at the rhythm of their shoes, the demonstrators transformed a march into celebration, and a local protest into
an event of national attention. The faces of men and women that perhaps have lived for years in the shadow of anonymity
and uncertainty, were glad with the morning sun of freedom, and breathing the wind of hope that waived Latin American,
Arizona and U.S.’s flags.
Rows of human tide moved with determination northbound, occupying from sidewalk to sidewalk the width of the street.
On the walkways, many were already waiting for the moment to incorporate into the crowd that for a time seemed
endless. Some looked on with astonishment, perhaps asking themselves what was the cause of this cheerful
procession. Others displayed angerand desperation for finding themselves caught, in what became a traffic gridlock.
Some businesses closed their doors; others took advantage of the occasion. Police blocked the streets, looking at the
demonstrators, emotionless. In the gathering, people were laughing, talking, and chanting clichéd rally cries, holding up
signs in English and Spanish. Two young boys were playing the drums, while a man sitting on a wheelchair played a
trombone on the sidewalk. The march was turning into a parade, the protest into a celebration. At street level, the caravan
was impressive; from the sky, imposing.
The main organizers, several feet in front, arm in arm, were advancing, talking among themselves or looking to both
sides of the street. They were not aware yet of the extent and density of those following behind them in perfect unity and
coordination, but the news’s helicopters were transmitting images that were hard to believe. In some, the stress was
evident, others smiled with satisfaction. Elias Bermudez was obviously tense, perhaps due to the threats made days
before the march, while Alfredo Gutierrez showed energy, walking back and forth from the frontline to pep up the
volunteers, and to instruct those keeping the order of the crowd. Many of those who supposedly are community leaders,
and some politicians who claim to advocate for the immigrant's cause, stood out because of their absence. It was evident
that their influence is not necessary to attract a multitude of these proportions. Nevertheless, what was worth enjoying,
videotaping, photographing and documenting were the demonstrators, the people in fullness. A flow of young people
brought their impetus; defiantly showed their signs with confidence. Many dressed for the occasion. Entire families were
enjoying as if on a fieldtrip. In some senior citizens, perhaps recollecting old battles, a new enthusiasm was reflected.
The demonstrators were chanting: “It can be seen, it can be felt, the presence of the people!”, something that couldn’t be
more evident.
The multitude arrived to the area of 24th Street and Camelback road, corridor of a world of luxury office buildings,
expensive restaurants, and exclusive shopping centers. There, hate and xenophobia were manifested, and some insults
were uttered. It is there precisely in that area where Republican Senator Jon Kyl’s, co-author of the House Bill 4437, has
his office, and to whom the protest was particularly directed. By then, the crowd was celebrating with pride, yelling when
the news helicopters approached near them, jumping and pretending to do “the wave.” Those who were receiving the first
news reports, expressed unbelief and astonishment for the historic event that was unfolding before their eyes. The
demonstration would conclude without major incidents.
The long term effects are still to be evaluated, but the protest began to have results on Monday, March 27, when part of the
legislation was rejected. The movement’s leadership, without a doubt, will be tested by the inherent pressures of a
movement that is just beginning. The whole country will be expectant of the fate of millions of immigrants without legal
documents. Toward the end of the day, the last volunteers were seen picking up trash in the parking lot of the church
where the walk had started that morning. The sunset of a historic journey was announcing a new sunrise to a people on
the threshold of a long struggle, galvanized on March 24th walking down on 24th street.
Copyright © 2006 Hispanic Institute of Social Issues
immigration laws on Friday, March 24, manifested not only their growing discontent with the political oppression directed
at them, but also showed a force that had remained latent for years. The march, Phoenix’ largest ever, visibly and
eloquently expressed what many prefer not to see: the demographic reality of a multiethnic and multicultural crowd that,
with or without documents, is a fiber of the national fabric. This human fiber, formed by the conglomerate of individuals
from Latin America in the United States, cannot continue to be ignored and much less extirpated without affecting the life
of this country. The immigrant fiber is part of this great nation, and that is why the mainstream felt the effect of the
manifestation.
The march in Phoenix and other multitudinous protests that took place in large cities across the country, have propagated
a cry that is echoing in the deafest of ears, and shaking the status quo of a society who, accustomed to the clandestinity
of a marginal population, scandalizes and scares before their drive. Thousands and thousands of human beings have
come out of their anonymity, not to be passive spectators, but protagonists in the national debate, and to take control and
responsibility of their destiny and their course. Therefore, aside from being a historical event, the march in Phoenix posed
a peaceful challenge without precedents.
The demonstration in Phoenix on 24th Street and on March 24th goes beyond a numeric symbolism; it is expressed more
effectively by the colossal amount of people who traveled on this traffic artery. Knowing the exact number of participants
does not matter. The most relevant aspect was the evidence itself of the river of people flowing on the pavement,
streaming from a minority demographic sector and economically disadvantaged, to the core of economic prosperity and
political power on Camelback Road. The river of the multitude stayed within the riverbed, even though the emotions of
many Anglos erupted, flooding Phoenix’ mayor’s office with phone calls, who became “upset and frustrated,” and the first
City mayor to have a march of this magnitude.
Thus, on the shady asphalt of 24th Street, a multicultural diversity, a multiethnic exuberance, and the verbal Latin
American echo of a crowd, changed history and wrote the first paragraph of a new chapter in a nation of immigrants. Step
by step, and at the rhythm of their shoes, the demonstrators transformed a march into celebration, and a local protest into
an event of national attention. The faces of men and women that perhaps have lived for years in the shadow of anonymity
and uncertainty, were glad with the morning sun of freedom, and breathing the wind of hope that waived Latin American,
Arizona and U.S.’s flags.
Rows of human tide moved with determination northbound, occupying from sidewalk to sidewalk the width of the street.
On the walkways, many were already waiting for the moment to incorporate into the crowd that for a time seemed
endless. Some looked on with astonishment, perhaps asking themselves what was the cause of this cheerful
procession. Others displayed angerand desperation for finding themselves caught, in what became a traffic gridlock.
Some businesses closed their doors; others took advantage of the occasion. Police blocked the streets, looking at the
demonstrators, emotionless. In the gathering, people were laughing, talking, and chanting clichéd rally cries, holding up
signs in English and Spanish. Two young boys were playing the drums, while a man sitting on a wheelchair played a
trombone on the sidewalk. The march was turning into a parade, the protest into a celebration. At street level, the caravan
was impressive; from the sky, imposing.
The main organizers, several feet in front, arm in arm, were advancing, talking among themselves or looking to both
sides of the street. They were not aware yet of the extent and density of those following behind them in perfect unity and
coordination, but the news’s helicopters were transmitting images that were hard to believe. In some, the stress was
evident, others smiled with satisfaction. Elias Bermudez was obviously tense, perhaps due to the threats made days
before the march, while Alfredo Gutierrez showed energy, walking back and forth from the frontline to pep up the
volunteers, and to instruct those keeping the order of the crowd. Many of those who supposedly are community leaders,
and some politicians who claim to advocate for the immigrant's cause, stood out because of their absence. It was evident
that their influence is not necessary to attract a multitude of these proportions. Nevertheless, what was worth enjoying,
videotaping, photographing and documenting were the demonstrators, the people in fullness. A flow of young people
brought their impetus; defiantly showed their signs with confidence. Many dressed for the occasion. Entire families were
enjoying as if on a fieldtrip. In some senior citizens, perhaps recollecting old battles, a new enthusiasm was reflected.
The demonstrators were chanting: “It can be seen, it can be felt, the presence of the people!”, something that couldn’t be
more evident.
The multitude arrived to the area of 24th Street and Camelback road, corridor of a world of luxury office buildings,
expensive restaurants, and exclusive shopping centers. There, hate and xenophobia were manifested, and some insults
were uttered. It is there precisely in that area where Republican Senator Jon Kyl’s, co-author of the House Bill 4437, has
his office, and to whom the protest was particularly directed. By then, the crowd was celebrating with pride, yelling when
the news helicopters approached near them, jumping and pretending to do “the wave.” Those who were receiving the first
news reports, expressed unbelief and astonishment for the historic event that was unfolding before their eyes. The
demonstration would conclude without major incidents.
The long term effects are still to be evaluated, but the protest began to have results on Monday, March 27, when part of the
legislation was rejected. The movement’s leadership, without a doubt, will be tested by the inherent pressures of a
movement that is just beginning. The whole country will be expectant of the fate of millions of immigrants without legal
documents. Toward the end of the day, the last volunteers were seen picking up trash in the parking lot of the church
where the walk had started that morning. The sunset of a historic journey was announcing a new sunrise to a people on
the threshold of a long struggle, galvanized on March 24th walking down on 24th street.
Copyright © 2006 Hispanic Institute of Social Issues
The March that shook Phoenix
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