I am Spartacus

There has been a lot of talk here in California about the various marches for immigrant rights held throughout the months of April and May. You will know where I stand on the issue when I tell you that I found myself crying in the middle of the day in the middle of a cafe on the pages of my new town's free weekly paper and it's articles devoted to the May Day march. Much like the day of the march itself, which I attended in yet another popular Californian town, I get all weepy and teary eyed when large groups of people band together in the hope of change, optimism and solidarity. And I beg the question, how can you not?

Really. Is it not a beautiful thing to want to better yourself, your family and your community? It makes me want to sneeze just writing about it. That and the fact that, during the previous march that took California by surprise, when others complained about the fact that there were too many un-American flags defiantly waving overhead, those same people and their supporters understood that reaction and pulled out all the stops with American flags galore for this recent march. Honestly, I have never even seen so many American flags any where let alone, Fourth of July or at the height of any Gulf War. And not just waving them, but wearing them. And when have you ever heard of a McDonald's closing in support of it's workers? There is a movement underfoot. One not led by liberal, educated and middle class white people. One not led by idealistic student revolutionaries. One led by those in the trenches. One led by families, by abuelitas, by children at school, by nannies, by construction workers, by gangsters, by AM shock jocks, by small business owners, by your neighbors, by your day care providers, and by, yes, even your priests. Who doesn't want to join this winning team?

Duh, it's a complicated issue. You can't let everyone in and you can't simply kick them all out. Who would do all that work for chrissakes? Who would take care of our kids, pick all our food, wash all our dishes, change our grandparents' bedpans and build all our homes? Who would do this work? Where would we be? How would our economy function? Do they not spend nearly what they earn within our country's borders? How could our already over-crowded jails hold even more people just for being here illegally? And without these workers where would all the bosses be? And when the bosses start recognizing the need for their workers to have certain rights and allowing them to take the day off to protest and, in fact, joining in the boycott themselves by shutting down their businesses for one day, do we not pay heed? Are they both not telling us something important?

And oh, about the anthem? Isn't mimicry the best form of flattery? How many languages, after all, has the St. James Bible been translated into? And oh yeah, Our Star Spangled Banner? It's already been translated into German, not to mention the fact that it was translated into Spanish some 80 years ago. Does that not just attest to it's power and poignance? Wouldn't you want your words, if you thought they were important, translated into as many languages as possible and heralded by as many people as possible?

I leave you with this, because it sums up my general feelings quite succinctly:

Besides, entering America illegally, agitating for rights, and watching as a foreign government grants you recognition under pressure isn't a sin: It's called the Declaration of Independence.--GUSTAVO ARELLANO