EGTS Scholarship Contest 2020

EGTS Scholarship

Contest 2020

Award

Winning

Entries

Coordinator

Francisca James Hernández , Ph.D.

PCC Faculty & Staff

Contest Judges

Special Thanks to

Editor

Jessie Shinn, Emily Stern Duwel, Casie Herron,

Hoge Day, Keith Bletzer, Maggie Golston,

Tiffany Amorette Young, Luminita-Anda Mandache,

Kassandra Weleck, Cecelia Lewis, Kristina Beckman,

Lynn Redpath

Karla González and Norma Navarro-Castellanos,

Financial Aid Office; Milo Mazanec, Instructional

Technology; Dan Pinard, PCC TV/Video;

Hilda Ladner, Yolanda González and

Teresa Pérez, Diversity, Equity and Inclusion Office;

Michael Parker, Dean of SS&H; and, as always, extra

special thanks to Mike Rom, Instructional Media

Service.

Mike Rom

Thank you to everyone who helped to plan and participated

in the scholarship award celebration.

© 2020 PCC EGTSS Dept. No material in this anthology may be reproduced without written permission.

Story rights reserved by the Student Writers and Artists.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1st Place Essay– Janet Scinto......................................................................................................2

1st Place Visual Arts – Luis Medina...................................................................................................4

1st Place Creative Writing – Alicia Garcia................................................................................6

2nd Place Essay – Kristopher Reinhart....................................................................................8

2nd Place Visual Arts – Isabel Orozco....................................................................................10

2nd Place Creative Writing – Sarah Marshall........................................................................12

3rd Place Essay – Amanda Morrison......................................................................................14

3rd Place Visual Arts – Paola Rodríguez-González..............................................................16

3rd Place Creative Writing – Jaritzah LaMadrid...................................................................18

Visual Arts People's Choice – Isaiah Piña-Rico.....................................................................20

Other Visual Arts Entries..........................................................................................................21

Youtube recording of the

2020 EGTS Scholarship Contest Awards Celebration

youtu.be/X-dzD-hLWY0

Youtube recording of

the 5th Annual/2020 EGTS Virtual Summit

www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDgmNRbm1YY&t=1019s

Program for

the 5th Annual/2020 EGTS Virtual Summit

www.pima.edu/news/announcements/docs-2020/egts-summit-2020.pdf

Support Pima students! Donate to EGTS Scholarship funds

and/or purchase a beautiful EGTS tshirt!

Go to: www.pimafoundation.org/egts

Proceeds go to EGTS scholarships and program events.

EGTS Scholarship Contest

Prompt for submissions

Migrants and refugees are deeply woven into the history and

contemporary experience of the United States and the world. Whether

we have migrant roots or not, we all have different connections or

relationships to migrants and refugees. These might be personal,

familial, historical, communal, national, or international. Migrants

and refugees form part of most communities, particularly in the

Tucson and southwest borderlands. Our experiences of migration,

whether we ourselves are migrants or refugees or not, can lead us

to reflect on our own identities, families and communities as they

relate to race/ethnicity, gender and sexuality, nation, neighborhood/

barrio/reservation, culture, and history.

Essays, Creative Writing, Visual Arts

Submit an original, unpublished essay (of 1000 words),

work of creative writing (up to 2500 words), or visual

artwork reflecting on topics related to migration, refugees,

the movement of people, and related themes. Identify

how the migrant and/or refugee experience informs

or influences your education, personal life or identity,

and/or sense of community. Visual Arts students also

submitted a short statement about how their artwork

related to the themes.

Scholarship Awards

First place: up to 30.0 credit hours of tuition and fees waiver per academic year.

Second place: up to 12.0 credit hours of tuition and fees waiver per academic year.

Third place: up to 6.0 credit hours of tuition and fees waiver per academic year.

People’s Choice Visual Arts award will offer up to 3.0 credit hours of tuition and fees waiver.

EGTS 2020 Scholarship Contest 1

On behalf of Pima Community College, welcome to today’s Fifth Annual Ethnic,

Gender and Transborder Studies (EGTS) Virtual Summit. I wish you success as you

share information and perspectives on the summit’s apt and timely theme, “Healing

Community in Coronatimes.” As we move forward through this new era, EGTS must

be a critical player in helping the College fulfill its role as an instrument of social justice.

Historians know that present-day challenges were born in the past. In the United States,

COVID has laid bare societal inequities that have been decades, if not centuries, in the

making. Many of COVID’s impacts have fallen disproportionately on the poor, people

of color, the indigenous and the undocumented – people with long and deep experience with the world’s

sharp edges.

COVID presents an opportunity to discuss income inequality, uneven access to healthcare, the digital divide,

and the relationship between employer and worker. EGTS possesses unique and powerful knowledge of

these issues, as do Pima faculty and staff, because every day they see the profound impact of these issues

on so many of their students. As a school, we can impart the knowledge, skills and mentorship to students

who possess the passion to help bring about equity in our society.

EGTS has been an exceptional leader in building a multicultural world in which all stories are told. COVID

presents an opportunity to change the trajectory of those stories by empowering our students to be changemakers.

It will be hard work but, should it succeed, quietly revolutionary.

With gratitude,

Lee Lambert, J.D.

Chancellor, Pima Community College

2

EGTS 2020 Scholarship Contest

The monarch butterfly is a poignant and inspiring symbol of migration and human

mobility, themes central to this year’s Ethnic, Gender & Transborder Studies (EGTS)

Virtual Summit. We of the borderlands are familiar with these themes. Yet, we are often

not aware of the diversity of migrant and refugee populations or their struggles due, in

part, to state repression increasing in recent decades and accelerating under the Trump

Administration. Its xenophobia grows more extreme by the day, from calling COVID-19

the “Chinese virus” to proposing to suspend immigration to “the land of immigrants.”

This year’s summit gathers diverse, experienced, and educated voices to disrupt both

silences and demagoguery that contribute to the oppression of migrants and refugees.

Notice, too, the butterflies gracing our program are multi-colored. This symbolizes not only the multiethnoracial

composition of those who traverse the globe and arrive at U.S borders seeking refuge and a better

life, but also of their varied gender and sexual identities. Similarly, the brown- and rainbow-colored hands

of our department’s logo (above) also represent these diversities inherent to the human condition. Like the

hands in this logo reaching to embrace each other, our department teaches understanding, appreciation, and

acceptance of our diversities, among the most poignant lessons of our disciplines and goals of every EGTS

Summit.

Each year, the summit provides hope, good will, and common purpose by addressing critical social issues.

The planning group decided that continuing this tradition was imperative in order to maintain some sense

of normalcy for and connection to our students and community in the midst of so much change and isolation

due to the pandemic. Transitioning to a virtual format has been quite challenging. It has tested the limits of

our technical and organizational capacities as the first event of its kind at Pima College. Yet, the dedication

and collaboration of our planning group and of many others at Pima encouraged us to meet this challenge.

Sustaining the summit as a vibrant space of critical perspectives and insurgent voices is, in the words of

Paulo Freire, our “pedagogy of love” for students, the college, and our community.

Con brazos abiertos,

Dr. Francisca James Hernández

Faculty and Dept. Head, Ethnic, Gender & Transborder Studies/Sociology (EGTSS),

Pima Community College


4

1st

2020 EGTS

Creative Writing

Alicia Garcia

My Father’s Deportation. How do you tell this kind of story? A complicated

mess of humanness situated within these rigid systems our culture upholds.

Many use the dichotomy of good migrant vs. bad migrant, illegal vs. legal,

criminal vs. innocent, to uphold this narrative of a convenient and visible

enemy in order to profit from the criminalization of a group of people.

My father, Jose De Jesus Garcia cannot be confined by these inaccurate

concepts and rationalizations of criminalization, his is a story of the human

spirit, of fatherhood and love, of suffering and missteps, of assimilation and

rebellion. That is the way I see my father’s story now, and I anticipate seeing

it more clearly with time, but these are the pieces of the puzzle of have put

together so far… My father had been here in the U.S. since he was 13 years

old. In {1977} mis Abuelos brought my father and his brothers and sisters to

Los Angeles, CA from El Limon, Jalisco, MX. My dad and his siblings grew

up in East LA during the late 70’ and 80’s. As an undocumented family trying

to survive in this unfamiliar place and culture, they faced many struggles.

Even with the odds stacked against them, my Abuelos found work and their

children went to school.

My dad made it to his sophomore year in high school, like many marginalized

students in L.A. at that time he was not given equitable education and was

most likely criminalized within the school system. Despite this, my Abuela,

my father and his siblings immersed themselves in the Chicano movement

and participated in organizing and protesting with their community. My father

also got involved with gangs and developed substance dependence which he

would struggle with his whole life. I see both of these truths, organizing and

gang culture, as survival mechanisms for the reality in which my dad was

living and I wish I could tell him I’m proud of him for all of it.

My father moved to Chicago, met my mother in 1989, had two daughters.

We moved into our Habitat for Humanity house in {1995}. Before and after

moving into our home my dad volunteered a lot of time helping to build

houses for Habitat for Humanity. My father started his own house painting

business, called ‘Joseph’s Coat of Colors’. My father’s business was always a

big source of pride and honor for our family, he worked very hard to provide

my sister and I with a better life than he had. And he did.

My parents, after many years of hard work were able to move us to Tucson

and buy a home here. My dad was able to continue his business and my mom

worked as a nurse. Despite their success, both of my parents had unresolved

issues from past traumas they had endured which manifested as intense and

often violent fights. This constant conflict took a toll on our family. Eventually

my dad began treatment at an inpatient facility for alcoholism. He spent 90

days there and by the time he came out my mom had relapsed after 15 years

of sobriety and had checked out of our lives. My dad returned home, and

my mom was gone, suffering her own mental breakdown and it shattered

him. He relapsed. In the midst of this turmoil, my dad became manic, trying

to find my mom and to fight for her to come back. When he was able to find

her, fighting for her became fighting with her and his anger boiled over, and

my mom felt she needed to call the police to intervene on one such occasion.

He was arrested, and I may never know why this was an arrest instead of a

de-escalation or why this arrest led to deportation but the political climate at

the time most likely affected this outcome.


Between the 2006 legislation HR4437, which made it a felony to be in the U.S. undocumented and then president

George W. Bush’s anti-immigration agenda, my father became even more vulnerable to criminalization and deportation.

My dad was deported in December of {2008}, something he had anxiety and had nightmares about for many years.

Before he was deported my dad was held at Eloy Detention Center for a month which is something I am just learning

about now because I was kind of isolated from everything that was unfolding in that my parents were not present

physically or otherwise. Learning that my dad was held at Eloy specifically, is a painful discovery because of its

reputation as an inhumane and dangerous detention facility, and I would urge everyone listening to become more

aware of what is happening at Eloy.

At the time my dad was deported, I was {16} and my sister was {14} years old, and despite the fact that cps had

already been notified by our school that we were being left on our own, our wellbeing was never considered by the

state. I saw him once before they deported him at the Pima County detention complex in Tucson, we spoke through a tv

screen. He was then taken in a bus and dropped off at Nogales border shortly after that. He knew no one, he was alone.

Thinking about all my dad went through, without the support of his family, breaks my heart. Recently, I have been

able to read some letters he wrote while he was incarcerated and even through all the mental, emotional and physical

turmoil he was enduring, most of his writing focused on wanting to be home to take care of us and to be a better

person. Even after he was deported, whenever we would speak on the phone or visit him, he would say “don’t worry

mija, I’m ok” but the pain in his voice was apparent.

When my dad was deported, I felt completely lost. I felt all alone. My familial foundation had crumbled beneath

me. My sister and I were left to finish high school on our own, but I did not finish on time. If you knew me, you would

know that I felt deep shame that I would not graduate with my peers. The truth is I spent my senior year being ridden

with anxiety, worrying about whether my dad was ok alone in another country with basically nothing, whether my

mom would come home and having no idea where she was, whether either of them was safe. School was no longer a

priority. This anxiety affected me in many ways, most nights I was not able to sleep without the lights on or without

getting up every hour to check for a car coming up the driveway. Although I am the older sister and tried my best to

fill that role in my parent’s absence, many times my little sister would have to comfort me, and I am so grateful we

had each other in that time.

Having my family torn apart deeply affected my identity, and I no longer felt capable of accomplishing my dreams

or much of anything else. In the years that followed my father’s deportation and my sister and I’s abandonment my

mental health would get in the way of working, maintaining healthy relationships and education. My sister’s mental

health has also greatly suffered at the loss of my father, the loss of our family and stability. The truth is we lost him

twice, first when he was forcibly taken from us and permanently in 2014 when he passed away. My father being

deported was a hemorrhaging wound born from incision after incision of criminalization, a severing of the family to

undercut the community. This event felt like it came out of nowhere, yet I had unconsciously anticipated the whole

time. Until recently I held onto a child-like perspective of my father, maybe to some degree I always will, but I am

outgrowing the confinement of that perspective. I share this story to humanize my dad and our family, something

that feels so strange for me to have to do but I do have to do it because society has criminalized him and as a society

we don’t recognize those who are criminalized as worthy. So many people are held in cages, removed from their

homes, families, and lives for arbitrary reasons, for arbitrary lines in the dirt, stolen dirt, on stolen land, and we have

the nerve to call it justice. To err is human, to be pushed into gray area out of extenuating circumstances and trauma

is human, to seek safety and stability is human. But undocumented people cannot err, cannot draw attention, have

to be on their guard and don’t have the luxury or resources to take care of their mental health. This extends to their

loved ones too. When we moved to Tucson and had to deal with increased border patrol presence and checkpoints,

we began to have my dad practice the phrase “I am an American citizen”. His thick east los Chicano accent and with

Spanish being his dominant language we laughed together about how silly that phrase sounded because he was

trying to sound white. This is a bittersweet memory, one where we asked my father to abandon his roots, to contort

himself into a palatable and unsuspicious version of what it means to be American for fear of his safety. But you are

never really “American” if you’re brown right? You’re always from some other place, conveniently forgotten in

the American history books, always other and not the standard, even though the first people of this land

looked exactly like my father.

This is not a story of a “good” or “bad” undocumented person, this is the story of my father’s

life which includes his criminalization and mistakes. My father’s life was always one of

survival and uncertainty but the way he walked through it with pride and dignity is a

testament to his strong and powerful spirit. Let us build a moratorium to “good immigrant”

vs “bad immigrant” and all versions of that concept across all criminalization so that the

stories and voices in our communities can finally be heard and considered in full.


1st

Luis

Medina

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

As I grew up, I traveled back and forth from Tucson and Nogales

and stayed fordifferent periods of time in both communities as I had

family on both sides of the border. This forced me to adapt and code

switch between the twodifferent cultures and their style of living. As

a gay man, I’ve learned how both cultures and communities have

expectation, understanding and bigotry.

I also learned about the special privileges each identity gave me.

In the USA I had access to clean water and hot water whereas in

Mexico I had to boil water, both for cleaning and for warm showers.

The picture of the kids reminds me of a sense of community. They all

have their hands in the water fountain and it appears that they are

playing. Though it was challenging to grow up in two very different

cultures, it made me more interested to explore even more cultures

outside of the region I grew up in.

6


1st

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

Luis Medina


8

1st

2020 EGTS

Essay

Janet Scinto

I have always been taught that being a citizen of the United States

of America is a privilege that comes with unlimited possibilities and

opportunities to make a great life for myself. I have learned this lesson

from many family members, but the one that has truly embraced what

it means to be an American in this great country is my grandmother,

or as I call her, “Nana.” She is an amazing woman, and her story never

ceases to amaze me. She grew up in a small town in Sinaloa, Mexico,

and she had many kids at a relatively young age. She was living as a

single mother. She wanted to migrate to the United States to provide

her children with opportunities of a life that she was not able to live

growing up. She traveled to the United States, filed for legal status,

and began her long journey towards embracing the American culture.

My grandmother made sure to adhere to the immigration laws

and requirements filing for legal status for all of her children. She

worked extremely hard to learn English, and she quickly found work

as a school yard monitor at the school her children were enrolled

in. My grandmother always emphasized that her children were her

motivation and getting the job at the school allowed her to be close to

them to make them feel safe in their new environment. She learned

to drive, got her license, and then made the incredible decision to

become a citizen of the United States. I remember her telling me how

long she would stay up at night reading the study material and how

nervous she was because her English was not great.

Despite the hardships of having children to care for, work

obligations, low funds, a language barrier, and having to learn the

history of an entirely new country, she did it! She took the citizenship

test and became a citizen of the United States. In doing so she set the

example for each of her nine children. She showed them that anything

is possible with hard work and dedication in a country that provides

resources and opportunities like no other. She taught them to have

high expectations for themselves, and to reach the goals they set. She

taught them to not be afraid to dream big and reach for the stars. This

has greatly translated into my life. An obvious reason would be that

if she hadn’t migrated to the United States, my father and mother

would have never met, and I would cease to exist.

On a deeper level, the ideals, morals, and life lessons she taught

my dad have been passed down to me. I am lucky to have been born

in this country, and I am able to experience the benefits of being a

citizen of the United States every single day of my life. I have been

able to pursue education, I learned the meaning of hard work, I have

started my own family, and became a homeowner at 27 years old. I

have taken the strength and experiences of my migrant family and


used them to fuel my ambition and appreciation for this country and

all it has to offer.

I will never take for granted the opportunities I have because

ultimately, I have my grandmother to thank for all of it. I know

where she is from, they did not have the luxury of indoor heating and

cooling. They did not have the luxury of paved roads and electricity

in some cases. They did not have to educational opportunities that I

have here. Since I have the perspective of my family who immigrated

from a different country, I have a different sense of appreciation for

what it means to be an American citizen.

Another way migration has helped to shape my life is through

culture. My grandmother assimilated in the ways needed to function

here in this country, like learning English. Despite having to alter her

life in many ways to adhere to a new country’s norms, she never lost

her culture. She kept close to her heart the foods of her family, the

music of her country, the familial dynamic and ideals for inside the

house, and her faith. By doing this she showed her children that it

is great to be an American, but she also taught them the importance

of never forgetting where they came from. They were Mexican

American, and that was truly something to be proud of.

Still to this day, I love making family soup or, “sopa” recipes for

my husband and daughter. I love dancing to Mexican cumbias while

cleaning the house, even if that means 70% cleaning and 30% dancing.

I love hearing the stories of my migrant family and seeing pictures of

where our family comes from. Most of all, I love being able to have

the opportunity to pass all of this on to my own children for them

to carry on for generations to come.

All in all, I truly feel that migration has shaped the course of my life

and my family’s lives for the better. Without them taking that step,

I would not be able to write this essay today pursuing educational

goals that will help my family’s future. I truly believe that sharing

the story of my migrant family can help future generations to see

that we have been gifted the greatest opportunities life can offer. It

is a reminder of what our lives could have been and reminds us to

never take any minute of it for granted. It shows that it can be so

beautiful to bring other cultures into the country to truly contribute

to the melting pot that is the United States of America.

Lastly, it shows others with similar backgrounds and stories that

they are not alone, and it can help to build a community of support. I

am the daughter and granddaughter of an immigrant. I am Mexican

American, and I am proud.

1st

2020 EGTS Essay


2nd

Sarah

Marshall

2020 EGTS

10

Creative Writing

"Nani wale, na-hala…” The words felt warm on my tongue. I

eagerly pounded out the motions of the chant, striking the ground

with my kala’au sticks. I glanced at Krykyt, who was seated beside

me. I noticed almost as if for the first time the darkness of her eyes,

like roasted Kona coffee. Her skin was a delicate shade of mocha,

and her espresso hair fell in long ringlets down her back. As she held

the kala’au sticks, Krykyt was a collage of earthy beauty—Hawaii’s

finest offering.

I glanced back at my own reflection in the mirror, bewildered at my

straight hair and light eyes, noticing for the first time how my fair

skin clashed with the color of the koa wood. I had never realized that

we looked different. My grandfather was half Hawaiian, and from

my earliest memories I was passed around the circle of his siblings

and cuddled by kona coffee colored arms. It was the color of home.

In his teens, he came into the wealth of a half-brother and sister who

were German-Italian and Polish, and he married a Swedish woman.

Our family potlucks involved egg rolls, kalua pork, mountains of

rice, pickled okra, cucumber salad, and layered jell-o concoctions. My

childhood was spent with kimchi squid and mac salad in one hand

and pickled onions and mashed potatoes in the other.

The diversity of my family was a fact—and one I had never been

bewildered by—until now. When I climbed into my grandfather’s

lap, it must have looked like coffee swallowing cream. I looked just

like his wife—my grandmother—with green eyes and gold hair, and

blonde lashes that shone translucent in sunlight. I was every part the

Swede, but I didn’t feel like one. I loved to pull on the rich fabric of

my hula skirt and pound out the rhythm of my feet with the chant,

feeling centuries of tradition course through me. I began to stand in

front of the mirror and pray that my hair would turn brown. Just a

shade darker. I prayed that my face, so stubbornly Swedish, would

finally begin to tan the way my arms and legs did. Just a shade darker,

and I would finally look like I was actually related to my little brother,

who came out of the womb a carbon copy of my grandfather. The

older he gets, the more I gaze at early pictures of my grandfather and

fail to see a difference. It’s funny how genes work. We come from

the same bloodline—our eyebrows arched and our noses shaped by

the same tradition—but our hair, skin, and eyes couldn’t look more


different. Just a shade darker, and I wouldn’t get any sideways looks

when I walked into our halau. I could pull on that skirt with its rich

folds of brightly colored fabric and finally feel as though I had a right

to be there.

Eleven years after that period of fervent hoping, I sat in a dark room

with dear friends on either side of me, watching a tale of culture

unfold before us. The movie was Whale Rider, and it centered on a

Maori girl who was very different from—but inextricably connected

to—her grandfather. My ears perked up. I drank in every syllable of

chant, every dark-eyed glance and tall, stocky man whose silhouette

mirrored my grandfather’s. When the girls brought out their poi

balls at the end, I inhaled sharply with delight. Though Maori and

Hawaiian cultures are different from each other in myriad and

multi-faceted ways, they share a stream of Polynesian tradition. As

the credits rolled, I felt a world of lost memories swirling around

me: hula skirts and ti leaf braids and the smell of kalua pork… How

could I have forgotten?

As I sat with my post-movie shave ice, I contemplated this

re-claimed piece of my identity. I had always known that I was

Hawaiian—that was a fact. But it had been a long time since I had

felt Hawaiian. I looked at the shame of my pale hands. Was it because

of this that I had ceased to feel that I belonged in my own culture?

Just a shade darker… But the blood in my veins has no shade. The

passion I have for my culture carries no color. For after all, what is

culture but traditions passed from a native grandfather to the little

cream girl who sits in his lap?

2nd

2020 EGTS Creative Writing


2nd

Isabel

Orozco

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

The mediums I enjoy using are oil paint, ink and charcoal. Most of

what I have learned has been through Pima's art classes and its great

instructors.

This painting’s title "Give In" is in reference to the story of Eve in

the garden of Eden from the book of Genesis. Filled with shame she

ends up hiding from her creator, God.

This story was one of the first I heard growing up, these kinds of

tales are made to keep us from sinning, however, as I got older I

realized circumstances are not always black and white. My parents

came to this country from Mexico years before I was born to give me

the opportunity to live a better life. I will always be grateful to them

because I would not have made it this far without their support.

I thank you for your consideration.

12


2nd

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

Isabel Orozco


2nd

Kristopher

Reinhart

2020 EGTS

14

Essay

Kristopher K Reinhart Ethnic, Gender & Transborder Studies

(EGTS) Virtual Summit 19 April 2020 Immigration and a White Male

from the Midwest.

Centuries of immigration have caused ripples throughout our

history and have affected every American. Whether by land or sea

most come from immigrants who came here seeking opportunities

that only America could afford them. The truth is, being a white male

who grew up in Ohio immigration was not something I thought about

often, nor did it shape my upbringing.

That changed when I came to Tucson, AZ and met my wife, Marina.

Marina, being Hispanic, grew up very differently and over the last

15 years I have had the privilege to learn about her culture and her

family’s Mexican-American experience. The ripple effect, that started

roughly 80 years ago with a migration and helped shape me into the

man I am today, began with her grandfather, Juan Montelongo. The

lessons of hard work and determination that have been passed down

from his father, to my father-in-law, and now instilled in me is one

of the greatest gifts I have ever been given and has changed my life

dramatically. It is hard for me to imagine packing up my family-offive

and moving to another country for the promise of opportunity.

It is even more difficult to imagine, when that opportunity comes

with immense challenges like learning a new language, navigating

new cultural norms, and facing discrimination.

When my wife’s grandfather was 15 years old, he came to the

United States to live. Not far from Mexico, actually just right on the

other side of the border in Douglas, AZ, but it may as well have been

the other side of the world. Juan had a middle school education, but

he did not let that stop him. He went to Chicago and attended an

electronic school, welding school, and learned refrigeration. When he

came back to Douglas, AZ he worked for Phelps/Dodge Mine. Juan

tried to enlist in the military during World War 2 but was deemed

essential to the mine. Even after becoming paralyzed on the right side

of his body after brain surgery to remove a brain tumor, he still did

not let that stop him. He taught my father-in-law many skills that he

had acquired and passed on the hard work and perseverance that

was part of his upbringing.


Juan’s son, Julian Montelongo (my father-in-law), began working

at the age of 10 to help support the family. After Juan’s brain surgery

left him paralyzed it was hard for him to maintain a steady income.

By working various jobs such as landscaping, handyman repairs,

and working in fields for a few dollars a day, Julian was able to help

support his family of 6. After high school he enlisted in the Navy

and served in the Vietnam War. Upon returning he joined the union

and became an iron worker for the next 32 years. As if that wasn’t

enough, he spent the last 21 years, every weekend, building a 10,000-

acre cattle ranch. He worked 17-hour days to support his family and

took the time to educate himself. The lessons that had been passed

down from father to son of what can happen with hard work and

education turned him into a man who has accomplished many things

even though he started off with very little.

At this point in the essay I’m sure you are wondering what the

many accomplishments of these two men have to do with a white

male from the Midwest. Being part of a Mexican family for the last

15 years has changed me for the better. The family unity, support

and values have tremendously impacted my experience and world

view. Unknowingly, I had a certain level of entitlement, I felt I was

owed things that I had not earned or deserved. I barely graduated

high school 20 years ago and, embarrassingly, took for granted

many opportunities and luxuries that were handed to me. Not to say

that is because of where I grew up, but I lacked a sense of humility

and appreciation that comes from overcoming adversity with

perseverance and hard work. Today, at 37 years old, with 3 kids and

a business, I am fully embracing the advice of the man I have grown

to respect more than any other. My father-in-law has been telling

me for a long time how important education and determination is.

If Julian’s grandfather had quit when things got hard, I would not

be the man I am today. I could have never imagined that I would be

working on attaining a degree in electrical engineering but here I am.

My children watching me receive a degree and the chance to pass on

the cultivated values of their Grandfather is my driving motivation.

Anytime someone shares a negative opinion on immigration or tries

to say immigrants are not real Americans, I think of these men who

are more American than most could ever hope to be. The strength

and determination of immigrants is something the United States

could use more of. This family is what it means to be American

and what this country fundamentally stands for. Who

could have ever imagined that a migration that

happened over 80 years ago would have

such a dramatic effect on a white

male from Ohio?

2nd

2020 EGTS Essay


3rd

Jaritzah

LaMadrid

2020 EGTS

16

Creative Writing

I saw an alien on my stop at Circle K in the morning. He was

wearing some very worn out jeans with millions of oil, paint and

dirt stains and a couple tears here and there. His steel toed work

boots looked painful. He was buying himself an energy drink with

whatever extra dollar bills he had in his pocket, I've never liked energy

drinks but I’m sure that's what gets him through his 18 hour shifts.

I saw him again outside in the parking lot, hopping into his old

work truck. I wondered where he worked; Was it construction?

Painter? Agriculture? I had no idea but I knew it was a job I wouldn’t

be caught doing without breaking a nail, getting a spec on my $150

shoes or ruining my hot iron curled extensions.

I saw an alien on my way home from school. I stopped at a red

light in my still brand new 2016 Ford. He was sitting on the corner

with those little ceramic statues of cartoon characters, some bags of

tamales and boxes of fruit being advertised in the bed of his truck

with a sign with prices on them. His little corner stand was dry with

no customers but for some reason he sat on his lawn chair patient,

with a calm smile on his face. It was 110 degrees outside.

I saw an alien in class. She sat next me, a dreamer. She was on her

phone the entire lecture which was unlike her, she was a straight A

student. I wondered why she was so anxious, it seemed as if she was

waiting for a call. My professor let the class go to break and we all

walked out of the classroom for a breath of fresh air and some snacks

and there she was, she finally received the call she was waiting for. She

was crying, I listened closely, I don’t think she knew I know spanish

but I also don’t think she cared enough to pay attention. In spanish

she said, “Mom, my dreamers rights are being taken away because

we are under a new leader, I’m 2 semesters away from graduating

but they’re making me go home to you. Please, don’t be mad, I’m

sorry.” We walked back into class once break was over. She took out

her notebook and she continued taking notes as if her deadline to

go home wasn’t there.

I saw an alien’s wife at Walmart. She had a couple bottles of Fanta

soda, a Tres Leches cake and ingredients for a carne asada. She stood

in line behind me with her two children, one around the age of 15

and the other around the age of 8. They were excited and celebrating


tonight, their dad and her husband of 25 years finally received his

citizenship papers after 12 years of processing. She explained to them

that they wouldn’t have to worry about being torn apart anymore,

that even though she still didn’t have papers due to processing they

will always have their father to fall back on here, in the U.S., safe,

secure and allowed.

I saw an alien at my family gathering. He was my grandfather.

He worked in the fields from before the sun came up till after the

sun come down. He was kind, genuine and giving. He filed taxes

every year, paid bills and loved his family. He and his wife, my

grandmother, came to the United States in the 70s for a better life

for their children. Mexico is where we come from as latinos but it’s

dangerous and doesn’t have much to offer when it comes to making

a secured living for families. They moved to Douglas, AZ, a border

town. Border Patrols swept every street and every corner every single

day. My grandfather would sometimes go weeks without walking

outside trying to avoid the border patrol who would park outside

their house. After 30+ years of being an American, he passed away

in 2007, as an alien. Honored.

My grandma received her citizenship in just 2013. Now, because of

them my mom and her brothers get to work here in the United States

and offer their families everything and more. Because of them I get

to be an American, I get to practice my religion of choice in public,

I, a young woman, can walk outside without worrying about being

harmed and I even just get to go to school.

I come across aliens everyday but instead of them being tall, green,

scaled skin creeps they look just like me and you. They have eyes, hair,

arms and legs. Just like you and I they have dreams. Just like you and

I their choices have a domino effect on their upcoming generations

and just like you and I they want their upcoming generations to live

on a stable foundation. Just like you and I they want their families

to be successful and safe. Just like you and I they want a chance at

life. So, I stopped seeing aliens and started seeing people.

3rd

2020 EGTS Creative Writing


3rd

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

Paola

Rodríguez-

González

For my submission, I used crayon on Bristol paper to depict the

many generations of Mexican-Americans here in Tucson as a colorful

Sonoran sunset, to show how Mexican immigrants make Tucson the

diverse city that it is. I colored the mountains like the American and

Mexican flags to show the dual identities of many Mexican immigrants

after coming to the States.

Being the daughter of two Mexican immigrants, raised in the

US, I felt it was important for my piece to represent how Mexican-

Americans have identities in two different cultures. In my own life,

I've learned that Mexican families living in the United States have

an American identity, a Mexican identity, and a fusion identity

as Mexican-Americans. These additional identities and senses of

belonging are what make America amazing, because America was

and always will be a nation of immigrants.

I believe that the more open people are to experiencing different

cultures, the more united we may be.

18


3rd

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

Paola Rodríguez-González


3rd

Amanda

Morrison

2020 EGTS

20

Essay

P icture a road of yellow bricks, each identical. It may seem visuallyappealing,

easy to walk . . . the glimmering utopia this path leads

to, however, is merely a facade. Eventually, those meticulously-laid

bricks will crumble.

As we search for a sense of cultural unity, we might instead consider

a path of cobblestone: colorful, cacophonous, each component

different, but strengthened by the very diversity intrinsic to its design.

This road may still be perilous—edged with danger and distractions,

as was Dorothy's—yet, by empowering others, we may find allies

with strengths complementary to our own.

Often, we take comfort in things we recognize: safe, certain, and

predictable. Even Dorothy, dazzled by the kaleidoscopic wonders of

Oz, yearned to return to her Kansas home. “We fear our neighbors

and our world in proportion to our unfamiliarity with them” says Dan

Everett in his piece, 'Seek Out Strangers'. He condemns complacency,

stating, to truly learn, we must “embrace the wisdom of strangers”

by sacrificing comfort and engaging with challenging new sources

of information. How then, to overcome our natural reservations

towards the unknown? There’s no Good Witch to point out the right

direction, but according to Everett, “The wisdom of strangers can be

learned only when we submit ourselves to differences, seek them out,

and celebrate the perimeters of human experience.” We must accept

that “being different” doesn't mean “being wrong,” and understand

that our own unfamiliarity with a culture doesn't make it lesser. By

acknowledging another’s experiences, however varied from our own,

we can greatly enhance our potential for effective communication.

Luckily for Dorothy, she merely had to place herself in another’s shoes

literally—doing so figuratively can be more complicated.

In a national survey, it was found that residents in more diverse

communities have a tendency to “distrust their neighbors, regardless

of the color of their skin . . . to expect the worst from their community

and its leaders . . . to agitate for social reform more but have less faith

that they can actually make a difference” (Robert Putnam, 2007).

While this civic decline has become a significant talking point on the

negative effects of diversity, more attention could be given to the lessdiverse

communities involved. When we recognize parts of ourselves

in others—race, religion, social class, or another combination of

factors—we're more likely to infer that they share our values. An

“echo chamber”-type effect may result from overly-homogeneous


socialization, making us assume that our individual beliefs are more common than they are. This could

create artificial bonds within a community, which would nonetheless result in increased civic activity.

It seems those in more diverse communities do value that diversity, but perhaps have difficulty engaging

with their neighbors on a day-to-day basis. In trying to be more ethnically-tolerant, some have utilized

a “colorblind” approach: insisting that heritage be disregarded entirely, in favor of addressing the

individual. However, we live in a Technicolor world, and ignoring the rich spectrum around us doesn't

make it disappear. Turning a blind eye to cultural distinctions gives us no incentive to learn about them,

and so we’re unprepared when they become a necessary part of social dialogue.

When we’re aware that others are different from us, but don’t have the interactive skills to address

those differences respectfully, it's only natural to feel uncertain. Thus, the essentiality of social education.

By teaching children to appreciate diverse cultures in a meaningful way, we can replace hesitance with

curiosity. The suspicious “other” can be reshaped into a compendium of narratives, ever-changing as new

histories are uncovered. Such education, of course, doesn't have to be limited to young children. Despite

the affected intractability of adult preconceptions, it's quite possible for an old dog to learn new tricks.

In 1998, an advisory board to the president published a report entitled, Embracing Racial Diversity

Can Help to Unify America. Along with desiring to develop a more comprehensively diverse curriculum

of American history, the board also compiled a list of “Ten Things Every American Should Do.” Such

recommendations included “Make a commitment to become informed about people from other races and

cultures,” and “Make a point to raise your concerns about comments or actions that appear prejudicial.” A

general request to be aware of our own biases, and to actively work towards furthering civic engagement.

In terms of public policies, however, the results may not always be beneficial. Strict quotas requiring

percentage-based induction of minority members to an organization can create temporary boosts in

that setting’s diversity, but can occasionally result in the over-prioritization of heritage rather than

performance-based qualifications.

Other underrepresented applicants, meanwhile, may be overlooked for not fitting any of the protected

groups. Different methods of encouraging social diversity have been explored, but the precise definition

of “diversity”—and which groups and practices should be covered—has been an ongoing point of

contention. Systematically categorizing each culture’s traditions, contextualizing them, and noting

qualitative significance, would be an unimaginably complex undertaking. If attempted, diversity could

become “a kind of inventory of cultural ‘content’ that is potentially extractable from any context, to be

copied, appropriated, traded, or recirculated” by anyone with access to the “cultural public domain”

(Robert Albro, 2005). We’d risk alienating the very groups we want to protect, and driving them to further

insularize themselves from mainstream communities.

We need to celebrate traditional customs while still enabling discussion of new ideas. Education and

communication must always be at the forefront, both for the sake of preserving our histories and to

further the advancement of our shared society. The route before us is unclear. For every new consensus

reached, a dozen new obstacles may present themselves. But, like the young girl trying to find her

way home, it’s obvious that our only option is forward. We may stumble, or fall victim to

misleading distractions. But the road is laid out, loose stones mingling, settling

together, and becoming ever stronger as they do. As we persist on

this journey, the path will become worn and smooth, making it

ever easier for others to follow in our footsteps.


People's

Choice

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

Isaiah

Piña-Rico

This piece called "De la frontera a nuestros brazos" is an embroidery

done completely by hand. It depicts the ideal image of communities

in Tucson lifting up those who've made the journey crossing our

border.

In the background we see the Catalinas, the mountains I was

taught to use to discern north. I learned to pronounce Tucson by

remembering that here it's so hot it feels like we have two suns, and

as such the sun has a second body beside it. It also has one eye closed,

which can be likened to how even God bats an eye to the injustices

that occur. The red lines in the sky refers to the crimson sunset we've

been gifted by Older Brother according to Tohono O'odham folklore,

and what I regard as one of the prettiest sights in the southwest. The

two little people being hoisted up into the greater linkage of arms are

coming from the southwest and southeast, referring to the common

points of entry passed Ajo and Nogales leading to Tucson.

As the descendant of several migrant families who've worked hard

to let me have a successful life and future, I greatly strive for a future

where our whole community welcomes migrants with open arms.

22


People's

Choice

2020 EGTS

Visual Arts

Isaiah Piña-Rico


2020 EGTS

Other Visual Art

24

Alma-Rosa Schlor

I created this drawing in my Art class last fall. I give humanitarian aid to migrants in the desert. And when

I was instructed to make a drawing based on numbers and letters, the first thought that came to my mind

was the death of the migrants in the Arizona desert. I based my drawing on the 137 human remains that were

found last year (Sept. 2018-Sept. 2019.)

This artwork represents the death of many migrants that have not been recognized. Every year, migrants

crossed the Arizona desert unprepared for what they are going to face. Lack of water, and blisters on their feet

make their journey a terrible end of their lives with no body by their side. The scene takes place in the desert

by the border wall between Mexico and the U.S. I used the numbers 7 to represent the wall. The numbers 8

which are many, are the footprints of the migrants that have crossed the desert and died. There are more than

137 pairs of footprints as there are always more human remains that will never be found. The number 137

stands tall in front of the word PRESENTE, which slowly started to stand up. This is to show their death has

been honored. The number 3 are the vultures that surrounded them and number 6 are the clouds witnessing

their deaths.


2020 EGTS

Other Visual Art

Nicolette Gómez

When it comes to migration, I think of finding somewhere one can feel their heart full. We can travel the

entire world to find that one place we are happy, safe and comfortable being in.

These butterflies in my art piece also a depictions happiness with the way they are filled with colors of

different shapes and sizes. The way I see it, the butterfly has many stages in its life and in migration, there

are also many stages in life to go through; whether, it be adjusting to your life, friends, school or a job, it is a

part of your journey.

Each butterfly has its own individual struggle and path to endure but at the end they all strive to be like

the butterfly in the middle. The butterfly in the middle represents our heart because after migrating you are

finally reaching your destination your heart is full and happy.


2020 EGTS

Other Visual Art

Mirabel-Ibibote Solo-Batubo

I am the Artist of the Virtual that is being displayed. I call it The Immigrant. It shows a Fly perching on a

green leaf. This fly represents an Immigrant, I used a fly because I felt that a fly is weak and can get hurt at

any time. The Immigrant is vulnerable to anything due to the fact that he/she is seeking for greener pastures,

or trying to get out of a bad situation in his/her country.

I was inspired to use this picture out of the others I took because It is natural and I think that it portrays a

very good example of what an Immigrant life looks like. It may appear simple but it sure has a lot of story to

it. I hope this Visual comes off as Intriguing.

26


2020 EGTS

Other Visual Art

America is the land of the free and the brave. Who decides who can be free?

Rachel Susco

My sculpture represents the refugees and migrants from all over the world who are searching for a better life

here in America. The half African, half Caucasian hands represent that America is only within reach of those

who are born here (primarily white people). The African hands reach towards the flag, but even if they touch

the flag, it is with white hands.

I met a mother and son who are refugees from Sudan. Aduit, the mother, is one of the hardest working people

I have ever met. Her stories are equally heart breaking and inspiring. She currently struggles to find work

because she speaks very little English and she suffers from severe Rheumatoid Arthritis. Meeting this woman

changed my entire life. What if I was born in Sudan? Why do I get to be free and she does not? My great

grand parents came to America from Italy. Back then, every migrant was welcome. Today they are shunned

and turned away.

This sculpture represents the aspiration of all migrants and refugees from the past and present.


28


EGTS Scholarship Contest 2020

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