just another reminder of who #Hillary actually is for those of y'all tryina guilt trip people into voting for her cuz she’s the lesser evil. she’s not the lesser evil for Black people, undocumented people, women of color, indigenous people here and abroad, Palestinians, Iraqis, Central Americans, and poor working class folx of all colors. #neverhillary #neitherwashingtonnormoscow #jillnothill

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anonymous asked:

They're undocumented as of yet, and I'm not sure if minotaurs count as furries. There's really not much data on them as of yet, but there are online communities dedicated to furries that you might be interested in looking into!

This is worth further research.

anonymous asked:

why can't I ask if you're a u.s. citizen though??? i didn't mean to be insensitive or anything but latino citizens have a different viewpoint on today's politics than someone like me who is undocumented and wishes to have the right to vote because trump and his ideals is absolutely terrifying and insulting to me, my family, my culture

do you know about Hillary’s involvement in Latinx countries tho? Hillary’s hand of oppression isn’t as outright and blatant as trump’s, hers is systematic. you don’t have to argue or agree with me. you don’t know my exact opinion on everything either ya know.

i get so fucking pissed with people who are eligible to vote but dont fucking do it like fuck u, part of this election is going to be affecting my ppl whether or not they deport us or if undocumented students lose their financial money/education so a white U.S. citizen making shitty ass claims that voting is useless fuck u and give that vote to immigrants who have been here half of their lifetime and care more about the policies affecting them


One of the most frustrating aspects of the mainstream conversation surrounding the tragedy at Pulse Orlando this past weekend is the erasure of Latinx/Afro-Latinx bodies from the story being painted. This is not simply an issue of terrorism or gun violence or homophobia. More than that, it’s about how folks at the intersections, at the margins of the margins, are often re-traumatized/victimized by the state and the dominant after experiencing violence or threat thereof. Nowhere is this clearer than in the the case of undocumented victims in the Pulse massacre. Take some time to read the following article in full, and if you haven’t yet, consider donating to the victims of this tragedy. (Equality Florida, the sponsor of the main GoFundMe has vowed assistance, regardless of status. However, in the coming days, I am going to try and find some more direct pathways with some local comrades. Stay posted.)

(Full Article)

L.A. Public Schools Will Now Be ‘Safe Zones’ Where ICE Can’t Get To Immigrant Students

The second largest public school district in the United States is taking a stand against immigration raids. Los Angeles United School District voted this week to make all of its schools a “safe zone” for students, meaning that it will not allow immigration officials to enter district property.
"Illegals just mooch off the government, healthcare, and don't pay taxes! They're bad for our economy!"

This Racism Happened in Murietta, California Today

This happened today: a protest in Murietta, California, turning back three buses of undocumented migrants from a Border Patrol Center, where they were expected to be processed. The buses eventually went to San Ysidro.

Via Latino Rebels

Fascism isn’t just growing in Ukraine and Europe. It’s here too.

Did you know that the Bernie Sanders campaign office in Flint, MI is a water distribution site? 

Come visit us at 600 Harrison between 9 am and 9 pm, we’ll be more than happy to help out!

Texas Denies Birth Certificates to Immigrant Children
Texas has refused to issue birth certificates to children born in the state to immigrant parents, interfering with their 14th Amendment rights.

For nearly 150 years, the United States, under the 14th Amendment, has recognized people born here as citizens, regardless of whether their parents were citizens.

But Texas has other plans. In the last year, the state hasrefused to issue birth certificates to children who were born in Texas to undocumented parents. In May, four women filed a civil rights lawsuit against the Texas Department of State Health Services alleging constitutional discrimination and interference in the federal government’s authority over immigration.

For-profit detention centers force undocumented immigrants to work for $1 a day | Raw Story

The L.A. Times reported on Monday that migrants cross the border into the U.S. then find themselves rounded up into the detention facilities and put to work cleaning, landscaping, cooking and performing other functions that would normally be handled by hourly workers.

The article detailed the case of Honduran migrant Delmi Cruz who was held along with her 11-year-old son at a family detention center in rural Texas. Cruz said she got to work right away when she arrived at the facility.

“I worked immediately,” Cruz told the Times. “In order to have something to eat, to buy treats for my son.”

She made $3 per day cleaning bathrooms, hallways and other parts of the detention center. At the commissary, she could buy her son a bag of potato chips for $4 or a bottle of water for $2. The prison facility is run by Geo Group, which the Times says is the country’s second largest private prison company.

Migrants and their activists are rebelling against the practice and inmates in Colorado and Massachusetts have filed suit saying they have not been paid at all for working.

“We have a name for locking people up and forcing them to do real work without wages. It’s called slavery,” said Carl Takei of the ACLU’s National Prison Project.

(Read Full Text) (Photo Credit: REUTERS/Jonathan Alcorn)

Jennicet Gutiérrez is the first transgender person to publicly call out the president around immigration and the torture and rape transgender immigrants often experience inside detention centers. Gutiérrez was in a room full of national LGBT leaders who gathered to celebrate the many accomplishments of the movement. You would imagine this would be a place to feel seen, safe, and validated. That was not the case.

As soon as Gutiérrez proceeded to speak truth and ask the President as to why he is not releasing our trans detainees who face violence, the crowd began to jeer, boo, and hiss. As she continued, the crowd then began to drown her and chant, “OBAMA! OBAMA!”

A transgender woman of color and undocumented leader in the immigrant rights and LGBT movement was booed and silenced by not only the state, but by the very same movement that purports to uplift and celebrate the transgender community.

As her voice, filled with passion and conviction, broke through the White House room, she was met by negativity, intolerance, and stares of disapproval from her peers. Her voice was carried by the thousands of transgender women considered disposable by the nation, facing deportation, detention, and brutal transphobic violence.

Her voice and visibility in that moment was shunned and shamed as inappropriate by a roomful of leaders who then applauded as the President lamented violence against transgender women of color, violence that his actions have contributed to by not taking action against the detention centers. Her voice is one of few transgender women of color immigrants who are bringing national visibility to this issue of the detention centers. Her voice carried the weight of the communities who are screaming inside detention centers demanding to be freed. Her voice was heard and ridiculed by many who claim to fight for transgender communities and also are involved in LGBT immigrant rights issues.

There is a line in the sand being drawn. Transgender communities have been thrust into the media spotlight, and been asked about our bodies, lovers, histories, and how we see ourselves. The moment we start to engage and raise questions around the state’s transphobic violence, our LGBT community leaders turn their backs and proceed to silence us. Transgender leaders are receiving the message that we are only mere tokens, bodies for entertainment, and accessories to make the spaces of organizing diverse and give the illusion of unity.

As we continue to celebrate and honor trailbrazing transgender women of color in the media and national spotlight, let us also celebrate the transgender women who are imagining a visibility that reaches beyond the borders and the jails and the detention centers that restrict us. Let us show up for these women, and support them as they infuse movements for health access, immigration, and racial and economic justice with their lives and bodies.

What HIV testing is like when you’re queer, black & undocumented
August 8, 2014

Last fall, I received a call from an old partner I had not spoken to in six-months. In the middle of debating whether to answer or not, I accidentally accepted the call and heard his voice. I went to get tested and I’m HIV positive, you need to get tested, he quietly explained. He sounded tired, filled with the kind of panic that comes after days of shock and denial. It was the same tone I remembered carrying in my voice one day in Boston as a glass bottle flew towards me—then shattering as it hit me—followed by an older White male calling me “illegal.” I heard his voice and I could not breathe. I was scared for him, for me, for life.

After the phone call, all I could think was: Can I even get tested?Growing up undocumented and queer on the East Coast meant only seeing a doctor when my temperature was over 104º or there were free clinic drives at local non-profits.

I could not sleep for more than two hours. I could not eat. I could not concentrate. During the week after the phone call, I kept running through scenarios in my head about how to go to the doctor and not disclose my immigration status. I was afraid that if I had HIV, the government would think I was a threat and deport me. I could see the headlines blaming undocumented immigrants for the HIV virus. I was afraid of the attacks on my community, my family, and myself. But above all, I was afraid that if my mother found out, her body would be too weak to endure the shock. My mother’s shoulders, limbs, and spirit carried the trauma of not seeing her mother in about twenty years, of having a deceased daughter, and of surviving years of domestic violence. If I was diagnosed with anything, I could not tell her. I could not burden her with another worry when she is still healing from the open bruises that hide underneath her clothing, her vulnerabilities only exposed in 30-minute phone calls to Abuelita Belen. I could not disclose negative news with the face of my younger sister still blurring in her mind, the remnants of a grave abandoned almost two decades ago when the cemetery did not receive the seventh-year payment.

The phone call scared me. It was about more than just papers and sexuality. I had just moved to Connecticut and didn’t know the area. I had to come out to a new friend as undocumented, queer, and potentially living with HIV. She dropped everything, not knowing exactly what to say, and took me to get tested. Stop one was Planned Parenthood. Approaching the glass window felt like I was about to enter an immigration check point. I had to act American: make sure my accent did not slip off my tongue; make sure I wore colors that didn’t make my skin look too Black; make sure I rubbed the nail polish completely off of my fingernails; remember to wear the button-up I would never have been able to afford if it weren’t for the $1/pound section at the thrift store. I was finally going to get tested.

Planned Parenthood turned me away from getting an HIV test. I did not have a U.S. ID. I had a Mexican matrícula. We’re sorry, but you need a state or federal ID. If you can’t provide that, you must pay full price for any check-up, test result, or anything of the matter. I walked out, something I was used to after living undocumented for sixteen years. As I pushed through the door, the thought hit me that maybe I experienced this not just because of just my immigration status, but because the lives of poor, queer, people of color do not matter to society.

Stop two was a free clinic a few miles away. Denied.

Local college clinic next, wait list. Maybe in two months.

Crying in a borrowed car outside a Rite Aid parking lot at 3:47 p.m. on a Tuesday appeared to be the only type of healthcare I would receive.

Hours later, many miles away, I finally found a clinic that would test me. No questions asked. Negative.

I moved to Los Angeles three-weeks ago, where, for the first time, I have seen organizations that work to gain healthcare for undocumented immigrants. It’s unbelievable to me that we even have to fight for such a basic human right. I am done feeling that I don’t deserve my health. This country has systematically conditioned me to think that I’m not good enough because I’m too Latino, too Black, too Gay, too easy to Mispronounce, too Savage—Illegal Alien. Healthcare is a human right, but in the US healthcare is only for those who can pay. I cannot live a healthy life when I can’t remember my last eye doctor visit or experience the security of a bi-yearly checkup.

My blackness does not make me invisible. My queerness does not make me illegitimate. My immigration status does not make me alien. I am in these positions because of a complex colonial history that has enslaved people that look like me; burned people who painted their nails like mine; shot people whose coffee tasted like the coffee in my backyard in Mexico; trafficked people that would do low to no-wage work like those in my family.

I am afraid I can’t even afford to die. Healthcare is the least this country could do for its people, our people.

Alan Pelaez Lopez is an AfroLatin@ that grew up in Boston via La Ciudad de Mexico, documenting his existence as an undocuqueer poet, jewelry designer, and bubble tea addict. Alan currently works at the Dream Resource Center in Los Angeles, which is a project of the UCLA Labor Center. He is a member of Familia: Trans*, Queer Liberation Movement.


“Oscar” Academy Award Statue Modeled After Undocumented Immigrant Emilio “El Indio” Fernandez

At the Academy Awards, the Oscar statuette is as iconic as the gowns and the red carpet. With his square shoulders, tapered legs, and strong features, Oscar looks like an art deco god. But, as familiar as he may be, it turns out we don’t know Oscar very well. 

For one, Oscar’s name isn’t Oscar.

Those broad shoulders belonged to Emilio Fernandez — a.k.a. “El Indio.” He was an actor in dozens of Hollywood films, one of Mexico’s greatest directors. Fernandez worked on Night of the Iguana, acted in The Wild Bunch, and directed dozens of films. But his own life was the real adventure movie.

Fernandez was born in Coahuila, Mexico in 1904. His father was a soldier, his mother a Kickapoo Indian. He grew up during the bloody revolution of 1910-17, was a teenager when Pancho Villa was killed, and dropped out of high school in the fall of 1923 to become an officer for the Huertista rebels. The following spring, after the rebellion was quashed, Fernandez was captured and sentenced to 20 years in prison. He escaped soon after (thanks to some dynamite) and crossed the border to Los Angeles, where he lived in exile for the next decade.

It was there, while working as a bus boy, that Fernandez got his break in the movie business. Some crew from The Thief of Baghdad were eating lunch at his restaurant and, desperate to come up with an opening sequence, pulled Fernandez over. He offered a simple idea, they took it, and the next day, the studio sent Fernandez a new Ford. His career in Hollywood had begun.

But Fernandez owes his tribute in gold to the silent film star Dolores Del Rio. She was his muse, his unrequited love… and MGM Art Director Cedric Gibbons’ wife. In 1927, shortly after the Academy was founded, Gibbons was tasked with designing an award statuette. He’d sketched a figure of a knight holding a sword and standing on a reel of film. He was looking for a suitable life model and Del Rio suggested that Fernandez would be perfect. She asked, he agreed. He stood for hours in the nude while they shaped the statue. And the rest, as they say…

The very first Oscar was handed out on May 16, 1929. In the years that followed, Emilio Fernandez received amnesty for his role in the Huertista rebellion and returned to Mexico to direct films. In all, he directed over 40 movies. His most famous, Maria Candelaria, won the Grand Prix at the 1946 Cannes Film Festival. He died in 1986.

And no, he never did win an Oscar. Or, perhaps we should say, an Emilio.