I’m back in Austin, sitting at home with the dog wandering over repeatedly to sniff my feet. I’m exhausted – somehow the drive back is always longer than the drive there, although we actually made the trip in less time. I haven’t unpacked yet, but I’ll get around to it … eventually.

It’s been something of a whirlwind trip down to the Rio Grande Valley and back, and it was unusual in that these trips are usually rather enjoyable and we have a great rapport with the folks that we work with in Brownsville — and in fact that was the case this time around.

What was different was that we added a day to work with a new group of people in a town barely twenty minutes up the road from Brownsville in a place I’ve code-named San Alguien (there are lots of places named San or Santa something in the area, so it seems fitting). They may be only 20 minutes apart, but the experience was like night and day.

The group that we worked with was very conservative — we’ve come to expect that in traveling around the state. Bush jokes go over very badly in some parts, so we don’t tend to make them unless a clear Democratic vibe comes out of our audience beforehand. However, what we weren’t quite expecting was the level of … racism is too strong a term, and elitism is not quite on the mark either, but something in that vein. (Co-ethnic superiority complex, maybe?)

The reason that we weren’t expecting it is that we were in a community that is clearly predominately Hispanic (their term, not ours). In fact, most (if not all) of the people we worked with were Hispanic, which made it all the more surprising when the discussion got going and it was revealed that although they may be Latino in origin, they consider themselves to be much, much, much better than the Latinos on the other side of the Rio Grande. And they needed us to know it.

For example. One lady – who had strong opinions on everything and wasn’t afraid to share them – informed us that she had taught in Brownsville, but had to leave because the school district was too large and, in any case, “every car dropping kids off in the morning had Tamaulipas license plates.” (Tamaulipas is the adjoining state on the Mexican side of the border). At another point during a discussion on migration (legal migration, for the record), she informed us that there is a fleet of fishing vessels who ferry illegal immigrants from Mexico up the coast to Corpus Christi … and can make the 120 mile trip in an hour and a half. (Must be some boats!)

After lunch, I got cornered by another gentleman who asked me what my opinion of “the situation in Farmer’s Branch” is. I had no idea what he was talking about at first — Farmer’s Branch, an upper middle class suburb in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex, passed a resolution in city council that imposes stiff fines on anyone who rents to, hires, or does business with illegal immigrants. Having been to the Valley before, I know that a lot of people down there have mixed pasts and that many of them have students who are the children of illegal immigrants or family members on both sides of the border and they’re generally very sympathetic on issues related to immigration. In any case, I wasn’t terribly comfortable with the conversation (although I managed not to rub my nose constantly, which is my usual physical response), so I muttered something about “I’m sure it’ll be struck down soon.”

Oh, no. This fine, upstanding gentleman in front of me does not wish it to be struck down. He wishes that more places would pass such laws so that “they’ll stop sneaking over.” Before I had time to process this fully, he then proceeded to launch into a lengthy explanation of how discrimination does not come from bias.

At this point, I began making a futile attempt to look for Natalie, hoping that she would come and rescue me, but she had very conveniently wandered into the hallway and was pretending to be fascinated by a bulletin board covered in student work.

Now, two things. First, as a gay man, I can’t actually agree with that statement … although I didn’t actually state this, since in professional settings I don’t reveal my sexuality (and, for anyone who wants to argue the need to be out and proud in any and all settings, my response is: YOU stand in front of a bunch of football coaches in rural Texas and queen out. Go on. I dare you.).

Second, when I asked him where discrimination does come from, somehow the question was never answered. (And third: of course he can take the moral high ground. He looks white, he’s straight, and he’s a man. At no point in his life has this individual ever experienced discrimination.)

It was definitely an interesting day from an anthropological perspective, after which Natalie and I got in the car and drove back to Brownsville where we had dinner with our contact there and vented over multiple margaritas. It’s left both of us a little shaken, I think, because it’s one of those things where you hear about people who think this way but never expect to find yourself in a room full of them … We’ve been all over the Valley, but this was a definite first.

At any rate. I have, of course, come up with lots of witty and intelligent responses to all of this since, but it’s one of those things where you can’t quite think of an appropriate response at the time.

Ray has come home and I should engage in matters more mundane and domestic. I’m letting myself off the hook for the evening and will resume deep thoughts tomorrow…