My research focuses on grassroots agency and what I call “everyday politics.” I am interested in how marginalized groups of people like indigenous peasants, deportees, asylum seekers, and undocumented immigrants struggle for rights and resources, against the odds. I look at how these groups make sense of the systems that oppress them. I also ask what conditions and kinds of support might help them gain more leverage. I am deeply concerned with gender, especially the ways ideas about gender get used as instruments of control – and of resistance. Most of my scholarship focuses on Mexico and Mexican migrants to the United States. I have worked in Chiapas and Oaxaca, Mexico and with Oaxacan migrants since 2004 and at the US-Mexico border since 2017.
I grew up in a suburb of Boston, which was predominantly white and far from Latin America, both geographically and socially. But I was concerned about social justice from a young age. My dad told me stories of participating in anti-Vietnam War protests, and both my parents are active in local politics. As a high school and college student, I spent several summers living in rural villages in Latin America, through Amigos de las Americas. The experience inspired me to think critically about the place I grew up and to keep learning more. I have since had the privilege to live and work in Colombia, Brazil, Peru, Ecuador, Honduras, the Dominican Republic, and especially Mexico. Through these experiences, I also became fluent in Spanish.
My earliest research in college and graduate school was about the Zapatista Movement, a group of indigenous activists in Southern Mexico fighting to defend peasants from the harms of globalization. In the 1990s, after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Zapatistas became an important face of the global Left. I was inspired by their message, but I was also concerned about the power dynamics between the Zapatistas and their outside supporters. I began to study the relationships between members of this movement and their sympathizers from foreign NGOs. I showed that the Zapatistas were able to demand “downward accountability” from some outside groups by creating circles of supporters whose legitimacy hinged on meeting their demands. Between college and graduate school, I also served as a research assistant in a study of the barriers to peacebuilding in Bogotá, Colombia and ran a service-learning program in the villages of Oaxaca, Mexico.
My first book Undocumented Politics (California, 2018) began as my doctoral dissertation at the University of California, Berkeley. The book focuses on how undocumented, Oaxacan migrant communities confront a process of globalization in which they are economically marginalized and politically excluded. I look at these politics both in the United States and on the Mexican side. In contrast to many studies of transnational migrants, I juxtapose two, distinct groups and processes of migration. The comparison enables me to show how migrant communities develop different attitudes about exclusion and take different actions to fight it. I find that local, city-level policing shapes people’s ideas about where they belong – as well as their chances to act. Inclusive local treatment gives migrant communities a leg up. Even before migrants leave Mexico, communal governance in their hometowns can help them access better opportunities. Likewise, when migrants live in US cities that offer them services and some form of protection from deportation, they feel hopeful and often fight to prove they should stay in the United States. By contrast, when US cities subject migrants to arbitrary deportation and uncertainty, they feel hostile and alienated. Yet migrants are also creative. Some of them connect to their counterparts in Mexico for a sense of relief, building movements for alternative globalization – or what they call a “right not to migrate.” Migration also weighs heavily on hometown politics. Yet to understand the relationship between migration and so-called “development,” we have to look closely at migrants’ pathways – or histories. Hometown demands of the Mexican state look very different depending on the treatment their migrants face in the United States. In short, resistance is a process: built in the interplay between the places migrants go and the places they leave behind.
My current research explores both the broad and the everyday politics of forced displacement, with a particular focus on deportation. With the help of several graduate and undergraduate students, I am examining the conditions that enable Mexican deportees to re-engage politically with their country of birth and/or to continue fighting for inclusion in the United States. As part of this project, we also look at how deportees get channeled into even cheaper labor in Mexico than in the US and at how the fragmentation of deportees’ families shapes their politics. Through the Mexican Migration Field Research Program, I also work with a team of undergraduate researchers to do in-depth interviews at migrant shelters in Tijuana. In recent years we have increasingly been working with Central American and Mexican asylum seekers at the US-Mexico border. My future work will focus on the intersection of climate and refugee crises.
Now that I live near the border, “global” inequalities between the US and Latin America play out within minutes of my house. I have two young children, who were born while I was a tenure-track assistant professor (I’m happy to talk about academic motherhood with those who are interested!). I hope that raising my children at the border will give them a deep commitment to righting the kinds of racial and national injustices at play in our backyard.
In all of my work, my goal is to identify on-the-ground ways to help excluded groups gain access to resources and build more dignified lives. I also hope to reveal how the actions of people of privilege reinforce or alleviate inequalities and to highlight ways that regular people can work at the local level to encourage social change.