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| Courtesy photo |
| Senior Courtney Miller is studying in Argentina this fall as part of the World Learning program. |
Update January, 2011: Read Miller's report, "Shattered Dreams: Latin American immigrants face overwhelming hardships in Argentina," on the McGill University website.
Follow some of Miller's work at her blog, or read her periodic reports below:
Eternally grateful
Dec. 8, 2010
I am at a loss for words that can accurately depict the experience I have had this past semester. I am at a loss for words, and I am a journalism major. Every time I start to describe it and the way it has had an impact on my life, I get stuck mid-sentence, mid-paragraph, not knowing what to say next. Perhaps there are no words. Maybe the problem is not me, it is that there is no way to rightfully put into words the level at which this semester has affected me. So, if there were words, I suppose they would say this:
I chose this program specifically because I wanted the intensity of the classes, the opportunity to do an independent project and the experience to live with Argentineans. I knew before coming that I wanted to study more about human rights, for it is my concentration at school, but I wanted it in the context of Argentina. I have always been interested in Argentina. Ever since I saw Evita, I have had this obsession with it.
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| Courtesy photo |
| Courtney Miller (center, back) with some of the people she has gotten to know during her work in Argentina. She has returned to the U.S. after a semester in South America. |
I received a profound education in human rights and social movements in Argentina – inside and outside the classroom. The visits we took to Salta and Bariloche and to the organizations, such as Chilavert and Mansion Seré, showed me firsthand the importance of the people’s fight from the past to the present because each one was powerful with a spirit and passion like I have never known before. It affected me greatly, giving me an entirely new and open perspective, especially through encounters with people like Silvia from the Mapuche tribe and Gladys from the garbage dump.
As a journalist, I have always paid special attention to the personal stories because they help me understand things I have not directly experienced. Thus, I learned more than just the culture and history of Argentina or the importance of human rights and social movements. I learned about the importance of interaction and exchange with people – with the other students in our program, for they offered support and companionship, and with the individuals who are directly affected by the issues we studied. I would not be able to fully understand the situations without knowing them and hearing their stories. I would not be able to talk about the issues by just reading about them in articles and books. They put them into perspective.
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| Photo by Courtney Miller |
| Miller, a photographer, shot many scenes of life in Argentina. One of her projects involved giving cameras to local women so that they could document their lives. |
In my final project, a photography workshop with a group of female victims of domestic violence and drug addictions, I had the opportunity to deepen my understanding of creative expression and how it can help individuals as well as the public. I went to teach photography and create a space of trust and support between women who have all experienced grave problems in their life. I wanted to show how photography, as a form of creative expression, can strengthen their self-esteem by giving them the opportunity to tell their stories and hear their own voice.
In just three weeks, the women were openly sharing their stories – from good to bad – with an incredible amount of trust. In addition, they showed their understanding of basic photography concepts through their photos. With the use of light and composition, they exceeded all of my expectations. I may not have had much time but I believe I did what I wanted to do.
I received something in return as well, something special and unique. The women, like my directors, taught me about the importance of interaction with people who are directly affected by the issues I study in order to fully understand. The women taught me that everyone has the capacity to promote social awareness by telling his or her own stories instead of having others do it.
I can teach basic techniques for photography and provide the resources they need, such as cameras, but I find it more effective when they are the ones who show their realities and share them with the world. I am merely the one who guides them to discover their abilities to do so. I think their discoveries of the power and capacity they have were the ultimate moments of empowerment they experienced throughout the course of the workshop. To be a part of it, to see the change in the women, was extremely moving. It changed my life and my vision for my future and what I what to do entirely.
Through this program, I was given the opportunity and the confidence to have this amazing experience. For that, I will be eternally grateful to those who helped me along the way.
Photo project to focus on women
Nov. 8, 2010
Whether it was a catastrophic world event or a vivid family memory, at some point in our lives, we have all seen the power of photography. It is one of the most basic and effective forms of communication. A single image has the ability to transcend cultural and demographic boundaries and tell a story everyone can understand. It does this by focusing on one thing we all share in common: human emotions. Emotions, no matter how they are triggered, connect us to one another; they help us understand one another.
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| Photo by Courtney Miller |
| One of the women Miller worked with lined up a shot. "I wanted to show how photography, as a form of creative expression, can strengthen their self-esteem by giving them the opportunity to tell their stories and hear their own voices," Miller said. |
By providing these women with an environment of trust and the ability to develop their own voice, I hope to improve their self-esteems through this workshop. (Note: Follow Miller's project at her blog.)
Latin American Immigrants face hardships in Argentina
November 2010
At the border of Quiaca, where Argentina meets Bolivia, immigration rates run rampant. Over 100,000 Bolivians a year cross the border and 9,000 of them are children. They come as families and individuals to escape compromised economic and political situations. However, the reality of migration between the two countries brings numerous complexities and obstacles that can shatter one’s hopes and dreams. Out of the 100,000 immigrants every year, 30 percent of them return to their country of origin due to overwhelming difficulties.
One of the most prominent challenges Bolivian immigrants face is the lack of documentation. In neighborhoods such as Yavi and Santa Catalina in Quiaca, Argentina, 690 out of 8,000 people are Argentinean-born but are not publicly registered. About 255 of them are children. Documentation, or official and legal recognition of one’s identity, is the door to opportunity. Without it, basic needs such as education, medical assistance and work are difficult to obtain.
Even with Law 55.871, which states that everyone has a right to education and good health, whether they have documents or not, institutions in Argentina have been known to refuse service. Discrimination of Bolivians, Paraguayans and Peruvians is so high and education of human rights so low, places like hospitals and schools can take advantage of the situation and turn immigrants away without repercussions.
In 2008, Hugo Benitez, a 22 year-old Bolivian immigrant living in Buenos Aires, visited four different hospitals before one agreed to deliver her baby. Others were denied assistance until they paid $150 pesos for the delivery of their child. These accounts are merely examples of the difficulties Latin American immigrants face in Argentina.
Some women decide to avoid hospitals altogether and deliver their babies at home. There is a Bolivian custom of offering thanks to the earth with food, or in this case, the placenta. Thus, many women give birth at home so they can bury the placenta afterward. It is tradition and an important part of their culture. However, this tradition, which is mostly practiced by women in the country, does not go without consequences. It tends to result in the child’s lack of documentation.
According to Brother Manuel Pleigo of The Church of Quiaca, these women do not understand the importance of legal documentation for their children. In the country, children do not need official recognition of their identity in order to access things like education. It is not until they go to the city for high school that they realize their need for documentation, and by then it is difficult to obtain. Their options are limited, forcing them to stay in the country, work informally or return to their home country.
Another prevalent problem immigrants face in Argentina is human exploitation. Victims, the majority of whom are children under the age of 15, are a result of poverty and the desire for a better life. Men will pose as their guardians and accompany them to the other side, promising their return. With the poor computer systems at the frontier, though, there is no record of each person’s visit. The same men can repeat the act multiple times with different children. Once they cross to the other side, many children are forced into some form of slavery.
According to United States Department of State, “The tri-border area with Paraguay and Brazil is a significant source area for Argentine sex trafficking victims, as well as a transit region for labor trafficking victims from Paraguay.”
Another contributing factor for human trafficking is that Bolivia, unlike Argentina, does not require parent’s authorization for a child to leave. It merely takes two witnesses for a judge to give permission. The fact that these witnesses may not be rightful guardians of the children is rarely a concern.
The pressure to improve the system and prevent the trafficking of children into Argentina is overshadowed by the fight against drugs and arms. The state does not have the same incentive, the same resources, to combat human trafficking. Thus, thousands of cases are lost in the sea of exploitation, according to the State Department.
One case of human trafficking involved a 15-year-old Bolivian girl brought by her uncle, whom she knew and trusted. He sneaked her into Argentina with nicer clothes and a fake ID saying she was twice her age. After he was caught and tried for trafficking, he went to jail while the girl went to a refugee center where she received psychological assistance. She was later escorted back to her family in Bolivia where she continued to receive treatment.
However lucky this girl may be for being rescued, thousands are not. It is a perversely overlooked issue that haunts those who are too poor, too desperate, to say no to the idea of a better future. Even if they personally consent to cross the border, it is usually under false pretense. Going to the city, illegally or not, is the only way they think they can improve their life. By the time the reality of the situation shows it’s ugly head, it is often too late. They are already forced into the current of human slavery with no way out.
In 2008, Hugo Benitez, a 22 year-old Bolivian immigrant living in Buenos Aires, visited four different hospitals before one agreed to deliver her baby. Others were denied assistance until they paid $150 pesos for the delivery of their child. These accounts are merely examples of the difficulties Latin American immigrants face in Argentina.
Some women decide to avoid hospitals altogether and deliver their babies at home. There is a Bolivian custom of offering thanks to the earth with food, or in this case, the placenta. Thus, many women give birth at home so they can bury the placenta afterward. It is tradition and an important part of their culture. However, this tradition, which is mostly practiced by women in the country, does not go without consequences. It tends to result in the child’s lack of documentation.
According to Brother Manuel Pleigo of The Church of Quiaca, these women do not understand the importance of legal documentation for their children. In the country, children do not need official recognition of their identity in order to access things like education. It is not until they go to the city for high school that they realize their need for documentation, and by then it is difficult to obtain. Their options are limited, forcing them to stay in the country, work informally or return to their home country.
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| Photo by Courtney Miller |
| Miller's immersion into local events included meeting several groups of children. One 10-year-old gave Miller a special box as a memento. |
According to United States Department of State, “The tri-border area with Paraguay and Brazil is a significant source area for Argentine sex trafficking victims, as well as a transit region for labor trafficking victims from Paraguay.”
Another contributing factor for human trafficking is that Bolivia, unlike Argentina, does not require parent’s authorization for a child to leave. It merely takes two witnesses for a judge to give permission. The fact that these witnesses may not be rightful guardians of the children is rarely a concern.
The pressure to improve the system and prevent the trafficking of children into Argentina is overshadowed by the fight against drugs and arms. The state does not have the same incentive, the same resources, to combat human trafficking. Thus, thousands of cases are lost in the sea of exploitation, according to the State Department.
One case of human trafficking involved a 15-year-old Bolivian girl brought by her uncle, whom she knew and trusted. He sneaked her into Argentina with nicer clothes and a fake ID saying she was twice her age. After he was caught and tried for trafficking, he went to jail while the girl went to a refugee center where she received psychological assistance. She was later escorted back to her family in Bolivia where she continued to receive treatment.
However lucky this girl may be for being rescued, thousands are not. It is a perversely overlooked issue that haunts those who are too poor, too desperate, to say no to the idea of a better future. Even if they personally consent to cross the border, it is usually under false pretense. Going to the city, illegally or not, is the only way they think they can improve their life. By the time the reality of the situation shows it’s ugly head, it is often too late. They are already forced into the current of human slavery with no way out.
Impressions
October 2010
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| Photo by Courtney Miller |
| Miller shot photos of the Bolivian festival she attended. Miller said the immigrants are discriminated against in Argentina and celebrate their culture away from cities and only twice a year. |
Through these unique experiences, I have learned more than I could have ever anticipated. I am learning about myself, about others, and about the way in which we all relate to society – what our role is, be it by force or free will, and how we are affected by it.
Just this past week, I went on three different visits to places outside the city – away from the noise, the buildings and the shops – where human rights issues are not something you read about in an office or classroom. This week alone opened my eyes to the difficulties some people face in this country, people I had had little interaction with until now.
It started on Thursday. A group of us traveled with our supervisor and academic scholar, Andres Ruggeri, to one of the most famous cooperativas in Buenos Aires. A cooperativa is a business run by the workers without a boss. After the economic crisis in 2001, thousands of people lost their jobs, but shortly after, there was a movement to overthrow those in charge and take over the businesses. It was a movement in the name of populism and equality for all, and it has influenced numbers of organizations.
One of these organizations is Chilavert, a recovered printing press that was shut down shortly after the crisis but opened months later by a group of 10 workers. Now, it is one of the most successful cooperativas, not in terms of money but because they have managed to maintain their fundamental beliefs. The workers there all have the same number of responsibilities and power, and all receive the same paycheck. For this reason, they are highly respected by other organizations with the same beliefs.
Also, Chilavert has expanded its influence and now has a secondary school as well as a cultural center. This has won the group an extensive amount of support from the community.
The improvement of life was replicated in the next visit when we went to Villa 21, one of the city's biggest communities of Paraguayans, a group that is discriminated against in Argentina. I knew it was going to be different from the rest of the city based on what I had heard before the visit, but I was still a little shocked when we got there. I felt like we had entered an entirely different city. I have become accustomed to big streets with tall buildings, clothing stores and advertisements everywhere, and tons of noise — – an open atmosphere.
This place was entirely different. It was closed off, run down, quiet. It was clearly not a place tourists went. We met in the community center where a non-governmental organization works to help keep kids off the drug paco. Paco is an addictive and cheap drug to which many kids, especially those in poor parts of town, are addicted. The center was impressive not only for providing kids a way out by educating them and keeping them off drugs but also for being made completely out of recycled goods, including marble for the tile floors and decorations.
The woman in charge took us around, showing us the other parts of the neighborhood, including the wealthier streets that received money from the government and the not-so-wealthy streets where even the police are afraid to go.
After the tour we returned to snacks, which included Argentina's favorite ingredients flour and sugar, and games of chess. I didn't even bother learning here, for it was in a different language and the 10-year-old playing looked like he could kick my ass. Instead, I made friends with the some of the younger kids, all of whom fell in love with my camera and having their pictures taken.
One of them, an eight-year-old girl, took particular interest in me. While I was painting the mural later that day on one of the buildings, our main activity of the day, she presented me with a gift of a painted styrofoam box with a heart inside that has my name on it. It was probably one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me in a while. I now have it sitting on my desk in my room next to the picture of my family. It was once just a box, something simple with little sentimental value, but now it's beautiful and reminds me of something special I experienced. In a way it is much like the wall we painted the mural on – transformed. Painting murals in this community is a popular way of reaching out to the community and giving them hope, showing them that they can take a scrap of styrofoam and make it beautiful.
Our final visit this week was a Bolivian festival that lasted all Saturday afternoon. It was one of those mornings where I woke up confused because I wasn't home. I felt like I was home, walking outside on a sunny, weekend morning. It smelled home, as if a fire was burning outside. At one point I even thought I could here people cheering. I should have been going to an IU football game that day. Instead, I traveled with a group of girls in the program and two of our supervisors to Barrio Charrua, where 80 percent of the people are Bolivians, another group discriminated against in Argentina.
This Saturday was one of two major festivals that the Bolivian community has every year. Over 70 groups of Bolivians from different neighborhoods were dressed in traditional Bolivian costumes, dancing throughout the streets between the massive crowd of people. It was hectic but incredible to see what was clearly an important communal activity, celebrating tradition and culture with pride, for a group of people I know are mistreated based on their nationality alone. It was inspirational and disheartening at the same time. They should be able to openly express themselves and their nationality all the time, not just two times a year in an excluded area outside the city.
Sure, I know I missed my weekend football game at IU and instead did some fairly unusual things, but it was their uniqueness that made these visits so impressionable. It is not through repetition that we learn about ourselves and others, it is through stepping out of our comfort zone and trying new things, things we never thought we would do. Food for thought.
One of these organizations is Chilavert, a recovered printing press that was shut down shortly after the crisis but opened months later by a group of 10 workers. Now, it is one of the most successful cooperativas, not in terms of money but because they have managed to maintain their fundamental beliefs. The workers there all have the same number of responsibilities and power, and all receive the same paycheck. For this reason, they are highly respected by other organizations with the same beliefs.
Also, Chilavert has expanded its influence and now has a secondary school as well as a cultural center. This has won the group an extensive amount of support from the community.
The improvement of life was replicated in the next visit when we went to Villa 21, one of the city's biggest communities of Paraguayans, a group that is discriminated against in Argentina. I knew it was going to be different from the rest of the city based on what I had heard before the visit, but I was still a little shocked when we got there. I felt like we had entered an entirely different city. I have become accustomed to big streets with tall buildings, clothing stores and advertisements everywhere, and tons of noise — – an open atmosphere.
This place was entirely different. It was closed off, run down, quiet. It was clearly not a place tourists went. We met in the community center where a non-governmental organization works to help keep kids off the drug paco. Paco is an addictive and cheap drug to which many kids, especially those in poor parts of town, are addicted. The center was impressive not only for providing kids a way out by educating them and keeping them off drugs but also for being made completely out of recycled goods, including marble for the tile floors and decorations.
The woman in charge took us around, showing us the other parts of the neighborhood, including the wealthier streets that received money from the government and the not-so-wealthy streets where even the police are afraid to go.
After the tour we returned to snacks, which included Argentina's favorite ingredients flour and sugar, and games of chess. I didn't even bother learning here, for it was in a different language and the 10-year-old playing looked like he could kick my ass. Instead, I made friends with the some of the younger kids, all of whom fell in love with my camera and having their pictures taken.
One of them, an eight-year-old girl, took particular interest in me. While I was painting the mural later that day on one of the buildings, our main activity of the day, she presented me with a gift of a painted styrofoam box with a heart inside that has my name on it. It was probably one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me in a while. I now have it sitting on my desk in my room next to the picture of my family. It was once just a box, something simple with little sentimental value, but now it's beautiful and reminds me of something special I experienced. In a way it is much like the wall we painted the mural on – transformed. Painting murals in this community is a popular way of reaching out to the community and giving them hope, showing them that they can take a scrap of styrofoam and make it beautiful.
Our final visit this week was a Bolivian festival that lasted all Saturday afternoon. It was one of those mornings where I woke up confused because I wasn't home. I felt like I was home, walking outside on a sunny, weekend morning. It smelled home, as if a fire was burning outside. At one point I even thought I could here people cheering. I should have been going to an IU football game that day. Instead, I traveled with a group of girls in the program and two of our supervisors to Barrio Charrua, where 80 percent of the people are Bolivians, another group discriminated against in Argentina.
This Saturday was one of two major festivals that the Bolivian community has every year. Over 70 groups of Bolivians from different neighborhoods were dressed in traditional Bolivian costumes, dancing throughout the streets between the massive crowd of people. It was hectic but incredible to see what was clearly an important communal activity, celebrating tradition and culture with pride, for a group of people I know are mistreated based on their nationality alone. It was inspirational and disheartening at the same time. They should be able to openly express themselves and their nationality all the time, not just two times a year in an excluded area outside the city.
Sure, I know I missed my weekend football game at IU and instead did some fairly unusual things, but it was their uniqueness that made these visits so impressionable. It is not through repetition that we learn about ourselves and others, it is through stepping out of our comfort zone and trying new things, things we never thought we would do. Food for thought.