Border Crossing

Akana:

On my Sri Lankan passport, I’ve had to deal with visas all my life. I never felt that it was my “right” to cross a border - except the one back into Sri Lanka. Any trip to another country was always precluded by multiple visits to embassies with stacks of documents and justifications about going on vacation. Visiting the US is particularly difficult. Strictly speaking, a visa alone does not guarantee access. I am always intensely aware that I am at the mercy of my immigration officer. Crossing that yellow strip of paint on the airport floor from immigration into the baggage claim area always feels like a huge victory.

Crossing the border on foot into Tijuana, I already felt the anxiety of my return journey. I knew I had all the right documentation. I knew, in theory, there should be no problem, but I still felt this uncertainty. The border very much exists for me.

Manos:

I have had the opposite experience. For all my life my american passport has been a gateway allowing me to see other parts of the world. The only times I have had to obtain a visa to travel were when visiting India and Cuba a few years ago. However, even within these Visa experiences I felt the inherent confidence that being an American citizen affords. The question for me was not if I was going to receive the Visa, but when. This confidence colored my experiences and opinions crossing the border.

I have always known that borders exist and are tangible in the lives of so many citizens around the world, but I have never really felt their direct effect on my own life. Crossing back into the United States with our fellow students crystallized this privilege of mine, as I crossed through passport control with no issues, almost floating above the violence, conflict, and political divide that defines the area. On the contrary, my classmate Yiye, a chinese national, was rudely questioned by the border agents. They pressed him on his country of origin, laughing and demanding he say “China” when he understood the question to mean from where did you travel and responded the “United States”. While a small discomfort in the grand scheme of the fundamental territorial disputes that define this border and others around the world, this moment stuck with me. The privilege of being a US citizen and the rights afforded to me via that citizenship status were laid bare crossing to, but more so crossing from, Tijuana.