I’m sure everyone has heard an iteration of Santayana’s quote: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Rather than treat this introduction to Paseño history as an ominous threat, I’d rather close with a related parallel.

El Paso del Norte being over looked for almost 100 years, and then segregated, when it became the capital in 1682, possibly saved a lot of indigenous people. In the late 18th century when more Spanish settlers began spreading smallpox to natives, a vaccine was only 20 years away. It still had a devastating impact to locals, but it wasn’t the same catastrophic collapse seen in Mesoamerica. Essentially, lack of interest and vitality helped preserve our home.

It’s from that same perspective I think our home has given us an advantage today. I sincerely believe this place is the last beacon of hope for the fleeting ideals of the “American Dream” –– which at times feel more like folklore than self-evident truths. But, we are not in this prime phase of ripeness because we have a new strip mall, grocery store, or arena. Rather, technology and the Internet have reduced our shortcomings and filled gaps left behind by generations of decaying infrastructure. But the enormity of our potential is still embodied in El Paso’s most valuable and ignored asset: its people.

We, the people of El Paso, are an amalgamation of opposing identities. We’re the extremes of stratified positions: outstandingly rich and devastatingly poor, new immigrants and generational patriots, some of the most religiously devout and non-believers, highly-decorated scholars and successful autodidacts. Yet we have all been marginalized the same way. Our geographic isolation has stifled every previous attempt of progress. The imaginary boundaries that riddle our landscape have left us fragmented and incapable of proper growth. We have been part of a dichotomizing system that views our weakest links as our biggest liabilities. Playing by those rules, our region has been stuck in a perpetual stalemate for generations. We’ve been told repeatedly that our liabilities outweigh any inherent value. That world is dead.

In this day and age, being marginalized is not an automatic sentence to oppression. With our access to technology and information transfer, we are witnessing the dawn of a new era in real-time. A renaissance fueled by the imagination of the disenfranchised. No longer do we need to meander in the outskirts of limelight. The marginalized are no longer the fringe, but the integral fabric of society. Even though we’ve had to make do with scraps, it’s the cumulative power of our fragments that will shape our future. We’ve been able to do so much with so little, for so long, that we can now practically do anything with no outside help.

But it is not a time to celebrate. If we don’t coalesce our identities and embrace the entirety of our reflection in the mirror, there is no chance for real progress. So my message to this region is simple…

I’m sure everyone has heard an iteration of Santayana’s quote: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Rather than treat this introduction to Paseño history as an ominous threat, I’d rather close with a related parallel.

El Paso del Norte being over looked for almost 100 years, and then segregated, when it became the capital in 1682, possibly saved a lot of indigenous people. In the late 18th century when more Spanish settlers began spreading smallpox to natives, a vaccine was only 20 years away. It still had a devastating impact to locals, but it wasn’t the same catastrophic collapse seen in Mesoamerica. Essentially, lack of interest and vitality helped preserve our home.

It’s from that same perspective I think our home has given us an advantage today. I sincerely believe this place is the last beacon of hope for the fleeting ideals of the “American Dream” –– which at times feel more like folklore than self-evident truths. But, we are not in this prime phase of ripeness because we have a new strip mall, grocery store, or arena. Rather, technology and the Internet have reduced our shortcomings and filled gaps left behind by generations of decaying infrastructure. But the enormity of our potential is still embodied in El Paso’s most valuable and ignored asset: its people.

We, the people of El Paso, are an amalgamation of opposing identities. We’re the extremes of stratified positions: outstandingly rich and devastatingly poor, new immigrants and generational patriots, some of the most religiously devout and non-believers, highly-decorated scholars and successful autodidacts. Yet we have all been marginalized the same way. Our geographic isolation has stifled every previous attempt of progress. The imaginary boundaries that riddle our landscape have left us fragmented and incapable of proper growth. We have been part of a dichotomizing system that views our weakest links as our biggest liabilities. Playing by those rules, our region has been stuck in a perpetual stalemate for generations. We’ve been told repeatedly that our liabilities outweigh any inherent value. That world is dead.

    In this day and age, being marginalized is not an automatic sentence to oppression. With our access to technology and information transfer, we are witnessing the dawn of a new era in real-time. A renaissance fueled by the imagination of the disenfranchised. No longer do we need to meander in the outskirts of limelight. The marginalized are no longer the fringe, but the integral fabric of society. Even though we’ve had to make do with scraps, it’s the cumulative power of our fragments that will shape our future. We’ve been able to do so much with so little, for so long, that we can now practically do anything with no outside help.

    But it is not a time to celebrate. If we don’t coalesce our identities and embrace the entirety of our reflection in the mirror, there is no chance for real progress. So my message to this region is simple…

Integrity will change our community more than any Fortune 500 company could ever dream. Cohesion paired with consciousness, based in humility and amplified by technology, becomes an inalienable force. We are standing at the nexus of a trivialized past and a promising, enigmatic future. Right now we have the ability to manifest our own destiny.

Yes, our forward-motion is inevitable. But as we prepare for another revolution, do not confuse a position in a carousel with advancement. In order for us to genuinely progress, we must unhinge ourselves from the restraints and realize that our independence and identity is the only basis in which we can truly build a promising future. If we just take a second to examine the global trajectory we would realize, the real us –– our home riddled with imperfections and shortcomings –– has the ability to nest the boldest ideas and risk-takers of the next generation. Yet we continue to dismantle our charm and conceal our blemishes in hopes of being “good enough” to satisfy the fleeting ideals of the past. 

We are never going to be able to satisfy the expectations of others. But we can do everything in our power to try and satisfy the needs of ourselves. And at the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters? Because no memorable place achieved its identity by striving to be someplace else. It’s time we recognize we will not progress by responding, but we can thrive by changing the conversation. This is our opportunity to adjust the course. 

Along the way, for some reason, our “quality of life” became measured by our ability to spend. It’s my belief that dignity, autonomy, and self-actualization are better indicators of a quality life. And sure, maybe at one point lack of wealth or class would have barred Paseños from reaching so high. But, as our country’s late-stage capitalism continues to devolve, we are actually ahead of the curve. Not because we failed or we’re inept, but because every opportunity we’ve ever had up to this point has been disingenuous and unsustainable. 

Plus, we’ve been led to believe our history and progress is mutually exclusive. While all along the southwest, monuments, national parks, and tourist attractions share the Mexican-American story: Riverside opened The Cheech, San Diego has Chicano Park, LA has The Plaza, even Columbus, New Mexico benefits from the Pancho Villa State Park. But in El Paso, ground-zero for Chicano culture, we can’t even find funding for a single museum. 

Rather than assume it’s a deliberate scheme by people who are not personally affected by the Mexican-side of our Paseño story. And instead of blaming local, regional, national, or empirical governments for centuries of racial injustices. Alternative to trying to change the systems, which have kept our origin story out of the common-core and behind an “elected” post-high school pay wall. We can now use the “new world” we’re in to share our story, from our perspective. We can strive to uplift the marginalized voices who don’t have the means to do it themselves.

As a byproduct of a family tree that looks more like a proletariat timeline of our home, I am proof. I’m fully aware there are plenty of descendants from other dynastic families who still call this place home. So I mean no offense when I say, “I feel as though I’m as El Pasoan as they get.” Because my ancestors didn’t ride in on the railroad, they helped lay the tracks. They didn’t build fancy hotels, they were maids. They didn’t own famous El Paso stores like the White House, the Popular, Kress, or Saddleblanket, they just worked there (yes, at all of them). My family spans the gamut from Franciscan priest to Farah obrera. As time allowed, my family has served our home as either a Fort Bliss marine or an El Paso police officer. 

I realize I’m not alone. This is not just my story. I’m sure there are so many others who can build similar narratives. People who have just never had the opportunity to dedicate years of their life to something –– while having this much technology at their disposal. Looking back on it, I’m not even sure how I got so fortunate. All I do know is that writing our own history, sharing our story, and planting our flag is the most important thing we can do. Because it means we finally won.