The Philosopher of Migration: A Journey of Paradigms, Perceptions & Enlightenment

By Fabian Alexander Ortega

Leaving a country you were born and raised in is never easy.

 

Especially leaving the most popular country and city in the world.

 

Combining a narrative pace with a social, economic and cultural analysis based on combined information of two neighboring countries (United States of America and United States of Mexico).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fabian Alexander Ortega
• Release date: Jul 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393460619

Fabian Alexander Ortega

Fabian Alexander was born and raised in the USA, but is of Mexican and Jewish descendant.He is revered as a philosopher, theologist and sociologist.He feels passionately about every single one of his endeavors. Doing everything with a purpose to help people gain knowledge and know they aren't alone in their battles.

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Copyright © 2019 by Fabian Alexander Ortega

All Rights Reserved.

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I: MEXICAN-AMERICAN WAR

CHAPTER II: THE GREAT WALL OF USA

CHAPTER III: COMPARATIVE SOCIOLOGY AND PARADIGMS

CHAPTER IV: ACCULTURATION, ASSIMILATION AND SELF REFLECTION

CHAPTER V: TRANSITIONING TO A NEW BEGINNING

Above all,

Thank You God, Heavenly Father,

I once lost my way, strayed from the righteous path, and cursed your name; but now I feel truly blessed for I now know who I am: formed through tragedy in which I received solace and recognized my purpose.

AGRADECIMIENTO

A mi familia por el amor y apoyo!

A mi estimado Tio Tito!

Thanks to my supporters as well!

PREFACE

In the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of identity.

-Erik Erikson

A

long with one’s ability to acclimate to society, there is a struggle for assimilation, identification, and self-affirmation. Being in an accustomed setting is a difficult journey all on its own. People are greatly influenced by the pressures of life. We generally don’t make a conscious effort to explore ourselves, our backgrounds, our world views, or other facets of who we are. I feel generations should now gear themselves toward making a conscious effort and taking the time to do so, as well as connecting and sharing personal perspectives throughout their journeys.

I never imagined I would become an emigrant. Even if the countries I contend with are neighbors, they are galaxies apart in some aspects. I could never have predicted my life would be of two worlds or that I would live my life in two different nations: my birth country (Unit-ed States of America) and my adopted country (Mexico). Having two different ethnicities would be something I struggled with until my early adult life.

As part of this personal and historical tale, I will start with my parents’ generation. My father and mother left Mexico before I was born. My mother is a first-generation American who was raised in Mexico, while my father was born and raised in Mexico. He came to the U.S. illegally, and like many other immigrants, he came in search of a better life. He was looking for the American Dream.

Growing up, I spoke to my Mexican-born, Mexican-raised father in Spanglish (a hybrid of Spanish and English). Strangely enough, there was an intense need for him to under-stand and speak it at his various jobs. Meanwhile, I spoke Spanish to my American-born, Mexican-raised mother. I know it sounds weird, but speaking Spanish to her felt right, even though she could understand every word in English. Eventually, I would be born in Northridge, California. Raised all throughout Southern California in the busy, ever-popular melting pot city of Los Angeles, I encountered and befriended people of different back-grounds. This allowed me to dispel many stereotypes and prejudices, making me an example for future generations of Mexicans.

For as long as I can remember, I lived a relatively normal life with my family. As if it were just yesterday, I vividly recall the fateful day that undoubtedly marked this destined path for me, which ultimately led me to start writing. (Fate is funny that way.) I was with my family one Saturday afternoon in Lancaster, California. My brother, my mom, and I were in our living room, waiting for my father to come home so we could eat dinner. And then—ring, ring,—we got the call.

My father said, Come quick. I was pulled over, and they’re going to deport me.

My mother dropped the phone, and we left immediately. He was about ten blocks from our home, and I saw what no child ever wants to see: my dad handcuffed and thrown into the back of a squad car. The police officer told us to stay back, and my mom returned my brother and me to our car, saying, It’s okay, it’s okay.

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I cried as I hugged my brother. Meanwhile, my mom went to have a conversation with my father and the officer again. Nothing good came from their talk, and my mother started tearing up as a result. We watched and waved as my father left in the back of the squad car, not knowing at the time we would soon lose our house, car, and family stability. Fast forward to ten months later, and my mom and brother went to live with my father in Mexico. I stayed behind because the U.S. was the only country I’d ever known.

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I later attended California State University in Los Angeles. During my first year and a half of college, I didn’t see my family. I didn’t have the time or the money. After that, I told my parents I was moving to Mexico, with fear and doubt in my heart. I would soon give up everything and start over. Without ever realizing it, I was being pushed onto a wonderful, yet turbulent, ride. Looking back as I write this memoir, it’s amazing how not just I, but most—if not all—people are afraid of change, though some are forced to confront it by their circum-stances.

About two months prior to leaving my birth country, for only God knew how long, I reassured myself with comforting but fearful notions of my future. I just had to figure out how to break the news to my family about how I was going to continue my education in a place they thought of as a downgrade in quality. The decision was harder to prepare for than an unrehearsed speech at a lecture hall in front of five hundred people. It was difficult figuring out how to explain my choices to my parents and other close family members.

I called my parents about three days later, after I had mapped out a good plan. They were very opposed to the idea, but once I explained I had a plan and wouldn’t let go of my goals, my family understood. I knew I wanted to move, not only to be close to them but also to finish my degree in a country that didn’t require such a fast-paced lifestyle. That lifestyle is especially apparent in the younger American generation which is super obsessed with money, technology, and fame.

During this time, my brother, Hazael, was facing his own troubles. He had gone to Mexico—not by choice—at eight years old. He was being bullied and ostracized for coming from a different country and not speaking the language. I told him not to be disheartened; some people will unfortunately always find a way to discriminate against those who are different. Hazael, through it all, grew stronger. People who spend their formative years in a new place tend to form closer emotional bonds with their adoptive homeland. Preteens and teenagers tend to have a more balanced perspective regarding both cultures, as they will usually have spent enough time in their birth country—including school attendance—to have developed lasting associations with it. In contrast, children are hit-or-miss at seven to nine years old. At that age, they might retain almost nothing of their birthplace or conversely cling to their birthplace even more tightly as they make the move, as was the case with my brother, who was raised in a different country than where he was born.] He felt like he belonged more to the environment he grew up in during those developmental years. However, when he visited Los Angeles in the summer of 2018, he decided he wanted to stay. I tried to convince him otherwise, telling him about all my struggles and my hardships. He was adamant at first, but he eventually came to realize his bond to America wasn’t what it once was. After that, he was able to cope with his ordeal, but not before telling me one day how he defined who he is, saying, I am a being which dons a mask due to judgments of the society I come from. As he said it, it brought my life in America into clear perspective.

"We Wear The Mask"

We wear the mask that grins and lies,

It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—

This debt we pay to human guile;

With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,

And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,

In counting all our tears and sighs?

Nay, let them only see us, while

We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries

To thee from tortured souls arise.

We sing, but oh the clay is vile

Beneath our feet, and long the mile;

But let the world dream otherwise,

We wear the mask!

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

For as long as I could remember, at school and during events, I had always recited The Pledge of Allegiance and The Star-Spangled Banner, as any good American should. I was patriotic and proud I lived in one of the most important countries in the world. I had always considered the great U.S. of A. to be just and fair to all races and colors, a nation on top of nations, a respected country. But as I grew up and became less ignorant, I discovered the U.S. was driven by avarice and built on lust for land, power, and control. The nation needlessly provoked wars and created a massive army founded on national patriotism, fighting against enemies they invented. Disdain formed where there was once immense pride for my birth country. As for my adopted country, Mexico, I found it even more vexing. It was rotten with ignorance, prejudice, and corruption to no end. I never even bothered to learn or recite—let alone memorize—the Mexican anthem, and I never really cared for Mexican history or politics.

Throughout my life, the Mexican-born have told me I’m not Mexican enough, and the American-born have told me I’m not American enough. These comments leave me stranded, stuck in a mental limbo of identification, neither from here nor from there...

CHAPTER I

MEXICAN-AMERICAN WAR

Do you want to know the cause of war? It is capitalism, greed, the dirty hunger for dollars. Take away the capitalist and you will sweep war from the earth.

-Henry Ford

In times of war the loudest patriots are the greatest profiteers.

- Unknown

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here needs to be an understanding of the past in order to progress society’s narrative. History is a curious subject: Although it cannot give us a program for the future, it can deliver a fuller understanding of social constructs and interactions as well as of our common humanity so we may better face the future. In essence, the U.S. and Mexico have always been at odds, whether by polemic border issues, immigration policies, humanitarian disasters, or political greed. But how did they get to this point? As someone who has lived the majority of his life in Southern California and has attended its schools, I realize key parts of the relationship between

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the two countries have not