Porfirio, my hero

As is always the case, when you attach proper pronouns to political rhetoric, the clarity of right and wrong begins to blur significantly.  It’s reflexive to rail against illegal immigration, to blame the burgeoning Latin ethnic segment of our population for the costly burdens of public “entitlements” or the increased pressure on social institutions.  We support millions of residents who aren’t here at the invitation of American law.  It’s hard not to agree with extremists on the subject, if the facts are selected carefully enough and if the balance of the opposing view is avoided.  But when you sit down and talk with someone who is living through the reality of being an immigrant, whether legal or not, you find that the “right” conclusions are not so easy to come by.

 

 

For example, the conventional complaints about the increase in illegal immigration from Latin America include that the availability of surplus labor willing to work for the lowest wages has suppressed the livelihoods of legal American citizens.  When unemployment is 5% or less, that is a difficult argument to make. When unemployment was about twice that rate during the height of the Great Financial Fiasco, the voices were loud decrying job displacement to illegal workers, not to mention the flight of jobs under free trade agreements to other countries where labor is cheaper still.  While these arguments have some merit, it’s not the whole story.  Let’s meet Porfirio.

Porfirio is a legal U.S. resident.  He was born a Mexican citizen, went to college and became an attorney in Tijuana.  He has a wife and two daughters, both now of college age themselves.  He moved to the U.S. side of the border about fifteen years ago in order to give his kids a better education than they would have been afforded in Mexico.  He went through all the necessary hoops to legally reside and work permanently in this country.

Porfirio currently works two jobs to make enough money to provide for his family, and to save a little for old age.  That time is not far off, since Porfirio is, like me, in his early sixties.  He is not going to receive much, if any, Social Security payments, even if the trust fund actually pays out when he’s able to qualify for benefits.  He hasn’t been paying into it long enough.  But Porfirio still saw the U.S. as a major step up in opportunity for his kids, so he swallowed his pride and left his practice as a lawyer in Tijuana, moved to San Diego, applied for and received his work permit and then his permanent resident designation.  He now works as a janitor at a local manufacturing company, and at my condo building.  Porfirio is a professional.

Porfirio approaches his work like someone who has been accountable for his own future since he was ten.  Which is the truth.  He goes above and beyond the call of duty.  He spends no time trying to figure out how to hide in the parking garage and mark down vacuuming for two hours, when no one would be able to tell if that was true or false.  He has no onsite supervision.

And no one, absolutely no one, questions how Porfirio spends his time.  He has shown by his results that he deserves the trust and respect of the highest level of professional.

Porfirio talks about the problem of immigration as well.  It has been illuminating to hear his perspective.

“Illegal immigration is a matter of economics, not border security,” Porfirio was explaining to me one afternoon when we ran into each other in the hallway.  “I, like most everyone who tries to make the United States their new home, came here because even at menial janitorial jobs I could make a better living than as an attorney in Tijuana.  The risk there for law enforcement professionals, including criminal lawyers, has never been higher.  Being a target for the accused and the convicted is a real life, daily risk.  And the income for an attorney in Mexico is nothing like it is in the U.S.  There aren’t enough people who can afford to pay higher rates.”

“So you came here strictly out of economic necessity, and you wouldn’t have left Mexico if the opportunities were more comparable there”, I concluded.

“Yes”, said Porfirio, “but it’s more than that as well.  In the U.S. there is a promise of safety in telling the truth.  And for the most part, no one is punished for saying what they think publicly.  Certainly not like in countries such as Colombia, Venezuela and Mexico.”

“Why did you risk the rejection, the lesser career and the cultural challenges of moving your family to America?” I asked.

“The same reason the first immigrants came to this land, making the United States a nation of the displaced”, Porforio said.  “Because of the promise of America that bigotry, racism, elitism, protectionism and segregation will be solved if we all focus on following our Constitution and the common laws of human decency.”

As usual, it takes a foreign-born American to remind us that we’re all from somewhere else, and why.

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