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home,
Mancha described what happened when she came out of the shower that =
morning.
"My mother went out, and I was alone," she said. "I was getting ready =
for
school, getting dressed, when I heard this noise. I thought it was my =
mother
coming back." She went on in the Tex-Mex Spanish-inflected Georgia =
accent
now heard throughout Dixie: "Some people were slamming car doors outside =
the
trailer. I heard footsteps and then a loud boom and then somebody =
screaming,
asking if we were 'illegals,' 'Mexicans.' These big men were standing in =
my
living room holding guns. One man blocked my doorway. Another guy =
grabbed a
gun on his side. I freaked out. 'Oh, my God!' I yelled."=20

As more than twenty Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents
surrounded the trailer, said Mancha, agents inside interrogated her. =
They
asked her where her mother was; they wanted to know if her mother was
"Mexican" and whether she had "papers" or a green card. They told her =
they
were looking for "illegals."=20

After about five minutes of interrogation, the agents--who, according to =
the
women's lawyer, Mary Bauer of the Southern Poverty Law Center, showed no
warrants and had neither probable cause nor consent to enter the
home--simply left. They left in all likelihood because Mancha and her =
mother
didn't fit the profile of the workers at the nearby Crider poultry =
plant,
who had been targeted by the raid in nearby Stilwell. They were the =
wrong
kind of "Mexicans"; they were US citizens.=20

Though she had experienced discrimination before the raid--in the =
fields, in
the supermarket and in school--Mancha, who testified before Congress in
February, never imagined such an incident would befall her, since she =
and
her mother had migrated from Texas to Reidsville. Best known for =
harvesting
poultry and agricultural products, Reidsville, a farm town about 200 =
miles
southeast of Atlanta, is also known for harvesting Klan culture behind =
the
walls of the state's oldest and largest prison. But its most famous =
former
inmate is Jim Crow slayer and dreamer Martin Luther King Jr. His example
inspires Mancha's new dream: lawyering "for the poor."=20

The toll this increasingly oppressive climate has taken on Mancha =
represents
but a small part of its effects on noncitizen immigrants, especially
undocumented immigrants, and other Latinos. Mancha and the younger =
children
of the mostly immigrant Latinos in Georgia are learning and =
internalizing
that they are different from white--and black--children not just because
they have the wrong skin color but also because many of their parents =
lack
the right papers. They are growing up in a racial and political climate =
in
which Latinos' subordinate status in Georgia and in the Deep South bears
more than a passing resemblance to that of African-Americans who were =
living
under Jim Crow. Call it Juan Crow: the matrix of laws, social customs,
economic institutions and symbolic systems enabling the physical and =
psychic
isolation needed to control and exploit undocumented immigrants. =
Listening
to the effects of Juan Crow on immigrants and citizens like Mancha ("I =
can't
sleep sometimes because of nightmares," she says. "My arms still twitch. =
I
see ICE agents and men in uniform, and it still scares me") reminds me =
of
the trauma I heard among the men, women and children controlled and
exploited by state violence in wartime El Salvador. Juan Crow has roots =
in
the US South, but it stirs traumas bred in the hemispheric South.=20

In fact, the surge in Latino migration (the Southeast is home to the
fastest-growing Latino population in the United States) is moving many =
of
the institutions and actors responsible for enforcing Jim Crow to =
resurrect
and reconfigure themselves in line with new demographics. Along with the
almost daily arrests, raids and home invasions by federal, state and =
other
authorities, newly resurgent civilian groups like the Ku Klux Klan, in
addition to more than 144 new "nativist extremist" groups and 300
anti-immigrant organizations born in the past three years, mostly based =
in
the South, are harassing immigrants as a way to grow their ranks.=20

Meanwhile, a legal regime of distinctions between the rights of =
undocumented
immigrants and citizens has emerged and is being continually refined and
expanded. A 2006 Georgia law denies undocumented immigrants driver's
licenses. Federal laws that allowed local and state authorities to =
pursue
blacks under the Fugitive Slave Act appear to be the model for the Bush
Administration's Agreements of Cooperation in Communities to Enhance =
Safety
and Security (ACCESS) program, which allows states to deputize law
enforcement officials to chase, detain, arrest and jail the =
undocumented.
Georgia's lowest-paid workers, the undocumented, now occupy a separate,
unequal and clandestine place that has made it increasingly difficult =
for
them to work, rent homes or attend school.=20

The pre- and post-Reconstruction regional economic system centered on =
the
stately Southern mansions that once graced Atlanta's storied Peachtree
Street has given way to a more global finance-driven system centered on =
the
cold, anonymous skyscrapers that loom over Peachtree today. And in a =
more
hopeful sign, some veterans of the civil rights struggle against Jim =
Crow
are joining Latino immigrants in what will likely be one of the major
movements of the twenty-first century.=20

These and other facets of immigrant life in Georgia, the Deep South and =
the
entire country are but a small part of the labyrinthine institutional =
and
cultural arrangements defining the strange career of Juan Crow.=20

The immigrant condition in Georgia worsened in the wake of the failed
immigration reform proposal last year. The national immigration debate =
had
the effect of further legitimizing and emboldening the most extreme =
elements
of the anti-immigrant movement in places like Georgia. Since the advent =
of
what he terms "Georgiafornia," for example, D.A. King, a former marine =
and
contributor to the anti-immigrant hate site VDARE, has leapfrogged into =
the
national limelight to become one of the major advocates for deportation =
and
security-only "immigration reform." Strengthened by the defeat of =
national
reform, King, State Senator Chip Rogers and a growing galaxy of formerly
fringe groups succeeded in getting some of the country's most draconian
anti-immigrant laws passed. These new racial codes are disguised by the
national security-infused bureaucratic language of laws with names like =
the
Georgia Security and Immigration Compliance Act (GSICA).=20

Their efforts were egged on by the Bush Administration's implementation =
of
the ACCESS program last August. ACCESS provided new excuses for state =
and
local officials to pursue the undocumented in states like Georgia. In =
tandem
with the federal government, King and Rogers led the push to pass GSICA,
which requires law enforcement officers to investigate the citizenship
status of anyone charged with a felony or driving under the influence. =
GSICA
and federal efforts laid the foundation on which the other legal and =
social
structures of Juan Crow grow.=20

Georgia's estimated 500,000 undocumented immigrants must think twice =
before
seeking emergency support at hospitals or clinics because of laws that
require them to prove their legal status before receiving many state
benefits. "No-match letter" regulations requiring all employers to =
confirm
the Social Security numbers of their employees have been issued by the
Social Security Administration and have resulted in firings and growing =
fear
among immigrants. But even without the no-match letters, undocumented
immigrants in Georgia have many reasons to fear going to work. If they =
work
at a company with more than 500 employees, for example (and most
undocumented immigrants are employed in meatpacking, agricultural, =
carpet
and other industries with hundreds, sometimes thousands, of workers), =
they
must worry about laws that punish employers who knowingly hire =
undocumented
immigrants and mandate that firms with state contracts check the =
immigration
status of their employees. Similar laws denying or restricting housing,
education, transportation and other aspects of immigrant life are also =
being
instituted across Georgia.=20

For a firsthand look at how the interplay of state and federal policies
fuels Juan Crow, one need go no further than the immigrant-heavy area
surrounding Buford Highway in DeKalb County, near Atlanta. During the
weekend of October 18, 2007, the Georgia Latino Alliance for Human =
Rights
(GLAHR) and other advocacy groups from across the state reported sharp
increases in arrests of immigrants in the area. "This weekend alone we
received more than 200 phone calls from people telling horrible stories =
of
arrests," said GLAHR executive director Adelina Nicholls of Mexico City.
"There are hundreds of Latinos who've been hunted down like animals, =
taken
to jail, and they don't even know why or whether or not they'll be
released," said Nicholls more recently.=20

Nicholls and other advocates are working feverishly in response to the
exponential increase in official and extra-official profiling of =
immigrants.
Last year there were forty-four reported armed robberies of DeKalb
County-area Latino immigrants in August alone. One especially outrageous
incident took place just west of Atlanta, in the rural town of =
Carrollton,
last June. Emelina Ramirez, a Honduran immigrant, called local police to
report that her roommates were attacking her, punching and kicking her =
in
the stomach. Ramirez was pregnant. Locals say that when police got to
Ramirez's apartment, officers handcuffed her, took her to jail and then =
ran
her fingerprints through a federal database. After discovering that she =
was
undocumented, they contacted federal authorities as stipulated under =
ACCESS
and GSICA. Ramirez was then deported.=20

Nicholls says she and GLAHR staff exist in a perpetual state of =
exhaustion
after having to expand their DeKalb County work to deal with cases like
Ramirez's. Adding to their load is the situation in nearby Cobb County,
where the local jail has 500 adults captured on streets, at work and in
their homes. All of these people, says Nicholls, are awaiting =
deportation.=20

Beneath the growing fear and intensifying racial tensions of Georgia =
lies
the new, more globalized economic system that sustains Juan Crow. At the
core of the economy in Dixie are the financial dealings taking place in =
the
shiny towers of Peachtree Street, buildings constructed atop the ashes =
of
plantation houses.=20

Lining Peachtree today are SunTrust, Bank of America and other titans of
global finance with major operations in downtown Atlanta. Along with the
financial players of Charlotte, North Carolina, the companies occupying =
the
towers on Peachtree are among the prime movers behind the transformation =
and
restructuring of the Georgia economy--and of its race relations. On
Peachtree you can find US banks and financial firms investing in =
companies
doing business in post-NAFTA Latin America, where nonunion labor and
miserably low wages drive immigration to Georgia and other states. The
investment portfolios of many of these companies have grown fat with
high-yield investments in the poultry, meatpacking, rug, tourism and =
other
Georgia industries employing undocumented immigrants from Mexico and =
Latin
America. The need to keep down the wages of these undocumented workers =
is
fulfilled with the legal, political and psychological discipline of Juan
Crow. Along with the most visible legacy of Jim Crow--Georgia's massive =
and
growing population of black prisoners, housed in Reidsville and other,
mostly rural prisons--the Peachtree State's undocumented immigrants find
themselves at the bottom of the South's new political and economic =
order.=20

By keeping down wages of the undocumented and documented workforce, Juan
Crow doesn't just pit undocumented Latino workers against black and =
white
workers. It also makes possible every investor's dream of merging Third
World wages with First World amenities. Promotional brochures put out by =
the
state's Department of Economic Development, for example, tout Georgia's
"below average" wages and its status as a "right to work" (nonunion) =
state.
Georgia's infrastructure, its proximity to US markets and its
incentives--nonunion labor, low wages, government subsidies, cheap
land--allow the state to position itself as an attractive investment
opportunity for foreign companies. While the fortunes of Ford, GM and =
other
US companies have declined in the South, the fortunes of foreign =
automakers
here are rising. Companies like Korean car manufacturer Kia, which plans =
to
open a $1.2 billion plant by 2009, see in Georgia and other Southern =
states
a new pool of cheap labor. Of the $5.7 billion of total new investment =
in
Georgia in 2006, more than 36 percent was from international
companies--companies that were also responsible for nearly half of the
24,660 jobs created by government-supported foreign ventures that year.=20

Also critical to the economic strategies formulated in the towers on
Peachtree Street is another Latin-centered component: free trade with =
Latin
America. "We are the gateway to the Americas," boasted Kenneth Stewart,
commissioner of the Georgia Department of Economic Development. Stewart =
was
among the more than 1,000 people, including three US Cabinet members and
finance ministers, trade representatives, investors, corporate =
executives
and politicians from thirty-three countries in the hemisphere, who =
attended
the sold-out Americas Competitiveness Forum at the Marriott on Peachtree
Street last June. As an organizer of the event, the gregarious Stewart, =
like
many of the region's economic leaders, considers hosting the forum a
critical part of Atlanta's bid to become the secretariat of the Free =
Trade
Area of the Americas organization. Local elites support building a $10
million, privately financed FTAA headquarters complex, possibly in the =
area
near Peachtree and the Sweet Auburn neighborhood.=20

Before being rapidly gentrified by the white-collar employees working in =
the
Peachtree towers, Sweet Auburn, the birthplace of Martin Luther King =
Jr.,
was one of the cradles of the African-American freedom struggle. Echoing =
the
connection frequently made here between increased globalization and =
commerce
and improved race relations, Stewart told me that free trade "will =
benefit
citizens of Georgia and the citizens of Mexico and other Latin American
countries." But when I asked him about the increased racial tensions,
including the murders of some immigrants in Georgia, and about the =
growing
repression of noncitizen Mexican workers, Stewart abruptly ended the
interview.=20

For her part, Atlanta Mayor Shirley Franklin--among the most recent in a
long line of African-American Atlanta mayors that includes former Martin
Luther King colleague and Wal-Mart consultant Andrew Young (who has an
office in a Peachtree high-rise)--also linked local freedom struggles =
with
global free trade. Before the Americas Competitiveness Forum, she and =
other
regional elites distributed splashy brochures promoting the city's FTAA =
bid.
Included in the brochure was a picture of the headstone of King's grave,
which bears the inscription Free at last. Free at last. Thank God =
Almighty
I'm Free at last. The brochure promoting "the city too busy to hate" =
also
paints a positive, global Kumbaya picture of the plight of Georgia's
migrants: "With its attractive quality of life and rapidly expanding job
market, Metro Atlanta draws thousands of newcomers every year and has
growing Latin, Asian and African American communities."=20

"This is the home of Dr. King," said Franklin in her welcome speech at =
the
packed forum. "It is in the spirit of peace, it is in the spirit of
collaboration and it is in the spirit of fairness that we attack this =
issue
of [economic] competitiveness," she told her audience in King-like =
cadences.
But had Franklin taken her foreign visitors on the short stroll from =
their
hotel to Sweet Auburn, they would not have found the racial harmony
described in the glossy brochures and spirited speeches.=20

Documented and undocumented Latinos dealing with the economic and =
political
effects of Juan Crow in Georgia (and across the country) find themselves
unwitting actors in a centuries-old racial drama, which they must alter =
if
Juan Crow is to be defeated. The major difference today is that Latinos =
also
find themselves having to navigate a racial and political topography =
that is
no longer black and white. Young Latinos, in particular, attend schools =
that
teach them about Jim Crow while giving them a daily dose of Juan Crow.=20

High school senior Ernesto Ch=E1vez (a pseudonym) does not look forward =
to
becoming one of the few undocumented students in Georgia to go to a
university like Kennesaw State, which requires them to carry student IDs
with special color coding, or to a college that denies them aid and =
forces
them to pay exorbitant, nearly impossible-to-pay out-of-state tuition. =
He
has already learned enough about Jim Crow--and Juan Crow--in high =
school.=20

Ch=E1vez, who sports a buzz cut and wears baggy clothes, said that when =
he
studied Jim Crow in school, he identified strongly with the heroic
generation of African-American youth who rebelled against it. "They =
couldn't
ride in the same trains, they couldn't drink from the same fountains," =
he
said during an interview in a classroom at Miller Grove High School in =
the
Atlanta suburb of Lithonia. "I felt mad when I read about that, even =
though
they weren't my people," said the soft-spoken Mexican, who is part of =
the
small but growing minority of Latinos at Miller Grove (African-American
students make up about 93 percent of the student body).=20

Ch=E1vez said he came to know the limits of his physical, social and =
psychic
mobility, thanks to the Georgia law that requires people to show proof =
of
citizenship or legal status in order to obtain a driver's license. "It's
hard to describe what it feels like to be 'illegal' here in Georgia. =
It's
like you can't move," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "It feels =
scary
because you know that when you go out to a public place, you might never
know if you're going to come back. I'm really scared because my mother
drives without a license. She's scared too."=20

Ch=E1vez and other Latino students also expressed their shock and dismay =
at
being discriminated against by some of the descendants of those
discriminated against by Jim Crow.=20

"When I first got here, I was confused. I went to a mostly white school =
in
Gwinnett County and started noticing the fifth-grade kids saying things =
to
me, racial stuff, asking me questions like, 'Are you illegal?'" said =
Ch=E1vez
as he fidgeted nervously in one of those ubiquitous and visibly
uncomfortable school desks. "But when I was in seventh grade, I went to
Richards Middle School, where it wasn't the white people saying things, =
it
was black people. They didn't like Mexican kids. They would call us =
'Mexican
border hoppers,' 'wetbacks' and all these things. Every time they'd see =
me,
they yelled at me, threatened to beat me up after school for no reason =
at
all." Asked how it felt, he said, "It's like, now since they have =
rights,
they can discriminate [against] others."=20

Ch=E1vez's family, along with many immigrant families in Georgia, will =
be
watching closely to see how the state's justice system deals with the
still-pending 2005 case of six Mexican farmworkers killed =
execution-style in
their trailers, which were parked near the cotton and peanut farms they
toiled on in Tifton. Pretrial motions began last July in the case, in =
which
prosecutors allege that four African-American men bludgeoned five of the
immigrants to death with aluminum baseball bats and shot one in the head
while robbing them in their trailer home. Though the face of =
anti-immigrant
racism in the Juan Crow South is still overwhelmingly identified as =
white by
the immigrants I interviewed, some immigrants also see a black face on
anti-immigrant hate.=20

Politically, a growing divide has emerged between pro- and =
anti-immigrant
blacks in Georgia. The African-American face of Juan Crow is embodied by
State Senator and probable Democratic Atlanta mayoral candidate Kasim =
Reed
(he's also considering a gubernatorial bid). Reed proposed a five-year
prison sentence for anyone caught trying to secure employment with a =
false
ID. Local Latino and African-American activists have criticized Reed for
what Bruce Dixon of the online Black Agenda Report called his "morally
bankrupt attempt to outflank Republicans on the right."=20

Activists like Janvieve Williams of the US Human Rights Network, based =
in
Atlanta, counter the anti-immigrant tide by elevating the tone of the =
debate
and shifting the terms to human rights. As an Afro-Panamanian immigrant,
Williams says she feels discrimination from many whites in Georgia, but =
she
also experiences discrimination from mestizo immigrants. Her perception =
of
anti-immigrant sentiments among African-Americans adds another layer to =
the
complex racial dynamics unleashed by Juan Crow. "I'm caught between
African-Americans who don't want to understand immigration and =
immigrants
and Latinos who use words like 'moreno,' 'negritos,' 'los negros' and =
other
terms that are not good," says Williams.=20

But rather than see her Afro-Latino identity and her Latin American
political experience as a barrier between communities, Williams--who
co-hosts Radio Diaspora, a weekly Afro-Latino program that helped =
promote
the 50,000-plus immigrants' rights marches in 2006--uses Latin American
media and organizing experience to cross linguistic and political =
borders.
"We need to move from civil rights to human rights. We need to start =
using
the language and tools of human rights around the issue of immigration. =
It's
an international issue that needs an international framework," says
Williams, whose organization co-sponsored the visit to Atlanta last May =
by
the United Nations special rapporteur on the human rights of migrants.
Williams's organization brought together many groups who shared stories =
of
Juan Crow with the special rapporteur, who took his report to the UN =
General
Assembly.=20

In the same way that the concept of civil rights grew as a response to =
Jim
Crow, the human rights framework advocated by Williams and other =
immigrants'
rights activists in the South and across the country challenges =
traditional
approaches to race and rights. "Some civil rights leaders here don't =
think
human rights affects us in the United States," says Williams. "A lot of =
the
[civil rights] elders of that movement are not linked to the human =
rights
movement, and that also gets in the way of working together."=20

Not all of Georgia's civil rights elders fit thirtysomething Williams's
description. The Rev. Joseph Lowery, the lieutenant to Martin Luther =
King
Jr., says he did not perceive the threat that some whites and
African-American Georgians felt from the massive immigrant marches of =
2006;
instead he sees in the millions marching in Atlanta and across the =
country
"instruments of God's will to change this country." Reverend Lowery, who =
now
leads the Georgia Coalition for the People's Agenda, has spoken =
eloquently
and vociferously against what he considers "wicked" immigration policies =
and
has attended pro-immigrant rallies. He believes that massive immigration =
to
the United States came about because of the workings within the tall
buildings like those in spitting distance of his office in the historic
Atlanta Life building on Auburn Avenue. "We've globalized money, we've
globalized trade and commerce, but we haven't globalized fairness toward
work and labor. The solution to the 'problem' of immigration and other
problems is globalization of justice," he said.=20

Speaking of the relationship between American blacks and Latino =
immigrants,
Lowery said, "There are many differences between our experience and that =
of
immigrant Latinos--but there is a family resemblance between Jim Crow =
and
what is being experienced by immigrants. Both met economic oppression. =
Both
met racial and ethnic hostility.=20

"But the most important thing to remember," said Lowery, as if casting =
out
the demons of Juan and Jim Crow, "is that, though we may have come over =
on
different ships, we're all in the same damn boat now."=20

 =20
About Roberto Lovato
Roberto Lovato, a frequent Nation contributor, is a New York-based =
writer
with New America Media