#cuban refugees

[egsoon]

الوجه ذو الندبة

بعد حصوله على البطاقة الخضراء مقابل اغتيال مسؤول حكومي كوبي ، يطالب توني مونتانا بتجارة المخدرات في ميامي. يقتل توني بوحشية أي شخص يقف في طريقه ، ويصبح في النهاية أكبر أباطرة مخدرات في الولاية ، حيث يتحكم تقريبًا في كل الكوكايين الذي يأتي عبر ميامي. لكن الضغط المتزايد من الشرطة والحروب مع عصابات المخدرات الكولومبية والبارانويا التي تغذيها المخدرات تعمل على تأجيج نيران سقوطه في نهاية المطاف.

[bookrat]

Went on a camping trip down to south Florida, starting in the everglades

We were looking for snakes and American crocodiles, but we did find this day moth and tree snail

Plus a couple nocturnal critters settling down for a nice days sleep

Lots of high quality birds in the swamp

Saw frigate birds in the Dry Tortugas, but they mostly hung motionless and effortlessly high in the air like low poly videogame background birds

Had to flee back north early ahead of Nikole. Managed to catch a glimpse of this bark anole when we stopped for breakfast, but all the iguanas were hiding.

Tons of introduced rock agamas calling this gas station home, and a nearby rooster hung out with a flock of grackles. Was hoping to see more exotic reptiles around Miami, but perhaps another time.

[tacticalgrandma]

Today in things I’d be searching on JSTOR if I was still at a university: every protest/resistance movement started by migrants held in US detention

[caymannewsservice]

Dozen migrants leave Cayman illegally, says CBC

(CNS): The Customs and Border Control Service (CBC) has said that an investigation is currently underway into a report that a dozen undocumented migrants who were in Cayman awaiting processing have left the jurisdiction illegally. The group includes ten Cuban nationals as well as two Ethiopians who were mistreated and smuggled here against their will by people traffickers. Continue reading Dozen…

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Crisis in Cuba Leads to Record Number of Requests for Refuge in Brazil

Citizens of the island report loss of purchasing power and seek economic opportunity and freedom of expression

From January to November, there were 4,241 requests from Cubans to seek refuge in Brazil, a number that even surpasses records prior to the coronavirus pandemic. Citizens of the island were the second main nationality to request refuge, surpassed only by Venezuelans, the main migratory flow to Brazil.

The numbers have been raised by the Observatory of International Migration (OBMigra), based on official data, at the request of Folha. It is not possible to determine how many of these Cubans remain in Brazil.

Cuba is experiencing one of the worst stages of the chronic economic crisis, aggravated by the drop in tourism revenue during the pandemic and the exchange rate reform carried out by the regime. Even Cubans with higher education and good jobs report a drastic loss in purchasing power.

Brazil has established itself as an emigration alternative.

Continue reading.

[ratgrinders]

Never Stop Blowing Up Favorite Movies

Wendell Morris

Weird Science - 1985 science fantasy/teen comedy. "Nerdy social outcast students Gary Wallace and Wyatt Donnelly are humiliated by senior jocks Ian and Max for swooning over their cheerleader girlfriends. Humiliated and disappointed at their direction in life and wanting more, Gary is inspired by the 1931 classic Frankenstein to create a virtual woman using Wyatt's computer, infusing her with everything they can conceive to make the perfect dream woman."

The Fast and the Furious - "A media franchise centered on a series of action films that are largely concerned with street racing, heists, spies, and family."

Real Genius - 1985 science fiction/comedy. "Chris Knight, a genius in his senior year, is paired with a new student on campus, Mitch Taylor, to work on a chemical laser, only to learn it will be used for dangerous purposes."

Liv Skyler

Empire Records - 1995 coming-of-age comedy/drama. "The film follows a group of record store employees over the course of one exceptional day. The employees try to stop the store from being sold to a large chain, and learn about each other along the way."

Scarface - 1983 crime drama, and a remake of the 1932 film of the same name. "It tells the story of Cuban refugee Tony Montana, who arrives penniless in Miami during the Mariel boatlift and becomes a powerful drug lord." Additionally, "Less than two months before the film's release, Scarface was given an X rating by the MPAA for "excessive and cumulative violence and for language".

Clueless - 1995 coming-of-age teen comedy. "Considered to be one of the best teen films of all time...The plot centers on a beautiful, popular, and rich high school student who befriends a new student and decides to give her a makeover while playing matchmaker for her teachers and examining her own existence".

Usha Rao

The Horse in Motion - Published in 1878, a sequential series of 6 cabinet cards depicting the movement of a horse. Regarded as "the world's first bit of cinema", and the first film ever created.

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - 1931 horror film. "An adaptation of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, the 1886 Robert Louis Stevenson tale of a man who takes a potion which turns him from a mild-mannered man of science into a homicidal maniac."

102 Not Out - 2018 Indian Hindi-language comedy drama. "Dattatraya Vakharia is a lively 102-year-old who lives his life to the maximum and takes everything in a jovial way for his heart is that of a 26-year-old youngster regardless of his age. His 75-year-old son, Babulal Vakharia, is his exact opposite for he believes that he is now too old and fragile to enjoy life and lives a routine life."

Russell Feeld

American Gigolo - 1980 neo-noir crime drama. "A high-priced male escort who becomes romantically involved with a prominent politician's wife, while simultaneously becoming the prime suspect in a murder case."

La Femme Nikita - 1990 French-language action thriller. "[Nikita] is a criminal who is convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment for murdering policemen during an armed pharmacy robbery. Her government handlers fake her death and recruit her as a professional assassin. After intense training, she starts a career as a killer, where she struggles to balance her work with her personal life."

Waking Life - 2001 animated film. "The film explores a wide range of philosophical issues, including the nature of reality, dreams and lucid dreams, consciousness, the meaning of life, free will, and existentialism. It is centered on a young man who wanders through a succession of dreamlike realities wherein he encounters a series of people who engage in insightful philosophical discussions."

Andy 'Dang' Litefoot

Suburbia - 1983 coming-of-age drama thriller. Follows "a group of suburban youths who run away from home and adopt a punk lifestyle by squatting in abandoned suburban tract homes."

Goldfinger - 1964 spy film and the third installment in the James Bond series. "The film's plot has Bond investigating gold smuggling by gold magnate Auric Goldfinger and eventually uncovering Goldfinger's plans to contaminate the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox."

Fire in the Sky - 1993 biographical science fiction mystery. "It is based on Travis Walton's book The Walton Experience, which describes an extraterrestrial abduction"

Paula Donvalson

Muriel's Wedding - 1994 Australian comedy-drama. "The film focuses on the socially awkward Muriel whose ambition is to have a glamorous wedding and improve her personal life by moving from her dead-end hometown, the fictional Porpoise Spit, to Sydney."

The Long Kiss Goodnight - 1996 action thriller. "The story follows an amnesiac schoolteacher who sets out to recover her identity with the help of a private detective when they discover a dark conspiracy."

Under the Tuscan Sun - 2003 romantic comedy-drama. "Based on Frances Mayes' 1996 memoir of the same name, the film is about a recently divorced writer who buys a villa in Tuscany on a whim, hoping it will lead to a change in her life."

[melis-writes]

Blood Money (Tony Montana x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut) Chapter 3 – An Eye For An Eye.

Chapter 2 / Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami." / “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

Tony's fiery gaze burned into the back of your mind but your name etched on his heart from the very moment he knew who you were. Keeping you on his mind like prayer, Tony wastes no time in attempting to squeeze himself out of every interrogation at the Cuban migrant camp he and Manny are detained in. Like a power move claiming he knows you, Tony's beckoning you to meet him once more in your hometown with bold claims striking the attention of your father–one of the most notorious, wealthy businessmen of Miami–with one claim being that of love.

[WARNINGS]: None!

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Oh my goodness, a LONG time coming and the chapter update is finally here at last!! 😭💀 I'm thrilled to update this fic again and share it with the Tony girlies! Battling writer's block and life getting super busy was a chore but I. AM. BACK and writing! And yet I must break everyone's heart again by saying this update of Blood Money officially marks my temporary hiatus of Al fics outside of The Godfather universe. 💔 I will now solely be working on my Godfather fanfics until I'm finished so I have ample time and opportunity to write more consistently and update fics even more often than I ever have. I'm definitely not abandoning this fic and I will finish it someday soon! For now, let's dive back into Tony and Celeste's story!! 🥺🤞🏻

With a taste for success and dollar bills, Tony Montana’s drug empire grew in vast wealth, power and influence by your side as the kingpin’s lover. From sharing an intimate history in Cuba, you and Manny Ribera were the only ones to believe and support Tony from rags to riches. Embroiled in the same lifestyle and sharing enemies, you and Tony come to build your empire and world together with the threat of it collapsing from the inside. As partnership turns to betrayal and thrill to danger, you find yourself in-between ultimatums and sacrifices for the man you love.

'I'm always in the right, man. Always am.' The shit-eating grin over Tony's face spreads equal amounts of tension and frustration throughout the interrogation room; keeping the officers on edge for word back from your family knowing Tony could potentially be a protected individual under the Navarro family while thinking at the very same time that Tony could be bullshitting everyone just to waste their time.

Tony sits all too comfortably in front of the officers with his arms crossed, all the more amused watching them huff quietly to themselves and glower back at Tony every few minutes.

"So--" Tony attempts to start a lively conversation on his behalf.

"You shut the fuck up, Montana," the first cop points his finger at Tony. "Don't say a fuckin' word."

"We're not playing with you," the second cop scowls. 

"Alright, man. Alright," Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely, "sheesh. I keep quiet when people talk on the phone, like Mama taught me, okay?"

Letting out another shaky sigh of irritation, the officers exchange a glance amongst one another, knowing well enough that if they've bothered the Navarro family for no good reason, it'll result in a guaranteed suspension without pay and likely following up with getting fired. 

Then again, there's always the possibility that it could be Tony finding himself in hot water with the Navarros due to his cockiness and stupidity, and if that means having Tony out of the refugee camp and no longer able to be a nuisance, then it'll be both a best case scenario and a relief for the officers involved. Still, it's all too much to consider at once.

"Tell the supervisor," the first cop mumbles, "he needs to know what's going on."

"Will do," the other sighs, taking a seat back at his desk to grab out his notepad.

Ignoring Tony outright, the first cop moves his stool over to the telephone by the desk and sits next to it before beginning to dial the Navarro family reception line.

'By heart?' Tony's eyes flicker with interest, noticing how the officer has your family's number memorized by heart—rendering him surprised and amused at the same time. 

'So they know her,' Tony thinks to himself. 'She not a nobody. She a somebody. I got her name on the line for me. Just for me.' 

This means more to Tony than you can already know, even if all you'll ever do is show up to spit on his face and blame him for wasting your time. The satisfaction alone is everything for him.

Both officers continue to ignore Tony and avoid making any sort of eye contact with him; murmuring ushered words to one another and pressing through more numbers on the telephone as it rings.

Only mere moments after does Tony notice how tense the officer on the telephone gets by the way his muscles jerk up in response to the telephone being answered by a monotone-voiced, middle-aged man speaking out.

"Navarro residence."

The very individual answering the phone would be your father's advisor and right-hand man, Gabriel.

"Cuban Detention Center, Officer Frank speaking," the cop says politely, clearing his throat. "May we please speak to Mr. Navarro?"

There's a short pause on the other end of the line. "Do you have a request or appointment booked in advance?"

"No," Officer Frank answers quietly. "Um, ahem—this is in relation to immigration and detention. There's a gentleman here claiming he was requested by name from a potential--" Frank scowls over at Tony. "Sponsor." 

Gabriel's tone of voice grows considerably agitated. "I trust you have a good reason for wishing to bother Mr. Navarro. You will not hear it from me."

"Greatly appreciated," Officer Frank awkwardly replies as Gabriel begins to transfer the call to your father's personal telephone.

Fully aware of the telephone conversation ongoing with Gabriel, your father—Darren Navarro--is two stories up in his penthouse—still in his Versace morning robe, smoking a Cuban cigar.

His first words to Officer Frank once the line transfer is, "You better have a good reason for reaching my personal number, Frank."

"Oh yes sir, o-of course," Frank stammers. "I apologize, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt your day, but this is urgent."

"So you say so," your father is unmoved by the sudden sense of urgency. "I suppose it is coming from the immigration and refugee department. I've sponsored nobody, so what is all of this?"

Officer Frank's skin drains of color as he nervously exchanges a glance with his colleague, glumly shaking his head. "Um, sir, there was a mention of your daughter's name by a Cuban migrant."

Your father raises a brow, leaning back on his velvet chaise. Your last trip to Cuba and mentions of "Tony Montana" and "Manny Ribera" easily come to Darren's mind. 

"Interesting," Darren muses. "And what is this individual's name?"

"Tony Montana," Tony speaks up loud and clear, grinning. "And with my best friend, Manny Ribera."

"Shut the fuck up!" The second cop hisses, almost jumping out from behind his desk to hit Tony.

Darren's all very well aware Tony is in the same room and must know who he is by now, having heard everything. 

"Uh huh," your father chuckles. "I see."

"Sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," Frank scoffs, swallowing hard.

"Stop your whining," Darren rolls his eyes. "I heard the man loud and clear. This is no request for me but for my daughter then."

"The migrant claims to know Celeste Navarro personally, sir." Frank clears his throat.

"Yes, he does. That much is true," your father nods.

"May we speak to Celeste, sir?"

"No need," Darren brushes off the request, glancing towards his bedroom door. "Celeste will soon be on her way to greet both gentlemen personally.

"This man--" Frank begins, but is abruptly cut off and corrected by your father.

"Men," your father clarifies, refusing to exclude Manny. "There are two of them after all, so Celeste will see both. She knows both of them, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Darren blows out the smoke from his cigar around him, resting his cigar between his fingers as he admires the afternoon light glistening over his gold rings and jewelry. "Treat these men well. I'm aware of the reputation your detention center has and its demands. 'Gentle' is not in your vocabulary so be respectful. These are friends of the Navarro family and I expect them to be treated as such."

"Yes, sir..." Mortified, the officers stare in shock at a smirking Tony before your father hangs up on them.

~

Giving a drawn-out sigh, you roll your eyes in annoyance at the back cover of the gossip magazine you’ve been reading; already questioning why you bother with the tabloids just to entertain you.

Flipping back to the front cover of a bikini model on Miami beach, you rest your chin over your fist, wearing a flowing, pastel pink satin nightgown—laying on your stomach and dangling your feet, attempting to beat boredom.

Frank Sinatra’s “All By Myself” plays softly on your white and gold decorated record player, a compliment to the similar colors lavishly decorated over your bedroom.

Practically the size of a house’s first floor, your bedroom itself spans 1,500 square feet and is fit for a princess, covered in various shades of pink with a glimmering diamond chandelier above you.

The very king-size bed you lounge upon is adorned with a bubble-gum pink cashmere and quilt duvet and six silk encased pillows, a polar bear throw in the center of your bedroom upon the marble floors striking attention to the wall fixtures and architecture of the bedroom taking inspiration from the Palace of Versailles.

You furrow your brows in annoyance at the magazine in your hands, only to have your thought suddenly interrupted by the sound of your father knocking on your door.

You peek up in interest, brushing a curtain of your hair back. “Come in.”

“Hi, darling,” your father enters your room with a warm smile—holding a glass of iced rum in one hand and concealing something in his fist with the other. “Didn’t think I’d be giving you good news so quick, eh?”

Chuckling, your father opens his fist and lightly tosses your car keys over to you.

Reaching your arm out, you snatch the car keys mid-air—staring at your father in confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami,” your father says with a laugh. “Immigration services at the Cuban refugee camp called me just earlier.”

“Huh,” you blink, rubbing your temple as your memory recollects, hitting you all at once.

“I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face.”

‘Tony Montana.’ Your face flushes red as you clear your throat, glancing up at your father. “They called you?”

“Mhmm,” your father nods, taking a small sip from his drink. “Quick to it, I’ll give them that. I don’t think that Tony of yours has been there for very long from the sounds of it. They wanted to reach you, actually.”

“Makes sense of course,” you slide aside your magazine, sitting up in bed. “Great…”

“What do you think?” Your father raises a brow.

“I’m not thinking of anything,” you give your head a shake.

“No? You sure you don’t owe this Tony and his friend a favor or two?”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” you roll your eyes out of frustration. “But for Tony,” you clutch your car keys, “if he wants to see me, I’ll go see him. I’ll see him, but I don’t know what I can do for him.”

“Is this really someone worth wriggling out of months worth of paperwork and getting into the front of the line? ‘Cause I’ll let you decide that,” your father shrugs. 

Getting off of your bed, you eye your purse from across the bedroom. “I think I’ve already made my decision.”

“I’m sure you made the right one,” your father turns back on his heel.

“Is Tony waiting for me right now?” You head over to your walk-in closet.

“He is,” your father confirms, placing his hand over your doorknob to close the door behind him. “And I think you’re the only person he wants to see right now.”

~

‘Tony Montana…’ You let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against your car’s headrest. ‘Again and so soon.’ With great effort, you push aside the fluttering feeling in your heart every time Tony’s name and face cross your mind; clearing your throat and putting your Armani sunglasses on.

Starting up your Mercedes-Benz 380SL Convertible and pulling out of your estate’s parking lot carefully, you focus on nothing but getting directly to immigration services—able to collect your thoughts.

Letting the warm summer breeze flow through your hair as you step on the gas, determined to know just why Tony’s got your name mixed up with the law.

You may not have taken the rugged, cocky stranger very seriously back in Cuba but you’d be lying to yourself right now if you said you weren’t a little intimidated by Tony’s timing.

‘Didn’t think my name would cross your lips so soon either… Full of surprises.’ 

Tony knows he can sit and wait in the interrogation room for an eternity to come so as long as it’s promised you’ll show up—riding off on the idea of seeing you again like a lingering high.

Driving through the streets of Miami, you tap your French tip manicure against your steering wheel patiently through every red light.

Your eyes flicker over beach-bound tourists making their way over the crosswalks, noting the impatient drivers on the other side of the intersection honking at each other and tossing cigarettes out the window; the scent of body odor and beer not far from the beach itself.

Giving your head a shake, you scrunch your nose in disgust and drive off—not far from reaching the secluded immigration center from downtown.

You arrive a little over ten minutes later, driving into the clearance section with the rest of the other drivers waiting their turn to speak with an officer at the booth and be admitted. 

Resting your arm on the windowpane of your car, you peek your head out of the window just enough for your face to be seen, and just as you expected, you’re recognized by an officer at a booth opposite from you almost instantaneously. 

‘Uh huh.’ Noticing the officer blocking the path of the upcoming car who was next in line, you slowly drive up as he gestures for you to follow.

“How is that fucking fair?!” You hear a honk and shout of irritation from the other driver, simply ignoring him and continuing to cautiously drive up.

“Blow it out your ass, buddy,” the officer rolls his eyes.

Parking your car, you glance up at the officer who only gives you a brief nod and lets you through without a single word; just one of the many perks of being the daughter of one of Miami’s most notorious businessmen.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath as you approach the guarded parking lot, seeing another officer heading directly your way. ‘Let’s see what this is really all about.’

Taking off your sunglasses, you make eye contact with the officer who furrows his brows at you in confusion; more than likely wondering how you got in so quickly and just who you are to be taking priority over anyone else.

“And who might you be?” The officer asks smugly.

“I think you know who I am,” you reply back coyly. “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

~

As smug and prideful as he can be, Tony slouches in his seat with his arms crossed and completely relaxed as if he’s the one arranging the interrogation rather than being interrogated. 

As apparent as the officers make it seem to Tony how thoroughly pissed, exhausted, and anxious they are dealing with him, Tony reflects it with his nonchalant attitude on purpose.

“You think you’re taking some sort of vacation, Montana?” Officer Frank scowls.

 “Sure, man,” Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely. “I think my vacation is on the way.”

Ignoring the immigration officer who escorts you inside the facility as some mock bodyguard, you make your way towards the entrance of the interrogation offices where the officer gestured you to, making note of the maximum-security gates and barbed wire high walls.

Giving a small huff of annoyance and adjusting your hair, you approach a narrow hallway inside the next building and set your sunglasses on your head.

“This way, please,” the officer guiding you murmurs and politely steps in front of you.

Unphased and hardly listening, you follow the officer until you both reach an interrogation door marked “11B”.

You maintain your distance from both the officer and the door as the officer leans over and quickly knocks on the door not to ask to come in but to signal his entrance.

A wide, playful grin spreads over Tony’s face as he turns his head back to face the door—absolutely thrilled to see it about to open in front of him.

Fear simmers back into the officers the moment they spot a feminine silhouette behind the tinted glass of the door, instantly remembering now more than ever that their jobs are on the line.

Pushing open the door, the officer guiding you inside steps in first and out of your way—clearing his throat to speak out, “Miss Celeste Navarro is here, sir.”

‘Celeste Navarro…’ Seeing you before him once more, Tony’s pupils widen as a strong surge of attraction hits him—coursing through his veins.

Tony’s muscles tighten and he feels the heat of arousal trickling inside of him as he locks eyes with you, stunned and utterly admiring every inch of your figure.

Attempting to look at you with more humility than defeat or nervousness, the officers are put off by your very presence and can say or do nothing as you cross your arms; expectant and domineering before everyone else.

You’re the only spot of color in the otherwise dull room filled with grey uniforms and sweaty men; dressed in an Armani, pastel pink, cropped tweed blazer, a matching mini skirt, a white chiffon Calvin Klein blouse with a bow at your collar and four-inch glossy nude pumps. 

“There she is, she’s the one,” Tony smirks at you—breaking the momentary silence in the room.

“Ahem,” Officer Frank clears his throat, beginning to sit upright in his seat. “You know this man, miss?”

“Do I?” You raise a brow, unamused. “It feels like I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Yes, baby,” Tony mutters to himself inaudibly. ‘Come to me. You’re here now.’

“Miss Navarro,” the other officer begins to speak up awkwardly, “apologies if this is an intrusive question however this man claims to know you and—”

”And she’s my fiancée, as I was telling you. Okay, man?” Tony interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Can I have some privacy with my fiancée, man?”

‘Fiancee? What the hell is he talking about?’ Struck into shock by Tony’s words, you hold your posture and expression, but you know where Tony’s coming from and just why he’s deciding to play this game with you now.

“Yes, so what?” You snap back, noticing the playful twinkle in Tony’s eyes. “It’s true, he is my fiancée.”

‘Tony… I hope you know what you’re doing. I swear… Now is not the time to put on a show.’ 

The officers stare at each other in utter discomfort, remaining silent. 

“But I don’t recall that being anyone’s business except mine,” you narrow your eyes at them, taking a step forward to Tony.

Tony takes your soft hand in his, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand softly. “See?”

“Well,” Officer Frank swallows hard, “if that’s the case—”

Your eyes snap open in shock as Tony leans up in his seat, suddenly cupping both of your cheeks and immediately pulling you into a crushing, deep kiss.

‘Oh!’ Your lips collide over his and your eyes flutter shut in response, feeling the warmth of his tongue teasing the tip of yours in loving passion without a care—ensnared in the moment of having you as his fiancée with no intentions of letting go. 

[mariacallous]

During the first half of the 1980s, in the early days of the HIV pandemic, one ethnic group in the United States faced particularly inhumane and biased treatment. Haitian immigrants, unfairly blamed as the originators or leading propagators of the virus, were lumped into the “Four Hs” of people said to be at a high risk for AIDS: “homosexuals, heroin users, hemophiliacs, and Haitians.” To help contain the virus, the prominent right-wing commentator William F. Buckley argued in a 1986 article in the New York Times that people with AIDS should be tattooed to keep the public safe from contact with them.

In a horrifying throwback to that era, the notion of Haitians representing a public health threat has been revived in the current U.S. presidential campaign season. Most prominently, during last week’s debate with Vice President Kamala Harris, former President Donald Trump repeated a baseless claim that Haitian immigrants in the small city of Springfield, Ohio, are eating other people’s household pets. It’s bad enough that Trump and his running mate, J.D. Vance, have made these vile and unfounded claims. But Vance, the junior senator from Ohio, has also warned that Haitians are spreading HIV.

(Asterisks, footnotes, and even parentheses are usually ill-suited to column writing, but one must wonder whether Trump and Vance are aware of the irony of raising animal abuse claims when one of their most important surrogates, Robert F. Kennedy Jr., has acknowledged that he dumped a dead bear cub in New York’s Central Park years ago; one of Kennedy’s daughters has also said that he once severed a whale head and brought it home.)

After nearly a week of discussion and uproar about the groundless statements about Haitians eating pets, Vance finally admitted on Sunday what people familiar with the facts suspected all along: He had “created” the claims against the Haitian community of Springfield outright to focus national attention on what the Republican Party sees as one of its most potent election issues, immigration.

One question that arises from this incident is why Haitians have been so frequently used as scapegoats for national problems and vehicles for scaremongering in the United States. As it turns out, anti-Haitian discrimination is a topic rich in history.

My first encounter with this was in the early 1990s, when I lived in Miami as a bureau chief for the New York Times covering the Caribbean and parts of Latin America. At a time of political instability, widespread violence, and the specter of famine in Haiti, the Clinton administration severely restricted Haitians’ ability to enter the United States as refugees or beneficiaries of political asylum. As coverage in one Florida newspaper summarized at the time, “Haitians picked up at sea will not be allowed into the United States, period.”

In that period, the U.S. Coast Guard intercepted desperate Haitians en route to the United States and took them to the U.S. base at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba and to other Caribbean Basin countries, where they sheltered in rudimentary camps awaiting processing and return to Haiti. Even those who wished to press claims of legitimate fear of persecution, a common benchmark for asylum, had to do so back in Haiti.

Living in Florida, what stood out to me as much as the restrictive spirit of these rules was how sharply the treatment of Haitians contrasted with that of a neighboring Caribbean people: Cubans, who fled their country for economic and political reasons the previous decade in the so-called Mariel Boatlift, a much larger exodus by sea. In 1984, four years after the arrival of many thousands of Cubans, Washington granted these refugees permanent legal status. (Between 1994 and 1996, however, the Clinton administration held around 30,000 intercepted Cubans at Guantanamo, breaking temporarily with a long-standing U.S. policy of receiving Cuban migrants with relatively open arms.)

Washington initially denied equal treatment to a smaller population of Haitians who also arrived in 1980, as it insisted they were ordinary economic refugees, not people facing political persecution. Only after pressure from human rights groups were Haitians allowed to apply for permanent residency under the Immigration Reform and Control Act of 1986.

Americans have seldom paused to ponder what drives attitudes toward Haitians that are frequently at odds with those toward immigrants of other nearby nations. If his goal had been simply to stir up anti-immigration sentiment to boost the Republican ticket, Vance could have targeted people from a country that has contributed far more to illegal immigration lately—say, Venezuela or China. It is not as if Trump has not slandered other groups with unfounded claims. Indeed, he launched his first presidential campaign in 2015 with wild rhetoric about Mexico deliberately sending rapists to the United States.

A panel discussion on CNN last week may have captured some of the current Trump-Vance logic. One of the participants asked another why Trump had chosen Haitians—and not, say, Scandinavians—for his obnoxious tall tale. The other panelist, a conservative strategist, refused to speculate, leading the person who asked the question to answer it herself, attributing the decision to racism. Unlike Cubans, for example, who predominantly identify as white, around 95 percent of Haitians are Black.

Many popular attitudes toward race and immigration can be traced back to something called the Teutonic germ theory, a popular 19th-century interpretation that, despite its name, had nothing to do with microbes. As the historian Greg Grandin has written, this theory “held that what was good and strong about American institutions germinated in Europe, in ancient Saxon and Teutonic villages filled with freemen not yet subordinated to feudal lords.” Put simply, thoughts like this lie behind very old and uninspected ideas that still often associate “real” Americanism and hard work and virtue with Anglo-Saxonism.

For xenophobes and demagogic politicians such as Trump and Vance, who wish to whip up anti-immigrant sentiment for political gain, Haitians have come to represent a convenient and dramatic contrast to the proverbial Anglo-Saxon: Haitians, for reasons of their blackness, are an ideal “other.”

One other thing that most Americans don’t realize is how deep hostility and antagonism toward Haiti and Haitians run in U.S. history. Press coverage of Haiti routinely highlights its status as the “poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.” What reporters usually fail to state would be more helpful to understanding the country’s relationship with Washington: Haiti, after the United States, is the second-oldest republic in the hemisphere.

In the 1700s, French traders brought people in chains from Africa to Saint-Domingue, as Haiti was known at the time, to grow sugar and other lucrative commodities. The colony became a principal source of wealth for France, and experts say the production of enslaved human beings made Haiti the richest colony in the history of the world. Then, in 1791, one of the greatest events in modern history occurred. As I wrote in my book, Born in Blackness: Africa, Africans, and the Making of the Modern World, 1471 to the Second World War, people brought from Africa revolted against their enslavement, and by turns defeated the great empires of the age—France, Spain, Britain, and then France again—to win their liberty.

In 1804, when France’s former chattel proclaimed the birth of Haiti, they did so with a constitution that outlawed slavery, a gigantic step in human enlightenment that preceded abolition in both Britain and the United States. What is more, the people of this newborn nation outlawed discrimination on the basis of race altogether, a revolutionary achievement that was still being fought for in the United States in my lifetime.

The Western response to Haitian liberation was a shameful one. France imposed onerous and long-lasting indemnities on Haiti for the supposed injury caused to it by the outbreak of human freedom. Meanwhile, Europe and the United States conspired to isolate Haiti diplomatically and economically. Washington’s preoccupation with Haiti was particularly dishonorable. Members of the Virginia planter class that predominated in U.S. politics worried that the example of Haitians could incite Black people in the American South to demand—and potentially fight for—their own liberation. They believed that stories about Haiti’s success should not be allowed to spread.

U.S. policy has long been tolerant to the idea of immigration from European countries, but much less so toward people from the so-called third world. Because of this bias, upheld in education and entertainment that normalizes European society and culture, popular opinion seems to ask, what do those other peoples have to do with us? In the case of Haiti, the answer is much more than many think. Reaching Trump and Vance with this message may be hopeless, but it is not too late for Americans to understand that they are not alone as the standard-bearers of freedom in their neighborhood, and that they haven’t always been on the right side. Haitians, too, have been pioneers of liberty, not only for themselves, but showing the way to others. It is time for us to treat them with respect and dignity.

[writer-at-the-table]

The pilot does open with a conversation about Josh's Capital Beat screw up, but it's worth noting that our introduction to Josh as a character is actually him advocating for rescuing the Cuban refugees.

He exhibits worry about his job a few times throughout the episode, but the moments when he gets fired up are when he's talking about the refugee situation, and when he's angry at the idea of the administration giving in to the radical right.

It tells you a lot about his values.

[kaboomi]

Emerging from a college-induced haze to say that while, obviously, we all in the fandom have different views on the post-Sorkin seasons, I personally cannot forgive the egregious crime against characterization that is Season 5 episode 4’s ‘Han.’ Like you are telling me that President Jed ‘allowed the Cuban refugees into the country to give them a chance at the American dream’ Bartlet wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help a North Korean defector? You’re telling me that CJ ‘if politics bring out the worst in people, maybe people bring out the best’ Cregg wouldn’t raise hell (well, even more hell than she did actually raise in the episode) until the guy was safe?? You’re telling me Toby ‘so moralistic he literally sacrifices his career to uphold his own beliefs’ Ziegler wouldn’t criticize Leo and the President until they changed their stances on the matter??? Please. They should’ve helped that pianist and I’m still salty about it.

[totallynotcensorship]

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a quick history lesson(i promise it is related):

Operation northwoods was a proposed false flag operation within the US's department of defense in 1962. the plan was for CIA operatives to stage and commit acts of terrorism against US citizins, blame it on cuba, and use it to justify a war on cuba. proposed acts included: a fabricated 'shoot down' of US fighter aircrafts off the coast of cuba

assassination of cuban immigrants

sinking boats of cuban refugees

blowing up a US ship

and orchestrating terrorism in US cities

hijacking and bombing

planting of false evidence

the US government already supports israel with billions in funds, aid, and weapons.give me a good reason they wouldn't share strategies while they are at it.

don't stop talking about palestine

[darkeagleruins]

Did you know that under the Office of Refugee Resettlement's "Preferred Communities" program, a "refugee" can get a YEAR of comprehensive assistance if they say they're gay?

Haitians and Cubans are eligible AS SOON AS THEY ENTER

Preferred Community refugee assistance includes:

-Housing

- Mental Health services

- Food

- Finances (Income and employment)

- Financial Management advising

- Navigation of US Healthcare Systems

- Transportation

- Enrollment in social security/welfare benefits

- "Social Adjustment & Interaction/Integration" classes

- Immigration Status legal services

- "Family Wellness" programs, substance abuse resources

[omgthatdress]

Oh, look, another blonde hair, blue eyed doll from AG. I watched the cute little stop-motion short film AG made for Courtney, and I have to admit, it was fucking cute and her charm won me over.

There’s *some* actual historical engagement with the popularization of video games. The biggest thing is that her mom is running for mayor of their fictional town in California (because of course Courtney has to be a Valley Girl) and faces a bunch of sexist BS on a TV interview. It covers the space shuttle era of space travel, Challenger disaster and the emotional impact that had on the United States.

In her second book, Courtney has a classmate with AIDS. I’m glad that was included, because putting AIDS and HIV-positive kids in schools was a huge fight in the 80s. Here in Tampa, the mother of Eliana Martinez, a disabled girl who had contracted HIV in a blood transfusion at birth, went to court to get her daughter into school, and a federal judge ruled she could go to school as long as she spent the day in a glass cage like an animal. It was that bad. Eventually, Eliana was able to attend school without the cage because her mother, Rosa, was amazing.

In spite of everything I like about Courtney’s story, let’s be real. AG’s 80s doll should have been Latina. A Cuban-American girl living in Miami, with at least one parent who’s an Operacíon Pedro Pan adoptee, and with relatives who came over during the Mariel Boatlift. And I’m not just saying that because my parents were living in Miami in the 80s, I’m saying it because Miami was an incredible place in the 80s.

Operacíon Pedro Pan was a program by the U.S. State Department and Catholic Church for Cuban children to be sent to America when parents feared they would lose their parental rights and their children would be sent to communist indoctrination camps. It was a chance for their kids to be raised as Catholic in free America instead of atheists under the brutal Castro regime. About 14,000 children were removed from Cuba to be mostly re-settled in Miami.

You may be familiar with the Mariel Boatlift if you’ve seen the opening scene of Scarface, which actually sums up the situation pretty well.

Now, granted, Mariel only happened between April and October of 1980. Even after the boatlift officially ended, people seeking to flee Cuba continued to come on boats. The “wet foot, dry foot” policy meant that anyone fleeing Cuba who managed to set foot on American soil was guaranteed asylum. However, they had to face the US coastguard trying to intercept them and turn them back on the water. Refugees from Haiti fleeing the Duvalier regime also flocked to Miami, but since Duvalier was right-wing, Haitians weren’t granted the same protections as Cubans were and it was absolute bullshit.

On top of all that, Miami also had thriving African-American, Afro-Caribbean, Colombian, Jewish, and gay communities. There was just SO MUCH incredible stuff going on in Miami in the 80s, and I mean, hello, Miami Vice was a whole aesthetic!

You could include all the stuff that’s going in in Courtney’s books and STILL pack in so much more amazing history. The overall vibe I get with Coutney’s collection is that even though there’s some good stuff in her stories, it’s more about selling 80s nostalgia than actually teaching 80s history, which is a travesty. I know it’d be hard to engage with 80s politics and Ronald Reagan without pissing off a *lot* of people, but you can still engage with some serious 80s history if you just look outside of the blonde hair, blue eye box.

[starstuffandalotofcoffee]

this is the nonrebloggable post. Anyway. I went to a Jewish school in the 90s to early 2000s (through middle school; it did not have a high school and I went to a public high school) and this particular combination of things was formative in the following ways:

about a quarter of my (small) class were Soviet refugees who had moved here in the early 90s. I have known Georgia is a country since 2nd grade because I had a classmate whose family moved from there. I was pretty aware that the Soviet Union had pretty big issues from a very young age. Obviously I was born in the US to parents born here, so I will not speak over people who were born in the USSR or immediately post-USSR but yeah tankies are objectively wrong and always will be and I will not give them the time of day. This also informs why, however, I've seen no shortage older FSU immigrants in the US have an absolute knee-jerk opposition to any whiff of the word "socialism" (and explains why no shortage of South Americans and Cubans feel similarly).

There was very much a push in that era towards Holocaust education in Jewish schools since it was quite apparent that survivors were getting old. I do not recall a time when I did not know about the Holocaust and about fascism and genocide.

Related to the above, at the time, my school was very good about consistently covering that Roma people were also a target of genocide, but used a term that we would consider a slur today. This has absolutely informed my willingness to listen to people who don't use the precise right terms but are clearly well-intentioned.

a couple classmates had (white) parents from South Africa. In middle school we covered African history; it was necessarily broad and geared towards that age but my friend's father, who had been strongly encouraged to leave South Africa for anti-apartheid activism, was brutally honest that his parents were pretty noncommital. He and my teacher were fairly unflinching in teaching us at age 13 or so that most white Jewish families in South Africa had fled deeply antisemitic Europe and found themselves in a position of relative safety and power and that many were unwilling to challenge a clearly racist system, often for fear that doing so would repaint the target on their backs but sometimes just because it was easier and because it was kind of nice to have some measure of power.

anyway I think these are all just illustrative of some of the points I made. You cannot treat groups as a monolith, you do need to be cognizant of both global and national factors in why people may hold the political opinions they do, you should not nitpick well-intentioned but imperfect actions (especially in terms of terminology) and you cannot assume that being part of a minority group automatically will make people the good guys, especially if they feel they can either gain acceptance or avoid retribution by allying with the oppressors.

The reason this is nonrebloggable is because antisemitism fundamentally is a system of oppression that does assume the last is true but only for Jews, and because this post is extremely about being Jewish I do want to control its distribution and keep it out of the hands of people who will further that narrative. This is incorrect. It's true of all minority groups, and it's extremely true for men in minority groups going after women.