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A Closer Look at the Migrant Shelters in Tijuana
by Rebecca Mizrahi
July 31, 2019
Rebecca Mizrahi is a Freelance Photographer based in Los Angeles. You can see more of her work here.
Migration has been a constant across the world and throughout history. With the increased politicization of immigration in the United States, a true humanitarian crisis has emerged on both sides of the U.S. and Mexican borders. A day spent visiting shelters in Tijuana provided an intimate setting to hear first hand stories about the violence, poverty and persecution that compels migrants, refugees and asylum seekers to leave their homes and risk everything for a chance at a new life in the United States. Most obvious in people’s stories is a sense of grief and loss, ongoing fear and uncertainty about what’s to come, and a tremendous longing for a safe, secure future. These images are from a day in the life.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
The “double” border wall is visible from a bus in Tijuana. Non-profit volunteer organization, Border Angels estimates that since 1994, about 10,000 people have died in their attempt to cross the border. According to the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, 7,216 people have died crossing the U.S–Mexico border between 1998 and 2017. Conflicting estimates.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
Malecon, Playas de Tijuana. The border wall stretches into the Ocean but does not stop families from meeting to talk and pass notes to each other on either side. Although recent efforts seek to prevent this from continuing to happen.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
One of many “missing” in Tijuana, one of the largest border metropolises in the world. It is not uncommon for male and female migrants to become trapped in the sex trade, with very few options to survive while they wait for asylum.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
New tents, clothing and food provided by This is About Humanity. Name of shelter is concealed to protect asylum seekers fleeing violence/ persecution.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
Donated blankets used for padding in lieu of mattresses.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
Children’s vitamins and prenatal pills sit atop a makeshift office in the center of the shelter.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
Child watches as new tents are set up and old blankets are removed, a bottle of medicine and a plastic spoon beside her.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
A family watches as the shelter is overturned by volunteers trying to clean up after heavy rains.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
Diapers, a few toys and a math book show the simplest accumulation of items for a migrating family. Children have no way to attend school while moving from shelter to shelter and can go anywhere from a few months to several years without formal education.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
In 2018, Casa Cornelia Law Center responded to 883 adult asylum seekers in need, and 876 unaccompanied children.
© Rebecca Mizrahi
According to Casa Cornelia, about 90% of asylum seekers without an attorney are denied, but almost half of those with representation are successful. As of mid-2018, over 700,000 asylum cases remained open, with new applicants applying each day.
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Walk With Me: A Piece of Peace Part 1
by Jay Revelle
April 20, 2018
In many ways, what I want to say is, “Let me take you on a walk, and we’ll start here. And then, as we’re walking, look at that. Wow, look at that over there. Look at this. And we take a walk together. And when the walk ends, that’s the experience.” – Henry Wessel, American photographer
In Japan, the areas of Fujisawa, Kamakura, and Zushi/Hayama sit somewhat sandwiched between some of America's biggest military installations in the Far East: Commander Fleet Activities Yokosuka and Naval Air Base Atsugi, with Yokota Air Base also not too far away.
But what can be said about the quieter “Main Streets” of Japan—the civilian residential areas in-between? What do these areas feel like? What do they look like?
As a longtime resident of these areas in Japan, it is common that I find myself walking home at night from the local train station after the last train, and from the first walk quite a while ago, I was awestruck by the serenity of Japan’s nighttime landscape. As a film photographer, capturing it became a passion.
Amid the bouncing light and between the shadowy shapes, we can see how humans in Japan have shaped the landscape around them against the backdrop of what was once only the wild. It’s thus a “human landscape.” It’s the parks, pathways, residential areas, parking lots, sidewalks, houses, and other brick & mortar buildings of Japan, used daily by all local residents, including myself. And one great way to see them is at night, with no one around.
It’s the instance of randomly turning a corner only to see a park light cast a shadow perfectly behind an object. One step forward or backward changes it completely. At times without a camera, I must look like a mental patient to any onlooker as I move back and forth, studying the light playing off the object, while making mental notes for when I come back with film gear. I then might explore areas and streets for hours with a camera and tripod over my shoulder—I session the neighborhoods.
Amid these quiet residential areas, the combined forces of the U.S. and Japan work day and night to maintain stability in an unstable region. Peace is worth its weight in gold, in any form, and I take it where I find it. I am lucky to be enjoying it, and even luckier to have so much fun capturing it. I seem to have found some peace right here, amid the peace already provided by busy military forces. It’s a piece of peace. Thank you for taking a look.