La Migra

The poem’s title is a shortened version of the Spanish inmigración, meaning “immigration.” More specifically, Spanish-speaking individuals living near the US- Mexican border use “la migra” as a nickname for Border Patrol. Mora’s poem begins with an invitation to “play La Migra” (Line 1), imagining the relationship between Border Patrol agents and Mexican migrants as a sort of cat-and-mouse game, in which one side has the advantage of superior strength yet is repeatedly outwitted by its weaker opponent. Presenting this situation as a game endows it with a sense of predictability; the players’ attributes and strategies are known in advance. The Border Patrol inevitably relies on the symbols and tools of its authority and power (the badge, the gun, the jeep) and arrogantly assumes it can easily overwhelm the other side. On the other hand, border crossers trust that their perseverance, agility, and familiarity with the terrain will allow them to outsmart the pursuer. This is an old game. Individual players change, but, in its essence, the game remains the same.

The poem is divided into two parts (stanzas), each with its own speaker representing one of the opposing sides. The first part, spoken by the Border Patrol, is defined by a tone of taunting swagger and describes the agent’s advantages over “the Mexican maid” (Line 3) (the haughty tone is apparent by this third line of the poem, as “Mexican maid” is a blatantly belittling epithet). The Border Patrol, as a speaker, is both anonymous and specific; while the voice is that of an individual patrol agent, he represents the Border Patrol as a larger entity. Likewise, the woman stands for all Mexicans (and perhaps other Latin Americans) who cross the border looking for work, opportunity, or safety. As a woman, she is especially vulnerable to the abuse of power committed by some Border Patrol agents; the Border Patrol’s statement “I can touch you wherever / I want” (Lines 12-13) is sexual harassment that threatens assault. There is an assumption that an agent could commit such abuse with impunity and that the victim’s objection would only provoke further abuse:

don’t complain

too much because I’ve got

boots and kick—if I have to,

and I have handcuffs.

Oh, and a gun (Lines 13-17).

The casualness of the violent, even lethal threat—the “Oh” (Line 17) sarcastically presenting the gun as an afterthought—speaks to the agent’s arrogant dehumanizing attitude toward the individuals subjected to his authority.

The Border Patrol revels in his sense of unquestionable dominance. He can move faster: “You can hide and run, / but you can’t get away / because I have a jeep” (Lines 5-7). He has almost limitless authority: “I can take you wherever / I want” (Lines 8-9). He feels no need or desire to communicate with those he sees as mere prey deprived of any rights or dignity: “[D]on’t ask / questions because / I don’t speak Spanish” (Lines 9-11). Thus, when at the end of the first part, the Border Patrol announces the start of the game—“Get ready, get set, run” (Line 18)—he is confident of victory. However, as the second part of the poem reveals, that very confidence—a product of the Border Patrol’s arrogance—turns out to be a weakness that migrants can exploit.

The “Mexican woman” (Line 21), the speaker in the second part, immediately points out that the Border Patrol’s tools can easily turn from an asset into a burden: “Your jeep has a flat, / and you have been spotted / by the sun” (Lines 22-24). The Border Patrol’s reliance on cars makes him unprepared to endure the harshness of desert heat; if a flat tire strands his jeep, his gear will only hinder him: “All you have is heavy: hat, / glasses, badge, shoes, gun” (Lines 25-26). In other words, the Patrol may be undone by the very tools he believes guarantee his dominance. The hubristic symbols of his overwhelming, arbitrary power are, at the same time, symbols of his incompetence.

Another of the migrants’ advantages is their familiarity with the desert—indeed, their reliance on nature rather than such mechanical tools as jeeps and guns. The Mexican woman says, “I know this desert, / where to rest, / where to drink” (Lines 27-29). She may have gained this knowledge during multiple efforts to cross the border, but it also reflects her superior understanding of the desert, and her connection with it. The migrants are “laughing with the wind” (Line 32) as if the wind were an old friend. It is almost as if the wind itself tells them where to find fresh water: “Agua dulce brota, aqui, / aqui, aqui” (Lines 33-34), meaning “fresh water spring here, here, here.” The wind, the spring, the desert itself ally with the border crossers, who share their knowledge with each other and collaborate to evade pursuers. While the Border Patrol views his own ignorance of the Spanish language as a sign of his superiority and power, the Mexican woman exposes it as a sign of his cluelessness: “[S]ince you / can’t speak Spanish, / you do not understand” (Lines 34-36). For all his authority and power, the Border Patrol can follow neither border crossers’ movement nor their speech. The Mexican woman knows that the Border Patrol’s arrogance far exceeds his ability, which gives her the confidence to accept his taunting challenge—“Get ready, get set, run” (Line 18)—by mockingly mimicking it in her own final words: Get ready” (Line 37).