I’m a Tucson native. We are a rare breed, since so much of our population has moved here from elsewhere – for the weather, for the wide open spaces, or for reasons they probably can’t articulate, some of which I will attempt to here. You can usually tell Southern Arizona natives by the slowness of our speech, our maddening lack of ambition, a certain tacit optimism, and a faraway look in our eyes. I attribute most of these cultural traits to the fact that we all had our brains baked sometime in our first year of life. And to the wide open spaces – you see that look in New Mexican eyes too. I’ve tried to live other places, but the Old Pueblo keeps pulling me back; the word is, it’s a vortex – it’s nearly impossible to pry yourself away once you’ve settled in. And if you’re actually born here, well… why would you want to live anywhere else? (Ok, there’s the fact that we’re running out of water. But the tacit optimism comes in handy on that one.)
As a deeply rooted Tucsonan, I feel a need to respond to the recent shootings. I feel my beautiful, peaceful hometown has been added to the grim list that includes Oklahoma City and Columbine, with the added element of an attempted assassination. This list colors the names on it with the funerary pallor of grief, the blood red of violence, and the olive drab of militarism, and it breaks my heart to think of Tucson seen in such unimaginative hues by the rest of the world. Yes, there has been violence, and we are in mourning. But Tucson comes in more than three colors. (As do Columbine and Oklahoma City, Memphis and Dallas, I’m sure.)
My response is not pointed. I just want to tell you some things about who we are, how we’re feeling, and get to some glimmer of meaning in all this.
We knew that something like this was coming, what with the general militarization and stupidification of American culture. The radical right-wing, corporate-owned, neoconservative security state has been co-opting the Wild West populism and individualist ethic here for decades. Libertarianism finds easy converts out in the spiny, dusty desert. Cowboys carry guns. This is the home of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, Geronimo with his rifle and his face of stone. If you’re still thinking in 19th century terms, Joe Arpaio is not such a far cry. Our legislative majority certainly seems to be right out of that century - bought lock, stock, and barrel by the prison industry – gutting education, slashing services to the most vulnerable people, building walls and fences, militarizing our police. For God’s sake, they proactively support legislation to allow guns on university campuses! What in the world are they thinking? I’m guessing they’re hoping armed lunatics will bypass the post offices and shopping centers and start shooting up the “bastion of liberalism.”
Yes, things are crazy here. It was only a matter of time. I’m taking a deep breath now…
I guess you’re wondering why any nuanced thinkers still live here. I dunno, maybe I’m not a nuanced thinker. (One wouldn’t know, would one?)
Tucson is the home of the All Souls Procession. We created that. Several years ago, local artist Susan Johnson had the idea for a procession to honor the dead in a wild, colorful and playful way, based on the regional tradition of Dia De Los Muertos. Over the twenty-one years of its existence, the All Soul’s Procession has exploded, growing from a handful of hippies and artists to, by some estimates, 20,000 or so participants and observers, with events spread over a whole weekend. The grand finale, in which a giant urn containing the names of our dead is hoisted into the sky and lit on fire, takes place on a piece of ground downtown that was once the town cemetery.
Uh oh, there’s the pallor again.
No, wait… we do it with giant puppets, and stilt walkers, and fire dancers, and strings of lights wrapped around our heads, and some of the brightest, boldest costumes you’ve ever seen. We do it with a Brazilian-style drum corps, and bagpipes, and Taiko drums, and a rocking musical finale. We spend weeks, to months, to the whole year preparing for All Souls. It is sacred to us. It fills a spiritual need for its participants – it is not just pageantry, it is a very emotional celebration and release. And we created it. This is Tucson.
Tucson was in Mexico not too long ago. A joke here goes, “We didn’t cross the border – the border crossed us.” Tucson is largely Democratic and liberal. Nevertheless we are subject to state policy created by legislators and administrators elected by the heavy concentration of ultraconservatives in the Phoenix area. Where groovy Mill Street in Tempe was sold to corporations and gutted of its soul, 4th Avenue in Tucson is still a center of art and culture and small, creative business. While Phoenix gets a light rail system and new museums, Tucson’s public works are crumbling, yet we’re a bunch of socialist hippies, I’m sure, in the eyes of the Majority. A bunch of socialist hippies nicely padded around with WalMarts, Home Depots, arms manufacturers and prisons, though. Yes, it is a city of some paradoxes. I mostly don’t leave Central/Downtown Tucson unless I have to buy batteries or… batteries.
The shooting happened on the Northwest side of Tucson. Out by the WalMarts and all that. Gabby Giffords has the hairy, thankless job of representing constituents from a very wide range of ideologies. I don’t know how she does it. Bravely, for sure. Her standing up for universal health care was called “suicide” by some.
I can’t go there yet.
Something about Tucson keeps me here, and keeps my overlapping tribes of creative, intelligent, compassionate friends here. I don’t know if I can put into words what it is. Perhaps the word is “soul.” I think it’s the same thing that led many people back to the mire of New Orleans after the waters subsided, when they could have just as easily used the evacuation as a fulcrum to a more stable life. Or the same thing that keeps people in Jerusalem. Maybe it’s “roots.” It is a sense of deep home. Maybe there is no word in Imperial American English for it.
I think Tucson is being colonized. I don’t think it will work. Our consciousness is surprisingly tribal. I’m going to generalize wildly here – brace yourself: We are, as a group, fairly unambitious, unattached to labels, careers and financial gain, and slow to embrace material growth. I believe mañana is the term for our work ethic. We smile and nod at every firecracker Easterner who come in and tries to get us riled up and active, then we never show up at the meetings. Eventually the firecracker Easterner either learns to slow down, or leaves. We are not very efficient. For instance one would think, here in the sunniest part of North America, that this would be a Mecca for solar power innovation and implementation, but it’s not quite. Maybe someday.
Tucson is a center for the healing arts, for recovery, and for spiritual growth. This is the kind of growth we can get behind. We are almost like California that way. Almost. We are a little more optimistic than New Mexico, but a little darker and edgier than the West Coast. We have a thriving music and arts community, despite our ever-vanishing public funding. We do it anyway. We donate to each other’s projects. There is a tendency for people to do several things for a living; you know – the bodyworker/musician/handyman/PhD candidate/art teacher… Tucson is a place where people come to find themselves, in a supportive community. There is a high concentration of transgender folk here. We are not real flashy, but you are welcome to be. There is plenty of space to do your thing here.
I know I’m going to get in trouble for these generalizations, but I want to give you a feel for our culture. Because it is in fact a culture.
So this horrible thing happens. What are we doing? I myself am praying a lot. We are drumming, singing, moaning, crying, building shrines and lighting candles, holding vigil. Playing music. Most folks are trying to go about their business and wondering why they can’t tie their shoes in the morning or remember their grocery list. It’s hard to imagine this hate-fueled tragedy happening in our little laid-back community. At the same time, we are a little numb to violence, living in the USA with warplanes roaring over our heads all day. We’ve had some good eye contact these last few days. And some bad. We are grieving.
We are not ready to talk abstractly about politics or implications, though they are legion. In my community, we are staying in our hearts, close to the immediate feelings of what has happened, feeling for the victims and their loved ones. This is as it should be: when we begin to speak more abstractly in the upcoming weeks and months, we need to be grounded in our hearts. Now more than ever.
That’s all I know for now. Still a little spaced out.
I will continue to check in about all this. Thanks for your prayers. Tucson is praying for you, too.
