RENDER TO OSCAR CASARES THINGS THAT ARE TO CASARES

Special to El Rrun-Rrun

Oscar Casares, the great writer born and raised in the southernmost point of Texas has been acclaimed for his writing and for the stories he tells based on his hometown: Brownsville.

But, what Casares writes are just that – stories. 

He was recently published in the New York Times for writing about “what is it is like to visit destinations long the border.”

Visiting Matamoros and Brownsville is anything but a destination. The land itself cries for help and it is people like Casares who step on the land and continue to perpetuate the problems existing in the Rio Grande Valley.

Casares writes about meeting an ever-so-perfect nameless woman who he takes across the border. 

Let’s ponder on the reality of that statement. How is Casares, who is part of the Brownsville elite with an education and with money, ever going to come across, in his circle of acquaintances, a woman asking for a ride to the bridge? 

How perfect: Casares comes to Brownsville for a week and finds a perfect, nameless woman in a desperate situation that he can save. Casares has not saved Brownsville.

Casares has not used any of his influence, education, and power to help change or benefit Brownsville. But why would he? Why would an award-winning writer come back to Brownsville? It’s one of the “safest” cities according to Casares? 

Why aren’t you living in Brownsville, Oscar? Why aren’t you teaching at UTRGV? 

Why aren’t you encouraging other scholars to come to the valley at teach at our schools? Why aren’t you calling the Times to come write a piece about poverty and corruption in Brownsville and Matamoros? You’re so committed to change, but what are you doing to cultivate that change? You’re teaching in Austin and you only come to Brownsville when it is convenient for you to feed off the people and our stories.

I am done with people like you, Oscar. You come and your sit in your high horse and tell a story you heard second-hand from another and claim it as your own. 

You sell your hometown for 30 pieces of silver and the New York Times. You are not part of us. You are not part of the people who live daily in Brownsville and see the struggles of the people. We remain nameless in your stories and we will remain nameless to the rest of the country until you and people like you advocate for those who don’t have a voice. Advocate for the woman you claim to have taken to the bridge.

Even when you came to our land you went to go eat at Garcias, the three story building overseeing the bridge that is only for well-dressed and well-off people. Why didn’t you turn to your right and go eat at the taco stand—because there is only one now. Why didn’t you report about all the shops that have closed near the border due to the increase in drug-related violence?

You sit at the three story high building and oversee us and act like you experienced the life amongst the people. Come down to the ground level, Oscar. Come taste the corruption, the tears, the poverty, and all the blood that has been shed trying to survive by the border. I promise you it won’t taste as sweet as the “margaritas, a las rocas” that you had. 

I promise you someone won’t be ordering steak. Because at the ground level we are still eating tortillas y nopales. Had you actually turned to your right you would have seen the 75-year-old woman who sits on the curb next to white wall that divides the Meixcan customs office and the streets of Matamors selling nopales. 

She has been sitting there for 15 years trying to make a living for her and her husband. I would know, I bought nopales from her in January. By the way, her husband is sick, so it’s mostly her selling the nopales.


You wrote about how those who “come from wealthy Mexican families with means to relocate” to the Northside of Brownsville. But what about those who risk their lives crossing the river who don’t live on the northside of Brownsville? There’s a reason why they call us “wetbacks.” 

 Believe it or not Oscar, Brownsville is more than the VICC, Country Club, and the restaurants along the highway. There’s Southmost, Las Preitas, El Jardin, El Ramireño, La Lomita, La Galaxia, El Puerto, and Cameron Park. There’s the governmental housing that people live in. There are rooms that people rent. There are shelters. 

Not everyone has a visa and “relocates” to Brownsville. There are those who risk their lives to live a life in Brownsville. Maybe your friends “relocated” to Brownsville. But how dare you call leaving your country due to corruption, drug-related violence and killings a “relocation.” It is not a change of scenery. It is immigration of fear for survival.

You did get one thing right, when you’re in downtown Brownsville, you may think you have already crossed over. But it’s not the cumbias that make you wonder where you are, it’s the killings of the women in the trans community; its trans women that are being raped beat, and kidnapped in the streets of downtown while the police turns to the side; it’s the homophobia and the transphobia that exists in the downtown community that truly make you wonder where you are.

 By the way,Oscar, have you seen Kimberly? She’s been missing for a while. Maybe if you had actually walked the streets of downtown you would have seen the missing signs.

Nameless we remain in your stories and nameless we remain the eyes of those politicians in the Rio Grande Valley. 

You do not need God’s blessing because God has already blessed you. You have an education, you are distinguished, you are influential, and what have you done with it? 

All you do is ride your academic high horse in Austin and come to Brownsville whenever you need your face in the newspaper. Next time you come back to my city, Oscar, come back and make a difference. But for now, leave those 30 pieces of silver in your mouth and keep Brownsville out of it.