Caracas Chronicles

As a Venezuelan-American, born in New York two months before Chávez was elected in 1998, I have witnessed the deterioration of democratic institutions in Venezuela under Chavismo from a unique perspective. My parents arrived in the U.S. in 1993 for professional development long before many relatives and friends of theirs left Caracas due to political uncertainty and escalating violence. Throughout my life I have navigated several different academic and professional environments where I find myself having to answer questions about the drastic political changes in both countries in my almost 26 years of life. 

As the great-granddaughter of political refugees who fled to Venezuela during the Spanish Civil War, I know for certain that absolutely no one wants to be a refugee. When oil turned it into one the wealthiest nations in the Western Hemisphere, Venezuela was known by many fleeing post-World War II poverty and unrest in Europe as “the country with open arms”. During my time living and traveling in nations such as Spain, Greece, and Portugal, I was fortunate to come across people whose families happened to migrate to Venezuela during the postwar years and spoke fondly of the country and opportunities they found there. 

Throughout my childhood, most Americans I grew up around knew little to nothing about Venezuela or its history. I often heard ignorant comments such as “Venezuela’s problems are because it’s a poor country, not because of socialism” and that “Chávez just wanted to eliminate illiteracy and help everyone get healthcare”. Even when I went to an international high school I was not immune from ignorance and bullying because of my heritage. 

One of the most hurtful instances of anti-Venezuelan bullying that I encountered as a teenager was when I was representing Venezuela in my school’s annual Culture Fair and a German classmate cruelly remarked “no one cares about Venezuela because of you” and walked away laughing. Another time, when I brought up the Maduro regime’s human rights abuses in class, two female students (one Indian and one white-American) openly sneered and giggled even thoughI was discussing outright atrocities. 

I often find myself lamenting that my high school bullies “hated Venezuela and its people before it was cool” because of their need to make me feel othered, and their insistence that my homeland was something to be ashamed of, even though I come from a long line of law-abiding educated professionals and my parents legally immigrated to the U.S. As an adult, I wonder if they regret their gratuitously mean-spirited words and actions since the non Latin-American media has covered the severity of political violence at the hands of Chavista allies  audiences or if the ongoing dispersion of Venezuelans throughout the world has justified their belief that all Venezuelans are subhuman.

Today, nearly a decade later, whenever I mention having Venezuelan roots most people respond with sympathy rather than bigotry or contempt, and ask if I still have family there. However, with more widespread knowledge of the severity of the ongoing economic and humanitarian crisis, it’s become well-known that Venezuela has the world’s third largest refugee crisis after Syria and the Ukraine. I am aware that some American politicians use Venezuelans’ trauma as a pawn to spread fear by accusing Democrats of wanting to turn the U.S. into “Venezuela on steroids”, while dismissing Venezuelan migrants as subhuman. I feel the same rage hearing these inflammatory lies and stereotypes about Venezuelans as I did in 2015, when Trump began his campaign by dismissing Mexican migrants as “rapists and thieves”. 

Rather than giving into hate, it is essential to understand the gravity of many migrants’ situations and why so many feel the need to leave their homeland, language, customs, and roots behind, especially if this entails being raped, robbed, injured, attacked, or even murdered while crossing the Darién gap.  I agree that the United States immigration system is broken and that the concept of sanctuary cities where migrants who have committed heinous crimes are spared from deportation is problematic. However, absurd lies such as accusing Haitian migrants of eating cats in Ohio is dehumanizing propaganda not unlike that found in 1930’s Germany.

Prior to the slander against Haitians in Springfield, Ohio, former President Donald J. Trump scapegoated Venezuelan migrants by accusing Tren de Aragua gang members of taking over “large sections of an area of Colorado”. While the Aurora Police Department did in fact arrest individuals associated with Tren de Aragua, the claim that Venezuelan nationals occupied an entire apartment building was refuted. Nonetheless, Trump continued to spread this conspiracy theory  by claiming that they are capable of taking over entire cities and that “this is only the beginning”. He went as far to post a racist meme featuring dark-skinned, gang members with the caption: “Your new apartment managers if Kamala’s re-elected”. Trump had already, multiple times, baselessly assured that Venezuelan migrants were criminal inmates freed by Maduro from Venezuelan jails and that this was the cause behind Caracas’ homicide rate drop.

The reality is that statistics show that immigrants, undocumented or not, are far less likely to commit crimes than native-born American citizens. However, continued vilification of migrants as being gangsters and invaders may very well justify hate crimes against anyone perceived to be Latin American.                            

Xenophobia against Venezuelans is not a new phenomenon throughout Latin America. Since many neighboring South American countries are ill-equipped to handle this exodus on a financial level, new arrivals have been stereotyped as carrying disease, stealing jobs, and engaging in criminality. Where I currently live in Washington D.C, most Venezuelan migrants I have come across are decent people just trying to make an honest living and provide their families with a better quality of life. 

As someone fortunate enough to be bilingual, bicultural, and surrounded by brilliant colleagues and professors who share the same passion for affairs affecting our Western Hemisphere as a Master’s candidate in Latin American Studies, I encourage my fellow Americans as well as my non-Venezuelan friends and peers scattered around the world to become familiarized with Venezuela’s history throughout the past nearly three decades, to understand how damaging authoritarianism is and what drives so many people to seek safety in our great nation. This Hispanic Heritage Month, I express my pride in where I come from since the values, traditions, and work ethic instilled in me from a young age are vital parts of who I am today. No adolescent bully or charlatan politician can make me deny my Venezolanidad or silence me. On the  contrary, I am more motivated than ever to speak out against racism whether it be against Venezuelans, Haitians, Mexicans, etc. This normalization of racist hate speech or more specifically the character of those who partake in it says much more about humanity and decency than it does about the fluidity of borders.