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 14

by
josé casas

Dramatic Publishing Company

Woodstock, Illinois • Australia • New Zealand • South Africa

FOR AUTHORIZED DIGITAL USE ONLY

 *** NOTICE ***
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THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC., without whose permission
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and reading, are reserved.

For performance of any songs, music and recordings mentioned in this play that are in copyright,
the permission of the copyright owners must be obtained or other songs and recordings in the
public domain substituted.

©MMXVIII by
JOSÉ CASAS

Printed in the United States of America

All Rights Reserved
(14)

ISBN: 978-1-61959-194-3

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 IMPORTANT BILLING AND CREDIT REQUIREMENTS
All producers of the play must give credit to the author of the play in all
programs distributed in connection with performances of the play and in all
instances in which the title of the play appears for purposes of advertising,
publicizing or otherwise exploiting the play and/or a production. The name of
the author must also appear on a separate line, on which no other name appears,
immediately following the title, and must appear in size of type not less than
fifty percent (50%) the size of the title type. Biographical information on the
author, if included in the playbook, may be used in all programs. In all programs
this notice must appear:

“Produced by special arrangement with

THE DRAMATIC PUBLISHING COMPANY, INC., of Woodstock, Illinois.”

FOR AUTHORIZED DIGITAL USE ONLY

14 was premiered by Teatro Bravo in September 2003 at
Playhouse on the Park in Phoenix, directed by Christina Marín
and with the following ensemble:
Barbara Acker
Christina Marín
Christoper Miller
Adam Villallpando

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 this play is dedicated to my parents,
josé estanislao casas y magdalena wong casas

and

for all those who left the country they loved

to find a better life for their families
in el norte

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 14

table of contents / characters

introduction.......................................................................... 10

prologue................................................................................ 15

part i: welcome to the jungle

welcome to the jungle....................................................... 17
roger tate: 48, hardware store owner; yuma, ariz.
marta ramirez: 46, school secretary; yuma, ariz.

part ii: say a little prayer

… just................................................................................ 24
denise hudson: 42, unemployed; chandler, ariz.
virgencita linda.................................................................. 28
luz ortiz: 60, trabajadora domestica; guadalupe, ariz.

part iii: a matter of priorities

a matter of priorities.......................................................... 32
omar castillo: 34, state senator; flagstaff, ariz.

part iv: mirror mirror on the wall

a thin line........................................................................... 36
michelle rodriguez: 39, magazine editor; phoenix.
type.................................................................................... 41
matteo “matthew” logan: 32, actor; phoenix.

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part v: the war at home
very very........................................................................... 45
dr. snezena kuftinic: 40, emergency room physician; tucson, ariz.
a man’s home.................................................................... 48
charlie clarkson: 74, rancher; douglas, ariz.
right here........................................................................... 52
josé reynosa: 21, soldier; goodyear, ariz.

part vi: de colores … !!!

no different........................................................................ 58
alexis franco: 57, artist; sedona, ariz.
color.................................................................................. 64
antonio loera: 25, law school student; tempe, ariz.

part vii: everybody has a story

skewed............................................................................... 69
lacey williams: 37, boutique owner; scottsdale, ariz.
our song............................................................................. 74
monica flores: 29, kindergarten teacher; chandler, ariz.

part viii: may 19, 2001

muñeca.............................................................................. 80
oscar garcia: 33, obrero; mesa, ariz.
agua/water......................................................................... 85
reverend clay nash: 59, pastor; tucson, ariz.

translated pieces
virgencita linda.................................................................. 92
luz ortiz: 60, trabajadora domestica; guadalupe, ariz.
muñeca.............................................................................. 96
oscar garcia: 33, obrero; mesa, ariz.

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 casting
four actors are required for this play to emphasize the two main
cultural groups (whites and latina/os) associated with the issue
of immigration in the areas along the border. the play calls for:
one white actress
one latina actress
one white actor
one latino actor

any production that seeks to cast these roles differently must

get permission before doing so.

set
the setting consists of a variety of locales on different areas of
the stage. a video screen located upstage center (or a barren
back wall) is the only set piece location that is specific. the other
set pieces are to be placed at the discretion of the director. some
of these set pieces may be used for more than one monologue if
needed (or desired). the set pieces/locales are:
a desert water station
consists of a large plastic barrel that is painted light
blue and placed atop a makeshift stand. a water valve is
located at the end of the barrel and above it are stickers
spelling out the word “agua” and a cross scribbled on
with paint or marker.
a makeshift altar
adorned with pictures, flowers and an assortment of
candles and personal objects.
chairs and a desk
to indicate an office, restaurant, etc.

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 production notes
i. a slide/video projection should be shown at the beginning of
each monologue (interview) giving the name of the piece,
the name of the character, the character’s occupation and
hometown (as shown in the script). there are also specific
slide requests within the text of the script. slides can be
used to suggest setting if setting requirements for specific
pieces are too cumbersome.
ii. throughout the play, there is extensive use of the (extended
beat) stage direction. these are meant to give the characters
unspoken dialogue. they can range from an extended pause
to a character action, depending on the context in which
they are inserted. actors are encouraged to experiment with
these extended beats and explore their “true” meanings.
iii. the play was written with no intermission, but productions
seeking to use an intermission are allowed to do so at their
discretion.
iv. productions are not allowed to change the order of the
monologues. if they wish to, they must get permission
before doing so.
v. translations of the pieces “virgencita linda” and “muñeca” are
included with the script as a courtesy, but those pieces must
be performed in spanish. no exceptions will be allowed.
vi. producers wishing to use the specific music suggested within
various scenes of the play must acquire the rights from the
property holders.

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 introduction
Voices of the Frontera
by Ashley Lucas
My great-grandfather was born somewhere in Mexico—where
precisely, we cannot say. His father died when he was 8 years
old, and my great-great-grandmother took her son and crossed
the river into Texas, where my family has lived ever since. She
married a white man whose last name was Duncan. She and her
light-skinned son took his name and learned quickly that it was
easier to live as white people in Texas than as Mexicans. We lost
the family name and all the stories of our family in their native
land, save this vague outline of their border crossing. Though
I long to know more of my Mexican ancestors, I am painfully
aware that we are among the lucky ones. My family’s crossing
was likely not easy, but they survived and had children who
never knew the the terror of being smuggled into a new country.
Reading and seeing 14 reminds me of the strange blessings of
my inheritance, the immigration story so safe in its distance
from me that I can afford not to know quite how it happened.
The characters in 14, a devastatingly accurate and moving play
by Chicano writer José Casas, navigate a more troubled border
than past generations of my family did. On May 19, 2001, a
20-year-old smuggler named Jesus Lopez Ramos abandoned
25 Mexican immigrants in a treacherous stretch of Arizona
desert known as the Devil’s Path.1 Fourteen of those left behind
died of dehydration. Casas’ play is named for those 14 whose
stories he could not tell. Their silence enshrouds the play and
begs us to imagine a world in which we could have met them.

1 There is some inconsistency in reports of the age of smuggler Jesus Lopez Ramos.
The Los Angeles Times identified him as 20 years old in the article “Smuggler Pleads
Guilty in Deaths of 14 Immigrants,” while the Tucson Citizen reported that he was
21 in the article “Death in the Desert/One Year Later.”

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His play is peopled instead with characters from interviews
he conducted with Arizona residents from a variety of
backgrounds. The resulting cross section of the border
population offers perspectives from those who oppose
undocumented immigration and the border crossers
themselves. We hear from the mother whose son was killed
by an undocumented drunk driver and the father whose son
helped to beat an undocumented teenager to death. We meet
a wealthy Scottsdale socialite and a woman in her 70s who
cleans rooms at the local Holiday Inn and has lived in the
shadows since she crossed the border nearly 40 years ago.

All of these characters are given the dignity of meaningful

representation. None are cartoons or shapeless representatives
of particular groups. Because Casas spoke to actual Arizona
residents, his characters feel fully embodied, and even those
with an axe to grind have compelling ways of doing so. The
Chicano actor who passes for white explains his pressing need
to fit the types of roles in which agents will cast him. The
Latino politician argues about the cost of bilingual education
and insists that others should be able to learn English as
well as he did in the public schools. These characters make
arguments to which both the unseen interviewer and the
playwright himself are quick to object, but the ideas and the
characters who present them are given depth and precision.
The play draws the audience toward these characters, even as
it critiques their assertions, because the rich world of the play
offers spectators complexity rather than easy answers.

Casas, who is my colleague in the department of theatre and

drama at the University of Michigan, has said to me that he wished
this play were no longer relevant in 2018. His grief chronicles
the ongoing tragedies of lives lost in border crossings since the

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play was written nearly two decades ago. Eighteen immigrants
suffocated to death inside a trailer truck in Victoria, Texas, on
May 15, 2003; the truck “showed signs that the trapped people
had tried to punch holes through it so air could come in.”2 In
an eerily similar incident in July 2017, another 10 immigrants
died in a truck near San Antonio, Texas, making them part of
the 232 who died crossing the U.S.-Mexican border in the first
seven months of that year. The continuing militarization of the
border, plans for a border wall and the xenophobia stoked by
the Trump administration only make such deaths more likely
and the play more necessary.

When I think of the 14 who died on May 19, 2001, I wonder

what drove them to place their trust, life savings and lives into
the hands of another undocumented man, just 20 years old.
Their desperation—because such danger cannot be confronted
solely on the wings of hope—drove them to cross a scorched
and barren stretch of desert where many of their predecessors
had died on the same journey. They did this knowing that
the promised future our nation would offer them was one of
secrecy and underground economies, of manual labor and fear
of deportation. They agreed to walk away from all they knew
and all they loved, toward this uncertain and unquestionably
difficult future. These 14 were not found to be smuggling
drugs, and they bore no indication of being “criminals” or
“rapists,” as President Trump would have us believe a great
many Mexican immigrants are.

One of these 14, Lorenzo Hernandez Ortiz, left his wife and
five children in San Pedro Altepepan, Veracruz, Mexico. He
agreed to pay $1,700 in U.S. currency to a smuggler, and a
2 “Trapped in Heat in Texas Truck, 18 People Die,” by Simon Romero and David
Barboza. The New York Times. May 15, 2003.

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year after Ortiz’s death, his wife Juanita was still struggling to
pay his debt by selling tamales for 10 cents each at the school
near her home. Ortiz had a family he hoped to better support
with remittances from his meager wages from whatever job
he could find in the U.S. He died trying to make life better for
those who could not even attempt the crossing. His story does
not appear in 14, yet his life and its potential meanings are
invoked by performances of the play.

The majority of my students at the University of Michigan

struggle to picture Ortiz’s life and even those of the characters
who speak in 14. Even as we sit on the northern border of
our nation, many among us imagine immigration narratives
as being far from our present reality. A startling number of my
students have never been to Canada, despite living right next
to it for much or all of their lives. My students from Dearborn,
Mich., with Arab families from various countries expressed
an immediate connection to 14. Of course, the Dreamers
know these stories all too well. When Casas produced the play
on our campus on Feb. 22, 2018, the undocumented students
in the audience wept silently throughout the play and stood
shyly in corners at the reception afterwards, waiting patiently
to be introduced to the only actors they had ever seen tell their
stories onstage.

These Dreamers survived the crossing where those 14 did not,

and still these students must be careful about how and when they
tell their stories. In 2017, the Trump administration rescinded
the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) program,
which was started in 2002 under President Obama to give
undocumented students a legal path to attend college and earn
a living. The Dreamers wait for the next decisions to be made
about their legal status. If and when they are granted the right to

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stay, they do not know what jobs in the U.S. an undocumented
person with a college degree can hold. They still fear for their
parents and families, both in the U.S. and abroad. They watched
the one performance of this play on our campus with eyes that
did not seem to blink. They already knew something about the
14 voices of the deceased that the play was missing and wanted
to hear what the living had to say.

The final monologue in 14 belongs to Reverend Clay

Nash, who maintains water stations in the desert. He has
encountered quite a few dehydrated bodies in the desert and
cannot know how many lives the water stations might save.
He says, “Providing this water is nothing more than an act
of faith and conviction.” He does something very simple but
profoundly difficult and controversial because he believes that
no one should have to die of thirst in the desert. He reminds
the audience, “Regardless of which argument you side with
when you see a person dead in front of your eyes, your
thoughts should be on him or her. Honoring that person while,
at the same time, being grateful that you get the chance to see
another day!” Casas does not attempt to represent the bodies
of the 14, and he never tells us anything more than their names
and the way they died. They fill the play with their absence
and demand that we all remember the accidents of birth or the
fierce struggles that brought us to this moment.

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 14
prologue
(in the darkness, a spotlight shines on the back wall/video
screen. the slide reads:
may 19, 2001
a smuggling guide abandons
more than 20 mexicans crossing east of yuma.
dehydration kills 14.
their deaths trigger renewed binational debate
over immigration.
the dead are:
the next series of projections are individual slides showing
the names of each victim. there should be a beat between
each slide. the names of the victims are:
lorenzo hernandez ortiz
raymundo barreda landa
reyendo bartolo
mario castillo fernandez
enrique landero
raymundo barreda maruri
julian mabros malaga
claudio marin alejandro
arnulfo flores badilla
edgar adrian martinez colorado
efrain gonzalez manzano
heriberto tapia baldillo

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16 14

final slide of prologue:

two others have yet
to be identified.
extended beat.
as the projection on the screen slowly fades into darkness,
guns n’ roses’ “welcome to the jungle,” or something
similar, begins blaring.)

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 14 17

part i: welcome to the jungle

welcome to the jungle
roger tate and marta ramirez
business owner and secretary
yuma, ariz.

(with the music still playing, two spotlights go up—one

downstage right and one downstage left. located downstage
right is a chicana in her mid-forties. her name is marta
ramirez. she is sitting on a chair; behind a desk. a picture of
her family sits prominently on the corner of the desk. standing
downstage left is roger tate. a white man in his late forties.
it is apparent that he has not had much sleep. he is standing in
front of his family-owned hardware store. the store has been
vandalized, and roger is sweeping up broken glass. these
interviews are taking place at different locales so neither
of these characters knows of the other’s presence onstage.
marta ramirez begins to talk as the song slowly fades away.)

marta. the theme of this year’s prom was “welcome to the jungle.”
roger. yes, sir … that’s correct.
marta. i had never even heard of guns n’ roses.
roger. they’re being singled out.
marta. nice enough looking kids. the girls’ dresses were beautiful,
and those boys looked so handsome in their tuxedos.
roger. their pictures on the front page of the newspaper.
marta. smiling and posing for the camera.
roger. they had their entire lives ahead of them.
marta (annoyed). there they were. chests puffed out …
beaming with pride.

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18 14

roger. there are two sides to every story.

marta (incredulous). giving a white power salute in the middle
of their prom photos … thinking it was some sort of funny
joke!
roger. they’re teenagers
marta. their parents should be ashamed of—

(extended beat.
roger starts pacing around a bit and then rubs his tired
eyes.)

roger. you’ll have to forgive me. i haven’t had much sleep

lately. reporters have been calling me and my family all
hours of the night. we changed our phone number to an
unlisted one, but that still hasn’t stopped them, though …
it isn’t right, i tell you. all this attention is insane. (beat.)
this hasn’t been easy for my family. my little girls have
had to stay at home because of all this commotion … some
other kids threatened them at school. my wife went grocery
shopping the other day and was harassed by a mob of
people. she had to have the police escort her home. (beat.)
fortunately for us, we have some good neighbors. they’ve
offered to take turns buying our groceries until this whole
thing’s blown over. i can’t even go a single day without
somebody wanting to talk to me … a man can only— (beat;
angrily.) a man deserves the right to some privacy!
marta. i don’t understand why this had to happen … or, how it
ever got to this point.
roger. uhm, i don’t much like reporters … i was told you
weren’t one of them. i hope i can trust you to be fair.
marta. i won’t sit here and tell you that there’s no racism in
this town. border cities aren’t built that way. instead of

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 14 19

black versus white. it’s mexican versus white … same fight.

after a while, you actually get used to it. that’s not to say,
you accept it. all i’m saying is that most of the time around
here people’s barks are worse than their bites. as long as it’s
just a bunch of people yelling at each other or shooting a
dirty look now and again, things remain somewhat tolerable
… but, lately, it seems like this whole state has— (beat;
solemnly.) those boys had to ruin what little peace there
was here.
roger. no one knows exactly what happened.
marta. francisco and javier did nothing wrong.
roger. people want to make it out to be a race war; something
to that effect. nonsense. they’re painting a false picture.
that’s not the truth. my son and his friends were only doing
what they felt they needed to do. are you telling me those
kids should have let those boys walk all over them? the
one mexican kid grabbed that girl inappropriately. no one
seems to mention that … and, what about that girl? what
about concerns for her safety? who knows what could’ve
happened! everybody knows that section of town isn’t very
safe … my son and his buddies were protecting her. he was
being a gentleman … just like i taught him.
marta. all the jocks and their friends go to the peak to drink
and smoke pot … and whatever else it is that high schoolers
do up there.
roger. they weren’t out to hurt anybody.
marta. all because they smiled at a girl … imagine that.
roger. that mexican boy and his friends—
marta (angrily). —friend!!!

(extended beat.)

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20 14

marta. there were only two of them. two skinny little mexican
boys against half a football team.
roger. they were defending themselves like anyone would in
that situation.
marta. six football players … three of them close to three
hundred pounds.
roger. hell, i got into plenty of scrapes when i was younger.
that’s part of becoming a man.
marta. francisco and javier were held to the ground and kicked
in the head while the other kids watched and yelled, “kill
the beaners!” not one person lifted a finger to help them!
five broken ribs and a depressed skull fracture. severe brain
damage … four operations later, and that boy is nowhere
close to being normal. his life is over. (beat.) the other boy
never had a chance. some say he was the lucky one.
roger. when did a little roughhousing become a crime? i feel
sorry for those boys, i really do, but it’s not my fault they
couldn’t finish what they started. why aren’t folks blaming
their—
marta. —parents!? (beat.) i have been part of the parent/teacher
association for the last twenty years. i have never, once, seen
those parents at a meeting. not a single one! but they were
always at those football games. that’s for sure! all those boys
programmed for violence, but not the consequences. (beat.)
did you know that when the police opened up their lockers,
they found massive amounts of steroids and white power
paraphernalia? a couple of boys even had loaded guns hidden
away in their backpacks, but as long as the stands were full of
people cheering for touchdowns—
roger. —i’m a respected man in this city—
marta. —people would look the other way.

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 14 21

roger. i’m a businessman, and i’m on the city council. my

great grandfather, gerald xavier tate was considered one of
the founding fathers of this area. there’s no better place in
this world to raise a family … people trust me.

(extended beat.
roger looks at the sign.)

roger (cont’d). take a peek at that name on the wall … tate’s

hardware store. been in my family for generations. it’s more
than a hardware store. this is a place where townsfolk can
come to unwind. (looking at the broken glass.) they come
here to relax and shoot the breeze. this building is a living
piece of history. (beat; unconvincingly.) i’m a respected man.

(extended beat.
a look of pain crosses roger’s face. he looks off into the
distance. he sets his broom down; beat. he turns back
towards the interviewer.)

roger (cont’d). my son’s also respected. honor society. captain

of the football team. girlfriends left and right. he would
always help a friend in need. he wasn’t a follower. he was
a leader. he was the most popular kid in yuma. he wouldn’t
do anything to damage that.
marta. especially, that tate boy. he always had this air of
arrogance about him, like he was entitled. thought he could
get away with murder. (beat.) who knows? maybe he will.
the trial doesn’t start for another few weeks.

(extended beat.)

marta (cont’d, nonchalantly). i wouldn’t be surprised.

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22 14

roger. i’m getting him the best lawyer money can buy. i’ll do
whatever it takes to clear my boy’s name. he has a bright
future ahead of him. (defiantly.) he has a scholarship to play
football at the university of utah. strong safety … that’s his
scholarship. he earned it!
marta (sadly). i think about those boys. both groups. and i
think to myself, every single one of these boys were once
little babies … with little fingers and little toes and flashed
the kind of smiles that only babies can.
roger. jason is my son. he isn’t guilty of any crime.
marta. i’ve met the tate boy’s father on a couple of occasions
… he was cordial. seemed like a nice enough man … but—

(marta picks up the photo of her family; stares at it.)

marta (cont’d). sometimes i wonder how i got so lucky with

my kids.

(beat; marta puts the picture frame back on the desk.)

marta (cont’d). my kids are grown up. one works as a

mechanic near gilbert; the other is studying here at the local
community college, but i won’t try to convince you that
they were perfect angels. believe me, they were a handful.
i’m sure there are things they did that i don’t ever want
to know about … but, uhm … but, i don’t know. (beat;
contemplative.) they seem to have turned out all right from
what i see.
roger. i am not a racist. my son is not a racist. (beat.) some of
my friends are mexican.
marta. those boys ruined two lives. two families. they need
to be punished. they need to know that what they did was
wrong … everyone in this city needs to know!

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 14 23

roger (pleading). my son is a good boy! why can’t people see

that!?
marta (defeated). how did they manage to learn so much hate?

(spotlight fades off of marta.

extended beat.)

roger. people from all over town have been writing letters to the
judge on his behalf. the principal and some of his teachers.
all of his friends and family too. coach taylor even wrote the
university to reassure them that this whole incident was just
one big misunderstanding. (beat; unconvincingly.) in the
end, i believe my son will be exonerated. then … everyone
will know that it wasn’t his fault … and that things just got
out of hand.

(extended beat.)

roger (cont’d, sadly). that boys will be boys.

(spotlight fades on roger, then the stage goes dark.)

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24 14

part ii: say a little prayer

… just

denise hudson
unemployed
chandler, ariz.

(the sound of a woman crying can be heard in the darkness;

beat. lights up. denise hudson is a white woman in her
early forties. she has been crying. she wipes her eyes with a
handkerchief.)

denise. thank you … i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to … uhm, it’s

been almost three years.

(she finishes wiping her eyes; composes herself, but not

entirely successful.
extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). you never think you’re going to get that

knock on the door or the late night phone call … it’s hard
to explain. it’s not like in the movies … and, no matter how
many times you see other people talk about their stories …
you don’t truly know. (beat.) until …

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d, responding). that’s right … michael wanted to

have some pizza with some friends. it was a school night,
but he had been doing so well in school. we were so proud
of him.

(extended beat.)

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denise (cont’d). in a few months, he would have left for

college. i wanted him to go to arizona state. i would tell him
that it was a really good school and that he’d save money
being at home, but he was leaning towards one of those
california schools. kept saying he wanted to learn how to
surf. (beat.) it was a school night … if i had … just.

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). it took place at the corner of ray road and

mcclintock … waiting for the light to turn green. (beat.)
i can picture him singing alongside his music … listening
to the rolling stones. that’s all he ever listened to. i blame
that on his father. they were so close. (responding; beat.)
uhm … you can try to talk to him, but— (beat.) our divorce
became final a couple of months ago. (responding.) how
were you supposed to know?

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). michael never had a chance. alone in that

intersection driving a dinged-up ’92 hyundai … a sports
utility vehicle speeding at about ninety miles an hour.
(beat; angrily.) those machines should be illegal! they’re
nothing but glorified tanks. they weren’t meant for streets.
they were meant for the wilderness. the outdoors … but, i
guess that’s the thing nowadays … the bigger the better.

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). a police officer at the scene had claimed it

was a miracle that my son could’ve made it to the hospital
alive, much less in one piece … he was on life support for
almost two weeks. (beat.) i thank god we were there with
him at the end.

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(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). a second after he was pulled off life support

i felt his hand gently squeeze my hand. the doctor said that
was normal … only an involuntary spasm. (beat; upset.)
no, no, no … he was wrong!!!

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d, quietly) that was michael saying, “goodbye.”

(extended beat.
extended beat.)

denise (cont’d, responding angrily). the other boy?

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). he was a couple of months older than my

son. he was running from the police. the car he was driving
was stolen. they had been chasing him all the way from
scottsdale. the impact of the crash tore my son’s car in
half and scattered pieces of it as far as two hundred yards
away. the other boy suffered two broken legs and a ruptured
spleen, but nothing life-threatening. (beat.) at the time of the
accident, i was working part time as a cashier at walgreens.
it wasn’t much, but it was all i could find. my husband had
just begun working at circuit city, but he hadn’t worked
there long enough to earn any benefits. (beat; desperation
in her voice.) we’re still getting hospital bills. my husband
and i— (stopping herself.) i mean … my ex and i were living
from paycheck to paycheck as it was … we had maybe a
couple of hundred dollars in our savings account; not much
more. (angrily.) we tried getting help, but couldn’t find any.

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we went to the county welf— (beat.) we were told we made

too much money to qualify for public assist— (beat.) my
credit history has been destroyed. (beat; embarrassed.) i
had to move back in with my parents … they’re on a fixed
income … i don’t know what i’m going to—

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d, defeated). i lost my only child.

(extended beat.)

denise (cont’d). he can walk again. the doctors fixed his legs
… he’s not paying for what he did. (beat; incredulously.)
and, he even had the audacity to sue the police because he
claims that he’ll be walking with a limp the rest of his life.
can you believe that!? he sued the police department. the
chandler police department paid out millions in lawsuit
damages! (beat.) that police chase, they say, killed my son
… that’s all i hear: they say i should be suing for some
money as well … no! never! those police officers didn’t kill
my son. (suddenly and angrily standing up.) he did!!!! it’s
like he won the lottery!!! he was an illegal alien … my son
wasn’t!!! where is the justice in that!!!???

(she realizes the timbre of her voice and the anger welling
up within her. she realizes the power of her words;
embarrassment mixed in with sadness. she looks at the
interviewer almost as if to apologize. she slowly sits back
down in her seat.
extended beat.
extended beat.)

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virgencita linda
luz ortiz
trabajadora domestica
guadalupe, ariz.

(las luces suben. la entrivista esta llevando acabo en la

yarda de luz ortiz, una mejicana de sesenta años. esta
sentada en una silla. esta rodeada de estatuas de la virgen
de guadalupe. es temprano en la tardesita. luz ha llegado
del trabajo.)

luz. perdon que estoy tarde, mi hija tenia que ponerle gas al
carro. normalmente camino al trabajo- ahi a una cuadra en
el holiday inn hotel. el express, ahi en frente del mercado.
(responde al comentario de su hija; entretenida.) oh,
perdon, quise decir el mall. a mi hija le encanta caminar
por horas ahi, pero como yo no tengo mucho dinero yo no
voy. (pausa.) pero es no mas quince minutos al trabajo. una
caminada corta. mi viejo o uno de mis hijos vienen por mi
y me caminan a la casa. les digo que no tienen que, pero se
preocupan por mi … no quise estar tarde y cuando mi hija
me dijo del gas … aagh. gracias por ser paciente y me vas
a tener que perdonar porque no tuve tiempo de cambiarme
despues del trabajo. (pausa.) estoy muy emosionada de
tenerte aqui. habla mucho de ti mi hija y dice que eres muy
buen esscritor. (responde.) ay, muchas gracias, estoy muy
orgullosa de ella. es mi niña mas chica y la tuve ya casi
al los cuarenta. dice que quiere ser maestra. le pregunto
si no quiere ser doctora o abogada como su hermano. eso
paga mejor, pero dice que quiere ser profesora, que quiere
ayuydar a los niños. siempre piense de los otros antes de
pensar en si misma. (pausa.) tu naciste en arizona? eres de

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los angeles? hmm … yo fui una vez. se me hizo bonito. me

gusto la playa, pero no me gustaria vivir ahi. se me hace muy
grande y con mucha gente. estoy muy feliz aqui en arizona.
(pausa; entrentenida.) no te preocupes por tu español. no
eres pocho. te entiendo bien. no te debes de avergonsar. yo
entiendo que dificil es ser bilingue. mi hijo mayor siempre
me contesta en ingles! siempre le tengo que decir, “en
español, mijo” pero a el no le importa, no mas se rie. pero
es bien hijo. y tus papas? en donde nacieron? ah zacatecas
… y tu mama? monterry. ay ya lo sabia! yo tambien soy de
monterry. casi toda mi familia esta ahi. colonia metalurgica,
colonia nueva aurora, colonia torreon jardin. no sabes de
donde es tu familia? colonia vencedora? ay, si … tengo dos
tios que son de ahi. preguntale a tu mama que si no conce a
la familia gallegos. juan carlos gallegos y edurado gallegos.
(pausa.) trato de ir a mexico, pero se me hace mas dificil
ahora que estoy vieja. todavia tienes familia en monterry?
cuanto que no los ves? ay, mijo, hace mucho tiempo! tienes
que ir a ver los, es tu familia. (responde.) si es dificil, pero
ahorrate unos pennies para ir porque nos hacemos viejos y
tienes que recordar que mexico es tu pais como de tu padres
… si extraño mexico mucho, pero me gusta la ciudad de
guadalupe. es muy similar a mexico. no es muy bonito y al
los gringos no les importa mucho de lo que pasa aqui. es lo
que yo pienso, pero yo no te tengo que decir. mira nomas a la
calle baseline. es como crusar de tijuana a san diego. el mall
y todo. todo nuevo y bonito, hasta tienen un parque bonito y
a ellos no les importa si guadalupe es bonito. no les importa
si las escuelas estan mal. (pausa; fastidiada.) a los niños les
hiecieron un parque para que juegen al beisbol. es bonito
y me alegro por los niños, pero es muy poco. al lado de la
iglesia donde juegen los hombres es pura tierra y basura. asi
es aqui. es como si estan riendo en nuestras caras, es casi

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decir, “si quieres jugar en lugar bonito tienes que crusar la

calle, que tiene, vas a tener que volver a crusar.” (pausa;
disculpa.) ay, perdon, pero me hace enojar. no quiero ser
maldita. soy una mujer muy catolica. yo creo en dios, jesu
cristo y en la virgencita linda, pero no soy ciega … pero con
eso dicho, estoy muy agradecida. agradecida que tengo mi
casa y comida que comer, una tele para ver a mis novelas.
mi viejo me quiere mucho y tengo buenos hijos. guadalupe
se ha portado muy bien con nosotros. la mayoria de la gente
aqui no tienen mucho dinero, pero ahi seguimos dando le
duro y siempre encontramos tiempo para convivir y tomar
nos un cafecito. en guadalupe familia es familia. creeme, lo
poco que tenemos aqui es mucho mas de lo que una gente
tiene en mexico. nosotros somos contentos con cosas como
el papel del baño y el jabon. esas son los cosas que les llevo
a mi familia en mexico, cosas que mucha gente no les pone
importancia. (pausa.) es porque la virgencita nos protege.
somos muy afortunados de tener a la virgencita en nuestras
vidas. por eso casi todas las casas en guadalupe tienen a
la virgen de proteccion. tenemos que recordar que ella fue
la que nos cuido cuando crusamos la frontera. (pausa.) yo
tenia 16 años cuando me vine, yo sola con gente que no
conocia. (responde.) no … mi mama no queria me viniera,
pero en mexico no le puedes decir a nadie que no se venga,
no mas que vas a resar por ellos. (cerrando sus ojos; pausa.)
la primera noche me dormi con mucho miedo porque podia
oir a los coyotes y el calor estaba muy pesado. esa noche
me dormi con mi virgencita bien cerca. era la noche mas
larga de mi vida. (pausa, emocional.) unos dias despues
cuando crusamos, el coyote nos estabe empujando en una
troca como si fueramos animales. cuando me meti a la troca
se me callo mi virgen. le pedi a el coyote que me la diera
y me grito feo que me callara. cinco horas despues estaba

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en una cochera en tucson. dos dias despues estaba en una

siembra de sandias en el oeste de phoenix. cuando tenia
unos minutos para tomar agua, pensaba en mi virgencita
que quedo pisotiada y abondonada en el desierto como
muchos que resan a ella. (pausa.) todavia reso por ella …
nunca me ha dejado, hasta cuando miro al otro lado la calle
y veo a ese mall y a los carros nuevos y a las casas bonitas,
todavia. (pausa.) ella esta conmigo.

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part iii: a matter of priorities

a matter of priorities
omar castillo
state senator of arizona
flagstaff, ariz.

(this interview is taking place in the office of omar castillo.

he is a latino in his mid-thirties. he is wearing a navy blue
suit. the theme song from the classic television show “all in
the family,” or something similar, can be heard. after a few
moments, the song begins to fade away as the lyrics “didn’t
need no welfare state; everybody pulled their weight” are
heard.)

omar. no! i do not think latinos are being unfairly targeted

in this state … i don’t feel that bilingualism is a necessary
component of the educational system. it is not the
responsibility of our school systems to carry that load. it
is an unfair burden to place on school districts … tests
scores are at an all-time low … do you understand what
i am saying!? the more time and resources we dedicate to
bilingual education the longer it will take to get our scores
up … if at all. (responding; sarcastic.) yes … i am sure that
your numbers say what you want them to say. you are not
the first person to throw out statistics at me and you will not
be the last, but i can throw out numbers as well as the next
person. however, the reality of the situation is that bilingual
education has not proven to be of any benefit to the general
popula— (interrupted.)

(extended beat.)

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omar (cont’d, responding; irked). and … where does it stop?

spanish, vietnamese, chinese, french? what next? maybe
gaelic? or latin? just look at the problems in california. if
we have to adjust for one group of the people then we must
adjust for any and all groups of people. (responding.) these
students are not studying in mexico. they are studying in
the united states. they need to know the official language
of this country. in the end, it will benefit everybody. (beat.)
other countries have official languages. mexico … has an
official language. (sarcastically.) yet you are here … in my
office claiming racism against the government.

(extended beat.)

omar (cont’d). the hispanic community needs to learn

to appreciate this country … it needs to rely less on the
kindness of others.

(extended beat.)

omar (cont’d, responding; angrily). anti-latino!?

(extended beat.)

omar (cont’d). i am anything, but that. i am not a traitor or

some tio taco. i am not the walking embodiment of what
others perceive us to be. i am an educated brown man,
yet, so many of our gente treat me like— (interrupted
and responding angrily.) do i agree with what governor
brewer did? yes, i do … but, that does not make me—
(reacting to being interrupted; incredulous.) i understand
that ethnic studies is a volatile topic of discussion, but i
believe it does more harm than good. do not misunderstand.
i think it is invaluable for a community to know their own

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histories, but these classes are not about that. instead of

uniting our students, it is dividing them. it goes out of its
way to promote racial resentment. it teaches a one-sided
and narrow perspective that is inconsistent with american
values. (beat.) fundamentally, i think it is wrong to divide
students by r— (interrupted and responding.) i am sorry
if you feel that it is unfair, but that is the law. these school
districts have ample time to adjust the new guidelines and
if they choose to ignore them and lose a portion of their
funding they will have only themselves to blame. we need
to divert money into better school facilities, computers
and better wages for our teachers … are you telling me
our teachers are overpaid? arizona’s education ranking has
been steadily decreasing over the past decade. we need to
focus on the basic fundamentals which our students are
sorely lacking. (beat.) we have a generation of children
that feel at ease with every piece of technology on the face
of the earth, yet, they cannot do a simple math problem
or write a complete sentence. that needs to be addressed!
(responding; annoyed.) you stand there scribbling in your
little notebook about how unfair this situation is, but what
are the alternatives? i doubt you have any to offer. cutting
non-essential programs is not tantamount to ignoring our
students’ cultural roots. once again, and i am sorry if i
sound like a broken record, but that is not the responsibility
of our educators. eliminating these programs will not affect
that. people entering this country need to acknowledge their
roles. parents need to be responsible for the welfare of their
children … that includes their abilities to keep their stories
and language intact. my mother understood the value of
this. she would take me with her on her cleaning jobs. while
she was working, i would be watching television. she would
have me sitting in front of that thing for hours at a time.

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always telling me to pay attention … sesame street. soap

operas. the price is right. you name it. (beat; fondly.) by far,
though, my favorite show was all in the family. they would
play reruns at two o’clock every afternoon on c.b.s … i
know it sounds simple and, believe me, more went into my
upbringing than that, and i’m not trying to minimalize it …
obviously, it represents, (gesturing.) in a very infinitesimal
way, is the spirit of my mother’s determination, of her
desire to make a better life for our family. the point is …
(beat.) my mother knew what was needed of me to survive
and be accepted in the united states.

(extended beat.)

omar (cont’d, proudly). my mother did not know english,

but … i taught her. (beat.) and … she taught me spanish.
(beat.) look at me now: i am one of the youngest senators
in the history of arizona, and one day i will be governor
of this state. i firmly believe that. (beat.) you see, I have
succeeded! there is no reason others should not be able to
do likewise. it is a matter of priorities.

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part iv: mirror mirror on the wall

a thin line
michelle rodriguez
magazine editor
phoenix, ariz.

(its four o’clock in the afternoon. michelle rodriguez is

energetic and a little high-strung. she is an attractive chicana
in her late thirties. she is multitasking throughout the entire
interview as she speaks on her cellphone/bluetooth. she
speaks quickly; hardly taking a breath. her desk is covered
with other electronic gadgets and her computer is on.)

michelle. i’m glad we were able to connect. it’s always so

hectic around here, but i somehow manage. (responding.)
that’s right. you cannot believe the positive effect the world
of technology has had on my life. i don’t know where i’d
be without it. (responding.) definitely. it allows me the
opportunity to spend a good portion of my time back in the
a-z. (beat; responding.) sure, believe me, i wanted to run
my magazine from there, but it made more sense to start up
in los angeles; me being young and not really sure of what
i was doing. (beat.) oh i don’t know, sabes? l.a. will do for
now. i’m not its biggest fan. obviously, there are parts of
the city where i feel more comfortable, but, overall, there’s
this pervasive attitude of, como se dice, aye … it’s a very
me kind of place. at times, i feel extremely insecure. just
imagine multiplying scottsdale by fifty and then you got
l.a. (beat.) for the most part, i enjoy my time here, but i
prefer the calmness of arizona. having my familia around.
eventually, if things go well and the company grows, i’ll
return to phoenix with (airquotes.) “my child” and run

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it from there. sometimes i feel conflicted about running

the magazine from here, but i feel fortunate that i have a
magazine to run at all. this industry has never been a safe
venture to begin with, but with the social network the way it
is, things are constantly changing at a breakneck pace and if
a company doesn’t keep up, they’re finished before they’ve
started. (responding.) gracias. i appreciate that. yes. there
was a time when i didn’t think modern chicana magazine
would see the light of day. being a woman is hard enough in
today’s society, but to be a woman of color trying to make
it in a male-dominated industry, you can only imagine the
difficulties i’ve had to endure. (proudly.) modern chicana
celebrated its five-year anniversary a couple of weeks
ago. something i’m very proud of. i hope it stands as a
role model for chicanas to go after what they desire, that,
through hard work and dedication, they can accomplish
anything. pura chicanisma! (beat.) i apologize for being a
bit self-indulgent, but this is my life’s work and—

(the caller keeps cutting off. she pushes the redial button to
call back the interviewer.)

michelle (cont’d). hello? hello? can you hear me? (beat.)

oh, i have you now. i’m so sorry. i suppose technology
isn’t always as convenient as we would like it to be …
(responding.) you and me, both. (responding.) yes, i heard
that you were writing a play or something of that nature.
i’m still a little confused. my assistant wasn’t very clear
about why you called— (nods a few times; beat.) the story
… so … you’ve read it?

(extended beat.)

michelle (cont’d). i wish it weren’t the case.

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(she begins to pace.)

michelle (cont’d, responding). that’s right. el tepeyac. the one

off evergreen and wabash. (responding; amused.) me, too. i
love the food, and the different mix of people always amazes
me. think about it. where in the world can you get yuppies,
working class gente, cops and cholos in one place getting
along? de veras! it’s east l.a.’s own version of the united
nations. (responding.) yes. i was waiting for a friend of mine,
and i was getting a little worried because you know how it
gets at that place during lunch time. it’s a madhouse, and with
my friend on chicano time, i was getting a little frustrated.
manny was already out on the sidewalk handing out shots of
the tequila. well, to make a long story short, my cellphone
rang, and i knew that it was going to be my friend bailing on
our lunch date and, at this point, i dashed all hopes of a decent
lunch because the line in front of that place was like waiting
in line for a ride at disneyland on a summer afternoon. oh
well, another day going through the drive through at mickey
d’s, i thought so i began walking back to my car when i see
a little group of girls hanging out across the street from the
restaurant; cholitas on a corner como siempre. you know,
putting on their make-up and talking chisme, (beat.) for
some reason, i had the urge to strike up a conversation with
them, maybe even promote the magazine a little. not one girl
had ever heard of my magazine. not even glanced at it while
they were in the grocery store. nothing. a little humbling,
but i understood. i didn’t need an explanation. i guess that’s
why i wanted to talk to them. you see, one of my main goals
for this magazine is to reach as much of a cross section of
the chicana community as possible and, apparently i wasn’t
doing as good a job as i had imagined, but i was truly enjoying
my conversation with these girls—veronica, rosy, gladys y la

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ginger. (beat; excitedly.) i just loved those names. loved the

way they weren’t afraid to express any feelings whatsoever.
we talked about education, the lack of jobs, vatos with no
game. you name it. it was refreshing, but it’s not like i didn’t
understand what they were going through. i grew up in the
same type of barrio in south phoenix. trust me, i can spray
aquanet with the best of them but, for the most part, i was your
typical catholic school kid, but some of the stories these girls
were telling me. (beat.) reminds me that i’ve been spending
way too much time with the suits and not enough time with,
well, tu sabes. suffice it to say, i appreciate everything my
parents have ever done for me. (beat.) i promised the girls i
would send each of them a free subscription to the magazine.
i didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but they were totally
psyched that i would do that. it meant so much to me that
they were so appreciative of my offer. like i said, i didn’t
think it was that big a deal. (responding.) yes! of course i
wanted to continue talking with them. i wish we could have
had more of a gabfest, but i had a business meeting to go to
in santa monica, and they had to get back to class they were
already fifteen minutes late for. i wrote down their addresses,
and we said our goodbyes. and as they began walking away,
i told myself that this conversation would make for a great
article for the magazine, and that’s when—

(extended beat.
pulling the phone away from her ear. it is apparent that she
is upset.)

michelle (cont’d, disbelief). i couldn’t believe my ears.

(extended beat.)

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michelle (cont’d). as the girls were entering the gate back to

school, a little viejita was walking by them. you know the
kind i’m talking about. the kind of woman who reminds
you of your own abuelita. (beat.) this poor little woman
accidentally bumped into gladys, and, gladys looks at her
and says, “watch where you’re going, wetback.” a second
later, as the woman crossed the street, the girls disappeared
into the schoolyard. at that moment, my article suddenly
changed. it was no longer about a group of girlfriends and
the conversation we shared.

(extended beat.)

michelle (cont’d, angrily). when are we going to learn that

there’s a thin line between love and hate? a line that becomes
even thinner when that hate is directed at ourselves. is that
where our young gente are heading? i wonder sometimes.
(beat.) with each new generation our raza becomes more
assimilated. more separated from their past. they’re not
only forgetting their cultura, they are now beginning to
resent it. that’s why i started this magazine … because i
love la mujer. la chicana. i love my gente. i want them to
love themselves.

(extended beat.)

michelle (cont’d). funny how a seemingly insignificant little

encounter can—

(the cellphone gets disconnected. beat.)

michelle (cont’d, as lights fade to black). hello? hello?

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type
matthew (mateo) logan
actor
phoenix, ariz.

(matthew “mateo” logan is a latino in his early thirties. he

is an actor living in los angeles, but is visiting family and
friends in phoenix, his hometown.)

matthew. phoenix is what it is. my family and some of my

friends are still here, but i had to leave. seriously … being
an actor in phoenix. i think not. (sarcastic.) a life of bashas
markets commercials? no thank you. any actor worth his
salt would want to be almost anywhere else. i’m done with
the desert … anyway, l.a. suits me better. it’s home for me
now, but i did grow up here so, sure, i have somewhat of an
attachment to the place.

(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d, amused). you might as well ask. i know it’s

killing you.

(pulls out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.)

matthew (cont’d). you mind?

(lights the cigarette and puts away the lighter. he takes a

puff; beat.)

matthew (cont’d). my cousin warned me about you. (beat.)

she told me you were one of those chicano power militant
types. (responding.) nah, it’s cool … we’re each entitled to
our own opinions.

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(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d, responding). no. i don’t see any reason to

feel guilty. why should i? i didn’t grow up with visions of
becoming a revolutionary. ever since i can remember, all i
ever wanted to do was act. it’s that simple. the way i go about
accomplishing this is my business. (responding.) matthew,
mateo. same difference? it’s only a name; not who i am.
(responding; annoyed.) of course, i respect my parents. do
you respect yours!? (beat.) he’s my father. i love the man, but
the sanchez name doesn’t sell very well in hollywood, but
i’m not telling you anything you don’t already know. (beat.)
are you going to sit there and deny that? to tell you the truth, i
don’t even know why we’re having this discussion. you jump
through the same hoops that i do so give me a break … and, if
you’re anything like me, which i’m assuming you are, then, i
know you have to be sick of this nonsense. every damn year
you read the same articles i do. the ones in the l.a. times or
the washington post; the ones saying minorities are making
strides in the film industry. you know how utterly bullshit
those numbers are! how those numbers are manipulated! the
kind of roles they’re talking about? preaching about how this
is the year of the latino. (beat; increasingly upset.) don’t tell
me you don’t feel the same way … how many times have
you wanted to quit? how many times have you swallowed
your pride? how many sofas have you slept on? (beat.) how
many times have you had to borrow money from the people
you most care about?

(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d, sympathetic). you pay any of them back yet?

(extended beat.)

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matthew (cont’d). my father is brown and my mother is white,

but she is just a much a part of me as my father or should i
forget that? i’m proud of both sides of the family tree. if you
have a problem with that, then that’s on your conscience,
man … not mine. (beat; annoyed.) i look at that expression
on your face, but you don’t know the first thing about me.

(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d, responding). no … i don’t know much

spanish. (beat; embarrassed and quietly.) yeah, that was
me on the commercial … hey, what can i say? people have
cheesy accents. it was a character. nothing more.

(extended beat.
he takes a long drag on his cigarette. he throws the butt to
the floor; beat.)

matthew (cont’d). the righteous brown man fighting against

the system … good for you, but i need to pay the rent.

(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d, responding; smirking). see … that’s the

difference between you and me. you want people to
acknowledge you. brown this. brown that. i’m not like that.
all i want is for directors to look at me a see a good actor.
i’m sick and tired of people ignoring that. i do shakespeare
because it challenges me. chekhov. ibsen. i love them, and i
don’t want anyone to tell me i can’t do those plays because of
my ethnicity. (beat; responding.) luis valdez? (sarcastically.)
ooh, how did i not see that one coming? (matter-of-factly.)
no … i’ve never done any of his work … sorry to disappoint
you, but i can’t say it bothers me very much either.

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(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d, responding; annoyed). dude, i’m tired of the

gardener and gangbanger roles! i’m trying to fight those
stereotypes. that’s a good thing. i want to open this shit up
for the rest of us. i’m tired of being a type so if i have to use
my mother’s maiden name and fake my smile a little more
often then so fucking be it! life goes on.

(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d). this is the only thing i know how to do.

(extended beat.
he pulls out his card and extends it to the interviewer.)

matthew (cont’d). here’s my card … give me a call when you

get back into town.

(extended beat.)

matthew (cont’d). we both know we’ll be running into each

other.

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part v: the war at home

very very
dr. snezena kuftinic
emergency room physician
tucson, ariz.

(lights go dark. spotlight downstage. dr. snezena kuftinic is

a forty-year-old white woman. she is a native of bosnia who
has been living in the united states for a couple of years.
her accent is very much evident. the interview is taking
place somewhere outside the back of a hospital, next to an
emergency exit. it is night, but there is a full moon; the stars
are shining. she manages to keep her same expression and
tone throughout the entire interview.)

kuftinic. … first detroit. eh, st. louis. then, i come here to

arizona. a colleague from back home also works here. i
came to visit and decided to stay. (beat.) i prefer the sun to
the snow.

(she pulls out a cigarette and lighter. she lights the cigarette
and puts away the lighter. she takes a first puff; stares at the
stars.
extended beat.)

kuftinic (cont’d, responding). yes … many horrible stories.

many injustices during the war. torture. rapes. i don’t
think my people will ever recover from what happened …
difficult to ask of anyone.

(extended beat.)

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kuftinic (cont’d). i am the only one left in my family. my

mother died when i was young. my father died of stroke
during the war. my brother was a soldier. the last time i saw
him was many years ago … some people in my village tell
me, “be strong. he may still be—” (beat.) i know the truth.
i will never see him again.

(extended beat.)

kuftinic (cont’d). after my father passed away i joined a group

of physicians traveling from city to city … no reason to stay
home. our war was very very bad. people hurt and ill. too
many villages destroyed … many landmines. (beat.) still many
landmines at home. government has yet to take them away.

(extended beat.)

kuftinic (cont’d). i almost stayed, but … eh, i went back to

visit my borovica … many years after i had left for my
medical training. hoping to find my brother. hear some
news. most neighbors were gone. the few who were there
had heard rumors. nothing more. (beat.) people from other
neighborhood used to be nice. the muslims convinced
them to destroy our village. many of the older people
refused to leave. they were tortured and shot. their houses
destroyed. my father’s house was also destroyed. nothing,
but ashes … i look around where it used to stand. i picked
up my catechism book from when i was a little girl. my
home was like ghost town (beat.) that was december, ten
years ago. (responding.) differences? yes, i suppose, but
many similarities, especially working near the border. so
many people come into the hospital. very sick. near death.
reminds me of the war. many i cannot help. i try, but by the
time i see some of them, it’s too late … these poor people

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have same look as people from my country. their eyes. very

very sad. searching for a little peace, but knowing none.
most unfortunate. too much like home. many times i hear
people in this country speak of war in a casual tone. i do
not understand how that is possible. i see children on the
news … in iraq. crying in pain. (beat; momentarily staring
at interviewer.) the cry of a child who wants something
very very different from the cry of a child in pain. i don’t
understand. many people live in constant war. palestine.
africa. colombia … many places. life is different. more
precious. americans say the real war is in front of us … in
america. similarities. yes. i say that, but still not the same.
my family. my home. bosnia. no longer exists … that is
war. this is not war. america is more peaceful. yes, a lot of
pain and problems that need to be dealt with … but, not
the same. america is very very, how do i say it? (beat.)
americans do not know the true meaning of war … only
what they see on c.n.n. or fox news. people don’t want to
leave their homes. war changes everything. the people in
this hospital who come in … those found in the desert …
all alone in the world. lying here thinking of their families
… of their country.

(extended beat.
extended beat.)

kuftinic (cont’d). their eyes … very very similar.

(she takes a final puff of the cigarette and flicks the cigarette
away.)

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a man’s home
charlie clarkson
rancher
douglas, ariz.

(lights slowly fade in. this interview is taking place in the

early morning hours [dawn], outdoors on the ranch of
charlie clarkson. a white man in his mid-seventies. he holds
a remote control and in the distance [offstage], on the desert
floor, is a drone; atop of it lies a tiny camera.)

charlie. this is the next wave of technology. (responding.) the

fancy name for them is drones. it’s plain to see that they’re
model airplanes … but, these are amazing little things.
they got these little cameras on top of them. complicated,
though, they work off these sensors that have been placed
in strategic areas and— (responding to being interrupted;
annoyed.) i know this isn’t a toy!

(extended beat.)

charlie (cont’d). we need all the help we can get. times are
changing. this country is under siege. the world isn’t a safe
place anymore … or haven’t you liberals been watching the
news lately?

(extended beat.)

charlie (cont’d). i started voices for a free arizona about five

years ago. some of us in these parts got to the point where
we were sick and tired of seeing our land destroyed. empty
water jugs. food and candy wrappers. dirty clothes. human
waste. you name it. there was trash as far as the eye could
see. i spend most of my time picking up after them … one

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day i said, “enough is enough!” this is my land and i’m

going to see that it stays that way. (beat.) we’re just a bunch
of ranchers sticking together to maintain our way of life. i
don’t see what all the commotion is about? this is my home. i
paid for it. (beat.) if someone was breaking into your house,
what would you do? (responding.) exactly … no one would
give you any gruff over it. you got to understand something.
the need to protect ourselves is even greater now. (beat.)
my wife and i aren’t getting any younger.

(extended beat.)

charlie (cont’d). if we don’t protect ourselves, no one else will.

(a noise in the brush can be heard. charlie and the

interviewer notice an animal running across the way from
them. beat. charlie takes a bag of chewing tobacco out of
his pocket and places some in his mouth. he offers some
to the interviewer, but is rebuked. charlie shrugs it off. he
places the bag back into his pocket. beat. looks out again. he
begins chewing his tobacco, which he spits out throughout
the rest of the interview.)

charlie (cont’d). just a jackrabbit … you hunt? shoot, next time

you come for a talk, give me more of a warning. i’ll take you
hunting. there’s some good hunting in these parts. (beat.) it’s
a shame what’s happening to those people … but, those are
the chances you take, you know? you have to be brave to
challenge mother nature. (beat.) the desert sun can do some
vicious things to a man. destroys both his body and his mind.
poor saps don’t know what hit them until it’s too late … not
much i can do about it. i don’t make the laws. if someone
wants to test fate, let them. who am i to say otherwise? as long
as they take it someplace else … you enter my land, you’re

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trespassing. you trespass, you get shot. no ifs, ands or buts

… i won’t like it, but i’ll shoot you down without thinking
twice about it … nothing personal. (responding; annoyed.) of
course, i know why they come! i know they got families like
me. they want to make a living. feed their children … and, it’s
not just mexicans. it’s all those other people … hell, did you
know that now they’re smuggling those indian folk into our
country? haven’t they taken enough of our jobs over there?
what else do they want? (beat.) let me ask you something …
who’s to say that one of the people crossing isn’t one of those
drug dealers or terrorist fellas? how am i supposed to know,
huh? i can’t assume they aren’t. logic tells me i got to protect
what’s mine. (beat.) people crossing the border got to know
these things. it’s only common sense. you walk into a man’s
home you don’t— (beat.) you don’t litter. you don’t treat
another man’s home like it’s your own personal toilet. you
respect a man’s home as if it were your own!

(extended beat.)

charlie (cont’d, responding; defensive). no! we are not the

minutemen. do you hear me!? they do not represent us. they
do not represent me. i am not shawna forde. i am charlie
clarkston. responsible american citizen. i don’t break the
law! (angrily.) my friends and i are not vigilantes!!!

(extended beat.)

charlie (cont’d, calmly). listen, i won’t shoot at anyone during

the day. if i catch them on my property i’ll call border patrol
and they come and pick them up. shoot, other ranchers
aren’t as generous as me. but, like i was saying … during
the day, i’m cool as a cucumber … at night … that’s a
totally different story.

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(extended beat.
charlie turns on the remote control and turns on the drone.
the sounds of it flying can be heard. he looks up at the sky.)

charlie (cont’d). watching these things soaring through the air

brings me a sense of calmness.

(extended beat.)

charlie (cont’d). i’d probably do the same thing. a man has to

be strong for his family … needs to be able to provide for
them. if a man can’t do that then he ain’t a man. (beat.) can’t
say that i blame them. (defiantly.) just not on my property.

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right here
jose reynosa
private, first class, u.s.m.c.
goodyear, ariz.

(jose reynosa is a private first class in the marine corps. he

is a chicano and twenty-one years old. he has an athletic
build; wearing camouflage pants, a t-shirt and boots.)

jose. … they do that for every solider in combat. it’s just that,
in this case, they had to go to zacatecs to do it. it took them
a couple of weeks to locate his sister and her husband.
they knocked on her floor at three o’clock in the fucking
morning. i don’t want to imagine what she was thinking
because who’s to say my sister or my ’ama aren’t going to
be hearing the same thing real soon. i don’t know.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). luis and his sister were real tight. vato got
more mail then anybody in his unit. his sister was always
so worried and shit. homeboy would send as much money
as he could spare, and he would always try to send her a
picture of himself to make sure she knew he was all right
and he would even send pictures of all of us hanging out
… he dreamed of becoming and architect one day. he
wanted to make something of himself … help his sister
and her husband get into the states anyway he could. (beat;
solemnly.) he can’t do anything about it now.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). him and his sister were orphaned when they
were little kids. vato used to tell me stories about him and

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his sister working at a steel factory at the pinche age of ten.

that’s some fucked-up shit, ese. he decided that when he
was eighteen he was going to go to el norte and find some
work. they hid his ass in this truck carrying chickens. there
was a fake bottom underneath the chicken pen. he paid a
thousand dollars to nearly suffocate to death in that truck.
over a hundred degrees and the smell of that chicken shit
driving him crazy; some of it dripping into where he was
hiding. he had to lie there for hours … after a couple of
weeks, though, the border patrol caught his ass and were
about to send him back, but he told them that he was a
minor with no family. shit … vato was a true babyface so
they stuck him with a foster family in central california.
he said they treated him real good. (beat.) even though he
was close to being twenty-three, he made it through high
school. he learned english, played soccer and drew a lot …
vato did all right … after graduation, he joined the marines
to pay back a little of what he’d gotten from the u.s.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). the more and more we watched the news, the
more we knew that the shit was gonna hit the fan, but he
was proud to be in the service so he was ready. you see, i
ain’t like that. i’m too pissed off to feel that way. but, this
vato … this vato wanted to prove himself. he wanted to
throw down some chingasos.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). he died a week after he was shipped off. a

sniper shot him in the side of the neck as he was helping
his unit rescue these iraqis from a burning building … he
never knew what hit him. the bullet shredded his vocal

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chords and hit pretty much every artery you could find
… he didn’t even have a chance to fight. (beat; angrily.) i
don’t understand why he loved this shit so much! he gave
up his life for a country that didn’t give a fuck about him!
(defeated.) fighting for something that wasn’t his … say
what you want, but that’s what i believe. (beat.) over here,
there’s a couple of paragraphs about his death in the local
rinky dink paper, but in mexico … in mexico, he’s received
a chingon of attention … those were his gente. they cared
what happened to him. do you think people in this country
truly appreciate what he had to do to get here? honestly,
vato … what do you think? (responding; beat. nods his
head.) simon … that’s what i’m talking about.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d, angrily). now, they’re calling him a hero! for

what!? because he managed to stand in the way of a fucking
bullet!? because fools holding up posters telling everyone
to “support our troops” say so. (facetiously.) hell, vato …
it’s great now. his death has ensured democracy for these
pendejos, but when he was up crossing the border he was
nothing but a fucking wetback to them!

(extendend beat.
he looks down at the floor. it seems like he doesn’t wish to
continue. he continues looking down at the floor, shaking his
head. he responds to a question, not bothering to look up.)

jose (cont’d). fuck, holmes … it was a stupid thing for me to

do, but i didn’t know what else— (beat.) you see, my girl
was pregnant and her parents kicked her out of her house.
(embarrassed.) my parents have been real cool about it. she’s
living with them, but she isn’t their problem. she’s my problem.

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(realizes his last comment may have come off as insensitive.

he raises his head and looks at the interviewer.)

jose (cont’d). hey, vato … i didn’t mean it like that. i love my

girl. i love her with all my heart. what i meant to say was
that she’s my responsibility, not my parent’s … that’s all.
(beat; responding.) what other choice did I have? i went to
a fucked-up school, man. all they cared about was getting
me out and it’s not like they taught me anything. i ain’t got
no skills … you see, ese. that’s the thing. they look at me
as just another cholo with nowhere to go … the army, navy
and pinche calvary depend on that shit. those recruiters
practically lived on campus; promising us all types of shit
… and, it ain’t no coincidence that you almost always find
recruitment centers near unemployment offices … man,
that’s like sticking candy in front of a baby. (beat.) these
young vatos … uhm … i didn’t know any better.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). they said the war ended months ago and that our
duties have changed … we’re like supposed to be peacekeepers
or some shit like that … pero, every fucking day, our soldiers
are dying. ain’t nothing peaceful about it, ese.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). we’re still getting sent to the front lines. still
casualties of war … but, what burns me is that we have a
fucking war right here in our own house and we don’t deal
with the shit. fuck saddam! i hate him as much as the next
motherfucker, but this country shouldn’t be playing daddy
to a kid that doesn’t belong to him!

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(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). george w. calling out a country on the nightly

news because they have weapons of mass destruction …
the last time i checked, so did we, so who is the fucking
evil empire here!? motherfucker almost loses the election
because of the fact that one dumb-ass state didn’t know
how to punch a hole in a card … and, that state is governed
by his brother. if that’s not some political incest, i don’t
know what is … but i guarantee you one thing, ese. if that
mess had happened someplace else, you know we’d be the
first ones to raise our hands and say, “that shit ain’t right!”

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). the life of a brown man in the u.s. of a. is predestined,

vato … my homeboys been killed left and right … here or
across the ocean, dead is dead. dead brown kids belonging to
us and dead brown kids belonging to someone else. does it
really matter anymore? i mean, war is business nowadays. i,
mean, just the other day, one of the president’s buddies just
asked congress for billions of pinche dollars to fight this war.
dude! why not build some schools with that cash? create some
jobs. make sure people have health insurance. shit like that.
fuck, vato … my ass is going to be in the desert soon enough.
i’m preparing for it. i’ll go fighting if I have to, but it’s a shame.
i’ll be protecting and serving for this country yet my girl isn’t
even sure how we’re gonna afford to raise our baby. hell, vato
… pampers and formula cost money.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). i saw the news the other night and the pro-war
vatos were arguing with the peace vatos. the pro-war were

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yelling “you’re against our troops!” i yelled at the tv screen,

“fuck you, carbon! you’re the ones who don’t support us!”
those vatos don’t want to see us dead. i don’t want to see us
dead. shit, anytime one of us dies, all they do it shed a tear a
write a country song to commemorate it. naw, naw … those
people want us home with our familias. they don’t want
us killing innocent children. they want the government to
start thinking with their heads and not their dicks. you want
to support the troops? go get a gun, sign up and be one
yourself, pendejo!

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d, quietly). i’m scared, vato … i don’t want to go,

but I know it’s only a matter of days. i can feel it.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). i gotta a kid to think about, but when i really

think about it, i realize that i didn’t think about it at all.
(beat.) i regret the day i signed my name on the fucking
dotted line … if i don’t come back, my kid ain’t gonna have
a daddy. that’s another familia that the pinche republicans
are gonna bitch about when elections come back around.

(extended beat.)

jose (cont’d). like i said, we need to deal with the war right
here at home because the fact is, ese … this country is
losing that war, too.

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part vi: de colores … !!!

no different
alexis franco
artist
sedona, ariz.

(alexis franco is an artist working on a mural. she is in her

mid-fifties and is a native new yorker with a heavy east coast
accent; animated and lively. the mural should be projected
onto the back wall. paint supplies litter the area around
her. the art depicts children from all different nationalities
having fun and enjoying the nature that surrounds them. it
is highlighted by a young smiling latino [boy] in the center
of the mural.)

alexis (animated). c.c.sabathia had twenty-one wins, a 3.18

e.r.a. and 197 strikeouts. you can’t be serious? (responding.)
i know i know … better earned run average, more strikeouts.
i’m not saying the kid isn’t a good pitcher, but hernandez was
thirteen and twelve … thirteen and twelve! that’s barely a
winning record. (responding; defensive.) hate on the yankees
all you want, young man … it doesn’t change a thing.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, amused). when your teams wins twenty-seven

world championships … then talk to me.

(alexis begins concentrating on the mural and “touches up”

a small area; beat. she reacts to a question.)

alexis (cont’d). well … uhm … no, i mean, you see, i—

(beat.) the move out west was for my husband. i love the

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big lug, you know … and the doctors made it all too clear
that his arthritis wasn’t getting any better so we had to go
someplace where the weather was … what did he say, uhm,
to slow down some sort of degenerative process in his joints
… so … we’re … y’know, here. (beat.) when we made the
decision to move we narrowed it down between taos, new
mexico, and sedona, arizona. people back home figured
we’d go to california or someplace like that but, let’s get
one thing straight, there is no way in hell a self-respecting
yankee fan would ever live within shouting distance of the
dodgers … uh-uh, no way! (beat; responding.) my husband
and i try to visit as much as we can, but it’s not nearly the
same thing. to me, new york is like no place else. different
types of people and flavors … that east coast attitude. (beat;
cleaning her paint brush.) i know phoenix is supposed to
be like the seventh or eighth biggest city in the country, but
it doesn’t feel like a big city. to tell you the truth, i don’t
think it’s that interesting. the only times i drive down to
phoenix is to see the occasional ball game or to go to an art
gallery. (beat.) you see, i had been to sedona before for an
art exhibit about ten years ago … i mean, i’m not too hip on
the new age hippy vibe, but i like the fact that it’s quiet. a
different kind of quiet than phoenix … peaceful, not boring.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, responding). no … that’s the one thing i don’t

get about this place. all the fuss about people coming over
here; crossing the border. it’s all about fear … fear of the
unknown … fear of the other … the people who live here
fear they will be displaced … i suppose it really doesn’t
matter. (beat.) in the end, everyone in this freaking state,
in this freaking country, is from someplace other than here.
we’re all chasing after the same dream.

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(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d). we would be doing the exact same thing if

we were in their shoes. those who deny that don’t want to
admit the truth … and that, my friend, is bullshit! when a
person goes to the market, they like the fact that they can
buy a head of lettuce for about a buck, though, most people
don’t really think past that. people don’t do that because
then they would have to deal with their own insecurities
and biases. the ones that tell them that they don’t want those
people in their communities but, at the same time, they
don’t want to have to pay more for veggies and fruits than
they already have to. they want to believe that that head
of lettuce magically found its way into the markets. they
want to believe that those hotel beds never get messy. they
want to believe that toilets automatically clean themselves
overnight. (beat.) they want to believe that if they don’t
think about it … it doesn’t really exist.

(she kneels down and begins mixing some paint.)

alexis (cont’d, fondly). you know … i would see the statue

of liberty every day while i was commuting on the staten
island ferry … as an artist, it was the best way to start off
the morning; sipping on my dunkin donuts coffee and being
amazed all over again by my favorite piece of art. (beat;
amused.) i sure miss that broad.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, pensive). give me your tired, your poor, your

huddled masses yearning to be free.

(extended beat.)

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alexis (cont’d, standing back up; solemnly). we act like we’re

homeowners, but if you think about it, we’re only renters.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d). it isn’t right that most images around this

piece of desert are of “just” cowboys. we need to create
art that reflects the demographics of this city. (pointing up
at the mural.) kids … the environment … unity. (beat.) the
mural is called: a new green world.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, responding; annoyed). for two months, the

other artists and i had to deal with those racial slurs … two
freaking months of voices from cars shouting at us. (beat.)
for god’s sake, we had children painting alongside us and
here are these idiots cursing at these made-up characters
on a school wall. some people called it graffiti or liberal
propaganda. others claimed we were shoving diversity down
their throats. (incredulous.) even some board members who
commissioned the project started in on us.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, attempting to end the interview). i don’t know

how much more insight i can give you. it was on the news
and you can still read the newspaper articles about—
(interrupted and responding; touching a nerve.) ah, yes …
the tom henderson show! tom henderson!! the conservative
voice of america!!! (sarcastically.) he and his lovely radio
show will always hold a place in my heart.

(extended beat.)

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alexis (cont’d). he went on and on about how the main focus

of the mural was a response to our president. (to herself;
laughing sadly and shaking her head.) our president.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d). he spouts off this nonsense about how this

mural doesn’t tie into this community. he says the focus
doesn’t need to be on a minority all the time and he pondered
why artitsts always have to point out the differences. he said
(beat.) “why does the biggest picture on the wall have to be
a black person?” and, suddenly … there is this upsurge of
emotion. people stood up for our rights as artists, but just as
many people stood up for that racist asshole. (beat.) now, the
board demands lighter shades on the children’s faces, but for
artistic reasons, claiming it has nothing to do with race. they
tell us they want the children’s faces to be happy and radiant.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, mood change; as if tracing the image of the boy).

they want us to lighten the boy’s complexion … his beautiful
cheeks … his beautiful forehead. (beat.) his beauty.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d). they want us to make him seem like he’s

coming into the light … as if somehow that meant he was
coming in from the darkness.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, resentful). tanya and mel are going to start

lightening the piece on thursday. i don’t want any part of it … i
don’t need the money that badly. i want to keep my soul intact.

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(she begins walking around for a moment. she picks up

a rag and begins cleaning her hands of paint. she begins
staring at the paint can around her.)

alexis (cont’d). the colors … they’re no different. just paint;

splashed over … old … red … brick.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d). by the way … (pointing up at the mural.) that

little black kid on the wall? the one supposedly causing all
the drama? (beat.) he’s actually latino.

(extended beat.)

alexis (cont’d, defiant). you might want to share that fact with
mr. henderson.

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color
antonio loera
law school student
tempe, ariz.

(the interview is taking place in a coffee shop outside the law

school building on the campus of arizona state university.
the sounds of people talking and cellphones ringing can be
heard lightly in the background throughout the interview.
antonio loera is in his mid-twenties and is a law student.)

antonio. … like i was saying. there’s no way around it. it’s

about color. those who choose not to believe that should
stay in their utopian little world and shut the blinds.

(beat; antonio blows into his coffee and then slowly takes a
sip. he responds to a comment.)

antonio (cont’d). believe me, i’d rather not deal with the issue
of color altogether. it’s too time-consuming, but— (beat.)
that’s not living in the real world.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d). i’m labeled by the way i look. (beat.)

in arizona … well, in arizona, brown is … let’s just say,
arizona would benefit from catching up with the times. as
my friend likes to say, “arizona is the south without the
humidity.”

(extended beat.
antonio looks around at the other students; responds to a
question.)

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antonio (cont’d). this issue of color … you see, that’s the

problem with most discussions on the topic of race. it all
begins with the physical. how could it not? it’s the first
thing people see … they look at you and automatically
want to define you as something, even in spaces of higher
education where students of color are continually being
forced to justify their positions within these systems,
systems entrenched in centuries of institutional racism,
having to defend their academic backgrounds in the name
of affirmative action. take a look at all the affirmative cases
that have materialized throughout the years: university of
california v. blake, farmer v. ramsey, tompkins v. alabama
state university, grutter v. bollinger and those pendejadas
at the university of michigan. go to a library and check
that craziness out. look beyond the words and ask yourself
what the fight is truly about. (beat; animated.) do you
honestly believe the majority is going to let it go!? all of a
sudden they’re complaining that they’re being denied equal
opportunities, yet, i didn’t hear those same people speaking
up when we weren’t being admitted and we weren’t being
offered the same opportunities. who are we kidding? call a
spade a spade. we have no choice in this matter. our world
is a world of distinctions … from the moment we’re born
until the moment we die, a continual barrage of applications
and surveys where our existence is contingent on what
box we check. black, white, latina, latino, asian-american.
(sarcastically.) and, of course, the ever-popular … other.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d). me, being in law school at a.s.u., i consider

myself somewhat fortunate. if you look at statistics, the law
program here is actually one of the better schools when it

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comes to diversity. (beat; defiantly.) but … let’s get one

thing straight! that’s not enough of a reason to view the
world with rose-colored glasses. i’m more than sure there
are a few people walking around this campus who believe
i’m at a.s.u. solely because of the color of my skin. forget
the fact that i was at the top of my program at berkeley.
doesn’t matter. in their minds. they don’t ask the questions
because they’ve already come up with their own answers.
what is fascinating to me is how people deal with race. to
tell you the truth, i have a small sense of admiration for
blatant racists. i mean, when i see news footage of the klan
it’s not like i jump up for joy or anything like that, but, at
least they’re honest about the way they feel. it’s the other
type of bigots i have more of a problem with. (animated.)
the type of people who deal with race like cowards. people
who whisper their bigotry behind your back; never face
to face … i have no tolerance for that type of person. the
worse part is those bigots wear three-piece suits and own
this country. they (sarcastic air quotes.) “ain’t” the ones
driving pick-ups covered with confederate flags.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d, smirking). but …

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d). the other type of people who drive me nuts

are those people who want to go beyond the call of duty,
so to speak. the polite ones who think they’re helping the
plight of the disenfranchised. people who think they’re
doing the right thing when all they’re really doing is
perpetuating some sort of fucked-up cultural melodrama
as a way of coming to terms with this whole notion of

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white guilt. here at arizona state, that’s what it’s all about.
color isn’t dealt with on a personal level, but as different
compartmentalized boxes filled with words like ideology
and pedagogy as they go off into the distance to publish
some journal article full of pretentious musings; saying in
fifty pages what they could have easily said in ten. i mean,
really, do you think the average everyday homeboy gives a
fuck about perspectives in critical theory? i say, “talk to me
in a language i can understand.” (beat; amused.) then again
… you are talking to a future lawyer.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d). but, for once, i would like one of these

academic types to actually relate to me as they would
anyone else. i’m tired of professors automatically turning to
me when questions of ethnicity pop up in class discussion.
they should be buying me a beer and talking about the
world series, instead of poking and prodding me like some
sociological guinea pig … if you think i’m kidding, just
look around. i wouldn’t know the exact number, but i
would say that, easily, seventy-five percent of all theses and
dissertations at this university deal with either the native-
american and or the latina-latino community and since i
know these two cultures don’t make up seventy-five percent
of the student population … well … i think you can do the
math (annoyed.) it’s like don’t do us any favors.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d). sometimes, i get so annoyed that i wasn’t

able to go up to a person, shake them, and say, “hey! aren’t
there any poor coal miners in west virginia that you can
make a case study of?” (beat.) they just don’t get it.

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(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d). once … while i was talking to one of my

white law professors during her office hours, she says to
me, with this enlightened look on her face, “antonio, is it
possible for me to be a chicana?” (angrily.) what the fuck is
up with that!? (beat; irked.) you have those bleeding hearts.
(beat.) i swear, this country … they want to love us or hate
us, but either way, they fail to truly … understand us.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d, responding; seething). their sb 1070 way of

viewing the la vida only serving to make us targets … fuck
apairo. fuck brewer. (beat; angrily.) fuck them for turning
my tierra into a police state!!!

(extended beat.
antonio calms down. he finishes his coffee with one long
final sip.)

antonio (cont’d, pensive). man, i don’t know how i could

survive without my coffee. (beat; tired.) i tell you, though.
i can’t remember the last time i had more than five hours
of sleep. my professors weren’t lying when they said law
school would be tough. (beat.) you do know that the first
year of law school is intended to weed out as many students
as they can, right? it’s about the numbers. between you and
me, we both know this world has too many lawyers. law
schools know that, too.

(extended beat.)

antonio (cont’d, solemnly). like i said, man … it’s about color.

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part vii: everybody has a story

skewed
lacey williams
boutique owner
scottsdale, ariz.

(lacey williams is a white female in her mid-thirties;

stereotype of a sorority sister grown up, but fancies herself
as being upper-class. she runs a jewelry boutique in the
heart of downtown scottsdale. this is where the interview is
taking place. she is sitting in a chair.)

lacey. … a play! that sounds exciting! (proudly.) i go to the

scottsdale center for the performing arts to see shows as
often as i can. have you been to the scottsdale center for
the performing arts? how silly of me to ask. of course you
have … you know, if you’re not too busy you should head
straight down there. i saw the newest production of late night
catechism. (amused.) i can’t get enough of that crazy nun
and her— (responding; insulted.) oh, yes … the interview.
(beat.) what was your play about again? (responding.)
border issues? race? why would you want to write about
that? you have to understand one thing … it isn’t a question
of race. it’s a question of economics. arizona is already in a
budget crunch as it is. add them. yes, that’s right. them! the
immigrants you were talking about. (beat.) add them to the
equation and you’ll see that the solution to this problem is
nowhere in sight. we have our families to think about. if we
want a future we need to plan for it right now and i don’t
see how that’s possible if we keep allowing those people
to enter this country illegally. it’s not like there aren’t legal
ways of getting in. other people have gotten in legally. i

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don’t see why they can’t. we can’t take care of everybody,

especially, if we’re having trouble taking care of ourselves.

(extended beat.)

lacey (cont’d). i read stories all the time about the cities in
southern arizona. all the difficulties they’re dealing with …
and, i know firsthand. my brother did his medical residency
in tucson a few years ago and he— (beat; responding.)
firsthand, secondhand, same difference. like i was saying,
the problems at my brother’s hospital were neverending.
the hospital was in debt beyond belief. they needed extra
medical supplies. nobody had insurance. they even needed
to hire a staff of translators. not translator, but … translators
to accommodate so many people. the money used for those
positions could’ve been used better in other areas. (beat.)
is it wrong to believe our citizens should have first right to
the amenities entitled to us as taxpayers? education, social
services, etc. is it fair that some foreigner has access to our
resources? my husband and i have worked hard for what
we have. this boutique shop has made a name for itself in
scottsdale and my husband’s accounting firm is very well
respected in this community … and, you see, this is what
scottsdale is … it’s a community. a community of like-
minded people. (responding; fake apology.) pardon me …
what i mean is that scottsdale is a very refined place to live.
we have an image to uphold. we want our property values
to remain high. we want our children to attend the best
schools. (responding; not realizing the sarcastic comment.)
exactly! you’re starting to get the picture. there is no desire
to relive the days of the wild wild west … we don’t want
what’s happening to places like tucson and yuma to happen
here. that wouldn’t be acceptable. (responding.) no! you’re

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still not understanding what i mean … just listen to what

i am saying. this isn’t about me disliking mexicans or
anything like that. i love the mexican culture. i practically
live at baja fresh. and … my nanny, rosa, is like a member
of the family … when i was a student at arizona state, my
sorority sisters and i spent every spring break in mexico …
my husband and i even went there for our honeymoon so,
you see, it’s not about disliking another group of people. it’s
about the fact that there is not enough money to go around.

(extended beat.)

lacey (cont’d). i know that scottsdale has a reputation for being

exclusive, but that’s just not true. no one is being excluded
from living here, albeit, living here does require a certain
level of success, but that’s not a question of exclusivity,
but of hard work. if you reach those levels, no one is going
to stop you from coming here, regardless of what race or
religion you belong to … (proudly.) we want people to feel
welcome in scottsdale; north scottsdale, to be precise …
and, i am a proud member of the scottsdale chamber of
commerce so i know what i’m talking about. people want
to come to scottsdale. that’s why we try so hard to pamper
them. all the high-end shops are intended to attract high-
end clientele, but also to give other people an idea of what
might be possible if they work hard enough. we have only
the finest restaurants and hotels. plus, there’s a reason why
scottsdale has more spas than anywhere in the world. it’s
because we want people to feel comfortable. in a world full
of problems it’s a blessing to be able to lose one’s self in a
body treatment or a round of golf and, at night, this town is
electric. (beat.) seeing that I have a family now i don’t go
out as often as i would like, but, on those rare occasions,

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there’s nothing better than dancing the night away with

friends. the clubs here are so inviting. they’re so the place-
to-be. (beat.) this isn’t mesa, that’s for sure.

(extended beat.)

lacey (cont’d, responding; embarrassed). you live in mesa?

uhm, well … i’m sure that suits you just fine. (beat;
changing the subject.) did i mention the weather?

(extended beat.)

lacey (cont’d). you can’t beat the weather. eight months out
of the year, i dare you to find another more beautiful and
charming locale. it’s picture-perfect. i can’t say that i have
an answer for the heat, but that’s what air conditioners and
pools were made for and, really … a little heat never hurt
anybody. (responding; confused.) no, i don’t think so. what
do you mean? (beat; responding; unsympathetic.) yes, yes
… people dying in the desert. (beat; responding.) simple …
they should have brought along some more water.

(lacey responds to the interviewer furiously writing away in

his notebook.)

lacey (cont’d). is everything all right? what’s the problem

then? (responding; shocked.) what do you mean by that!?
(responding; angrily.) no … i don’t agree! i don’t believe
i’m ignorant at all. honestly, i think you should be ashamed
of yourself for saying something like that. i agreed to do
this interview for your little play and i wasn’t expecting to
be chastised for my opinions. (beat.) you’re just like the
rest of them with your skewed sense of who we are. you
talk about how we stereotype people when you’re no better.

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i don’t know you anymore than you know me, but i agreed
to have this conversation anyway. unlike you, i try to look
at people as people … and not race. (beat.) nothing i’ve told
you today has anything remotely to do with that. it’s about
maintaining standards. there’s no sin in that.

(extended beat.)

lacey (cont’d, standing up). this discussion is over. furthermore,

i’m going to have to ask you not to use any of this interview
in your project. i don’t feel you’ve portrayed me in a very
positive light and the thought that you would put this up
onstage disturbs me. i am very serious. i will take legal
action if you decide to go through with using this interview.

(extended beat.)

lacey (cont’d, pointing towards the door). please leave!

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our song
monica flores
kindergarten teacher
chandler, ariz.

(the heatwave’s “always and forever,” or something similar,

is playing. after a few moments, lights go up and we see
monica flores. she is a chicana in her mid-twenties. located
onstage is an altar. it contains candles and pictures of
monica’s deceased husband, pedro. she is lighting a candle.
monica crosses back to her chair. the song plays for a while
and as it slowly starts to fade away, monica begins to talk.)

monica. he dedicated that song to me during our senior

prom. (beat.) i knew right then, that he would be the man
i would marry.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). he was the nicest guy you would ever want to
meet. he was smart … funny … polite. (beat; fondly.) and,
he had this smile that, i don’t know, there was something
about his smile that was just so perfect.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d, responding; pensive). he wanted to make sure

he did something positive with his life. you see, for him,
it was more than just about getting a job. to him, anyone
could do that. that’s not what he wanted. (beat.) he had
gone to college for a couple of years to sort things out in his
mind, you know, try to find himself. but, all along, i knew
he’d do something i didn’t want him to do. i figured he’d be
a fireman or a policeman; something of that nature. i think

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he just went to school to make me feel better. to show me

that he was making an effort to explore his options, but it
wasn’t in his nature to sit behind a desk shuffling papers
and crunching numbers.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). from the first moment they met, pedro and
my father had had a great relationship. since my two sisters
and i were the only children my parents had, my father took
to him as if pedro was his own son … and, for a while, it
was the greatest relationship you could imagine … then,
one day, things … changed.

(extended beat.
extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). my father couldn’t even look at pedro in the

eyes. it was as if my father had his heart ripped out … to
make matters worse, it felt like the rest of my family was
following his lead and i was caught in the middle. (beat.) i
didn’t agree with pedro’s decision and he knew i wouldn’t,
but it didn’t stop him from going through with it and that
caused problems between us because i knew there was no
way i was going to be able to convince him otherwise.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d, near tears). and … and, uhm … the thing is

… a few years ago during the i.n.s. raids in chandler … my
father had been one of those taken into custody. when they
stopped him … he was kept in a cell for three days (beat.)
for pedro to stand there in front of my father and tell him
he had applied to work for the department of immigrat—

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(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d, quietly). i had to stand behind pedro … he

was my husband.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). i remember when he began his training and

how it would affect him. i can’t tell you how many times
we would have conversations where he was on the verge of
quitting. i could hear it in his voice and every time it killed me
but, at the same time, it gave me hope that he would go onto
something else. (beat.) i remember this one night, he told
me about this thing called tonking … he was instructed that
tonking was the sound one of those heavy metal flashlights
makes when it’s smacking someone’s head, but it wasn’t
necessarily seen as a bad thing … only part of the job. this
was the type of thing my husband was learning!

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). growing up, my father used to say that the

only good border patrol agent was a dead one … so, i asked
him if he still felt that way knowing that pedro was working
for them … without the slightest hesitation, he said, “yes.”
(beat.) that was my husband he was talking about! the
future father of my children … of his future grandchildren.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d, sad coldness) i haven’t spoken to my father

since.

(extended beat.)

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monica (cont’d). i’d yell at pedro. “why is this job so damn

important to you!? don’t you see what you’re doing to this
family! don’t you care about your people!?” he’d yell back,
“don’t you ever tell me what i’m thinking! i’ve told you the
stories of my father crossing the border. the shit he had to
go through to get here. what? you think this is just one big
fucking game i’m playing!?” (beat.) and, he stopped for
a moment … because he has realized he had been yelling
at me, then he pulled me towards him. he kissed me on
my cheek and held me for what seemed forever. like he
didn’t want to let go … and, he whispers to me, “would
you rather have some racist white dude dealing with our
people. (beat.) or … me … someone who’s going to make
sure they’re treated like human beings.”

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). you hear stories all the time about latino
border patrol agents who are worse than the white officers
… they’re so afraid of appearing weak that they go to the
extremes to build a reputation. in the process, not only do
they lose their souls, but they lose their dignity. (beat.) pedro
wasn’t like that. he treated every single person he stopped
with respect. didn’t matter what color they were … because
of that, he was respected by most, resented by others.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). it almost never failed. pedro would catch

someone and a few days later he would catch them again.
the funny thing is, believe it or not, some of them didn’t
mind being caught … as long as it was pedro, that is. they
would even greet him with a friendly “hello.” it wasn’t like

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they didn’t know the routine. they get caught. processed

and given a happy meal from mcdonalds … then, tomorrow
would roll around.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). after a few years, i came to understand that

pedro wasn’t there to hunt down people crossing the border.
he was there making sure they would have another chance
to try again. (beat.) i once remember him joking around
one day … he said, “if they get past me, the more power
to them.” i didn’t think much of it at the time, but now that
i look back at those words, i realize that he meant them.
he knew people living in this neighborhood who were here
illegally. didn’t matter. he’d strike up the conversation
with them. maybe, share a story or two. but … he never
turned them in. you see, the borderline was his workplace.
anyplace other than that … wasn’t.

(extended beat.
extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). he was having some drinks with some of his

softball buddies at this bar. nothing unusual about that …
he was just relaxing. after his friends had left, he had struck
up a conversation with some other guys at the bar and, from
what i was told, they seemed to be nice guys. apparently,
during their conversation, pedro had mentioned to them
that he was an agent for the border patrol.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d). they found his body a few feet away from the
border. he was murdered execution-style. authorities told

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us that they think those guys might’ve been drug dealers or

coyotes and, that when they found out my husband was an
age— (emotional; beat.) they didn’t take anything from him.
he had all his money and his keys. (near tears.) they found
his badge laying on top of his chest … for everyone to see.

(extended beat.)

monica (cont’d, angrily). i don’t care what any goddamn

person has to say … even my father!

(extended beat.
extended beat.)

monica (cont’d, sadly defiant). my husband was a good man.

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part viii: may 19, 2001

muñeca
oscar garcia
obrero
mesa, ariz.

(es medio dia. la entrevista esta llevando acabo en una

calle en la ciudad de mesa con mucho trafico donde obreros
buscan trabajo. oscar garcia, treinte años, es mexicano. es
flaco y por los afectos del sol tiene el piel más oscuro que
normal. su ropa esta acabad por lo viejo y lleva un cinturon
de herramientas. su lonchera enseguida de el en el piso. al
fondo esta el letrero HOME DEPOT. se puede escuchar los
ruidos de hombres hablando en español.)

oscar. asi es, yo conocia enrique, era muy bueno … muy

amable. esque el era camarada de mi primo y siempre que
iba a visitar a mi primo ahi estaban pistiando y sacando
curas. como dije, era muy payaso.

(pausa largo.)

oscar (cont’d). no, no supe … ni cuando vi las noticias. era la

misma historia cada dia. asi es, todos lo sabemos, siempre
hay chanse que no lo logremos. eso esta muy gacho pero no
hay de otra. mexico es un pais muy pobre como su gente …
me sali de la escuela, hmm … a los siete años. mi familia
necesitaba mi ayuda para chambiar. asi es alla unos pocos
pesos ni al caso. (mirando al piso.) seremos pobres, pero no
pendejos. sabemos que la muerte nos persigue … ni modo.
pero me siento mal por ellos. la cosa es ver tanta gente muerta
en un solo lugar, nunca me habia tocado ver eso. y si, ese dia

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me senti rete feo porque ellos tambien venian de sinaloa, chin

… sinaloa es mi tierra. ellos eran mis camaradas. (pausa.) yo
no supe de enrique hasta unas semanas despues. yo sabia que
se iba venir, ya habiamos platicado de eso, pero me habia
dicho que se iba a esperar un rato porque su vieja estaba
embarazada y el queria conocer a su bebe. tampoco queria
que su vieja estuveria sola. el era ese tipo de muchacho.
(pausa; triste.) cuando recibi la carta de mi primo me dijo
que enrique era uno de los catorce … creo que no aguanto
esperar y su mujer acaba de tener su bebe la semana pasada
… lo nombro enrique. (cambiando el tema.) pinchi calor!
verdad? quieres refresco? tengo extra por si quieres.

(oscar se agacha y agarra una soda para el mismo y le

ofrece una soda al entrevistador.)

oscar (cont’d). seguro? bueno, pero aqui de confiansa. lo que

es mio es tuyo.

(oscar se pone de pie. abre la soda y practicamente toma

toda la soda. un poquito se la cae de la barba y se lo limpia.)

oscar (cont’d). yo? varios meses. desde agosto. (le contesta.)

agosto es el mejor mes nomas porque es el mes mas dificil.
el clima es mejor en el invierno pero es cuando hay mas
migra. ellos saben que es el tiempo en que nosotros mas
tratamos de crusar. pero yo no. you trate de hacerlo mas
dificil para cacharme asi como fue dificil para llegar aqui.
alomejor suena raro pero asi soy. (hablando con los otros
obreros.) que no compas?

(se escucha el ruido de los hombres de acuerdo. oscar

empieza hablar en voz alta para comunicar sus pensamientos
al grupo y al entrevidtador.)

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oscar (cont’d). ellos odian el calor igual que nosotros

… nomas hay una diferencia. para nosotros es pensar
en vida o muerte y para ellos es solamente una pinchi
inconveniencia. ellos nomas se queman y dicen es la culpa
de los mojados. se pican con un cactus y es la culpa de los
mojados. (carcajeandose.) no encuentren vieja para casarse
y es culpa de los pinche mojados.

(se escucha la risa de los obreros. cuando se baja la risa,

oscar se queda pensativo.)

oscar (cont’d). oye eso? lo chistes … es lo unico que tenemos.

cuando batallas tanto para sobrevivir … en una manera ya
estas muerto. por eso es bueno reir y es una risa buena …
pues ya sabes.

(oscar termina su soda y lo aplasta.)

oscar (cont’d). extraño la risa de mi niña. mi niñita presiosa

… estrella. ella es niña de navidad. es bendecida. gustas ver
una foto de ella?

(oscar saca un foto de su hija y lo enseña al entrevistador.)

oscar (cont’d). esta foto es de ella recien nacida. lo acuerdo

como si fuera ayer … es tanto como su madre. no es la
bebe mas bonita que has visto? si, ya se que todos los papas
hablan asi de sus bebes pero en este caso es en serio.

(oscar pone la foto en su cartera.)

oscar (cont’d). empeso la escuela la semana pasada y tiene ya

seis años y es mas inteligente que su papa … quiero que ella
si vaya a la escuela. no quiero que ella—

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(se escucha el bocina de una troca. tambien se escucha el

ruido de los obreros buscando trabajo. oscar brinca para
agarrar el atención del chofer. después de unos momentos,
oscar se para y mira como se va la troca; pausa.)

oscar (cont’d, avergonzado). perdon, no quise ser gacho.

seguro que no quieres nada de tomar?

(pausa largo.)

oscar (cont’d). guarde un poco … varias bolas. esta navidad

podria mandarles algo chiquito a mi familia. tengo suficiente
para un colchon para mi vieja y niña para que lo compartan.
lana para comida y otras cosas, alomejor me sobra hasta
para un radio chico. nuestro radio viejo ya no sirve para
nada. a ellas les gusta oir la radio juntas.

(pausa largo.)

oscar (cont’d). el año que viene … aunque me mate … voy a

darle un regalo de navidad a estrella pero va ser de los buenos
y tambien un regalo de cumpleaños muy bueno tambien.
(pausa.) esque mi niña siempre tiene su muñeca fea. es de
plastico chafa. esta casi bichi y no tiene un braso. mi niña se
merese mejor. le voy a comprar una barbie americana, pero no
es todo. le voy acompletar todo la barbie. el novio de barbie.
la casa grande. el carro. todo el set. ya saque la cuenta a como
me va salir todo … 15 bolas cada barbie. la barbie y el novio.
20 bolas para el carro y la casa 80 bolas. lo puedes creer
tanta lana para una casa de barbie!? (haiendo cuentas en su
cabeza.) otro, creo pues pienso debe de salir o no se alomejor
50 bolas para enviarlo … casi 200 boloas. (procupado.) 200
bolas! (pausa.) no me gusta la muñeca que tiene. esta sucia.
esta quebrada. muñecas deberian de estar bonitas.

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(pausa largo.
oscar mira alrededor para unos momentos con la esperanza
de un trabajo. pausa. orgullusomente.)

oscar (cont’d). yo chambeo duro. estos son mis herramientas

que uso para hacer y agreglar cosas, yo no soy ratero ni
nada asi. yo soy un hombre honesto. no es justo lo que
piensan de mis camaradas. nos tratan como animales! y eso
no es cierto. ellos no saben como nos sentimos … cuando
extrañamos nuestras familias. yo amo mexico pero no hay
chamba en mexico. yo solo hago lo que debo hacer. no estoy
lastimando a nadie. aseguarate a decirle eso a la gente. no
somos criminales!

(pausa largo.)

oscar (cont’d, seriamente). criminales no compran barbies

americanas.

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agua/water
reverend clay nash
pastor
tucson, ariz.

(in the darkness, america’s “horse with no name,” or

something similar, is playing. after a few moments, the
lights go up. the interview is being held in the desert
outside of tucson. reverend clay nash is a white man in his
late fifties and has a texas drawl. a cross necklace hangs
from his neck. he is putting up a water station. it is the
afternoon and the temperature is easily over one hundred
and ten degrees. clay wipes his brow with a handkerchief.
the song slowly fades away as clay begins to talk.)

clay. oohee … i’d say it’s about one-twelve maybe, but the
day is still young.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). the day those fourteen people died, the

temperature was well over a fucking 117 degrees.

(clay places his handkerchief back in his pocket.)

clay (cont’d). this area is classified as a “high risk zone” by

authorities … no surprise there. right at this second, there’s
some agent wandering around “the devil’s road” looking
for some poor souls. (beat.) immigration is changing their
policies; rerouting immigrants so that they have to travel
the most treacherous geography you can imagine … now
these poor folks are being forced to travel to god knows
where … only to die … not to be apprehended. the powers

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that be know that all too well. (looking at the water spigot.)
you don’t mind if i check this right quickly, do you?

(clay checks the water spigot.)

clay (cont’d, angrily). damn coyote stole their money and left
them out there to die.

(extended beat.
extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). there were over thirty people in that group. did
you know that? the youngest survivor was sixteen. (beat.)
think about that for a second. a sixteen-year-old.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). think about this even more … two weeks earlier,
agents found the body of a ten-year-old girl … a ten-year-
old … still just a baby.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). when the survivors reached the hospital, they

were burned black and were covered in cactus spines from
the cacti they were trying to eat for food … one doctor at the
hospital described the survivors as looking like mummies
… you spend enough time under these conditions and your
kidneys are liable to explode … and, i definitely mean that
in the literal sense.

(clay walks around. looking for immigrants.)

clay (cont’d, to himself). pretty quiet on the warfront.

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(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). these people really have no idea what it’s like.
no one can really. you hope for the best and you hope god
is carrying you, but unless god is carrying jugs of water
you’re shit out of luck … there’s no habitation, no ranches,
no roads, no water. (beat.) they start off their journey, if
they’re lucky, with one, maybe, two gallons of water. they
think it’s going to be all they need, but it gets real clear real
soon that the shit isn’t going to last.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d, pointing). over there … about thirty miles

southeast from here we found the body of a woman, a mrs.
juanita ramos, near a creek bed. her body had been picked
clean by animals and her bones were spread over an area of
about fifty feet. the woman had tried to cross with two of
her children. she was a heavyset woman which, in and of
itself was a horrible idea … but she wanted to be with her
husband in texas. (beat.) the things people will do when
they’re in love, y’know?

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). you married, son?

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d, responding; hopeful). one day … maybe.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). this poor woman fell ill and couldn’t continue. the
coyote took her young daughter who made it safely across. her

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teenage son stayed with her as long as he could before getting

help, but he was caught and sent back home. her father got
permission to find his baby girl. he asked us to help and we
helped … we spent twenty-one days looking for her. during
that time we found the remains of another seven people.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). señor dominguez identified his daughter by the

necklace lying near her remains. it was a necklace he had
given her for her quinceañera. (beat.) at least, juanita is at
peace now … not many of these poor souls can say the
same … if they’re lucky, they’ll be sent home in a wooden
box. for the ones that are never found, well … a person
should die amongst the living … not the dead.

(clay picks up a rock and throws it out into the distance.)

clay (cont’d). most people don’t think about water … even

when there’s a drought going on, they don’t think about
it. how many times have you left the sink on when you’re
brushing your teeth? and … what about when you shower?
ten … fifteen minutes. do you realize how much water that
is? that’s more water than some families in this world have
in a week … probably even longer in most cases. water is
life. without it … you ain’t nothing but a heap of fucking
ashes … that’s why i decided to put up these water stations.
too many brown faces dying.
(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d, responding). yep … i can go on and on about the

policies and, trust me, there isn’t one politician in arizona
who doesn’t know me. i’m a texas preacher with a big
mouth and i know how to use it.

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(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). not like i have much of a choice. hear what i’m
saying? i don’t do this for publicity. i’d prefer y’all just leave
me the hell alone … i only live to serve the lord.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d, responding). hmm … let me see. the first two that
we built were in the organ pipe cactus national monument. the
others were placed on some private land south of tucson and
just north of rio rico. but that was just the first of many to come
… there are going to be plenty more. believe you me. (beat.)
there’s no way of knowing exactly how many people are being
saved, but it’s helping. that i know for sure … providing this
water is nothing more than an act of faith and conviction.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). what irritates me are those people who criticize

what we’re doing … saying that we are not only contributing,
but encouraging illegal immigration and, i use the word
illegal loosely. that word should be reserved for those who
are truly breaking the law … rapists … murderers … that
isn’t the case here. the only thing these people are about is
survival.

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). it boggles my mind to see how desensitized

civilization has become … the sight of fourteen deceased
bodies on a dried up riverbed and the only thoughts that pass
through their hollow minds is “we got to do something about
illegal immigration. it’s getting out of hand.”

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(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d). regardless of which argument you side with,

when you see a person dead in front of your eyes, your
thoughts should be on him or her. honoring that person
while, at the same time, being grateful that you get the
chance to see another day!

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d, angrily). i doubt that people are risking their lives
for a sip of hot water in the middle of the desert! nothing
you or i—

(extended beat.)

clay (cont’d, composing himself). we can’t forget that these

people are our brothers and sisters. children of the lord.
they’re human beings, people with dignity, dreams and
desires who have enriched this country with their work and
talent. for every penny they’ve taken out of this country, i
believe they’ve put two pennies back in … and, there are
some realities, that as a people, we are going to have to face.
we can no longer look at ourselves as two nations divided
by a river. we must try and discover concrete solutions to
our problems instead of building a fucking wall; a wall that
ain’t worth a pot to piss in. (beat; emotional.) we have to
look at ourselves as a region that’s going to live together,
that’s going to work together, that’s going to make some
damn progress together.

(extended beat.
clay sees a person in the distance and waves him down.)

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clay (cont’d, yelling). aqui, señor … agua., aqui!!!

(clay looks off in the opposite direction.)

clay (cont’d). john … over there! see him. bring him on over
to the station!

(extended beat.
clay stands silent for a moment, then begins to quietly say a
prayer, ends it with a sign of the cross.
extended beat.
clay looks back towards the interviewer.)

clay (cont’d, solemnly) looks like today’s your lucky day …

care for a cup of water?

(extended beat.
extended beat.
lights go dark as a spotlight hits a screen that is either
located upstage center or on a back wall. the final slide
appears. it is a quote that reads:
“a man’s dying is more the survivor’s affair
than his own.”
—thomas mann
lights fade to black.)

end of play

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translated pieces
virgencita linda
luz ortiz
maid
guadalupe, ariz.

(the interview is taking place in the front yard of luz ortiz,

a mejicana who is sixty years old. she sits near a makeshift
altar that her family has created; the virgen de guadalupe
being prominently displayed. the time is early evening. she
has just returned from the hotel where she works as a maid.)

luz. forgive me for being late. mija needed to put gas in the car. i
usually walk to work. it’s just down the street. the holiday inn
hotel. el express … right down the street, across from that big
market. (responding to her daughter’s comment; amused.)
oh, forgive me. i meant to say “el mall.” my daughter loves
to spend hours walking around that thing. me? i don’t have
much money so i don’t bother. i don’t see the point in it?
(beat.) but, it’s only fifteen minutes to walk to work. short
walk. at night, my viejo or one of my kids will come and
and walk home with me. i tell them it’s not necessary, but
they worry for me … i wanted to walk home tonight, but i
didn’t want to be late tonight. when mija told me about the
gas … aagh. i just want to thank you for being patient and
to apologize about my appearance. i didn’t get a chance to
change out of my work clothes. you sure it’s all right? (beat.)
i’m so excited to have you in my home. my daughter goes
on and on about you. she says you’re a very good writer.
(responding.) thank you so much. yes, i am proud of her. she
is my youngest and i had her so much later than my other
child. i was almost forty when i had her. she says she wants

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to be a teacher. i ask her if she would rather be a doctor or a

lawyer like her brother. something that pays better, but she
just want to help children. she’s always thinking of others
before herself. (beat.) tell me something about yourself. were
you born in arizona? los angeles? hmm … i’ve been there
once. i thought it was nice. i very much liked the beach, but
i wouldn’t want to live there. no offense. i just think it’s so
big and there are so many people there. i’m happy where
i’m at. (beat; amused.) don’t worry about your spanish. no
eres pocho … i understand you just fine. it’s nothing to be
embarrassed about. i know how difficult it is to juggle two
languages. i’m always running around in circles with my
oldest son. i’ll talk to him in spanish, but he usually answers
me in english. i constantly have to remind him, “en espanol,
mijo” but he jokes it off like it doesn’t matter. i know it does,
but he’s getting better at it. he’s a good boy, though … and,
your parents? were they born here? ah, zacatecas … and, your
mother? monterrey. i knew it. there is something familiar
about you. i couldn’t pin it down, but now i can. i grew up
in monterrey. most of my familia still lives there throughout
the area: colonia metalurgica, colonia nueva aurora, colonia
torreon jardin. do you know which one your familia lives
in? colonia vencedora? aye, yes … two of my uncles live in
the exact place. next time you talk to your mother ask her if
they know anyone from the gallegos familia … ask her if
that name sounds familiar. juan carlos and edwardo gallegos
… ask her. (beat.) i try to visit mejico every few years, but
it gets more difficult as i get older. do you still have familia
there? how long has it been since you’ve seen them? aye,
mijo. that’s much too long. you need to go and see them. they
are your blood. (responding.) yes, things cost money. it’s an
expensive world, but if you get the chance, start saving your
pennies because your familia won’t be around forever. none

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of us will. plus, you shouldn’t forget that mejico is as much

your home as it is your parents’. please don’t ever forget that
… i know that i miss mejico sometimes, but i love guadalupe.
it’s the closest thing to mejico that you can find here. it’s
not as nice as other places, but it’s home. the white people.
they don’t much care about what happens here. at least, that’s
what i think. i don’t have to tell you. i know you know that.
you can see it yourself. look at baseline street. look at the
other side and look at the guadalupe side. it’s like crossing
from san diego to tijuana. el mall y todo. all nice and new.
lots of places to spend. down the street there is this beautiful
park that is so green. but, they don’t care if guadalupe isn’t
green. they don’t care if the schools are bad. (beat; annoyed.)
around the corner they just made a place for the little ones
to play baseball. it’s pretty. i am happy for the children. it’s
green like the big park, but one little piece of land still isn’t
enough … guadalupe is still nothing but dirt and rocks. next
to the church where the older men play sports, that’s all it is.
dirt and rocks. sometimes broken pieces of glass and trash.
there are many open areas like that. it’s almost like they are
laughing in our faces … as if to say to us, “you want to play
somewhere nice, then cross the street to do so. we don’t
care … eventually, you have to cross back anyway.” (beat;
apologetic.) forgive me. i am angry, yes, but i don’t want to
come off hateful. i am a good catholic. i believe in god and
jesus and la virgen linda, but i am not blind … but, with that
said, i am thankful. thankful that i have my small little house
and food on the table. a television to watch my novelas on.
my viejo treats me good and my children are good people
… guadalupe has been good to us. to most people here. i
mean, there isn’t a lot of money, but we go on because we
must. even with all the bad around us, we still find the time
to share our stories and cafecitos. in guadalupe familia means

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familia. believe me, what little we have is a world’s more

than what most people in mejico have. We appreciate the
little things like soap and toilet paper. those are the things
i bring to mejico to give to my familia … the little things
other people don’t think twice about. (beat.) it’s because la
virgencita protects us. she looks over us. we are lucky to
have her in our lives. that is why almost every house in this
neighborhood has la virgencita standing guard over them. we
must always remember that she was the one that watched
over us as we crossed the border. she protected us. she held
us when nobody else would. (beat.) i was only sixteen when i
crossed … alone with people i didn’t know. (responding.) no
… my mother didn’t want me to go, but in mejico you can’t
tell anyone not to cross, you can only tell them that you will
say a prayer for them. that is all. (closing her eyes.) that first
night with the coyotes howling and the heat unbearable. i can
still remember how tightly i was holding onto my tiny little
statue of la virgencita; nearly crushing her. it was the longest
night of my life. (beat; emotional.) a few days later when I
snuck across, a coyote was herding us into the back of this
big truck like cattle and i slipped as i got on … i dropped my
little virgen onto the ground by accident, but i didn’t see her
until i was all the way inside. i sat down with the others when
i noticed. i yelled for the coyote to please pick it up. “please
give her to me,” i said … but he just yelled for me to shut
up and with those words he slammed the door in our faces
… five hours later i found myself in the back of a garage in
tucson. two days later i found myself in a watermelon field
west of phoenix … when i found a few minutes for myself
to get a drink of water, i would think of my virgen linda …
being stepped on … forgotten in the desert … like so many
of the pobrecitos who prayed to her during their journeys.

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(extended beat.)

luz (cont’d). i still pray to her because she has never left me …
even when i look out across the street to el mall and the new
cars and the nice houses … even now. (beat.) she is with me.

muñeca
oscar garcia
day laborer
mesa, ariz.

(it is the middle of the day. the interview is taking place

on a busy intersection where day laborers gather around,
searching for employment. oscar garcia, thirty, is mejicano.
he is slight of build and the effects of the arizona heat have
his skin looking darker than it usually would be. his clothes
are worn and he carries a weathered tool belt. his [mini]
ice cooler/lunch box lays next to him. in the background an
out-of-focus but, definitely recognizable, HOME DEPOT
sign can be seen and the sounds of men talking spanish
can also be heard.)

oscar. that’s right. i knew enrique. he was a good guy … very

friendly. you see, he was my primo’s friend so whenever
i’d visit my primo he was usually there talking shit, making
jokes, sharing his beers. like i said, he was a stand-up guy.

(extended beat.)

oscar (cont’d). no, i didn’t know … not even when i saw the
news on t.v … same story different day. that’s the way it is.
we all know that. there’s always a chance we won’t make
it. the shit is fucked up, but there is no other way. mejico is
a poor country, like its people … i quit school when i was

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like, uhm, seven. my familia needed me to help. everybody’s

story is the same, you know? (beat.) a few pesos isn’t enough.
not even close. (looking down at the floor.) we may be poor,
but we’re not stupid. we know that death is following us …
ni modo. i can still feel bad for them. (looking back at the
interviewer.) the thing is to see, uhm … all at the same time. i
had never seen that before. so many people dead at one time.
in one place … yes, i was especially sad that day … and, the
fact that they were from sinaloa. damn, man! sinaloa is my
land. those were my brothers. my compadres. (beat.) i didn’t
know about enrique until a few weeks later. sure, i knew he
was going to make the crossing. we all had talked about it.
i knew that, but he had said he would wait a while. his wife
was pregnant and he wanted to be there to see the child be
born. he didn’t want his wife to be alone. he was that kind
of guy. when i finally got my primo’s letter, he told me that
enrique was one of the fourteen— (beat; sadly.) i guess he
couldn’t wait long enough. (beat.) his wife had her baby last
week. a son … she named him enrique. (beat; changing the
subject.) fucking hot! you know? want a soda or something?
i have an extra one if you’d like.

(he bends down and grabs a soda for himself and also offers
one to the interviewer.)

oscar (cont’d). you sure? all right, then, but don’t be afraid to
ask. what’s mine is yours.

(he stands back up. he opens the soda can and practically
drinks the whole can in one motion. a little bit of soda run
downs his chin. he wipes it off.)

oscar (cont’d). me? a few months … ever since august.

(responding.) august is the best month because it’s the most

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difficult month, my friend. the weather is better in the winter.

more migra patrol then. they know more of us will try when
the weather is cooler. not me, though. i wanted to make it as
hard for them to catch me as it was for me to get here. i know
that sounds crazy, but that’s just me … isn’t that right, fellas?

(the sound of men agreeing can be heard. oscar begins

talking in a louder voice to communicate his thoughts to the
whole group as well as the interviewer.)

oscar (cont’d). shit. la migra hates the heat as much as we do

… only difference is that for us it’s a matter of life and death.
for them, it’s a pinche inconvenience. they get a sunburn.
it’s those damn mojados. they get pricked on a cactus. it’s
those damn mojados. (chuckling.) they can’t find a woman
to marry them. it’s those damn mojados.

(laughter erupts from the group of day laborers. as the

laughter dies down, oscar becomes a bit more pensive. beat;
to the interviewer.)

oscar (cont’d). hear that? the laughter. that’s the only thing we
own out here. when you struggle so much to try and survive
you’re already dead … in a way, that is, but a good laugh …
well, a good laugh … well, you know.

(he finishes his soda. he stands the can on the floor and
crushes it. he, then, places the smashed can in his cooler.
extended beat.)

oscar (cont’d). i miss my daughter’s laugh. my little baby girl.

estrella. she was a christmas baby. she’s blessed … would
you like to see a picture of her?

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(the interviewer agrees to see the picture. oscar pulls out the
picture and shows the interviewer; pointing.)

oscar (cont’d). this was her when she was born. i remember it
like it was yesterday … she’s so much like her mother. look
at her. isn’t she the most beautiful baby you’ve ever seen? i
know. every father talks like that but, in this case, it’s true.

(he puts the picture back in his wallet.)

oscar (cont’d). she just started school last week. six years old.
(smiling.) already, she’s smarter than her father. i want her
to go to school. i don’t want her to—

(a truck horn can be heard. the sound of men responding

can be heard. oscar, instantly, forgets that he is being
interviewed and begins jumping up and down, hand waiving
in the air, trying to get the truck driver’s attention. after a
few moments, oscar stops his actions. he watches as the
truck drives away. beat; embarrassed.)

oscar (cont’d). sorry. i didn’t mean to be rude. (beat.) sure you

don’t want anything to drink?

(extended beat.)

oscar (cont’d). i’ve saved a little bit … a few dollars. this

christmas i’ll be able to send a little something to my
familia. i have enough to get a simple mattress for my wife
and child to share. money for food and other things. there
might even be a little cash left over for a small radio. our
old one is no good anymore. (beat.) they like to listen to the
songs on the radio together.

(extended beat.)

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100 14

oscar (cont’d). next year, though … even if it kills me … i am

going to get estrella a real christmas present. a real birthday
present. (beat.) she carries around this ugly little doll. cheap
plastic. practically naked and missing an arm. my little girl
deserves better. i’m going to get her one of those american
barbie dolls. but, not just that. i’m getting her the whole
setup. the girl barbie. the boy barbie. the big dollhouse. the
car. the whole thing. i already did the math. fifteen dollars
for each barbie doll. the boy and the girl. twenty for the car
and the house is eighty dollars. can you believe that? so
much money for a doll’s house? (tabulating in his head.)
another, i guess, i mean, i think, it should be another, i
don’t know, fifty maybe … to mail it. that’s almost two
hundred dollars. (to himself; worried.) two hundred. (beat;
to interviewer.) i don’t like the doll she has now. it’s dirty.
it’s broken. girl dolls are supposed to be pretty.

(extended beat.
he looks around for a few moments, hoping to see a
prospective employer. beat; proudly.)

oscar (cont’d). i work hard. these are my tools. tools that i use
to build and fix things. i don’t steal or nothing like that. i am
an honest man. it’s not fair what people say about me and my
friends. they treat us like we’re animals. that’s not true. they
do not know how we feel. how much we miss our familias. i
love mejico. soy mejicano … but, there are no jobs in mejico.
i am only doing what i need to do. i’m not hurting anybody.
you make sure to tell people that. we are not criminals.

(extended beat.)

oscar (cont’d, solemnly). criminals don’t buy american

barbie dolls.

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 NOTES

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Also available by José Casas

Palabras del Cielo:

An Exploration of Latina/o Theatre
for Young Audiences
Compiled by José Casas. Edited with Christina
Marín, Ph.D. Set to be the most comprehensive resource
examining Latina/o Theatre for Young Audiences, this
book examines the subject material through a variety
of entry points. The collection offers 12 of the most
acclaimed Latina/o bilingual plays targeting different age
ranges, ethnic backgrounds and themes. It also contains
an additional six chapters of research by some of the
most influential Latina/o scholars in the country who
speak not only to the plays in the collection but also to
the issue of diversity and inclusion in the field of Theatre
for Young Audiences. Code: PM4000.

Visit our website to read an excerpt, order scripts,

apply for rights and more.
www.DramaticPublishing.com
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