It was not his battles in the ring that define the legacy of Ali, but his life-affirming humanitarian work around the world. I didn’t comprehend this quote myself until January of 2019, when the “migrant crisis” at the U.S./Mexico border became international news, where ground zero was in Tijuana, Mexico- twenty minutes from my front door in San Diego, California. With so many international friends asking me to elaborate on the situation- for which I was ashamed that I could not- I was compelled to learn more. I began to volunteer with multiple Migrant Rights NGOs, traveling with them into Mexico in caravans providing food & clothing donations to the over-flowing refugee shelters scattered throughout the city. Although this was initially fulfilling, I soon found it to be voyeuristic & self-aggrandizing for many people working with the NGO’s (Notwithstanding, most of these trips into Tijuana were veiled agendas to recruit unpaid interns and to monetize volunteer sympathy.) I also felt that there was a crucial element missing from these donation drives- a human connection: These weren’t simply refugees, but very real people with amazing stories & bold aspirations.
Myself and other volunteer artists set ourselves apart from these NGO’s and formed our own collective; Voz de La Frontera (“Border Voice”), where we continued to execute donation drives but prioritized Arts Engagement workshops as a tool for reminding people that the sum of their being was much more than the reductive nomenclature of “migrant” or “refugee”. Using a variety of artistic disciplines (Theatre, puppetry, photography, art, music, and cooking) we began to interact differently with these shelter communities, and found that this level of engagement was as intrinsic to their well-being as the very food and water we brought along. Furthermore, there became a growing interest among these communities to have their stories shared in the United States, where xenophobia and disinformation had reached a fever pitch. With expressed consent for all documentation, and throughout dangerous parts of Tijuana, we began to interview people and give them a platform to share their experiences. Gradually I stopped being called Adam and was known only as “Canelo”- a reference to the revered Mexican boxer of Jalisco. At first I assumed it was due to my red beard and tattoos (Truth be told many of the children thought I was the real deal), however years later Pastor Gustavo of Templo Embajadores de Jesus would affirm it was because “nunca dejaste de luchar”- “you never stopped fighting.”
Along with artists from Mexico, Colombia, and Cambodia, we began working on a multilingual touring theatre piece inspired by the remarkable stories of these people. Although our fiscal sponsorship was withdrawn for political reasons and development is paused, the necessity for this work is as great as ever during this fraught sociopolitical time of bigotry. From 2019-2022, Voz de La Frontera conducted multiple interdisciplinary arts engagement workshops, interviewed over seventy-five people, organized dozens of donation drives, and delivered thousands of pounds of food, water, clothing, and toiletries.
