Esta matéria foi originalmente publicada na VICE US.
Fui para o aeroporto JFK em Nova York no sábado não porque achava que haveria o que fotografar lá, mas porque sou um norte-americano com uma origem que só é possível nos EUA: minha mãe é do México, meu pai é do Egito e eu sou muçulmano praticante. Eu estava lá, assim como muitos outros, porque Donald Trump assinou uma ordem executiva bloqueando a entrada de refugiados — e cidadãos de vários países de maioria muçulmana — no país. Quando algo assim acontece, você não fica em casa.
Chegando lá, pude ouvir as palavras de ordem do protesto ecoando já no estacionamento. A manifestação se estendia até a área de desembarque do Terminal 4, onde uma dezena de pessoas foi detida como resultado da proibição.
Tirei a foto de Mazeeda Uddin (que abre a matéria), fundadora do South Asian Fund for Education, Scholarship e Training (SAFEST), uma organização que fornece apoio educacional para a comunidade sul-asiática, usando um hijab com uma bandeira dos EUA ao fundo. A vi parada com seu cartaz e não conseguia deixar de assisti-la gritando "FUCK TRUMP!" Era como ver minha própria avó, cheia de paixão, se expressando sem reservas.
Sempre que assisto entrevistas da conselheira de Trump Kellyanne Conway ou do próprio Trump promovendo a construção de um muro no México e a proibição da entrada de muçulmanos nos EUA, sinto como se minha comunidade não fosse tão valorizada quanto outras nos EUA. Um cara jovem estava levantando um cartaz que ressoou em mim: "Judeus de Nova York Contra a Islamofobia". Isso me fez sentir que outras comunidades estavam se unindo para proteger meus direitos. Tenho muita sorte de ter vizinhos assim.
Em outras circunstâncias, seria difícil conseguir alguém para vir te buscar no JFK; mas na noite de sábado, centenas de pessoas viajaram voluntariamente até o aeroporto. (Mais protestos aconteceram naquela noite por todo o país, e manifestações em espaços públicos no domingo.)
Enquanto a noite seguia, alguém pediu que dezenas de pizzas fossem entregues no Terminal 4 — um momento verdadeiramente novaiorquino.
In the basement of a stately, high-ceilinged church here earlier this month, a class for newly arrived refugees was momentarily interrupted by a young boy dressed in a Christmas-colored elf costume and a girl in a princess dress who'd run in chasing after him. Both were after their mother, who was seated among other Afghan and Iraqi women attending the day-long crash course on American laws, culture, and local logistics. It would be one of the last refugee orientations conducted in the US for some time.
Roughly 50 men, women, and children from a half-dozen countries sat at small, round classroom tables to take in the spectacle of resettlement professionals and volunteers role-playing various aspects of American life. Instructors offered advice on how to properly handle domestic arguments before they turned violent, every day interactions with pharmacists, and diet and exercise. Down the hall, children played with blocks and puzzles and other toys.
"In America, this is how we do things," Chris George, the director of New Haven's Integrated Refugee and Immigrant Services resettlement program, said to the class, "and you're all Americans now." It was as much a welcoming embrace as the kind of carefully constructed warning worried parents are prone to using—listen to me; it's for your own good.
George paused while translators at each table delivered his declarative statement to refugees from Eritrea, Ethiopia, Congo, Somalia, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Syria; a wave of smiles and laughter soon followed. Upon arriving in the United States, resettlement workers like George and his colleagues are usually a refugee's lifeline, coach, and first phone call, providing them with crucial support and guidance on their way to self-sufficiency.
(Foto de arriba: Manifestantes sosteniendo pancartas durante una manifestación contra la prohibición musulmana del presidente Donald Trump. Foto: Steven Senne AP/Press Association Images).
Durante el fin de semana, cientos de miles de personas tomaron las calles y aeropuertos de Estados Unidos para protestar contra la "prohibición musulmana" de Donald Trump. Una orden ejecutiva firmada por el presidente el 27 de enero suspendió el reasentamiento de los refugiados sirios por tiempo indefinido, la reubicación de otros refugiados durante 120 días y le prohibió entrar a Estados Unidos a cualquiera que provenga de siete países la mayoría musulmanes por 90 días.
La orden, que Trump dicees acerca de "mantener seguro al país", ya ha enfrentado una enorme oposición, con algunos críticos argumentando que la orden es inconstitucional, y muchos otros señalando que no tendrá absolutamente ningún impacto en la "seguridad" del país, que en realidad Estados Unidos está más amenazado por los estadounidenses que son propietarios de armas que por cualquier otro grupo. De cualquier manera, la Unión Estadounidense por las Libertades Civiles (ACLU, por sus siglas en inglés) luchó de inmediato para bloquear la orden, y el sábado logró convencer a un juez federal para conceder una suspensión de emergencia para detener la deportación de personas con visas válidas que ya habían aterrizado en los EE.UU.
Sin embargo, la lucha está lejos de terminar. Es fácil sentirse impotente donde quiera que estés (en el Reino Unido, no ayuda que el Primer Ministro se haya negado hasta ahora a condenar la prohibición de los musulmanes), pero hay acciones concretas que puedes tomar para ayudar a la lucha, por ejemplo:
DONACIONES
La ACLU ha prometido tomar medidas contra Trump y la "guerra contra la igualdad" de su administración. Solamente el fin de semana pasado recaudaron $24.1 millones (£ 20 millones) de más de 350.000 personas, y tú puedes donaraquí para ayudarles a continuar la lucha. Sia está haciendo donativos a la ACLU de hasta $100,000 así que envíale una captura de pantalla de tu recibo aquí. El inversionista de riesgo y empresario, Chris Sacca, está haciendo donativos de hasta $25,000; mándale un tuit aquí.
Grimes está haciendo donaciones de hasta $ 10,000 a CAIR; puedes tuitearle la prueba de que ya donaste aquí.
Protesta Anti-Trump en New York (Foto: Flickr user mal3k)
PROTESTAS
Hay un montón de protestas en todo el mundo, y todas son una buena manera de mostrar solidaridad. Pero como pasa casi siempre con estas cosas, es poco probable que Trump o su administración presten mucha atención a lo que la gente exige. Para sacar todo lo que puedas de la protesta, presiona tanto como puedas directamente a tu gobierno. Los líderes mundiales pueden no ser capaces de obligar a Trump a actuar, pero al menos los escucha.
OTRAS ACCIONES
Si tienes un cuarto extra o tienes un lugar donde la gente que está atorada en el Reino Unido se pueda quedar, lo puedes hacer aquí.
Esta petición pretende impedir que Donald Trump haga una visita de Estado al Reino Unido. Está mal redactada y pide que la visita sea cancelada para no "incomodar a la Reina" en lugar de por "la intolerancia y la atrocidad en general de Trump", pero ya tiene más de 1.000.000 de firmas. Downing Street rechazó la petición al considerarla un "gesto populista" y dijo que cancelar la visita desharía todo lo que "se logró" en Washington. Y sí, es una petición electrónica, el epítome absoluto del clicktivismo. Pero como ya superó las 100.000 firmas necesita ser debatido en el Parlamento, si te opones a Trump y a la idea de que visite el Reino Unido, firma la petición para mostrar la escala de oposición contra él y sus políticas. Todavía no se ha fijado una fecha para debatir el tema.
CONSEJOS
Aquí puedes encontrar una hoja de consejos para gente de los siete países prohibidos, que establece si deberías y cómo deberías viajar hacia y desde los EE.UU.
The Sundance Film Festival works kind of like a distant star—by the time its light hits most of the world, it's over. But while there may have been plenty of distractions stealing the thunder from this year's Park City premieres, this is by no means the finale for most of these films. Sundance is often seen as the beginning of the road to the next year's Oscars. But as streaming services and their fat wallets become more of a driving force at the festival, the opportunity to actually see some of this stuff—even if you don't live in Los Angeles and New York—is very real.
I saw 15 films at this year's festival, just a fraction of the huge program. Several films I didn't get to see, but have heard great things about, including Macon Blair's directorial debut I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore and Eliza Hittman's Beach Rats. In my experience, 2017 was not as great a year for underdog discoveries and surprise hits from unknown directors. However, with that caveat aside, there were still a number of films that stood out to me at this year's festival. Here are the top five—and how you'll be able to see them.
Call Me By Your Name. Courtesy of Sundance Film Festival
Call Me By Your Name
Over and over, this is what I heard people say about Luca Guadagnino's fifth film: "It doesn't feel like a Sundance film." First of all, ouch. Second of all, it's not not a Sundance film—based on the celebrated novel by André Aciman, it's a sensitive, lyrically told gay coming-of-age story co-starring a Hollywood actor (Armie Hammer) doing some "edgy" stuff on-screen. But I suspect the sentiment comes from Guadagnino's idiosyncratic direction, which continues to feel surprising and abundantly fresh with each successive film.
The film takes place over one memorable summer for Elio (the revelatory Timothée Chalemet), the son of scholars living "somewhere in northern Italy" in the early 80s. In many ways, it follows the expected beats of a coming-out story, but always darts in an unexpected direction as it hits each one, finding new emotional notes that we rarely get to see. Elio is in many ways wise beyond his years, but his emotional inexperience is as important as his sexual inexperience; the visiting grad student that he becomes enamored with (Hammer) treats him as an intellectual equal. Their corner of the crumbling Italian countryside is buzzing and restless and seductive and yet somehow never drifts into cliché. The film brings back that first summer when everything felt like the most important thing in the world with deep intimacy, and its unforgettable final shot will stay with me for a while.
Where can you see it? Call Me By Your Name is being released theatrically by Sony Pictures Classics sometime this year.
Mudbound. Courtesy of Sundance Film Festival
Mudbound
Director Dee Rees's big swing for the fences after her 2011 Sundance breakout Pariah has paid off in this prestige-y historical drama that's deceptively conventional everywhere but where it matters. It's a tale a two farming families trying to make it in the unforgiving Mississippi Delta before and after World War II, one black and one white. Rees makes us feel the weight of a thousand tiny injustices pile up over the years, and easily pivots between a systemic view of racism and a person-to-person one. The film is worth it alone for the friendship between Laura (Carey Mulligan) and Florence (Mary J. Blige), which is wildly privilege-imbalanced and ultimately supportive and loving.
Where can you see it? Netflix just bought Mudbound for $12.5 million, narrowly beating out the next film as the biggest sale of the festival. A release date has not yet been announced.
The Big Sick. Courtesy of Sundance Film Festival
The Big Sick
Kumail Nanjiani and Emily V. Gordon's more-or-less faithful retelling of an early episode in their relationship has the logline of a sappy hugging-and-learning movie of the week. But it wins on the strength and clarity of its writers, stars, and director Michael Showalter. Kumail (Nanjiani) and Emily (Zoe Kazan) embark on a quintessential millennial relationship with one unaddressed complication: Kumail's family is Pakistani Muslim and are dead set on setting him up with an arranged marriage. Then a sudden crisis brings Kumail unexpectedly closer to Emily's parents (Ray Romano and Holly Hunter), and yes, everyone hugs and learns a lot.
The thing is, I've never seen a Sundance audience laugh they way they did at the premiere of The Big Sick. It's a deep, satisfying, and often dark humor, dismantling Emily's parent's latent prejudice one minute, and Kumail's Pakistani geekery the next. What takes it over the top, though, is that Gordon and Kazan have created a living, breathing, complicated romantic partner in Emily, a person whose absence is felt keenly. It has an Apatovian runtime (2 hours) and a somewhat shaggy third act, but its heart stays true to the very end.
Where can you see it? The Big Sick got picked up by Amazon and will have a theatrical release in conjunction with its streaming release. No release date here, either.
A Ghost Story. Courtesy of Sundance Film Festival
A Ghost Story
Wait a second, what is this doing here? Sure, I didn't ultimately fall for David Lowery's A Ghost Story, a decidedly kooky fable in art-house clothing, but I do appreciate its presence at this year's festival. At any rate, it's something to talk about. This is the one where Casey Affleck is a ghost in a sheet, and Rooney Mara eats a whole pie, after all. Lowery is going for some grand statement on souls and the passage of time, but I'm not sure anyone could really say what that was, and what he's ultimately left with is a very clever little puzzle box of a movie that doesn't actually fit together. The incoherence of its finale isn't what bothered me, though. The film is at its best when it genuinely doesn't care about making you feel comfortable or smart. And the constant image of Affleck as the ghost is by turns disturbing, beautiful, and sweet—certainly a great centerpiece to an imperfect but daring film.
Where can I see it? The powerhouse indie distributor A24 will be releasing A Ghost Story theatrically,date TBD.
Roxanne Roxanne. Courtesy of Sundance Film Festival
Roxanne Roxanne
Writer-director Michael Larnell retells of the life of Roxanne Shanté Gooden, the original queen of battle rapping whose career took a nosedive after an exhilarating brush with fame, as a (mostly) feel-good music biopic, slickly produced with help of Pharrell Williams and Forest Whitaker. Larnell paces the film a little strangely and doesn't give us nearly enough battle rapping, but the real draw is star Chanté Adams, who easily embodies the charisma and ferociousness of the film's heroine, ethering everyone who dares underestimate her through a row of sparkly braces. There's not much subtlety here, but if you're looking to tide yourself over before the next half-season of The Get Down, it'll do just fine. (Also, The Get Down's Tremaine Brown, Jr. shows up in a very winky role, which potentially upsets the entire space-time continuum of contemporary adaptations of the early New York hip-hop scene.)
Where can I see it? Roxanne Roxanne was picked up by Neon, a new-ish distributor that also got festival favorites Ingrid Goes West and Beach Rats.
Over the weekend, President Trump's ban on travel from seven Muslim-majority countries sent the world into chaos. Detainment, deportations, and absolute confusion from the ambiguity of Trump's executive order put airports across America on high alert. In response, protests—arguing against the constitutional basis for the ban—spread like wildfire across the United States.
Since then, outrage at Trump's executive order has spurred protests across the globe. Canada in particular—reeling from a terrorist attack Sunday night that left half a dozen Quebec mosque-goers dead—saw a large protest at Toronto's US consulate Monday morning, actually causing the office to shut its doors in advance. In a statement posted online, the consulate advised Visa-holders and those seeking consular services to come back the next day.
Despite being the city being smothered in -18º C [0º F] weather and the office being closed, hundreds showed up to the event. VICE spoke to some of them to hear why they came out and how they feel about Canada's role in handling the unfolding US immigration crisis.
John, 54 Indigenous Protester
VICE: Why are you here today? John: I'm here because of Trump's policies. I do not agree with them—the immigration, the pipelines, the hate. It's that simple.
How do you feel about what happened this weekend—the travel ban, the detainment, the Muslim discrimination? I think it's wrong. It's absolutely disgraceful. No matter where you are from, anybody should be able to come here—the US or Canada. This is a land of immigrants.
Do you feel like Justin Trudeau has a greater responsibility to take on Trump directly? Some say he's been too neutral on the matter. You gotta expect that from him. The US is our biggest trading partner. That's just the way politicians are. It is their primary interest—to protect money.
What needs to happen next? People. People are coming out and rising up. We need to let Trump know we do not stand for his policies. We definitely will not stand for him.
Joe Cressy, 34 Toronto City Councillor
Mr. Cressy, you've been very vocal about Trump's presidency. Why are you out here today? Joe Cressy: I think as residents of an international world, we all have a role to play. Whether that's condemning hatred all over the world, or hatred here in the city that we live in. This city, all cities, are a response to how we choose to live together. We must stand up and let everyone know that Toronto is here to welcome them.
Most Canadian politicians have avoided directly criticizing Trump—both at the federal level and here in the city. How do you feel about that? The City of Toronto is a welcome city and a sanctuary city—with or without documentation, you can access public services without fear. Has everyone on the local level been as vocal about supporting this? No, unfortunately they haven't. But the principle is here, and many of my colleagues stand beside me in this fight.
On the federal level, politicians are saying that people are welcome here and our borders are open. As some have said, that may not be enough, but people are here to hold us to account for that.
Do you think Toronto is doing enough to make sure that we welcome refugees and those in fear because of their ethnicity, race, or religion? Well, this week, there is a motion coming forward in city council to reaffirm our place as a sanctuary city, and to strengthen our resolve in making sure that everybody is welcome here. We need to do more to help settle newcomers, and protect those who are persecuted—both locally and abroad.
Elizabeth, 22 Protester
Why are you here today? From the Muslim ban to the attack in Quebec yesterday, I felt like it was a moral obligation for me to be here. Something like this shouldn't happen in the 21st century. The Holocaust happened, and I don't ever, ever want to see a repeat of something like that.
A lot of Canadians like to say that Canada doesn't have the same issues as the US—racism, bigotry, discrimination. Does that bother you? It's very unsettling. Canadians like to take a moral high ground when it comes to immigration or human rights, but our country is founded upon those same wrongdoings. We had residential schools, we had colonization, and we still have racism. It has no border. If we're going to stand against something like this, we need to look at it here as well. We can't pretend those same feelings aren't growing here in Canada.
Are you worried that Canadians might not see that? I am, especially because there's this idea that we need to do polite politics. This idea that there are subtle ways to address Islamophobia, and racism, and bigotry. I want to see stronger stances like this. I don't think that the Canadian government, or Justin Trudeau, will do enough without being pushed.
From top left to bottom right: Naomi, Maria, Kaitlyn, and Ana.
Naomi, 19; Maria, 21; Kaitlyn, 18; Ana, 18 University of Toronto students
VICE: Why are you guys here today? Naomi: We wanted to make it clear we're not going to stand for the kind of discrimination we've been seeing this last week. It's not acceptable.
The travel ban has affected a lot of people. Have any of you personally been affected or moved by what's happened so far? Naomi: I'm Jewish. My grandmother is a Holocaust survivor. I'm seeing the cultural and political climate, and I'm seeing a lot of similarities. I'm scared for a lot of people, and I know that it's my duty as a person—who has the power to stand up—to come out here.
Maria: Forget the fact that we may be from whatever religion, this is just inhumane and heartbreaking. People are coming to us for shelter and refuge from horrible atrocities, and we're spitting at them. It's so disgusting.
Kaitlyn: I'm seeing it with my friends and my family. Look around us. The majority of the people here are of visible ethnic or religious minorities. The people affected are just like us. We all feel it.
Ana: I just ask myself, "Why is that I'm lucky enough to be born here and am free? " It's that simple. It's wrong.
Justin Trudeau has tweeted and said a lot of things, but he hasn't stood up to Trump. Do you guys feel like he's doing the right thing by playing it cautiously? Maria: I get that he is trying to maintain good relations, but this isn't a normal scenario. Trump isn't like another president from before. He needs to be more vocal. We're behind him, the people in the US are behind him. He can't lead in fear.
Ana: Yeah, what we're doing right now says that. Everybody is out here. People are ready to speak up.
Philip, 64 Communist Party of Canada
What brought you here today? I—we are here to protest the fascist and racist policies that are being pushed by the United States, and we're here to say that attacks on Muslims or immigrants or anybody, are not acceptable. The other reason I'm here are to oppose US wars of aggressions—the ones that caused the refugee crisis in the first place.
Do you think that Canada is doing enough to combat Trump's policies? Well, we are a country that is principally different than the US. We are a country that accepts immigrants and refugees. That said, we still participate in the process that enables this hatred elsewhere. We participate in wars against Middle Eastern countries. We do not enforce or stand behind the idea of sanctuary cities as much as we should. We need to do more than feel good about being better—we need to actually work harder than we are now to rise above what is acceptable and what is passable.
