August 30, 2024
Deconstructing the Deep Lie of “There is Nothing Here”
Story by Josue Rawmirez
Edited by Abigail Vela
Growing up and living in the 956, a common experience for residents is dealing with the many imposed false narratives and perspectives about the region. One particular take about the Rio Grande Valley that has been repeated for generations is that “there is nothing here.”
That is to say, in the Rio Grande Valley, there is nothing happening and nothing worth staying for or doing. The people of the 956 have had this idea ingrained into them. Sometimes, we are often the first to trash-talk and repeat this talking point against our home. Artist Nansi Guevara believes understanding the source of this deep narrative and the beneficiaries of the 956’s false framing can help us fight the grasp it holds on our collective regional imagination.
The Origins of “There is Nothing Here”
Let’s start by acknowledging that the “idea” that nothing of value is present in any geographic place fails to recognize the immense wealth in the natural world, Indigenous ways of life, and culture. This concept has historically been used as a justification for white supremacy and settler colonialism—Columbusing, anyone?
In the region, this lie was used by the Catholic Church, Spanish ranchers, and later by Anglo farmers to obliterate Indigenous existence and take control of native land. Because the land and people were unjustly seen as disposable and “in need of control,” settler colonizers quickly desecrated nature and ways of life through violence.
The blood paved the way for ranching, then commercial farming, real estate, industrialization, militarization, tourism and now liquified natural gas and the space industry. This was really the point and, to me, the downfall of this lie.
If there was nothing here, then why fight so hard for it? Then and now.
It has been known, since the beginning, that this land, its natural resources, and its people hold tremendous wealth and abundance. So much so that white supremacy seeks to extract and commodify it.
Through the lies of the settler imaginaries, the violent extraction of the delta has been reframed as national security, economic development, and growth. The lie that “there is nothing here” is a tool for white supremacy that allows for continued destruction and invites outsiders to “invest” and utilize the region’s brown bodies for labor.
Perhaps one of the most pervasive aspects of the imposed imaginaries is the process of cultural hegemony and its continued effect on the psyche of Indigenous people and people of color. From individuals who benefit from the framework and help uphold it to the ambivalent, and to those who feel the brunt of the force and seek change.
Delta Means Change
For the last two years, artist Nansi Guevara has been exploring this and other false narratives of the region as part of her multidisciplinary project, Nuestra Delta Magica. Through research, writing, activism, art-making, curating exhibitions, leading a community workshop series, and social media, Guevara has taken an expansive path for a specific purpose: to direct the public’s focus to the land and its history so they may stand up to defend it.
A particular interest for her has been understanding and deconstructing imposed regional narratives that are obstacles to that connection. An important first step in addressing that is understanding our past since many of these imposed narratives are historically rooted.
Guevara explored this in a co-curated exhibition, Nuestra Delta Magica: Dismantling Settler Imaginaries and Community Resistance, by combining research and creative interventions of local artists (including myself) in a gallery space. The exhibition hosted community teach-ins and a platica, which is where I was introduced to this concept that I had experienced for so long but had not wrangled into words.
The artist continued the conversations outside of the white walls with community members through participation in community actions and civic engagement in local politics. This came about through social media videos, public comments at city hall and commissioners court.
As a Constellations Fellow in conjunction with the Center for Cultural Power and Trucha, Guevara led and hosted a series of “Narrative Change Gatherings.” The gatherings were hosted in Brownsville, Texas, with community partners like the South Texas Environmental Justice Network (STEJN), ENTRE, Border Workers United, Trucha, and local food vendors, as dinner was always served. Over a shared meal, the participants learned from Indigenous leaders, historians, activists, and artists on topics like “We are the Land” and “Acciones y Logros en el Valle.”
The six-part series ended with a “Back to the Earth” nature walk and teach-in at La Posada Urban Farm. Participants explored a guided tour of the trail behind La Posada, an urban forest or monte, that is a window to what the delta looked like before its desecration into mass agriculture and development. Gathered under the Anacua tree, eating pupusas, we learned about preservation efforts of the local flora like the Montezuma Cypress and the work around food justice in Brownsville.
The efforts that Guevara has undertaken exemplify how art and creativity can generate connections between ourselves, each other, and the land. When we appreciate all of these in conjunction and peel back the deep lies, we uncover our community’s truth. We understand our interconnectedness as a pathway to the abundance of the Rio Grande Delta, and we can proudly stand to defend it.
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