Kathryn Rodriguez

Kat Rodriguez: Yeah. It was like a summer camp for farmworker kids and, or kids of farm workers, right? They weren't necessarily farmworkers. And they were mostly Mexican, Haitian, and Guatemalan, because that's what Immokalee... And I left, and then when I graduated college... So my dad ended up retiring from the military and then got a job at United Airlines. So I flew free until I was 26, which was another like, amazing, right? And my friend Tamara had stayed in Immokalee and she said, "Hey, I started working with this farmworker group. Would you want to come out and help us?" Because I was an art major. She's like, "They're planning this big march and maybe you could do some art for them." So I had an art degree and I was like, "Sure." So I went out there, and that's when I got involved with the Coalition of Immokalee Workers. And I ended up making a... She's a ten-foot Statue of Liberty, but she's got brown skin and she's holding a tomato and a cubeta. Then I had her on a pedestal that had “I, Too, Sing America,” or “I, Too, Am America” from Langston Hughes' poem that I loved. And we marched with her, from Fort Myers to Orlando, to the Florida Fruit and Vegetable Association. It was a 233-mile march. I had never been on a march before. I had not been involved with activism. This was my first. And the CIW is pop-education style. Their meetings are in Spanish and Creole. I didn't speak great Spanish at that time. I learned they do everything pop-education style. I learned that my place was a place of privilege and I was there to serve. You know, "You're driving because you have a driver's license," and, "You're running to get water," and the decisions were made by the workers. And it was just understood that that's how that worked. Because they have the most at stake. And so they were really my... I guess my training ground into activism. And that's how I think of activism, and the way that I feel is the most sustainable is collective organizing. So that's how I learned about it. And went on this march, and we marched 15 to 18 miles a day, and I got to march when I wasn't having to drive the massive flatbed truck, because I knew how to drive a stick. It was amazing. It was life changing. We got to Orlando and the Florida Fruit and Vegetable Association originally said, "Oh, we're going to greet the workers and we're going to give them cookies and juice."And we arrived, and there was hundreds of people, and they shuttered their doors and locked the doors. And we had been on a lane of traffic the whole time. So this flatbed truck had her on the back. Then they took that away and they put her up on the flatbed. And then we got into Orlando and the cops just turned really hostile. And they were like, "You cannot bring that truck, you can't have a lane. You're going to have to walk on the sidewalk." And so I was really sad. But then the workers were like, "We're not leaving her. Like we're not leaving her." I called her my niña because I was like, there's literally like my blood in her and my sweat like I've been... She's chicken wire and plaster. And so they were like, "We're not leaving her." And they took her off her pedestal, and they carried her on their backs for the last six miles. I have these... So it was actually worse for the... Because there's this picture of these farm workers under the weight of Lady Liberty. So it was just this amazing... So talk about a way to be introduced to the movement. It was incredible.

Kat Rodriguez: So I think I have a really good way to explain it. So there's this thing that I've done a part of. It's called the Migrant Trail. So we walk from Sasabe to Tucson. So it's a 75-mile walk and we do it. We walk 12 to 16 miles a day, from Memorial Day to the following Sunday. It always starts on Memorial Day. And we started in 2004. It was the first year we walked, and it was a couple people had this idea and they came to the Derechos meeting and they were like, "We're thinking about doing this if anybody's interested." And I was like, "Yeah, I'm interested." Because I was thinking I want to know, not what crossing is like. But I had friends that crossed that border, and I wanted to know what being in that space was like. So our first year, we were kind of curious. There were like 24 of us, and we did this walk and we didn't know. I mean, I had organized. Thanks to the farmworker march, I knew how to organize breaks and water stops and things. And we walked. We were out in the desert. We didn't have cell service. We arrived on the last day, had no idea of anything. We arrived and there were over 200 people waiting for us at the park. And it was this powerful experience of them receiving us. And we had this amazing, humbling experience in the desert. And immediately people were like, "Are you going to do it again? Are you going to do it again?" And so we had this whole discernment process and we said, "We are not going to agree to do it again unless we agree to walk until the deaths stop." So this is our 21st year. This year will be our 21st year walking. And I never thought 21 years ago that I'd still be walking the migrant trail. But in those early days we thought, there's a number, right? We're going to get to a number of deaths that they're going to say, okay, that's enough. We have to change policy because of these deaths. Right? And I had these years, every year on the migrant trail, I would be completely burned out. It would be my escape. Because you're out in the desert, there was no cell service. You're out there camping, pooping and peeing. It was great. Like it was just this, like, disconnect. And we would recharge. And a bunch of us were cohorts from different organizations. And we would we would talk about our fucked up work lives. Right. Like this overworked... But we just had this belief that if we bring enough attention, "Okay, if we get media in here. Okay, if the right people hear it, like policy is going to change." We had somebody that came from Grijalva's office in DC. She came and walked one year. Right?. So we had this thing. So I had this faith, and that has changed. And now what I believe 21 years later, this has been for a couple of years now. I don't believe change is going to come from the top. I don't think a policy is going to magically get picked. I believe it comes from the bottom, and I believe it comes one step at a time, one person at a time. Because we have had... Most of the years we have between 45 to 60 people that walk with us for weeks. You have to commit to the whole week. And it's a life changing experience. And you're in the desert and we're not simulating migrating because we have water stops and granola bars. And you have people who can take a sticker out for you, and you're sleeping in a tent and there's water. But there's something about being in that space and recognizing that people are in that space and are dying and our government is intentionally pushing them there. And people leave changed. And my faith has shifted to those people going home and talking in a different way and challenging. That is where change is going to come, and it's going to be like the day-to-day work of changing. That's why it's so important. Like when newspapers use the word illegal and we fight it and they're like, "That's so stupid. Why are you fighting over a word?" Words matter. That word is so important for you. If we allow you to dehumanize, like we've given you more power than you even understand, but we understand. So that's how it shifted. My belief that change is going to come used to be like, "We can push hard enough and a policy will happen. CRR will come." And then that became a dirty word because it's riddled with militarization. So my belief now is in enough people teaching their kids to be good people and doing the right thing and helping each other. And if enough people do that, the world will change.

Kat Rodriguez: My forte is logistics. So I do all the stuff, I don't like to be in the front, I like to organize in the back. I like things to look good. So that's kind of the space I'm in. But I don't know. I don't know if there's... Maybe I've been lucky, but I think, and maybe because Derechos Humanos was woman-led, the collaborative experience of women when they are working together and not feeding into the catfight, jealousy, that kind of stuff. I've been lucky to have supportive women and not that kind of stuff. And that is, I think, the key. Right? I think one of the hardest parts, I think in organizing, good organizing, is removing ego. Because we all have it, right? And you want to be recognized and you want to be like, "I did that." But it gets in the way a lot of times when you just need to get stuff done and it doesn't matter. And, you know, and I think I've, I think I was clumsy in my 20s. I think I've learned a lot. I hope. But yeah, I've made the shift to really believing that collaborative work is the best. Like Google Docs, I am the poster child. I love Google Docs. It's collaborative, it's transparent. Everybody has access. It's a space. And that's how I think organizing should be. It should be collective. It should be transparent, and it should have space for different voices. And I do think sometimes certain voices don't need to be as loud.