Chad E. Seales

New Latino Destinations

On April 10, 2006, Latino immigrants and their allies took to the streets in more than 100 cities throughout the United States to advocate for comprehensive immigration reform. In Albertville, Alabama (population 20,000), more than 5,000 demonstrators marched, some carrying signs that read “Sweet Home Alabama.” In Jackson, Mississippi, approximately 500 participants joined together in singing a Spanish translation of “We Shall Overcome,” a song closely linked with the African American Civil Rights Movement (Hardin, 2006). Three Nebraska cities—South Sioux City, Lincoln, and Omaha—saw a combined 20,000 participants (Gonzalez & Stickney, 2006). Approximately 3,000 demonstrators gathered in Siler City, North Carolina (population 8,079) bearing signs that read, “We love Siler City” and “I pay taxes.” In Atlanta, Georgia, more than 50,000 protestors took to the streets, significantly surpassing the number of participants in such traditional immigrant gateway cities as San Diego, Los Angeles, and Miami (Skiba & Forester, 2006). As news reports documented rallies from Charleston, South Carolina to Indianapolis, Indiana; from Jackson, Mississippi to Garden City, Kansas, they highlighted the complex physical, cultural, and economic contours of a new map of Latino presence in the United States. Although the policy impact of this mobilization remains to be seen, one thing is perfectly clear: The cartographies of settlement for Latino and Latina immigrants have shifted in recent decades, and as Latinos filled the streets in protest, they mapped these shifts onto the landscapes of cities and towns throughout the United States. Who were these Latino demonstrators? How is it that they have come to reside in municipalities, states, and regions that, as recently as 20 years ago, had negligible Latino populations? What is the impact of their presence on socioeconomic, political, and cultural life in new destinations? In this chapter, we survey the small but growing literature on Latinos in

Playing for God: Evangelical Women and the Unintended Consequences of Sports Ministry

discusses Buddhist stories, particularly a story of a past-life of the Buddha in which he sacrifices his own life for the benefit of a starving tigress and her cubs (83ff.). Defenders of the self-immolations commonly use this narrative to explain how the self-immolations are not only “altruistic sacrifices” but also fundamentally Buddhist, thus emphasizing the sacrificers’ compassion and interpreting their actions to be carried out for the benefit of others (regardless of the tricky question of who benefits and how). Ultimately, however, Whalen-Bridge offers his own defense of the selfimmolators by exploring different sets of Buddhist vows. He concludes that selfimmolations can be construed as exemplifications of the vow to sacrifice one’s life to preserve Buddhism (120–121). Tibet on Fire is an excellent resource for those who want to gain familiarity with the many facets of the Tibetan self-immolation movement, and it is a welcome complement to the scholarly commentaries collected in Cultural Anthropology’s “Self-Immolation as Protest in Tibet” web issue from 2012 and to Charlene Makley’s (2015) article for the same journal. It is also an overwhelming and exhausting book. First, and perhaps most importantly, the subject matter is terribly difficult. Despite the prominence of methodological considerations and theoretical reflections, Whalen-Bridge never loses sight of the humanity of the many actors that he discusses. His personal investment in the Tibetan struggle is never in doubt, and it enriches his analysis. Second, the book’s method of rhetorical analysis is itself overwhelming in so far as it embraces multiplicities of acts, actors, audiences, and purposes over and against any singular explanation. There is neither a singular argument nor even, truly, a singular topic for the book. Everything about Whalen-Bridge’s work here is decentered. With that said, his repeated consideration of the ways that the self-immolations contribute to the ongoing struggles of Tibetans to maintain their identity is both powerful and provocative. He respects the agency and even efficacy of the self-immolators without downplaying the hopelessness that many have about the political and cultural future of Tibetans living in Tibet. In this regard, Tibet on Fire develops a subtle and haunting argument about the productive role that violence can play in communal identity formation.