Around sunset, in the backyard of a house in a small Ohio town, a group of men set fire to a wooden swastika they’d built. As the flames rose, they raised their right arms and made a Nazi salute. “White Power!” they shouted. “White Power!”
There they were, two of my musical idols, just a few feet away: Joan Manuel Serrat, whose music has been part of my life’s soundtrack, and Joaquin Sabina, whose lyrical realism and irony have inspired me for about a decade. I had great seats for their show in Miami, and I was delighted to be there. But something felt off.
On a sad day last week, after the Supreme Court announced that President Obama’s executive orders on immigration would remain blocked, I saw some politicians cheering.
Miguel Carrasquillo, 35, didn’t die as he wanted. He died in pain after enduring months of agony.
ORLANDO, Florida — “I love you,” read the text message that the mother’s son sent to her at 2:07 a.m., the last time she heard from him.
“In Mexico, suspicion and distrust are a collective illness.” — Octavio Paz
I recently spoke with Berta Isabel Zúñiga, daughter of the late Honduran environmental activist Berta Cáceres, via satellite from Washington.
MEXICO CITY — Coming back to Mexico always fills me with vitality and hope. Whenever I return, I feel like the country is on the verge of big change. But, inevitably, the change never arrives.
Exercising journalistic freedom in Mexico these days can be a heroic feat. In the last decade, some 80 Mexican journalists have been killed, and many more have faced reprisals or been threatened into silence, by criminals and public officials alike.
On Fridays, people are allowed to line up to touch the statue of Christ in Madrid’s historic Basilica of Jesus of Medinaceli. And every Friday, the lines are always long.