Transcript: ALYNDA MARIPOSA SEGARRA on Life on Earth /321
Ayana Young Hello and welcome to For The Wild Podcast, I’m Ayana Young. Today I’m speaking with Alynda Mariposa Segarra.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra That's what gets me out is like, it's that little kid who was into Riot Grrrl. It's like, that's the person– we have to get out of this hole, and we have to keep making what we make.
Ayana Young Alynda Mariposa Segarra is a songwriter/storyteller who performs under the name Hurray for the Riff Raff. They are a Nuyorican queer artist born and raised in the Bronx, who got much of their musical/political education from the anarcho squatter punk scene of NYC. Alynda spent years as a freight train rider and eventually learned to make music on the street in New Orleans. Alynda has used the craft of songwriting as a tool for communication and protest. They have released 8 albums of music, most recently the critically acclaimed LIFE ON EARTH in February 2022.
Well, Alynda, thank you so much for being with us today. I'm a huge fan. And just kind of amazed that you're here and all the amazing folks that For The Wild brings into my life. So I'm feeling really grateful.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Oh, wow, I'm so grateful to be here. Thanks for having me.
Ayana Young Yeah, absolutely. So, gosh, there's so many things to ask you. But–
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Lots of things to talk about.
Ayana Young Yeah, so much. But I think I'm gonna start by thinking through the ways your newest album, LIFE ON EARTH, is rooted within this ever evolving relationship to place and to the environments that shape us. So I’d just love to hear more about the evolution of this relationship for you, and about some of the thread lines that have supported this deep relationship throughout your life.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Well, this album, I feel like it's taken me my whole life to make, you know, of course, it was born out of sheltering in place in New Orleans and that really informed so much of the writing and, and just the recording process and everything. But I'm originally from the Bronx, from New York and as a lot of people know, who listen to my music, I left home pretty young at 17 and I was a freight train rider and was homeless and learned how to play music playing on the street. So I come from a very urban area, you know, I come from the city, and it wasn't until I came to New Orleans that I now call home, and where I wrote all of these songs, that I just started to feel this relationship with the natural world around me and I started to really suddenly see the aliveness that was around me, and started to feel like, perhaps myself and plant life and bird life, and all of these other life forms were in communication with each other, and it just kind of opened up my senses, you know, and I've had an evolving relationship. Because growing up, I was really kind of raised with this idea that like, the outdoors were like, for rich people, you know, and that I was just in this, you know, like I said, extremely urban environment, with not a lot of plant life and, and other life forms, you know. So it wasn't until I got to New Orleans, that I started to really depend on my environment, and also during the pandemic, you know, the beginnings of the pandemic, really rely on trying to listen, suddenly something happened, you know, with all of us, all over the world, and I felt like I really needed to listen and depend on the wisdom of the life around me. And it wasn't until writing this record that I started to look back and realize that I actually had been doing this when I ran away from home, I was sleeping in bushes and sleeping under trees and finding refuge and, you know, needing to hide from cops and stuff like that when I would need to go to sleep outside. So I started to see this relationship that had always been there, but it was just, you know, I had this certain narrative. And New Orleans really taught me so much about that relationship that's been happening my whole life.
Ayana Young Gosh, I'm thinking about New Orleans and honestly, so many places around the world that are, you know, some may say threatened because of climate chaos and changes in weather patterns, and in an interview with Pitchfork, you say, “Living in New Orleans with the hurricanes, you're always on, here we go. It's that time of year, when we all might lose everything.” And so I'm wondering how does loss become woven into our personal and collective ecosystems? And what can we learn from embracing that?
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Well, I feel lucky, in my specific background, of the way I've lived my life, because I don't have that much, you know, I don't have a home that I own. And also, I don't have generations of family in one place, my family's originally from Puerto Rico, and, you know, moved to the United States, well to the mainland. So I have this very specific perspective of, I lived so much of my life with just my backpack on. And now what I'm trying to learn to do is to root and to be responsible for my community, like how do I use that perspective and that background that I have to be of some service and to be responsible with the people around me who don't have that same background, who have generations of family here, who, you know, are not able bodied, or cannot just leave whenever a hurricane is coming, that's something I'm really trying to learn and it's extremely confusing, but New Orleans has taught me that that is the future, are those kinds of conversations. Like if you're in an urban environment, especially, you're gonna run into all of these dynamics, some people can afford to leave, some people can afford to leave early, some people have to take care of their grandmother, you know, and I've learned, also like, what my role is, because what I do is I write songs. And what I do is I witness and I try to be a storyteller. And I also try to use that power, because I do think it's a power to redirect funds, you know, how do I take this, like, very magical thing, like writing a song? And all of that that comes along with it? And how do I make it practical into actually doing, you know, the work with my community? It takes a lot of asking and trying to listen and researching the people around me who are, who are setting up outdoor kitchens after the hurricane comes, you know, people who know how to do this work, who've been doing it for a long time and have so much to teach. So that's a lot of what I'm learning, what's my role? I need to be honest about my role. And I also need to be responsible with the attention that I get from what I do. But of course, it's an ongoing process and I think we're all learning at the same time.
Ayana Young Yeah, your response brings up so many themes that I think a lot of us are trying to learn through, especially those of us who are, in a sense, orphaned, from our homes in what is so called North America, but also,a lot of us are displaced, whether that was, I mean, it's hard to say chosen displacement, because there's been so many migrations all over the world for so many different reasons, running from wars or oppression or following family, needing to move for more opportunities, you know, so on and so forth. And so I think, yeah, so many of us over here in the so-called United States, we don't have those roots for generations upon generations, and yeah, roots to the land, but the fact is, like we are where we are, and how do we hold a type of reverence, respect, and responsibility? And how do we show up for these communities that we're now a part of, in a good way. And so I really, I think what you're saying is so important, and it's so relevant to so many of us because we're just not at a time on the world clock where we can live in places and take but not give back and not be in service. It's kind of I mean, I don't think probably we were ever there, but I think especially now with so much awareness from so many of us, how do we do that in a good way, if there's any experiences you can share with us, because I think sometimes it can be scary. I've talked to a lot of friends who have moved to places and want to root down but they're nervous, like, they don't want to embarrass themselves, they don't want to come across a certain way trying to get involved into a new community, even if they have the best intentions. And so I wonder if there's any stories that you can share with us, or I don't know, if just what you've witnessed of how people can show up in a good way?
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Well, my experience with New Orleans has been, you know, it's been a long time, it's getting close to being the same amount of time, I grew up in New York, and because I got here, you know, at such a young age of 17, and it was really messy for a long time, because I came as a homeless kid, and I also arrived the year before Hurricane Katrina and I came back and I was still playing on the street. And that was a really big learning experience for me, of being like, wow, I don't want to take from this place where everyone is just, you know, suffering and trying to rebuild and trying to heal, but also feeling like I really loved this city. I think my only advice would be that, you know, it's a very humbling process, to have to prove yourself, like, people aren't just going to trust you because you want them to trust you, it's going to take a long time. And maybe, you know, it doesn't, and not everyone who's from a certain place, or a city is going to trust you even after 16 years, I think like, what I've learned is, like I said, to know my role and to understand what I'm trying to do with my life here. And, it's not to, you know, capitalize off of the city, it's to live my life and live my life with all of the people that have kept me alive in a very real way here. But I think it's like, it's a humbling process and it's getting comfortable with knowing that, like, you have to stick it out. And also, I come from a very working class background, and I think that's like a whole different thing, you know, I can only speak to my experience of coming and not being able to buy a house, and, you know, not being able to like, I'm not like starting Airbnbs you know what I mean?
But still trying to understand my responsibility of going out into the world and people know I live in New Orleans and that really helps my band and that will equal money, you know, so I think a lot of it is being honest, being really honest with yourself, about your relationship to place. And I just feel so lucky that I've learned about incredible activists, and thinkers, and you know, community organizers here in New Orleans and so what I really have tried to do is direct attention to them and direct funds to them. That's like, really all I know how to do at this point, along with, make my art, be honest about what I'm seeing, and try to tell the story of what life is like here because I think a lot of people are going to start to feel what we feel every year. And it makes me sad to say that, but that's just the truth. You know, it's already started to happen that family members of mine will be like, “We lost power for a week.” And I'm like, “Well, I know that you live in Florida and you weren't expecting that but that happens now.” You know, while I was making LIFE ON EARTH, Hurricane Ida came through and the whole city of New Orleans lost power for over two weeks, that's the entire city. The mayor was telling us “Get out of here, we don't have the infrastructure to support you.” You know, it's hard on the pipes. It's hard on everything. So I left and thankfully friends in North Carolina took me in but that is like my very messy not perfect process at all. So that's what I'm going through all the time.
Ayana Young I think that, you know what you were saying about humility and sticking it out. And yeah, it is messy, like, you got to stick with it to build trust and I've had my own experiences with that and I will say the reward from building trust, in a challenging way, is so beautiful. It's, you know, it's not easy. And there's tears and frustrations and moments of embarrassment. And, yeah, you know, all the psychological warfare that I've gone through, and I'm sure other people have, like, just trying to find belonging in this world. And the loneliness of that journey can be really hard, but sticking with it is so, it's like that is humanity. Like, what is more human than building belonging with other people, of course, and also with the place, with the land, with the waters, and the birds and everything that you've mentioned before.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra That makes me think of something. I mean, you saying that it really, it reminds me that throughout this process, I think I've learned a lot about wounds in me from being that little kid who was alone in the world, and who was on my own, and I've needed to find a way to heal that on my own, you know, with therapy, with EMDR, with plant medicine with, you know, close friends, and how important that process has been to help me be a little less fragile, to be able to withstand the uncomfortable parts and the needing to prove that I can be trusted as a neighbor. You know, I think that process is really important. Because it does trigger these feelings of just child wounds, for me at least.
Ayana Young Well, right, and also learning to trust ourselves, when we've been traumatized and conditioned to a lot of times be people we don't even like, I mean, I can say that for myself, like I was, in a lot of ways raised to be somebody who I don't even trust. And so there's so much unraveling, just in that relationship to the little one in me. And, yeah, I think the process of that is honestly really necessary for mutual aid to get through what is to come, what is already here. And yeah, it's like, it's not always pretty, it's not always, like celebratory, but it's like, that's just our birthright, in a sense to find our way back to this, you know, to the feeling of home or belonging. And I think, Gosh, I really feel drawn to this conversation around the tension between wanting to run away. And that can mean from a place, from ourselves from, from the child that has been conditioned in a way that has traumatized us, like just wanting to run away, versus the need to confront what is happening right in front of you. And again, like that's internal, that's external. And I guess what this tension also reminds me of is, so many of the ways that the theme of survival runs through your album, and I'm thinking, like, how do we create safe havens and places for rest, while either running or fighting or staying, you know, and because of course, like what you're saying, when you needed to leave because the city didn't have the infrastructure like, leaving doesn't always mean running away either.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Yeah, sometimes leaving is responsible. You know, I've definitely learned that a big part of making this record was also me learning that I'm not a superhero. It was learning that I need to be humble and I need to understand I'm not going to end ICE by myself. You know, like, I think that artists especially as songwriters, we can just get on this like superhero mentality, and we work in isolation. And I've learned so much from New Orleans about how it takes people being together, it takes us listening to the plant life around us, it’s not going to be one person comes and saves us all, and that has been a really interesting journey, you know, I've really, I spent so much of my life literally running, you know, running away from my home and running away from from New York and just being on the road for so many years on tour. And this lockdown period, you know, sheltering in place was really the first time I had been told that I needed to stay put since I was a kid. And it made me feel like a wild animal, I felt like I was in a cage and I needed to break out, and that it made me have to face my body as well. You know, all of these feelings that were in my body that I had not felt because I was so good at being a workaholic. I was so good at just being on this hustle of the music industry complex, which is terrible, you know? And it's really changed my relationship with my art and my relationship with why am I making art? Why am I writing songs? You know, I started writing songs because I wanted to have songs to sing for my friends so they could have a song in their pocket when they went around the world and when they felt like they couldn't keep living, that's really why I wanted to write songs, and I wanted to start a band because I wanted a family, I wanted a pack to roll with. All of this journey has been getting back to that place and thinking, how do I continue to operate from that place?
Ayana Young I'm also thinking about your work and it seems to focus so deeply on, on a committed defiance of the forces that want us to stay quiet or stay within the confines of the status quo, and, you know, I just love to think about the ways that these commitments break from even traditional activism.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Yeah, I don't think I'm a very good activist, you know, and I had to really come to terms with that. I had to really be real about what it is that I do and I have such respect for people that do community work that I had to learn “Okay, that isn't exactly what I do.” But like I said before, how can I be in partnership with people that do that type of work? You know, I think also, a lot of the process that I've gone through throughout my career is queering ideas of success, of what is it that I'm looking for? What is it that I'm trying to do? Queering the idea of like, what a songwriter is supposed to be in this society, because it's, you know, our current modern world is teaching us that a songwriter is supposed to write a song that gets a big sink on a commercial, that's like, really what a lot of people think of when they think of music, and they think of songs, they think of making money. And, of course, I would love to make money, I need to make money. But I really needed to be strong internally about what is success for me, and what it is that I am really trying to do. And it gets very hard. Sometimes I can just feel like I am such a failure. If you were to talk to 17 year old me, this is like all I've ever wanted, how could that ever be a failure? So I'm learning how to protect my spirit and protect my mental state, to not internalize this constant messaging, of what music is supposed to do and what songwriting is supposed to do. And I feel so lucky that I came up in a punk music world, like a DIY queer radical community, I just feel so lucky to have that education, because it's saving me now.
Ayana Young Gosh, the voices that try to beat us down, they're so strong, you know, just like your voice thinking that failure is anywhere close to what you've done with your life. You know, that self criticism is so strong and I think that's also part of the survival of this time, is, you know, probably more than acceptance, although acceptance is a good place to start. But it's so hard, like the self love thing I get, sometimes I'm like, I don't want to love myself, you know, like, that's how–
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Oh, I relate to that, I'm just like, I'm failing at self love. I don't feel like a goddess, you know, like, I don't, I don't relate to that type of thinking. But I do, you know, in the depths of those moments where I feel like, I'm never quite getting enough of whatever it is that the internet's telling me is success, basically, it's in those deep moments that I can find, at least for me, my guiding light is just like, a ferocious resistance to, like an anger. My anger is what pulls me out and it pulls me out and then I can learn how to say “Okay, that got me out of the hole. Now, where do I go.” Because I can't just stay in the anger. But I think that's what I've found is like, my version of self love is just being so I don't know, I just think that anger during this time is really underrated. And it's like, if we can learn how to share it with other, you know, other forms of care for ourselves, then we have to do that, but that's what gets me out, it's that little kid who was into Riot Grrrl, it's like, that's the person that's like, we have to get out of this hole and we have to keep making what we make, you know.
Ayana Young No, I love that. And it reminds me of an interview I did with Terry Tempest Williams. I don't know how many years ago, four or five years ago, we talked about sacred rage. And yeah, I think that anger, sacred rage, being pissed, that's beautiful. Like, if we're not feeling, I mean, and I know rage isn't for everyone. So, you know, I don't want to make some blanket statement, but for those of us who do feel that type of blood moving, that to me it's very somatic, I feel it in my face, I feel it in my hands, they clench, it's like, that's how much I love this world is because the sacred rage feeds a love and a passion for justice or for right relationship or for reconnection. And so I think when that rage and that anger are actually feeding the desire to love, there's something so primally beautiful about that, and powerful, and we can really utilize that, that is like that catalyst energy for change. Or, like, you know, like, sometimes we need that to really boost us to believe that the impossible is possible, or, you know, to do something that is unexpected, or feels too hard. Like for her, you know, sometimes like the sacred rage allows me to do things I never wouldn't be able to do otherwise. And so I think so many folks are really attracted to, what's the word I was looking for? Drawn, but there's another word to your work, because I think your music allows people to feel a type of safety, maybe in that anger, or like it maybe that like that punk feeling, too. It's like, oh, it's a, it's like, I can release that with your music or something.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Wow, that's really beautiful. That's like all I've ever wanted to do. So yeah,
Ayana Young I think it's important for people to have a place where that's okay, too. And I know, everybody needs something different, and that's not for everybody but for those of us who do need an outlet to be like, “You know, what, I am angry and I need to be able to release that in a safe place where somebody out there gets it, and they're going to be with me, and it's going to be artistic and musical and I feel it in my body and I can like, be in that world.” Like that's healthy and I think it is transformative energy. It's not like “be angry, stay angry.” Have you felt that too, just the power of that anger?
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Oh, yeah. Yeah, I mean, I definitely, it's what has fueled me to get through most of my life. And it's very, like, it's an anger that I've felt sometimes when I wasn't able to feel it, you know, in defense of myself, I was able to feel it well, in defense of little me, you know, or in defense of my friends or my neighbors or just feeling like this anger about an injustice or bullies or, you know, oppressive forces, and that anger has gotten me to be my age, to be 35. And, I feel really lucky to also have been raised with that, my aunt that raised me, that's her vibe as a woman, which I feel so lucky about, like survival as resistance. And just like this rebellious act of being like, “You're not gonna see me stop writing songs because you think I'm a failure or you think I'm too old, or you think I’m too this.” So I feel really grateful for it. I think also though, I've had to learn a relationship with it where I didn't turn it on myself because of course, there have been years where it was turned inward because I just didn't have the proper outlet or I lost my thread with my outlets and it turned into some kind of self destructive, you know, like self hating force in me, that’s why I’m so grateful for just the act of songwriting and the magic of it, because it just like, brings me out of it, takes it out, as opposed to it turning on me because sometimes I feel like that type of rage turns on me in these moments where I'm like, I don't even know how I could affect the world in a good way. I don't even know how, when I feel just so powerless, you know, and I don't know where to put it, it just swirls around. So I'm so grateful for songwriting, to release it out.
Ayana Young I guess what I'm seeing is, there's this, yeah this range and anger that is you know, like what you’re saying, truly powerful, and not to say that there needs to be anything underneath it. But I guess I'm also thinking about vulnerability, and just the connection between anger and vulnerability, and I feel like you really tap into both in your music. And that's part of, for me, like watching artists, which is something that I'm so mesmerized by is how to hold the complexity of maybe emotions that seem like they're on totally other ends of the spectrum.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra I mean, it really speaks to me, for sure. To me it makes me think of love, that’s what draws the two together. When I choose to be vulnerable in my music was a song like Saga and talk about, you know, my journey with being a survivor and, you know, deciding that I wanted a narrative for my life that wasn't just focused around that, that wasn't the last chapter, you know, like, that's the defining part of me. And, that type of vulnerability is met with a rage of, I'm so angry that so many people have to feel this pain, and I'm so angry that younger me had to go through this and also, the thing that combines the two is a love, like, just a love for people, a love for this world, and really wanting to share it and be vulnerable and feel that rage because the love combines the two. I think that's my process. You know, I think it's also like growing up in the punk scene and stuff and like, and even in like, “indie music”, people are, you know, they put on a show of being like, so apathetic and stuff and so cool. And I've just never felt like that, I've always just been like, I just really love this world, and I know it's not like the coolest thing to do, but I started to learn to just accept them and be like, this is my nature.
Ayana Young Something that you just said, kind of reminded me of this theme of rebirth. And I think that, like when you were talking about the next chapter, and for some reason, I know I found myself feeling like, oh, well, here I am, this is what I am, and I just have to stick with this forever and once this chapter is over, I'm over or something or like I've become irrelevant or obsolete. And I think that's really a horrible part of our culture is making us feel irrelevant after a certain age or a certain time. I feel like this theme is so constant, which is really about devaluing people, disposability culture to me, like that's yeah, what it represents. Especially with this youth driven culture it’s like alright well now you’re 20-something, like you're chewed up and spit out and like never again will you be successful, I mean, it's like these themes, especially that are told to women over and over again, I'm like, what the hell is this, this is just horrifying. And to me with this album, like there's so much about rebirth. And also, we can rebirth and reinvent ourselves time and time and time again and I think also the idea of relevance and capitalism, they really go hand in hand, and I try to, you know, psychologically, try to understand, like, what is it about capitalism that wants this feeling of irrelevance, and maybe it's because they just want to keep selling more. So, you know, dispose this move on, dispose, move on, but I think there is so much needed power built in it, whether it's in the anger to say “No, you’re not going to see me fail, I’m going to rebirth myself over and over again and there is nothing you can do about it. I am this inner energy force that will continue to expand because we are multi-dimensional creatures and I don’t want to be put in a box, I don’t want to be told this is all I can be and this is the timeline of how and what I can be.” And I think the queering of culture is really helping us expand the binaries or boxes of these rules, that culture tells us one way or the other. And so, I don't know, maybe just, we could talk a bit about rebirth and kind of like, saying, “We're gonna keep going, and we're going to reinvent,” and maybe reinvent isn't even the right word, because like, we can always be ourselves, but we get to be many things in our life and that's great.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Yeah, you know, it's like, shedding its shedding skin and coming out with this new perspective, or these new ideas. And, you know, it makes me really think about how, for me, a part of queering my career and my ideas of success is also deciding, you know, goes back into the vulnerability of well, because of capitalism, it looks like not going to be some huge star making a ton of money, so how do I, how do I be intentional with my audience, with my listeners in a way that's really trusting them to be like, I'm going to be real with you and I hope you'll support me, because as we know, this culture wants to throw me away and throw you away and throws all away. So that's a part of it is like I've had to do like a trust fall into hoping that the people listening to my music will be community members with me to an extent, you know, will have this relationship with me where they will support me throughout my career. And that's been a really beautiful thing.
And I feel like I'm doing my best work now. I feel like I finally have some wisdom to share now, it's just like this idea that you're at your peak, especially as a songwriter in your early 20s, which, of course, is when, you know, everybody has so much wisdom to share, but I'm like, the idea that that's the end is, it doesn't make any sense to me, you know, because it is just sexist. And it's just this, I often say when it comes to music, what really concerns me is this capitalist machine makes more money off of an artist when they're dead. And so I feel like a lot of musicians who are out there touring who don't have support systems, who are suffering, you know, I don't feel like people within the industry are trying their best to get them help. You know, I mean, of course, there are people out there, but overall, the music industry makes more money when a musician is no longer around, and everyone is like, oh my god, what a genius, let's buy all the records, all of a sudden, they become an icon. I'm very aware of that. And we see it all the time. And that's another part of my rebellion is just deciding that I need to do everything I can to protect myself and protect my mental health and my spirit. And that involves growing and changing. You know, I started off my career in a genre that suddenly started to feel very unsafe for me It was very harmful for me to be in this, like Americana world as a Puerto Rican person, you know, walking into the Trump era, I started to feel like this is not a good place for me anymore. And a lot of people are telling me, this is a terrible career move. Because, you know, they're giving you their honest feedback, but I really had to make a decision that was good for my spirit and was going to protect me and say, I need to get back to the spaces that are full of people who you know, are seeing me for who I really am. And I just think like, those tough decisions really have to be made as an artist.
Ayana Young I really love hearing that and it almost also reminds me again, of mutual aid and valuing each other beyond what we're conditioned to. And it also relates back to what we were talking about with trust, trusting ourselves, trusting others, building communities of resilience, because we need the artist, the artist needs us. The birth workers needs us, like we do need each other, everyone has a place, and of course dominant culture says everyone's disposable. But it's not true. It's actually really not true. And we can't just keep replacing each other time and time again, that leads to emptiness. Like when there's no accountability, and there's no real knowing of people, it can be distracting, you know, and that can be entertaining for a moment, or it can feel safer, because we can mess up and run away. Or maybe we feel like we're not liked. So we can run away and we can try to get away from all of those fears that probably started in childhood, but we never get to actually grow into a type of security, safety, wisdom, closeness, that I think really is, like, almost, at the base of all of our discomfort is yeah, again, like feeling like we aren't truly rooted to a people to a place to a time to a purpose. I mean, we see it manifesting all over the Earth, in just the most horrid of ways, like the rapid consumption, which allows us to give in to destroying, like, every last intact ecosystem left on earth, because we're trying to fill the void of valuing each other and belonging to each other and belonging to place. And so, like, we're never gonna get out of this, like we can't, we cannot circumvent this issue by anything that we are sold or told that we can somehow get out of it. Like, we won't get out of it alive. You know, it's like, it's hard, but like the bottom, I mean, this is just my belief system on this one.
Well, I know we're starting to come to a close of our time, but I don't want to miss out on asking you about your work with immigrants and the ICE detention centers. And, you know, as we talk about how rooted in truth and struggle so much of your art is, I just would love to hear more about the work focusing on fighting for freedom for immigrants and how this effort of community organizing and work can show us what freedom and relationships are genuinely vital to life and necessarily keep us moving forward in spite of policies and systems that want the opposite.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra So I started to volunteer with Freedom For Immigrants in Louisiana, it was about a year before the pandemic hit us. And I was off tour, and I knew that I was going to be off for a bit and I really was feeling very lost, and very alone, I just spent so many years, you know, being on the road and feeling like I didn't, I had lost touch with so much community. And I went to a meeting that was held in New Orleans and started to learn about how Louisiana has become a really big hotspot for these immigration jails. A lot of them are in rural Louisiana, where people are very isolated and also community people in these rural areas will be convinced that this is, you know, gonna bring in money, that it's a good idea for the community for some financial reason. And I started to go with groups of people, we would sometimes have to drive four hours, both ways, to visit folks that were stuck in these detention centers.
Freedom For Immigrants is a really great organization, because, you know, the groups will be formed all over the country and it's really community run, they have a national hotline, where folks can call and let people know who they are, and what kind of help they need. This work taught me a lot also about being very honest about what I can and can't do. You know, I had to go visit folks and first off, tell them that I'm not a lawyer. And I had to just be honest about, you know, what is it that I can do, I can get in touch with your family members, if you need that, I can help search for stuff online, I can help crowdfund for money to an extent. And I learned also so much about working with other people, because we were able to get the two men that I was visiting out of detention, both of them had been stuck in ICE detention for over a year, each of them, they came to the United States because they were seeking asylum, and they just got lost in the system, which is what happens to so many people, because people are making money off of keeping people in jail.
One man that I was visiting, they just never found a proper translator for him because in court, he needed a translator. He could speak English, but like, if it's in court, he's like, I really need my native language, you know. And it was probably like 12 people that came together to get these two men out, and it was also with the help of people in New Orleans, because I did a benefit show where I played with me and some of my friends and we were able to raise the money to pay a lawyer who was willing to do it for a very low cost. So it just taught me so much about meeting people, and about being honest about what I can and can't do. And the work was very intense. Of course, you know, I feel so lucky that it happened this way, I feel so lucky that I met the men that I met and that we could be a part of each other's lives. But it's also really heartbreaking work because the majority of people are not getting out or they're getting deported. And you're just witnessing inhumane conditions, you're just witnessing the inside of this, this monster that is this whole complex. And also, I recognize that for me, it's like this isn't my father, this isn't my mom, you know, like how difficult this process must be for folks that this is their loved one. So, you know, I did what I know how to do, which is try to tell the story, with their permission, tell the story of like each of them, of their process of getting to the United States and of being in detention, and really just trying to I mean, that's just what I know how to do is how to be a witness and a storyteller. And it worries me because, you know, we have a short attention span as a culture and I feel like the news cycle has moved away from immigrant rights topics and, you know, throughout the Biden administration, like people are growing, the amount of people who are in detention is growing. So this is definitely something that I feel like people need to be reminded about and to like, learn, you know, to be educated about because it happens in these very far off places that you're never going to just like drive by because they purposefully put these jails in areas where there aren't a lot of people living directly in front of it, you know?
Ayana Young Yeah. To be hidden and forgotten. Yeah, that's definitely what they want. And, gosh, Alynda, thank you so much for sharing about that work, and just so much personal reflection that you shared with us. It's been really special to have such an intimate conversation and I am really excited to just see what is to come and to be able to escape into my own little world with Life on Earth, in my ears. And yeah, just–
Alynda Mariposa Segarra I just want to say one more thing, like on this topic. I just feel like, especially in my career, it's been so romanticized, that I was like this wandering kid who left home and went out on the road. And, you know, that has its own issues with how romanticized it's been, but I just feel this very strong belief that like, you know, it's, it's romantic when I do it, because I'm white, but it's not romantic when somebody is coming from, you know, Ghana, and it's just this racism that I think I learned a lot about while doing this work, which is another reason why I just really feel like it's something that we need to check ourselves on. Because it's like, this romantic vagabond life when I do it. And then when someone is doing it to save their life, then why isn't this also considered this heroic journey? You know, that's what I took away from the folks that I was meeting and I was like you are the hero, I can't believe you've survived all of this journey that you went on. So that's just something I'd like to put into the cultural conversation.
Ayana Young Thank you for making that point, because I think it's really easy for us to judge what is romantic and what isn't based on our conditioning, and yeah, I think it's good for us to reflect on that. And gosh, they sort of reflect on so much. This interview has really, we've gone to a lot of places and I've really enjoyed every moment. Thank you for your time.
Alynda Mariposa Segarra Oh, thank you so much. I've been looking forward to this so much. Yeah, it's just an honor to be here. So thank you.
Francesca Glaspell Thank you for listening to For The Wild podcast. The music you heard today was by Hurray For The Riff Raff. For The Wild is created by Ayana Young, Erica Ekrem, Francesca Glaspell, and Julia Jackson.