By Melchior Tuerk ’26

Major(s): Anthropology and Environmental Studies 

Minor(s): Museum, Field, and Community Education and Chesapeake Regional Studies 

Contributor Biography: Mel is a junior interested in the confluence of human culture and the natural environments in which they are cultivated. Currently they are an intern with the Hostile Terrain 94 exhibition in the library, which is an extension of Jason De Léon’s research that takes the form of a participatory art project that bears witness to those who did not survive their migration across the Sonoran Desert.

Brief Description: This visual analysis of a photograph used in Jason De Léon’s Land of Open Graves documents the stories of migrants crossing through the Sonoran Desert as a result of a harmful US immigration policy known as “prevention through deterrence.”

The following was written for ANT-305-10: Culture, Power, and the Human Experience

Land of Open Graves, an ethnography of Mexican and Central American migrants by Jason De Leon, utilizes images, interviews, and archaeological evidence to discuss the risks and rewards of the journey across the Sonoran Desert, a region weaponized by the United States Border Patrol. Since the implementation of the “Prevention Through Deterrence” immigration policy in 1994, millions of migrants have been pushed away from urban ports of entry and towards geographically treacherous areas along the Southern U.S. border with less Patrol presence. The photo titled “This cabron is taking pictures of me sleeping! Maybe he’s in love with me?” was taken by Lucho, one of the migrants De Leon worked with, using a disposable camera (De Leon 180). De Leon provided Lucho and another migrant, Memo, with these cameras to gather first-hand documentation of their migration. At the time the photo was taken, the migrants had just been rushed through a steep canyon in the Arizona Sonora Desert by their guide Ángel (on the left). This was where they were able to briefly rest before moving forward towards Tucson, Arizona. “This cabron...” captures a brief moment of relief during a longer period of stress and trauma, emphasizing the physical intensity of the journey by demonstrating the necessity of stopping despite the migrants’ urgency in reaching their destination. 

The framing and composition of the photo provide insight into migrant landscapes and priorities. While migrants have a limited choice over what routes they take, there is strategy in every turn and stopping point. Ángel selected this route for Memo and Lucho because he knew there would be limited Border Patrol agents due to the rough and mountainous terrain. The high-paced trek through the canyon limited their vulnerability in an exposed landscape, and the decision to rest in a grassy area underneath a tree did the same. Within the frame are Memo, Ángel, and the tree. They are on a hillside with more hills and mountains in the background. Dry grass is high above the heads of the reclining men. What we cannot see is the equally exhausted Lucho, who is taking the photograph or the unforgiving and barren canyon they have just emerged from. Memo rests with his side against the tree, still sitting straight up, with eyes closed and his arms resting on his legs. Ángel, their intimidating guide, is sitting with his backpack still on, leaning on it for support. His feet are on the ground with his knees bent: both men are ready to quickly stand and start moving again in just a split second. 

The title of the photo,“This cabron is taking pictures of me sleeping! Maybe he’s in love with me?” is taken from a comment made by Memo during his and Lucho’s interview with De Leon. This is an example of the Mexican chingaderas that De Leon describes as sexually charged jokes typically made between machismo men. These jokes are an important part of the culture of a migrant’s journey, particularly in the formation of relationships between male migrants, who made up over 80% of migrants that were caught in 2012 (18). It is especially relevant for this photo because of the role of chingaderas in making light of particularly challenging or traumatizing situations. In the retelling of their perilous hike across the canyon, Memo jokes about Lucho being in love with him while Lucho tells De Leon about Memo being so dehydrated he “was vomiting up foam” (180). Many photos from the men’s migration depict rest or even playfulness but are juxtaposed with interview transcripts that describe deep discomfort or danger.

Within a larger context, De Leon’s book is published as a part of the University of California’s series on public anthropology, which was launched in 2001 to essentially prove to the public that anthropologists are doing worthwhile work. There are a few books about Mexican migrants included in this series, one of which, Fresh Fruit, Broken Bodies by Seth Holmes, is called into ethical questioning in the beginning of Land of Open Graves. De Leon does not agree with the participatory ethnographic method Holmes employs by joining a group for Mexican migrants on their own journey across the Sonoran. Open Graves itself seeks to tell the stories of the migrants risking their lives in the Sonoran through a myriad of both archaeological and sociocultural methods that rely on ethical engagement rather than self-insertion. Regarding the image’s role in the book, De Leon writes that he sees “the photos and stories that Memo and Lucho provide about their trip as breathing life into the countless number of objects that have been left in the desert and that represent millions of crossing stories” (De Leon, 173). The photo before this one depicts an abandoned migrant camp, and the one following it depicts shoes that are tied together with assorted materials. The image of the exhausted men at their temporary rest stop juxtaposed with these two images sends a powerful message about the universality of this migrant journey: these experiences are not unique to Memo and Lucho, but rather the most intimate rendition of a journey undergone by millions that De Leon can document. 

Like all anthropological work, there are many ethical questions that can be asked of this image. After encountering Memo and Lucho again after a failed border crossing, De Leon acquires disposable cameras for the pair to record their next attempt. This allows the documentation of first-hand experience without De Leon physically joining Memo and Lucho, a method De Leon clearly disapproves of considering his discussion of Holmes’s work. However, there is nearly an entire chapter earlier in the book dedicated to the discussion of how few items migrants are able to carry with them on their journey. Space in their pack is limited and valuable, and even though a disposable camera is relatively small, it is still taking up room that could fit an extra pair of underwear, socks, or even a small bottle of water. There is also the question of how Memo and Lucho benefit from their contributions. There is something to be said about the value of contribution for the sake of education, but because of Memo and Lucho’s vulnerable status, I hope they received monetary compensation for the work they did to bring to light the hardships migrants face on their journey across the U.S.-Mexico border. I also want to call into question the concerns of safety for Memo and Lucho. There was a lot of detailed information shared about them in the book, including descriptions of where they lived in Tucson. I worry about the potential of them being targeted by ICE because of their involvement in the production of this book.  

The photographs both by migrants and professionals in Land of Open Graves provide readers with visual representations of the struggles that migrants face on their journey North.  Seeing the faces of the exhausted men and the arid landscapes they move through forces readers to reckon with the savagery of US immigration policy and the lives that are changed or ended because of it.