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During the last presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, Trump said, "we have some bad hombres here," in clear reference to the Latinos coming to the United States. As CNN commentator Van Jones explained, "The only time this man has used Spanish in the entire election was used to stereotype and smear Latino immigrants." Although you probably meant it, you didn't smear me, senor Trump.
During the last presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, Trump said, "we have some bad hombres here," in clear reference to the Latinos coming to the United States. As CNN commentator Van Jones explained, "The only time this man has used Spanish in the entire election was used to stereotype and smear Latino immigrants." Although you probably meant it, you didn't smear me, senor Trump.
I was born south of the border in Tucuman, a city in Northern Argentina, to be more precise. My father, a highly cultured person, was also the worst merchant I ever met. Because of some bad financial decisions -for which he didn't take any tax advantage- we had a modest upbringing.
I was able, however, to obtain my MD degree and later in Buenos Aires my PhD degree in biochemistry. In Buenos Aires, I carried out research at the research institute "Fundacion Campomar," whose director was Dr. Luis F. Leloir, a Nobel laureate in Chemistry.
After five years of doing research in biochemistry I wanted to explore the alluring possibilities of research in microbial genetics, of which very little was done in Argentina at the time. So, together with my wife and one-year old daughter, I came to the U.S. in 1971. I experienced a tremendous cultural shock.
I confronted a culture quite unlike the one in which I grew up, with a different set of values. In addition, my knowledge of English was much more precarious than I thought at the time and found communicating with my colleagues extremely difficult, at least at the beginning.
The death of my father six months after being in New York was an extremely painful event, made worse by the fact that I was unable to go to Argentina and join my family in mourning.
Unlike you, senor Trump, who was lucky to have had a rich father who allowed you to inherit a substantial sum of money, we came to the U.S. with only $500 as our total capital and two pieces of luggage. We didn't have any friends and the only positive thing was that Dr. Paul Margolin, my boss at The Public Health Research Institute where I was to do research, was an extremely kind man (not a gringo like you, senor Trump).
I conducted research in microbial genetics for several years and then, through a complex process, I changed professional orientation and became an international public health consultant for several United Nations agencies and other international organizations.
I was able to do that not because of any personal merit, though. I could do it because of the extraordinary help and efforts of my wife. While working full-time to complement my meager fellowship from Argentina, she obtained a Masters degree in American Literature and later a PhD in Linguistics at New York University.
My wife is not, I can assure you, a nasty woman, senor Trump. Even so, should you ever meet her, I would advise you not to try anything funny. You may get the surprise of your life.
As you can see, senor Trump, I am one of what you call "bad hombres." Like millions more, I am a hard working immigrant who looked for the Land of Opportunity in the U.S., something that will not exist, senor Trump, if you become president of the country.
Your no amigo,
Cesar Chelala
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
During the last presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, Trump said, "we have some bad hombres here," in clear reference to the Latinos coming to the United States. As CNN commentator Van Jones explained, "The only time this man has used Spanish in the entire election was used to stereotype and smear Latino immigrants." Although you probably meant it, you didn't smear me, senor Trump.
I was born south of the border in Tucuman, a city in Northern Argentina, to be more precise. My father, a highly cultured person, was also the worst merchant I ever met. Because of some bad financial decisions -for which he didn't take any tax advantage- we had a modest upbringing.
I was able, however, to obtain my MD degree and later in Buenos Aires my PhD degree in biochemistry. In Buenos Aires, I carried out research at the research institute "Fundacion Campomar," whose director was Dr. Luis F. Leloir, a Nobel laureate in Chemistry.
After five years of doing research in biochemistry I wanted to explore the alluring possibilities of research in microbial genetics, of which very little was done in Argentina at the time. So, together with my wife and one-year old daughter, I came to the U.S. in 1971. I experienced a tremendous cultural shock.
I confronted a culture quite unlike the one in which I grew up, with a different set of values. In addition, my knowledge of English was much more precarious than I thought at the time and found communicating with my colleagues extremely difficult, at least at the beginning.
The death of my father six months after being in New York was an extremely painful event, made worse by the fact that I was unable to go to Argentina and join my family in mourning.
Unlike you, senor Trump, who was lucky to have had a rich father who allowed you to inherit a substantial sum of money, we came to the U.S. with only $500 as our total capital and two pieces of luggage. We didn't have any friends and the only positive thing was that Dr. Paul Margolin, my boss at The Public Health Research Institute where I was to do research, was an extremely kind man (not a gringo like you, senor Trump).
I conducted research in microbial genetics for several years and then, through a complex process, I changed professional orientation and became an international public health consultant for several United Nations agencies and other international organizations.
I was able to do that not because of any personal merit, though. I could do it because of the extraordinary help and efforts of my wife. While working full-time to complement my meager fellowship from Argentina, she obtained a Masters degree in American Literature and later a PhD in Linguistics at New York University.
My wife is not, I can assure you, a nasty woman, senor Trump. Even so, should you ever meet her, I would advise you not to try anything funny. You may get the surprise of your life.
As you can see, senor Trump, I am one of what you call "bad hombres." Like millions more, I am a hard working immigrant who looked for the Land of Opportunity in the U.S., something that will not exist, senor Trump, if you become president of the country.
Your no amigo,
Cesar Chelala
During the last presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, Trump said, "we have some bad hombres here," in clear reference to the Latinos coming to the United States. As CNN commentator Van Jones explained, "The only time this man has used Spanish in the entire election was used to stereotype and smear Latino immigrants." Although you probably meant it, you didn't smear me, senor Trump.
I was born south of the border in Tucuman, a city in Northern Argentina, to be more precise. My father, a highly cultured person, was also the worst merchant I ever met. Because of some bad financial decisions -for which he didn't take any tax advantage- we had a modest upbringing.
I was able, however, to obtain my MD degree and later in Buenos Aires my PhD degree in biochemistry. In Buenos Aires, I carried out research at the research institute "Fundacion Campomar," whose director was Dr. Luis F. Leloir, a Nobel laureate in Chemistry.
After five years of doing research in biochemistry I wanted to explore the alluring possibilities of research in microbial genetics, of which very little was done in Argentina at the time. So, together with my wife and one-year old daughter, I came to the U.S. in 1971. I experienced a tremendous cultural shock.
I confronted a culture quite unlike the one in which I grew up, with a different set of values. In addition, my knowledge of English was much more precarious than I thought at the time and found communicating with my colleagues extremely difficult, at least at the beginning.
The death of my father six months after being in New York was an extremely painful event, made worse by the fact that I was unable to go to Argentina and join my family in mourning.
Unlike you, senor Trump, who was lucky to have had a rich father who allowed you to inherit a substantial sum of money, we came to the U.S. with only $500 as our total capital and two pieces of luggage. We didn't have any friends and the only positive thing was that Dr. Paul Margolin, my boss at The Public Health Research Institute where I was to do research, was an extremely kind man (not a gringo like you, senor Trump).
I conducted research in microbial genetics for several years and then, through a complex process, I changed professional orientation and became an international public health consultant for several United Nations agencies and other international organizations.
I was able to do that not because of any personal merit, though. I could do it because of the extraordinary help and efforts of my wife. While working full-time to complement my meager fellowship from Argentina, she obtained a Masters degree in American Literature and later a PhD in Linguistics at New York University.
My wife is not, I can assure you, a nasty woman, senor Trump. Even so, should you ever meet her, I would advise you not to try anything funny. You may get the surprise of your life.
As you can see, senor Trump, I am one of what you call "bad hombres." Like millions more, I am a hard working immigrant who looked for the Land of Opportunity in the U.S., something that will not exist, senor Trump, if you become president of the country.
Your no amigo,
Cesar Chelala