Living near the border means becoming conditioned to a degree of militarization and surveillance that would cause great alarm in any other part of the country. At immigration checkpoints between distant desert towns, automated cameras snap mugshots of you behind the wheel, and uniformed agents nod at drivers with light skin, waving them on to “have a nice day,” while requiring those who are darker to prove their status, to explain their presence, and, often, to step out of their vehicles while agents rummage through their belongings and invite drug-sniffing dogs to crawl across their car seats.
