While anti-immigrant politicians preach apocalypse, immigrants believe that they've found the promised land -- and many are willing to fight for it. The optimism of the immigrants, however, contrast with the growing reluctance of many Latino organizations to stand up for the undocumented. PNS editor Ruben Martinez, author of "The Other Side," is a Los Angeles-based writer and performance artist.

LOS ANGELES -- One year after the passage of Proposition 187, California has bequeathed its anti-immigrant rhetoric to the rest of the nation. House Republicans leap-frog over each other to see who can come up with the most restrictive legislation; Senate Republicans and Democrats aren't far behind. Proposals range from a 30-percent reduction to an all-out moratorium on the number of immigrants to be allowed legally into the country.

The nativist frenzy doesn't stop there. At a swearing-in ceremony in downtown Los Angeles, many newly naturalized citizens admit they fear the political firestorm will eventually overwhelm legal as well as illegal immigrants. In fact, legal residents are already on the welfare chopping block, and even new citizens are now vulnerable to pending legislation that would limit their access to government benefits for a period of several years.

Yet, talk to the undocumented already here -- those that 187 and other measures are supposed to scare back to Mexico and Central America -- and the hope for a better life in the U.S. remains intact, if not emboldened.

At a day laborer gathering site outside a hardware store in the Echo Park district of Los Angeles, recent arrivals insist that they're here to stay. "We're still better off here than in Mexico," says Ricardo Martinez, a native of Jalisco. He's been taking ESL classes at night and getting by with odd jobs during the day. He asks a reporter to recommend a good journalism school. "I know my English isn't good enough yet, but in a few months I'll be ready."

Maria Miramontes, a fifty-something Mexico City native, recalls how a fellow shopper at the checkout stand recently made insulting remarks about the type of food Mexicans buy. The man later menaced Miramontes from his car in the parking lot. The incident prompted Miramontes, a legal resident on her way to becoming a citizen, to join "discriminados", a group of some 40 immigrants who meet regularly at the offices of the Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights Los Angeles (CHIRLA). "We've gotten together to be a positive force to make our voice heard."

Ricardo Martinez's optimism and Maria Miramontes' activist spirit are the ultimate paradox in the immigrant battle. While the politicians preach apocalypse, the immigrants remain convinced they have found the promised land.

The enthusiasm of immigrants contrasts sharply with the pessimism of those who represent them at the public level. Despite staging the biggest protest march downtown Los Angeles had ever seen two weeks before Prop 187 passed, most Latino elected officials and mainstream organizations have become circumspect in their public pronouncements about immigrants -- the undocumented in particular.

In fact, Latino activists were divided over how to deal with the anti-immigrant backlash even before the election. One camp felt that pro-active and highly visible measures like street demonstrations should be the focus in order to create a confrontational mass movement; another held that quieter, politically empowering measures like citizenship drives, voter registration and get-out-the-vote efforts would avoid an ever deeper backlash from those Americans fearing an "immigrant invasion."

The less confrontational line has won out ever the past year. "From the standpoint of being an advocate, it's almost impossible to talk of getting the undocumented legalized or another amnesty at this time," says Los Angeles County supervisor Gloria Molina, one of the most liberal Latino elected officials in California. "The politics here in California and what's happening at the national level are just not going to permit that kind of discussion at this time."

Others contend that more grass roots activism and less realpolitik is needed. "It's a waste of time to pander to the angry white voter," says Gilbert Cedillo, general manager of the Service Employees International Union Local 660, which represents over 40,000 County of Los Angeles workers currently facing layoffs due to massive budget cuts. "The course we should have been following is to expand our base and create a social movement."

While mainstream enthusiasm for high-visibility activism may have waned in the past year, on the ground immigrants continue to dream -- and organize -- even as they provide the personal support base on which so many native residents of California now depend.

"The undocumented are the most radical people we have right now," says Roberto Lovato, executive director of the Central American Resource Center. "Despite all kinds of restrictions, they're moving in and rejuvenating our neighborhoods. They're rewriting municipal codes by selling on our streets. Thumbing for work on the boulevards. And they take care of the children and clean the homes and gardens of everyone -- from white collar workers to movie stars to the governor."