work in progress.

My grandma’s time with us is over, and she has finally arrived safely at her home. These past few weeks with her have, not only been a blessing, but very emotionally and spiritually rewarding. I have been able to talk to her about many topics including politics, love, and most importantly my mother. She has helped me visualize a future project, one I want to dedicate to my mom and all of her work. But it still remains in my imaginary – maybe to be talked about later.

The youngest cousin in Mexico answered the phone when I called a few minutes ago.  This had me thinking, about what her life is like right now. I’ve seen it happen before—everyone gathers around the costales full of someone else’s clothes. To them, it is like Christmas, to us it is charity.  

historical amnesia

The idea of historical amnesia, or as I have also understood it to be called—genetic memory, to me has been a very powerful concept. The idea that although we, the current we, as a people, did not physically undergo, or vividly experience the many atrocities that our community has suffered. Therefore, although I don’t remember much of what I was thought in high school, perhaps as a result of it being a history that was very irrelevant to me. Also, AP American History focused a lot on the formation of this country, and even though the taking of the “southwest” is increasingly important, there is a very little focus paid attention to this. I would argue that it is a result of the curtailment of critical thinking that American educational institutions abide by. If schools begin teaching, in detail, what “really” did happen, how the United States came to be such a huge country, in land mass and in power, students would continue to press difficult questions that would ultimately lead to the understanding that the United States, as an imperialist nation, is a power hungry patriarchal state.

The word patriarchy is a hotly contested one, and few would want to be associated with it. Therefore, by not acknowledging exactly the tools employed by this nation to become such a powerful country, our institutions deny us the opportunity to understand the ideologies that have led us to this.

I find it difficult not to abide by models of feminism, that many (in particular whiteness) consider outdated. Yet, I have a particular interest, proclivity towards feminists of color who strongly contributed to this idea of cultural feminism, the idea of womanhood, the femininity, as a powerful tool that patriarchy tries to subjugate and belittle. Thus, the idea of memory – at least to me, reminds me of this powerful force. The fact that women have had the important task of retelling our peoples story, continuing and keeping the memories alive of the previous tasks, which is why I find it to be such a powerful construction.

Understanding my position, both privileged but also marginalized as my intersectional (and ultimately complex/clashing) identities has led to me the position living within the margins. This marginal space is full of both untold stories as well as mysterious paths leading towards my queer Aztlan. Therefore, understanding my history as a person – queer, hombre, son, Chicano, etc. is key to comprehending where I will be going. But it has been difficult—being born in a country that is constantly denying me the opportunity to be. I was born in Mexico in 1989, and immigrated to the United States in 1993. In terms of socialization, I would argue that I have embraced American values (read as White Supremacist Capitalist Patriarchal ideologies). Yet, at the same time I have struggled with naming myself

In coming to terms with my Chicano identity have been “forced” to re-learn a lot. I feel privileged in a way, although at also times plagued by this onus—when I was in high school, I had the prerogative of attending a program dedicated for young Chicana/os. As a result of those programs, I began my own process of conocimineto, and thus co-enrolled in several community college courses, mainly Chicano/a Studies at East LA College. In addition, our high school offered Mexican-American Studies and Chicano Literature, and since my older brother took it, I had access to some knowledge about what it meant to be brown in the United States. 

shadow beast

Earlier today I was reminded of my shadow beast. Rather, it is always here—it never leaves. More like, it came out in the open—not by me, but by someone else. He asked me, “Why are you so self conscious?” Him saying this spoke volumes of my own inability to actually begin writing this. I have known about this prompt for a couple of days. I have sat down, on many attempts, to write and finish this. But I was scared. I am scared. I am stuck. 

The borderlands is a place of uncertainty—that location is often unmapped because it is not always physical. There is a stalwart sense of urgency, and thus requires lots of moving. That shift may be controlled, but frequently it is exuding jubilance. For me, this apperception of fleeing, even what I call home, contributes to my process yearning a sense of agency. The knack to visualize nostalgic feelings is a very powerful device one must be willing to embrace.

Living in the margins now, as a queer Chicano. To many, it feels like I am running away from some dominant group that is frequently chasing me. There have been many things that I have done as a result of surviving. Can we be punished for simply trying to survive? Or should we be targeting the reasons that have caused us to flee from the dominance.

To think of my shadow beast, is to imagine this metaphysical object or feeling that I cannot really touch. Its strange, sometimes I feel it is peevish. Then I am reminded that trying to belittle my own feelings and pain is a product of again, my shadow beast. Even in my own sense of liberation, and consciousness, my shadow beast sneaks up on me. We have been conditioned to think of beasts as something dark, carnivorous, animalistic, as if it were describing the stereotypes of what is meant to be a subordinated person of color, queer, womyn, etc.

Marginalized communities have been targets of terroristic attacks in different manifestations. For Latino/as living in the United States, one of those specific attacks is in the form of linguistic terrorism. In “Borderlands” Anzaldua argues that linguistic terrorism represents the actions by groups within the dominance power to try and curtail the linguistic expression of those in marginalized communities.

I write to survive. I organize to live. I live for liberation. My essence of existing is one marked by my intersecting, frequently clashing and always changing identities: poor, Brown, queer, middle-class, fat, immigrant, male, versatile bottom, student, lover, friend, son, fuck buddy, etc. When I write, I have an audience in mind: he is always Brown, and more than likely queer. He cries himself to sleep and prays to La Virgencita to make him normal, to rid him of those impure thoughts that haunt him in his sleep. He rides the bus from East LA to visit tha older man he met online that has promised him a couple of bucks after they fuck. I write with that joto that didn't make it, in mind. The one who took his own life becuase he could no longer tolerate the pain he felt inside after getting rejected by his parents. The one who could not find shelter in his home after getting his ass beat at school. I write with that Chicano in mind. 

Yet, I am afraid that I will remain silent – that I will not be able to speak out my verdades. My shadow best is my fear—fear of being myself. That for once, I, no longer the cowardly brown man, joto, with the power to speak. I am self conscious of my voice, not exactly in tone and sound, but in my (in)ability to speak. It’s a combination of internalized racism, homophobia, and xenophobia, etc. It is a painful experience reminiscing on my own transition. It hurts to think of myself, a younger me. To remember my own thoughts of being brown. I hated myself.

I knew I was not White. I knew I could never be white. But I tried…and failed.

I am so afraid. I am afraid of not being able to compete. Because, although I am de-colonizing myself and my proclivities to be better. I am always doubting myself. I am always comparing myself. Because this is all new to me and my family.

I really don’t wan to fail them. Yes, this is about me—but most importantly, this is also about my family.

Which is why I value my words so much. My ability to write and speak – is my power. But I am always conscious of what I write, how do it. To some, it is solely an artistic representation. To me, it is my voice, my power, my life. I am self-conscious because it is one of the few things I have. And as a result, it is always being ridiculed. How to break a queer Chicano down, tear his words apart. That is all he has.  How can I get over the thoughts in my head that are always saying, “your writing sucks?” I know this assignment is about continuing without looking back, trying not to erase anything. It is hard when this whole time I have been trained to write, erase, try harder, erase again.

How can I speak so freely?

cultural schizophrenia

I would frequently write and argue that being both queer and Chicano was a contradiction. But I am beginning to feel, and understand that perhaps it isn’t a contradiction that I want to believe, but one that has been imposed on me to feel self-hatred. Granted, the idea of Chicanismo and its manifested identity, is socially constructed; it was popularized following the Chicano (emphasis on the o) movement. Whereas, being queer was not something that was acceptable to the community because it was seen as an anti-family, anti-Raza identity, solely because being queer would mean the inability to “re”produce for the revolution. 

Whereas, being queer has always been seen as a white middle class issue, because that is what is often depicted in the media, and the leaders of the larger queer community are gay.

 The interesting contradiction here though is that the people that were leading both movements in the 60s were people of color, and in many instances queer. For example, it was queer people of color, especially genderqueer and transgender folk, who were at the frontlines of the Stonewall Riots. In addition, it was queer people of color, like Bayard Rustin, who were leading Civil Rights movements. But of course, these things, these details gets lost because hegemonic forces are trying to tell a specific kind of history – one that ignores the identities, or often the actual livelihood, of people.

 To be, or fee, cultural schizophrenic, is to like a game of tug-of-war. There are forces on both sides that are trying to pull into a specific idea or identity. For example, the idea of assimilation for many immigrant and immigrant families, is to forget where one comes from and to conform into the mainstream hegemonic culture. Perhaps for other immigrants, that has been much easier. But for those from Mexico, especially in my case, that has been not been the case. Considering the fact that I still have people in Mexico whom I still call family, and the fact that we are often traveling to Mexico, makes it harder to completely forget those roots.

 Even though I am an immigrant to this country, my socialization occurred within Eurocentric/American institutions and ideologies. It’s very interesting because my parents were okay with the fact that I was growing up with different cultural attitudes. For example, my parents to some extent, encouraged this culture of consumerism. Because they were trying to protect us from bullying, and because they wanted us to fit it, they often bought us clothes and accessories that although we did not need, they thought would protect us. We then were forced to create this image of wealth, and haves, to demonstrate some sort of capital.

 Although, this is a very physical understanding of cultural schizophrenia, a more emotional and hurtful one came in the power of language. It has been hard not being able to communicate with the language that I was taught that has been the hardest for me.

It has become an issue that in my inability to speak, because I have been forced, as a result of linguistic terrorist, forget who I am, as a result of loosing my language.

 It  is very interesting however, that the narrative is not so much about loosing our culture, but rather about how to integrate them. Living in los Angeles, especially it has been easier to talk about retaining ones culture, as opposed to forget it. Therefore, my cultural upbringing has been that of Chicanismo – both brown and White. My understanding has been about cultural fusions—the mixture of cultures. The cultural fusions I can relate to the most are Mexican and Asian. It is represented in Korean barbeque tacos, for example.

 As Latinos become the majority in this state, and soon becoming equally dominant (in population) with Whites, I would argue that the cultures would no longer be clashing but meshing. Therefore, it will not be a pull between cultures, but rather Chicano/as will be dictating cultural norms.