my religion.

I am my mother and father’s son. There is no doubt about that. Unless of course my mom had sex with another man, which she has been accused of by my father’s family. As a result, I have been engrained with (some) values that my parents preached, not all are practiced by them. I grew up in a family where we were allowed to worship our religion freely. My father is not religious. He repeatedly said that.  My mother attempts to portray a complicated, often contrasting, religious façade. We grew up with images of La Virgen decorating every wall of our home. We have some icons of other culturally Chicano/Mexican religious icons – El Santo Nino de Atocha, for example. But my parents never forced a specific practice upon us. In fact, the punishment my brothers and I received for misbehaving was a prayer. My mom would make us to pray to La Virgen and ask her to forgive us for being bad children. It was not a praying culture. Religion was used to scare us into behaving.

When my parents brought us to the United States, they understood that we would be living in a more “secular” society, were religion was not going to be pushed upon us. They knew that our formal schooling would not revolve around a religious idea. And they were okay with that. They always taught us to respect other people and their different religious views. The only people that irked my parents were those that were trying to push their religious beliefs onto us.

Both my parents disapprove of the religious institutions. Them stealing off poor peoples’ money, their role in colonization, the frequent child abuse scandals, etc. While my dad completely ignored the church as an institution, my mom went to Church every Sunday to fulfill her role as a devoured follower of Christ and La Virgen. I don’t even know what she would think about when the priest was preaching his things. I think she was more occupied trying to keep us shut, awake, or from fighting with each other. Her obsession with going to Church is more as a result of trying to portray a good image, rather than actually following the Church’s orders.

So yes, I grew up differently. My understanding of religion in ones’ live differes than the hardcore Christians. I cannot imagine what it would be like if both of my parents were super religious. It would be hard to imagine what that would be like, since all of my brothers are agnostic/atheist/non-practicing Catholics. 

I really came to this conclusion on my own though.

I was very involved in the local church throughout high school. I was first involved in my first communion classes, which lasted two years. Then became a student leader for the remaining two years of high school. I tried. Trust me.

But understanding that my queer identity was in often conflict with the Catholic dogma. How could I often try and teach about this religion and remain silent about my own self. It made no sense. It only made sense that I leave. I could not consciously stay there, knowing they did not want me there.

And this is what I continue to struggle with. I love La Virgen, and what she has thought of us. The brown folk re-created Tonantzin into La Virgen, as an avenue to still support their own beliefs in the name of staying alive. Similarly, we have recreated a queer Virgen to take care of us.

So no, I don’t hate you. Hate your Jesus or your Mary. I hate that you have access to her. A her that looks and feels and loves like you.

Education

Education

Today, Saturday (July 9), we went to the Africa institute of South Africa, and had a lecture by a doctoral candidate and researcher, Neo Lekgutla. His current research and political advocacy encouraged a shift in the educational curriculum to be more inclusive. He argued that the current South African curriculum, which has not changed even with the end of apartheid, continues to be very Eurocentric. He then proposes an “Africa-centered curriculum,” which “does not imply that students will learn only about African issues, but will learn about other cultures.” This, he argues, would provide a more realistic picture of the current South African diversity, instead of focusing on a European/White-centered curriculum.

As a Chicano/a Studies major, the issue of Eurocentric curriculums is close to me. I grew up learning about White people’s experience in the United States, and unless it was “Black History Month,” would we then learn (minimally) about the experiences of other important members of our national identity.

However, our curriculum is designed to compliment the Educational institution which is guided by a White Supremacist ideology. In order for power to remain unchallenged, people of color, queers, and womyn, should not be aware of their history. The history of both struggle and resistance. If marginalized communities knew of their historical legacy and potential, the status quo would not only be challenged but entirely defeated.

The lecturer however did not think that there should be a new curriculum developed. Rather, he suggested that the curriculum should  include African history as well as European/White history. This liberal/conformist perspective, however, does not challenge the status quo entirely. It merely provides a temporary solution to a larger problem, which I would argue is the lack of access to education for most poor people and communities of color (both in the United States and South Africa).

Black lesbian scholar/writer and activist, Audre Lorde, exclaimed “the masters tools will not dismantle the masters home.” Thus, while it is important to understand that the educational system needs fixing, and thus providing a more African-centric curriculum will empower a few students, the larger problem is with the institution itself. Perhaps, then, we must not find temporary band-aid like solutions to these problems, but find innovate answers that will ameliorate the entire problem all together. 

HIV and AIDS in South Africa

HIV and AIDS in South Africa

The issue of HIV/AIDS is a very personal to me. I have many friends who are currently diagnosed with AIDS/have the virus. I have attended funerals of dear people close to me who passed away due to complications with HIV/AIDS. No one will understand the gravity of HIV/AIDS until it has affected someone personally.

As a result of knowing close friends who contracted the virus, I became a Peer Health Educator through the AIDS Project Los Angeles (APLA) in High School. As Peer Health Educator, it was my role to provide exciting workshops that would attract “at-risk” youth and teach them about Sexually Transmitted Infections, fun and safe sex. As a queer Chicano living in Los Angeles county, I am at a huge risk of getting HIV. Young queer men of color have the highest risk of getting it. Though the numbers do look promising, it will never be enough until everyone knows their status and is protected.

Coming to South Africa, I have learned so much more about HIV/AIDS. It always seems interesting to me, that when we are discussing HIV/AIDS we are not talking about the queer community. Per my academic and also personal development, anything related to HIV/AIDS always involved the queer community. HIV/AIDS has become a national epidemic, and a world-wide pandemic. In this country, everyone is at risk.

Which is why there have been many efforts, campaigns, to raise awareness about healthy and safe sex, status awareness, and empowerment for those who are positive. After arriving from Dundee, we immediately had a seminar with two guest speakers who are working with different HIV/AIDS agencies.

The speaker that most students found interesting: because of his provocative comments and his high energy made some interesting points. This idea of working with private companies to help promote safe sex, while it may seem like an obviously good idea, I still find many reservations. The speaker’s job is to find “cool” ways to engage the youth in condom usage, and other precautions. But what is “cool” is relative, and in my personal opinions (and experiences) other people have MANY more things to worry than to find out what is cool and how to practice “cool” sex. Nonetheless, cool becomes a fad, which will ultimately dissolve. Therefore, finding “cool” avenues is a challenge because it does not solve the problem at the core, but rather find temporary ways of helping the country, but then having to repeat the “cool” cycle.

This is the second time I hear people talking about how capitalism (the private market/corporations) are going to help end the HIV/AIDS pandemic. But, it has been the capitalist culture that has caused such a huge number of HIV/AIDS. Poor people are not poor because they want to be poor. Rather, it is under a capitalist society that we have poor people. The rich need a class of people to exploit in order to be rich. Therefore, the poor people have had a history of no access to many important institutions: education, healthcare, etc. These are the institutions that they needed in order to be more cautious. However, they are now infected. And now, the same capitalist society is trying to come back and provide band-aid solutions to a larger problem. Since when has capitalism ever cared about the poor person? Perhaps now that capitalism feels guilty for what it has help create.

Love in South Africa

Love in South Africa

What should have been a five hour drive from Dundee to Pretoria has already turned into an 8 hour trip, and we’re still on the road. We have made two stops: the first for our lunch, and the second one to use the restroom at a gas station.

Fortunately, the program has contracted a fairly comfortable bus that ameliorates the otherwise irritating long ride.

We have seen two films, one required by the professors and another one requested by the group. I wish I could say what the latter of the films was, but I was either asleep or reading “Gay Latino Studies: A Critical Reader,” that will help me shape my Departmental Honors Thesis.

I wish I could take pictures of the beautiful South African sunset that has become my view out the window, but I broke my camera earlier this week. It’s a giant circle, a ball of yellow, orange, red colors slowly hiding in the mountains.

I am going to miss this sunset. But as this sun goes down in South Africa, it’s going up back at home in L.A. I can’t imagine the program is almost over. I have mixed feelings about this.

In a few days, I will be packing my bags once and for all. I will have to find creative ways of making sure that I can fit all the souvenirs in only one bag.

I will finally have access to all the tacos that I want. I’ll be able to return to my non-stop texting habit.  And I will never have to worry about whether or not I will have internet to check my facebook.

But this is going to be a difficult good-bye. I have fallen in love in South Africa. Although, my mom warned me about falling in love in a different country. I can honestly say that I have found something amazing.

No, I have not fallen in love with a man here (even though the possibility was very tempting). But I have fallen in love with this country. There is such a rich history that is often untold and unheard by many. There is a great amount of diversity, and with all that diversity a tremendous amount of love. Though the history often tells the story of oppression, of hatred between races, in the midst of this disenfranchising story lies the overlooked story of love.

It is love that kept the African National Congress fighting during the Apartheid Regime. If there was no love for freedom, peace, and for love humanity—there would be no resistance. So as I spend my last few days in South Africa, not only will I immerse myself in all the history, the resistance, but will take a particular interest in the way that love is displayed.

What really happened in Blood River?

What really happened in Blood River?

Yesterday, Tuesday July 5, we went to two different museums to get two different perspectives on the actual happenings of the Blood River battle between the Boers and the Zulu.

The first museum we went to was the one erected by the White Boers. I knew something was interesting when there were mostly pictures of old White men in their traditional uniforms, and when the museum representative introduced us to the movie by saying “just remember that all these people wanted was a place to farm.”

Immediately, I thought about the Manifest Destiny in the United States that led to the Mexican-American War, only because the Americans thoughts that they were destined to rule the land from one ocean to the next.

They showed us a documentary that tried to recap the historical happenings of the Blood River battle. Their perspective was justified and made seem the only accurate because of written primary documents. While those documents are valid, and should be considered in the construction of a historical account; one must not be so stuck in traditional methodologies of historical analysis just because “the other side” (the Zulu) did not have the “proper” tools to contribute to history. The Zulu did not have the same methods of retelling history, they relied on oral traditions to remember what once happened.

As a Chicana/o Studies major, we are constantly engaging in reconstructing history. History is written by the “victors,” suggesting that the history we know is often Euro and androcentric (written by white men) to justify their actions.

It is important than, to critically engage in the history that we are being taught. It is often claimed to be objective and unbiased. But the differences in the retelling of history tells us that historical accounts can and are contested. Which is an important facet of being in South Africa. We are learning about the history of Apartheid by visiting different places and speaking to different people. Everyone has their own opinion and perspective. They are all valid. Together we can construct a more holistic understanding of the world and the history.  

dundee, where?

Dundee, where?

We have finally fled the haunted house. I made it out alive without hearing any weird noises, without experiencing any paranormal activity. We have finally left St. Lucia, and there is only one regret that I have: not eating at Braza, the Brazilian restaurant more. I had the spicy chicken at Braza for our least meal, right before our barbeque, and I was amazed. I am not going to lie, I was getting tired of the food in St. Lucia, so when I finally had Braza, I felt like I did my stay in St. Lucia an injustice. However, this is just my “don’t mess with a Mexican’s food” attitude, specially since I have not had any spicy food in a long time.

However, the trip to Dundee was pretty smooth. One of our classmates put on a movie on the bus, to which I fell asleep to. The drive seemed short, but that was probably because I was asleep for most of it.

When we first got to Dundee, I was excited. It seemed like the inner-city of a large urban community. It seemed like a marriage between Brooklyn (New York) and Tijuana. There were street vendors, a lot of people walking down the street, and many retail shops.

We arrived late in afternoon/early evening. I was ecstatic to go and explore the streets of Dundee, home for the next two days/three nights.  But we were encouraged not to go out at night because of the high crime rate in the neighborhood.

My immediate reaction was, “I’m from the hood, I know how to handle this.” But of course, that was my peevish attitude. The community is different here.

The following day after arriving from our visits to the museums and battle sites, we had free time. I took the opportunity to go and explore the streets of Dundee while the sun was still out. Walking was so refreshing. Seeing so many people made me so happy. Walking was not as “scary” as they had made it seem. However, crossing the streets is a different story. It was a “every person on their own” type of deal because the drivers did not seem to care if you were crossing the street or not. I like Dundee. I like the city-feel, over small town St. Lucia. And it does not hurt that we are not staying in what seemed like a haunted house.

dundee, where?

Dundee, where?

We have finally fled the haunted house. I made it out alive without hearing any weird noises, without experiencing any paranormal activity. We have finally left St. Lucia, and there is only one regret that I have: not eating at Braza, the Brazilian restaurant more. I had the spicy chicken at Braza for our least meal, right before our barbeque, and I was amazed. I am not going to lie, I was getting tired of the food in St. Lucia, so when I finally had Braza, I felt like I did my stay in St. Lucia an injustice. However, this is just my “don’t mess with a Mexican’s food” attitude, specially since I have not had any spicy food in a long time.

However, the trip to Dundee was pretty smooth. One of our classmates put on a movie on the bus, to which I fell asleep to. The drive seemed short, but that was probably because I was asleep for most of it.

When we first got to Dundee, I was excited. It seemed like the inner-city of a large urban community. It seemed like a marriage between Brooklyn (New York) and Tijuana. There were street vendors, a lot of people walking down the street, and many retail shops.

We arrived late in afternoon/early evening. I was ecstatic to go and explore the streets of Dundee, home for the next two days/three nights.  But we were encouraged not to go out at night because of the high crime rate in the neighborhood.

My immediate reaction was, “I’m from the hood, I know how to handle this.” But of course, that was my peevish attitude. The community is different here.

The following day after arriving from our visits to the museums and battle sites, we had free time. I took the opportunity to go and explore the streets of Dundee while the sun was still out. Walking was so refreshing. Seeing so many people made me so happy. Walking was not as “scary” as they had made it seem. However, crossing the streets is a different story. It was a “every person on their own” type of deal because the drivers did not seem to care if you were crossing the street or not. I like Dundee. I like the city-feel, over small town St. Lucia. And it does not hurt that we are not staying in what seemed like a haunted house.