I believe that Chicanos in general ought to stay clear out of politics. And if they must they should not use chicanismo as a tool to said enterprise. Chicanismo ought to be as American as American Pie. For example, no one questions white folk their background, do they now? Yes smart aleck, there is some questioning but not in the sense that it insinuates that one is not American. One is American, one need not explain why one is American, one is, period. It should not be up to negotiation. With it I mean one’s chicanismo. If one is to live to said standards one must also live accordingly, that is, not live as if one is American but as an American does.
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He was a secret agent, diploment and scholar, but few knew of Sir Peter Smithers’ most exotice role: the likely model for Ian Fleming’s James Bond – reports The Canberra Times. […] He kept in his bathroom a photograph of the Imperial Navy’s Yamato. (Ever the aesthete, he admired the graceful lines of this huge enemy warship sunk off Okinawa in 1945.) But his most important wartime work occured in and around Mexico.
Along the American seaboard and in the Caribbean Sea and Gulf of Mexico during the first six months of 1942, German U-boats and mines sank 397 vessels, at the cost of some 5000 Allied lives — more than twice the death tool at Peral Harbor. Historian Gerhard Weinberg has called the episode “The greatest single defeat suffered by American naval power”.
Lieutenant-Commander Smithers was sent herriedly to Mexico City as naval attaché in Mexico, the Central American Republics and Panama charged with charting U-boat refueling operations. His espionage led to expertise in photography — at first enemy shipping and later of flowers.
In Mexico he met and married after a three-week courtship Dojean Sayman, a divorced American heiress of part-Mexican ancestry who owned a gold typewriter. This machine made a cameo appearance in the Bond novel Goldfinger.
Must … refrain… from, Garh! I can’t yes! yes! Yes!
Michelle Malkin is about to bite the dust. Daily Kos, thou art now forgiven.
I know some in Aztlán, our own extreme right, despise the idea of homosexualism or marimachas, as forming a part of Aztlán though am not persuaded by any of their arguments.
I find the whole marica/marimacha culture rather intriguing not only because I come from Tijuana, where jotos and she-males form part of the fabric of my city but because they are different and at times better than heteros. Of course, what I most admire is their intellectual prowess and sophistication too.
That is why I was cracking up when I stumbled upon queer raramuri out of Austin, Texas. This mariquita is proud to be one and will sell you a shirt with a unique slogan that erodes the negative and pursues the positive in the words that are used to despise a los jotitios and the marimachas.
ramblings by a queer xicano that is not a descendant of warhol, moctezuma or cortez… but of sisnett, anzaldúa & the young tarahumara whose name matters to few
Here are some pics of the slogans in his shirts:
You can purchase them at Joto Power where amongst other things you can also buy a poetry book of his titled: Santo de la Pata Alzada: Poems from the Queer/Xicano/Positive Pen.
Oh no you didn’t.
I shall be dishing out more than I bargained for but one can’t overstate the deliciousness of the subject. Right now I am about to do serious deconstructing over at Wikipedia and give them a verbal whipping or two.
Coming soon, more Xicano rants than expected, stay tuned.
I have been in Europe long, really long. Though most scandinavians would wonder that thing about Europe. In fact, most scandinavians, were one to trust my infallible judgement, seem not to consider themselves all that European.
I notice this when I watch tv, that I have been in Europe too long and not that thing about scandinavians … erhm … you get what I mean.
Specially shows that are Law and Order related. I hate the smart guy. This is exactly the kind of mentality that those shows ought to avoid but no, here in Europe, if you are an American, and with several years in Europe, those are the very kind of shows that exact a My God, what is that ghastly behaviour doing on my tv? Are those my people is the second thought right after the first one.
I suppose that the West never really stopped being the West, it just changed clothes and artilugios, erhm, gadgets in english.
I do loath the smart, determined will get you if it is the last thing I do Joe on those tv shows.
Worse yet, one really does wonder why do they put so many intelligent people at the service and behest of brutes whose groal is enough to make King Kong jump up out of fear.
There are many case in point but CSI is a classic one. I mean, these guys do really need a life. They are so obssesed with their case load that entire institutions are crawling behind them like some wacko sycophant who thrives in feeding the ego of others and the more it does it the more determined their host gets. They do love seeing a fat ego grow.
I once read in a newspaper or some kind of media thrash somewhere, you know, one of those media byte size news that sticks like goo for the rest of your life, regarding the dumbing of America. This in the 80’s ok?
It is still going on.
Ever noticed how Hollywood always put the smart ones in roles that resemble an idiot savant? Well, you observed right, they are real idiots because they allow their thinking to be used by brutes who keep and swallow all the glory for themselves erstwhile the real thinkers get a woof and groal as a thanks.
Wouldn’t be surprised if twenty years from now Hollywood is confronted by these idiot savants for treating them like crap on the screen. I can imagine a bourgening business around them too, psychiatrists, psychologists and the like trying to comfort them for having being used in that fashion. It won’t happen today though, those idiots think they are being chic and the latest fashion models of some sort. And until then, the show must go on.
Alright, I’ll spill the frijoles de la olla. I have always desired to look more gentlemanly like. You know, GQ like. Tux, cigarr, style and all that. Sometimes I feel I was born into it, damn if I don’t feel like a mill bucks on any damn afternoon in May along the park. It’s like a tranvestite feels except that I have a gentleman buried deep down in me that never gets to be the drag queen. It’s always me that gets the better of this feel.
Me. Jeans that barely fit, wrinkled shirts, months old calzones that only get discarded when the holes in it are bigger than the hole where my two legs need to go in first. And they go painfully, by the time slit gets to them I’ve gotten to know them so well that its like parting from a precious heirloom, though I would be hard press to think that someone in this life would find it appropiate to give calzones as an heirloom. Either way, the story about my wardrove is a failure of historical proportions.
I believe that this can be due to my humble origins where one only gets to dress nice when one partakes in the Catholic rituals of Communion or someone’s wedding somewhere. Otherwise its the same old pair of stinking socks for every other aspect of my social life.
It embarresses me sometimes. I want to look better and classy, damn it. No, am not a traitor to my class. I just think that people like Sean Connery or Anthony Hopkins embody a style of manhood that I find quite tasteful, in my taste. Hell, I want to be a wine connosiuer. I want to be able to appear in control of the english language and most of all, I wan to get angry in style, just like the aforementioned actors do in their acting roles.
But no. Were there a show that somehow requiered profound and complete knowhow in the manners of Extreme Casual Wear I’d be a top payed consultant on the matter. Come on, it takes years to remain largely unawaress of one own pantalones size, it is an art to go into a store and come out with a pair of jeans that are either too long or too tight for one. And let us not forget that jeans are always the du rigour daily wear. Shirst? Ja, you think that wrinkled is just a laziness attribute? Think again, wrinkle betrays days of deep concentration and wasted hours in the absence of the mind.
Oh well, the drag will just have to wait. But one day, one day, I will, at the very least, look the part. Near it either way.
Can you see a smile in my face? It’s right here, next to my dimple …
Tijuana is a city that goes above “violent & chaotic”. Is volatile like the souls that utilize it as a springboard to jump accross to the other side, thru the river or the desert. It is a mixing bowl of cultures. It is the bar & whorehouse of the gringos. She is inocent & perverse. She is the battle line, the microcosm of what is and will become Mexico, the beachhead for the Hispano-American wave that will reach all the way to the tip of South America. It is the city that scares everyone. She is considered terrible, everyday we become more Americanized, but the United States also becomes more Hispanized every day. But who will assimilate who? What would be the name of the nation which has as its base this new breed?
It’s a long ass post but men! It’s full of goodies 🙂 get more popcorn, please
The good xente over at la bloga have a good discussion going on. Not because the comments of the offices at Yonder Lies It received an answer but because it is clear to the xente del más allá, who for an odd reason of sorts, frecuent the offices, seem to be in agreement (though Geronimo keeps rather silent most of the times) that a Chicano Norton Anthology literature compilation is needed and I see it on the horizon. [yeah, that’s a long ass sentence there, got a problem with that?]
Except that instead of naming it Norton Anthology we could name it like Santa Ana or Stockton Anthology maybe Zorro but that would be a long shot perhaps a lady heroine of sorts. Like the Pachuca Anthology literature for the vox populi in Aztlán proper. Cherrie Moraga or Gloria Anzaldua Anthology would read just as well. But the title we could discuss much later.
There are many threads to start a good huipil with here.
There are the linguistics aspects that I brought forth con todo y my cultural baggage. Though the very fine gente at vivir latino raised the issue of racism in the lengua issue I brought forth.
Make no mistake about it, when it comes to languages, the issues are not about racism. They are instead ones of purity. I understand that the word purity has that race purity what not, connotation but it has an entirely new sense when I use it with language. Instead there is what one can very well see as social fabrications of languages. Everybody thinks they speak real english though there isn’t such a thing as pure english. That notion is just a pure concoction from the last century that has managed to creep itself all the way to this century. In fact, english has about as much latin words in its vocabulary as about spanish does. Well, maybe not, but a good chunk of it composes much of the prestige vocabulary of english. [no, am not about to give you examples, you go find for yerself that ese!] American english speaks wads about it since much of its cowboy mythology is composed of words that have a root on the mexican spanish that helped compose the West/pioneer myth.
Be that as it may we continue con la literatura, in this case, literatura Chicana. Now, english and spanish have had a tumultous upbringing in the Southwest.
For the past 150 years or more english has had the upper hand. Spanish has had to bear the brunt of classroom spankings for utering its vowels in the midst of angloparlandia. Though the first european languages that the land of Aztlán heard were spanish vowels in all the splendor that the conquistadores and Friars used back then.
In this lingua fight, it is we the Aztlán generation that have had to bear the whips and lashes of both households. Both from the spanish part and the english part as well. We can not simply speak anything without having a rebuke at hand to remind us that we speak gibberish at best.
We don’t speak good english and worst yet, we don’t speak good spanish and even yet worst we don’t take care good of our siblings, the new Aztlán generations, from this violent circle. We simply allow the violent language to continue unchallenged with each generation taking sides with either spanish or english or every now and then a few wise voices stating that both languages are good this and that. Or having to hear, like Richard Rodriguez argues, much to the chagrin of the many in Aztlan proper, that english is our light that shines at the end of the tunnel.
It is hard to please two cultures. We have not managed to come across as a unifed entity, at best, we are a footnote in the many essays, commentary, books out there.
But that is ok. We are still defining ourselves. Though I must confess that the issues that we blanket ourselves with are very universal and literature, canon literature at that, is universal driven. Perhaps the issues lies in the universitality of our speech. Perhaps we need to take advantage of this. No matter what english or spanish have to say about it because by then, we will be a different lingua to be reckoned with.
Writing in blogs has given me a distaste for much of what I deem cultural ideologies. For me, this means the one that says we are descendents of spaniards and aztecs. I now laugh when I hear people in my surroundings expressing admiration at this ‘fact’. I generally feel repulse at what europeans have done to indigenous people of México and further more I loath the cristian faith. Get the popcorn, am a roll here.
Never mind that I was raised in Tijuana, Baja California, México, that I have two religions inculcated in me which are based on the christian faith and that for all intents and purposes there are some kind of euro genes running amok in my old bag of flesh since though not white there is a certain indelible shade of that pigment. If there a re stories about black children trying to scrub their blackness away, I tried to do away with the white with mud, el color de la tierra.
So when I write fiction, be it in spanish or english, I readily dispose of myths. My heroes are people out on a vegeance path and will exact their repressed anger. I don’t like history, it makes me sad.
The cultural ideology part is a bit trycky though. Most people are content to be called, for example, American or Mexican without given it further thought. The package, after all, is neatly envuelto, packaged. It comes with a cultural bagage with enough info to provide a decent dose of cultural pride with the occasional bad remorse of conscience for what either part of the equation has done to each another. Because, if you are from the part of the world I come from, America, inevitably you’ll end up raised believing that whites and indians made you who you are though at the expense of cruelty from both parts.
Not me. I look at my surroundings from the comfortable age that am in now and I wonder. I see who has been shoved around and worst yet, the sham that state ideologies can be.
The older I get the more I see the harm that christianity has done. The christian faith has been nothing but a destructive path for that better half that is either me or that is either a fabricated social part of me, American indians of all races. The christian faith destroys. The christian faith does not engage in salvation, it engages in whole sale destruction of civilizations and there is almost nothing on its way stopping them.
Oh, and you can’t convince me otherwise. But you can try.
Ok, first and foremost my deepest apoligies to Pachuco, who surprisilingly enough, agrees with me that returning territories to proper México contravenes the very fabric of the Xicano ens But señot Martínez, what are you apoligizing for? Sí, that is correct, forget my digressions. It is a custom I drag over from spanish. It is a well proven fact that spanish speakers tend to lag when it comes to getting to the point. A thing that tends to irritate english monolingual speakers. Perdón, I digressed again.
I apologize to Pachuco, owner and distributor of Chicano t-shirts zupdog (perhaps Lotería Chicana ought to look into it since she seems to have a fondness for said objects) because, I in all my humble ignorance, forgot to uncross the little box in WP that indicates it to allow for member registration.
I am flattered that Pachuco went throught the ropes for membership. However, at this time I am not contemplating the idea, much like Oso does, to have a blog with multiple users. Perdón.
Logovo, Ilich, Rael, Elenamary ( I thought that the RSS feed was solved girl, am still on the requested list m’ija) Thank you, mil y un gracias for all those comments. The conversation will take place on the internet. Wait. Why did that just sound like Gil Scott-Heron “the revolution will not be televised’?
Señor Martínez, you are aware that putting so many links in a text is a turnoff right? 🙂
First of all I would like to thank all who dare venture a click to see what is happening here in this blog. As what can be seen by the dates that appear here and there on the blog it would somewhat offer a hint that nothing much is happening. In fact, due to the dates one could very well and rather easily and with no little haste come and jump at the conclusion that abandonment is the most fitting word to describe the state of affairs here. Alas my friends, I will irrevocably dissent at such easyly made judgement calls, I beg to differ. I am nurturing the words. I am incubating my thoughts and the time is not ripe to announce all that needs to be announced.
However, today I want to bring to your attention a little blog and the repercussions it is unfolding on certain corners of the Aztlán homeland. Fellow citizen and tijuanense pal such as I Ilich Sabotage brought to my attention a recent blog that seems to be one of those people who dare go beyond the most common mentality arising out of Xicanismo itself. pochospeak Weblog Journalism for the Pocho Crowd. This is a blog to look out for across time just to see the result that might be arising out of the research itself. ài’tamos pues.
PS: Lo de Tercera Raza was taken from this post Chicanos on line. La tercera raza from Sintetika Dreams. Normally I dislike how most of my fellow border mexican citizens perceive us Xicanos, even if we too can be deemed a part of Aztlán, though I thought this Tercera Raza nick befitting somehow. It fights off this crazy notion that some spanish speaking monolinguals have of Tijuana as the last corner of Latin America. As if Aztlán wasn’t part of the larger narrative of Latin America. I like it.