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Id Really Rather Cite My Friend Chuy From Junior High

I've been working on this dissertation prospectus for some time. Sometimes i'm accompanied by a nice cold beer, a cafe, a tequilita, a corrido on repeat or los primos, hermanos, and friends on facebook. As I finish a thought or a section I drink, say hi to folks and occasional get distracted by a good conversation. 

Today I was fb chatting with Israel and trying to make sense of Mexican identity in the United States. Particularly the relationship between discrimination and the formation of a Mexican identity among the children of migrants. As I finished the sentence I remembered that Smith's Mexican New York made the exact same argument. As as "good" graduate student I cited him, yet  what I really wanted to say was: "For more on the relationship between racialization and identity formation talk to high school youth or children of migrants. While so and so author have made this point, my insight comes from growing up Mexican in Goleta and Pomona, California." I related my thought to Israel and he raised some interesting questions. Should he cite the numerous conversations he has had with his grandfather about being a Bracero? What about the stories he heard as a child? 

And while anthropologist use field work to allow these types of voices to inform their narrative and argument and historians Oral History I'm not sure that is our point. I think its about the marginal space that these voices and actors (our families and friends) and WE occupy in academia. For those of us who want to be objective, but feel our emotions and experiences to be valid, we struggle with what to do with the relationship between our history and our scholarship. While we all agree that our past informs our work, why can't we cite el tio, el abuelo, and the fools from the block instead of books and articles? Why is our language and evidence based outside of ourselves, our communities? 

[it would be lame to not mention the various related conversations and late night with hector, daniel, froy, diego and others in DF]

South el Monte to La Roma (DF)....

I have a tio who I love, almost all the time! He knows more about Chicano/a history and Los Angeles than I do. To make matter worse el tio can dance  TODO! Yes,  TO-DO.

When I was an undergrad at UCLA and told him I was taking Chicano/a studies classes he quizzed me on Luis Valdez... After answering correctly he told me he was part of el teatro campesino...

Lesson learned: el tio lived what I was studying...

Years later when I told el tio that I was earning/writing my masters on La crisis de los 1980s, he recited an immense amount of jokes from the era... luckly, I knew most of them...

When I told el tio I was going to New York to study Mexico he smiled and said, "Sobrino, y por que no te vas a Mexico?" (damn... good question...)

The summer between year 1 and 2 at a carne asada con el otro tio in Pico Rivers el Tio asked "a ver Sobrino, que estudias, QU-E estudias?" 

I humbly replied, "bueno tio, la 'migration'." I was surprised when he said "ese es mi sorbrino. por eso te quiero cabron." With a measure of self-assurance and confidence I began to tell him about my project. It was going well until he asked me if had read La Vida inutil de Pito Perez... Shit! Damn it! I not only had not read the damn book, but had never EVEN HEARD of it... El Tio walked away, got in his car and drove away... 30 minutes later he came back with La Vida inutil de Pito Perez, a copy from the 1950s. The book was originally published in the late 1930s by a Mexican author. Its a great story about a poet who pays a migrant in DRINK to tell him stories about his experiences...

I'm in Mexico City... Just returned from having drinks with Froylan Enciso, Diego Flores Magon, and Daniel Hernandez articulating a transnational project: A Mexico-Chicano/a intellectual/artistic project (more to come on that). After a long night, I return to my residence (Froylan/Guillermo's spot) to find that the novel was written NEXT DOOR!. 

If thats not the circle of life (think lion king). If that not South El Monte-Mexico City. If thats not Chicano-Mexicano connection... Bueno you get it. Shit works itself out. There is a master plan, well at least a transnational one.

Mexican schools are weird.

Sure, I wanted to wake up early. Last night after reading some memorable passages from the short novel, La Piel Muerta, I told myself, “I will wake up early and write.” But what I really meant was, I will wake up at some reasonable hour (10am), shower, eat breakfast and write for 3 hours and then read for 4. A good 7 hours before starting my new French class (7:30pm-10:30).

 

What I didn’t know when I went to bed was that across the street there would be a graduation at 8am. That little boys and girls in blue uniforms would walk to receive a diploma (at least it looked like a diploma) while Radiohead’s Creep played for the entire neighborhood to hear. Yes. Radiohead. 8am for a graduation. As I heard the words, “I wish I was special, your so fucken special, but I’m a creep” I thought of calling my friend Daniel and telling him I had found an elementary that produces the emo’s of tomorrow. WHY else could they possibly be playing CREEP during a transitional moment of Mexico’s future teachers, engineers, politicians? Creep was followed by BitterSweet Symphony and a little girl talking about “our” responsibility. As I prepared breakfast I muttered, almost unconsciously, “KISS ASS.” Maybe I was upset that her words had undone the previous work of the Verve and Radiohead: why couldn’t I remain in the past for a few more minutes! OR at least in bed, sleeping, waiting for a reasonable hour before I got back to being a responsible student. 

Dear Fans of the US National Soccer Team: A few helpful tips on the coveted and heartbreaking thing we call BEING a CONTENDER

In 1994 the US hosted the World Cup, a first for the nation and for many Americans an introduction to what the world calls Futbol. Back then the national team was composed of mediocre players and some decent nationalized foreign players. Getting out of the group stages was desired, but by no means expected and keeping the opposing team to a few goals was a victory.

Them times have changed. The MLS has talent from all over world, albeit old and on their way to retirement, and more importantly has joined the world in creating youth teams affiliated with professional teams. These youth players get free passes to MLS games and have more practice sessions than games. In Europe and Latin America, the ratio is about 4 practices per every game. Repetition and quality not quantity of play is emphasized. Americans play in Europe and underprivileged players can now play in competitive leagues without paying.

At the national level this means that the US is now a contender! Not a powerhouse by any means, but a legit contender with high expectations. Dear Fans: expect the US to beat and attacked most teams and get a draw or barely lose to the best of nations. Before you get all excited, a few notes from a life long fan of a contender. Your team will play great. They will dominate the game only to be beaten by one or two lucky counterattacks or a bad call from an official. They will tie and lose to teams they are “suppose to beat.” Yet, they will also no doubt play great against Brasil, Argentina, Germany, etc, etc only to get beat by some talented fool with a wicked shot (I’m thinking of you Carlos Teves). And here comes the heartbreak: your team will have a shot at taking the cup, but will always, yes, always fail. History tells us so.

There are numerous options in copping with defeat. You can sit with friends and family enumerating the numerous errors made by the coach, players, and/or ref. After all YOU played on the Varsity, have expensive shoes, and watch soccer all the time. Surely you know just as much as the national coach. AVOID this at all cost. Instead of reflecting on WHY your team lost, accept it, get a nice cold one and fondly remember all the great moments: the goals, saves, the sweat, sweat moments of victory. After you have spend some quality time romanticizing the past its time to think of the future. Project all your hopes and dreams on to the next world cup. Remember how good the younger generation looked. They play in Europe, are faster, and more talented than generations past. They will surely get your team the CUP. If pessimism starts to creep in get another cold one and either think of the past or the future. Again AVOID the present.

*Note: While romanticizing the past, projecting your dreams on to the future and avoiding the present (read reflection) are great ways to deal with the heartbreak that is being a CONTENDER this might not work out so well in dealing with life.

*Note 2: If beer and movement through time will not console your broken heart and you are the kind of person who listens to Jose Jose's "el triste" and/or Mariah Carey's "I can't live is living is without you," after a particularly soul renching break up, then carefully follow instructions below. Put on your favorite jersey of all time (you must have at least 3 to be the kinda fan im talking about: i'd go 1998 world cup) walk to the nearest large boulavard and walk it until your eyes meet those of a fellow heartbroken fan (gender doesn't matter). You'll find the type of sadness and comfort equivalent to seeing your "first love," a recent x, or the "one that got away."

The Soccer Gods Hit Restart: Vamos Mexico

Mexico LOST. Wait, no, we tied. But it sure felt like a loss. Not as early as those of you in Los Angeles or Mexico but we in New York eagerly got out of beds, snatched up a cafe and headed to Queens via the 1 and 7 trains. We were welcomed by a nice amalgam of symbols of Mexican nationalism: there was the Mexicanos walking on the side walk, the dude playing his horn and singing, a barbershop called “Barbero Chicano,” clothing/sports stores with names like “Brown Pride,” “Mexican Nacion,” and countless restaurants.

 

We entered the restaurant “El Rincon” and were followed by a tall and large Mexicano in his mid twenties slapping his hands together and belting a “Si Se puede.” The leader of the porra had arrived-we followed his lead. The game started well, Mexico attacking, having several chances on goal. It quickly became half-time: still optimistic, but worried about Mexico’s inability to score and Oscar Pérez, el portero. After each badly handled corner kick, I received texts from los primos in Santa Barbara, “this fool sucks,” “I think Amanda (my sister) is taller than him (shes about 5 foot),” “wow, nutty,” and “someone get him a ladder.”

 

Shortly after the start of the second-half a through ball between to Mexican defenders placed South Africa’s forward in front of the goalie with no defenders to beat. The South African confirmed our fears. Texts from los primos ruptured the silence in the room: “shit formation. 4-3-3 is to easy to attack,” “Rafa should be in the back line,” “Bring in Hernandez. Franco ain’t doing shit,” “Since when does the national team not play good d.” Then, with a corona in hand, the large man stood and the chants started. As the minutes passed the anxiety became more palpable. It was not until a cross from the top of the 18^th placed Rafa (one of Mexico’s most consistent players and by far their best defender) in the six yard box, that the room became composed. As I clapped I desired another, but was content with the 1-1 tie. Not a win, but not a loss. More importantly a 0-0 tie between France and Uruguay places all teams in group A in a FOUR WAY tie for FIRST and LAST place with 1 point each. The soccer gods have hit the restart button, vamos Mexico. Now if only we could get Ochoa, the other goalie, to start, Rafa in the backline, a formation that is balanced, o and yes some damn balls in the back of the net. (and yes, I still think Mexico will make it to the semi finals)

 

Mexican Nationalism in Mexico and the US: Consider this an Invitation!

(As promised, more nationalist image, 115th and 3rd, New York City)

We’ve have been waiting! Bad semester, bad year, don’t mean shit…It’s time for the World Cup: all the possible human emotions mix, imagine a nice cocktail or shit a dam pozole after a cruda. Either way, shit is intense! And what better way to open the tournament with Mexico vs South Africa (the host). Dam, can you feel it????Can you??? Yo si!

 

Yes, yes, I am far from both Mexican Los Angeles and Mexico, but just as prepared as usual. Been doing the usual pre-game shit, talking to all the homies, getting exciting about the possibilities, watching Mexico play badly. But I dream, I dream.

 

I dream and the more I dream the more I become aware of the large divide between me (a pocho/chicano) and my Mexican friends (Mexico City cats). The “Mexicanos” are scared and display a profound distrust in Mexico: “Pinche Mexico,” “Aver como nos va,” “No, no, ya se que Mexico va a perder,” or  “Anda muy mal Mexico.” Dumbfounded I can only mutter a simple “si se puede.” Yes, its stark, buts it’s the truth: cats from the “heart of Mexico” are pessimistic and I, yes I, am optimistic….

 

Here it is. Mexicans from Mexico City have no faith in the Mexican national team and this is tied to their closeness to the Mexican nation-state. For them the national team is an expression (a symptom) of the state of the Mexican political or economic system. Politicians can’t be trusted, neither can the government. Their lack of faith in the national team is really a lack of faith in the Mexican nation-state, but I hope not in the people!

 

Y bueno, yo que? Far from the daily experience of the inadequacy of the Mexican nation state, Mexican identity is more tied to experiences of all brown folks in the United States that to a politician with a pristine guayavera. The undocumented migrant, the offspring of migrants who makes it into a university, the affirmative claim that Being Mexicano is something to be proud of all mix to produce an optimism. A "si se puede" to all Mexicanos north of the US-Mexican border. Maybe a blind optimism, but an optimism nonetheless. Mexico will win, because it has too! We all need it, Arizona, California, New York, todos.

 

Yet, whether far or close to the nation-state, like good nationalism we pochos and Mexico City cats will be hoping Mexico can beat South Africa in their home. We will all feel the pain of a loss. Consider this an invitation to join us-Mexican nationalist-as we ride the 1 train from 116^th all the way to Queens. Queens, where all the Mexicanos are! Like the UNAM students we will pack the train, be loud, very loud and enjoy the ride. Please RSVP via a comment: a vamos mexico will do…And I will then send info to all.