Monthly Archives: September 2006

Ask a Mexicana?

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Beware: Educated Chicanas Thanks to the beauty of sitemeters, I noticed that my fellow Cargaderense Gustavo Arellano linked to me in his weekly ¡Ask a Mexican! column. Sometimes I wonder who reads his column and what people think about his jabs at pretty much everything and everyone. I’ve heard some call him a minstrel and others who just laugh, shake our heads and don’t take his words seriously. I’m one of the latter, but it’s probably because our mothers are both from the same tiny town in Zacatecas, Mexico. I guess the hometown connection goes far.

The discussion he quoted, occurred in the comments section of a post a couple weeks ago. El Chavo! brought up Gustavo’s recent critique of Chicana/o Studies and then all the guys proceeded to try and get my attention by seeing who could make the best arguments.

I don’t agree with Gustavo’s assessment of Chicana/o Studies (long live the a/o!) and thought the email he published by Professor Macías was right on point. I may be biased since Profe Macías has been a long time mentor. He’s helped me grow both as a budding academic (hah!) and as a person. I joked that Chicana/o Studies made me feel like a victim and made it impossible to get a job. That was a joke since I’ve never had a problem getting a job and was admitted to all the graduate schools I applied to three years ago. I saw my education as something more than just training for a job or something that would get me a six-figure income right out of college. I took many things away from being a Chicana/o Studies student, but perhaps the most important one came frome the namesake of the Chicana/o Studies Center*, César E. Chávez.

The end of all education should surely be service to others.

Everyone I know who graduated as a major or minor in Chicana/o Studies — including the women in the photo above — isn’t sitting around feeling victimized or hating “the man”. We took Chavez’s words to heart and we’re all in professions where we’re doing something to help our respective communities.

Why continue to villify an academic program that plays an important role in the education of future immigration and civil rights lawyers, teachers, social workers, family medicine physicians, school counselors, policymakers, city planners, community and union organizers, professors, researchers, artists, writers and the occasional PhD student/blogger?

*When I was a student, Chicana/o Studies was not a department and its official title was César E. Chávez Center for Interdisciplinary Instruction in Chicana/o Studies. In 2004-2005 it officially became a department, 12 years after students took part in a hunger strike in favor of establishing the department. (More on the history.)

Putting the ‘strip’ in strip mall

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When I got to UCLA, I realized that half the people I met who grew up in the LA area had no clue where Hacienda Heights was located. I had to mention the general region of my small, unincorporated corner of Los Angeles County in order to erase their blank expressions. Once I explained, “it’s about 20 miles east of downtown,” or “it’s in the San Gabriel Valley, northeast of Whittier” a little light bulb of recognition lit up behind their eyes.

The people who actually knew about HH had one basic response, “oh… you’re from the suburbs. You must be rich.” I’d then have to clear up their misconception, at least about my family being rich. HH is a suburb and plenty of middle and upper-middle class families call it home, but my family isn’t one of those. My mom always used to say, “we don’t live in the heights of Hacienda Heights.” Translation? We’re not rich or comfortably middle class.

Sometime around my senior year at UCLA, I got a different and unexpected reaction.

“Oh, Hacienda Heights… hmmm,” my friend said. “I have to drive my uncles there all the time. They like going to the strip clubs.”

“Oh.”

The strip clubs.

The exotically named strip clubs popped up about ten years ago. Ironically, I first heard about them in church. Of course, as Catholics we didn’t like the idea of strip clubs in our community. I think someone organized picketing or a petition, but I can’t remember and it doesn’t matter since the protests were unsuccessful. A few months later, the garish neon signs appeared.

After high school, I moved away to college and never really gave much thought to the fact that there was a strip club half a mile away from my house, and another one about 1.5 miles away. That all chaged early this summer as I made one of my frequent trips home to play with the puppy, have some home-cooked meals, and do laundry.

yuck As I slowed my car at the intersection of Gale and Stimson, I noticed the new sign. Suddenly, it was no longer Cathay Bank Plaza. The half circle at top featured “Showgirls” in pink against a black backgrond. Right below that, “Deja Vu Plaza” was written in pink above a pair of pink stilettos in fishnet stocking-clad legs. An electronic sign announced the opening of a new adult store adjacent to the strip club. Below the LCD screen several smaller rectangular signs showed the names of neighboring businesses.

The strip mall is just half a mile away from the home where I grew up and my parents and siblings currently live. My mom used to work at the intersection of Gale and Stimson as a cross guard for children walking to Glenelder Elementary School. I’ve eaten several times at the greasy spoon, opened an account at Cathay Bank, had my hair cut at a small beauty salon and visited my old dentist just a few doors down from the strip club in the corner.

I was never comfortable with a strip club at that location, but at least back then there was no huge sign and the neon lights only blinked on and off at night. It was never hidden or discrete, but at least I could ignore the strip club.

I suppose my mild outrage comes from a bit of feminism mixed in with Catholicism and a healthy dose of NIMBYism [not in my backyard]. I hate the sign and the fact that a small part of Hollywood Boulevard, Market Street or Times Square has been transplanted to my neighborhood. I don’t want to one day take a precocious child to visit his/her grandparents only to hear “mom, what’s a showgirl?” coming from the backseat.

Sure, my hate for hideous sign, new store and strip club come from the -isms listed above, but I know the greatest one is my general opposition to change. The conservative in me is coming out, and it’s not in the way HP would like. I simply want to conserve my hometown just as it was when I was a kid… when Hacienda Heights was known more for it’s suburban way of life and large Buddhist temple rather than strip clubs.

Oh so grand

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nomarOn Monday night, I watched a fantastic Dodger game from the comfort of my pink couch. There were no friends around, and instead I had to call my brother Danny and friend Gabby to express my excitement to another human. I was elated after the game and felt good as the last two weeks of the baseball season got underway. Oh yeah, and the Dodgers were in first place in the National League West.

That changed during the week. It turns out that the Dodgers are great at going for long stretches at winning… or losing. In August they went 17-1. Earlier in the summer, they were 1-13. Ouch. It seems that after the Monday night high, my beloved Dodgers left me feeling a little blue every time I checked on the score for the game that day.

Still, it didn’t keep me from not wanting to return to Chavez Ravine for the last home game of the season. I attended yesterday’s game with good friends who also love the Dodgers. Alfred was hungover after his housewarming party, but still down for an early afternoon game. Gabby and Javi are at the stadium at least once every homestand, and this was no different. Two other friends, Mike and Cathy, joined in.

We sat in the top deck, way up in section 13 on the far left. Still, being that high up didn’t ruin the atmosphere. The Dodgers and Arizona Diamondbacks remained at a tie for most of the game. The Dodgers’ and Diamondbacks’ starting pitchers, Hong-Chih Kuo and Liván Hernández, didn’t give up too many hits in the first 8 innings.

I told Alfred, “I’m glad I ate that Dodger dog after the 7th inning stretch, it looks like it might go in to extra innings.”

Surprisingly, Alfred replied, “if it does, we’re leaving. I’m hungry!”

“No we’re not,” I replied. I don’t like leaving games early, but then again I wasn’t starving. I’m sure Alfred was glad we stayed.

The score was 1-1 going in to the bottom of the ninth.

Behind me in the last row of the top deck, a man told his fidgety 4-year old son, “say win, and the Dodgers will win.” I heard him softly say, “win.”

“Okay,” his dad replied, “they’re going to win. Just watch.”

Marlon Anderson, the Dodgers’ latecomer who lately has led the way, singled to begin the ninth against reliever Luis Vizcaino and advanced to third on a sacrifice bunt and a groundout to second. Rafael Furcal [intentionally walked] and Kenny Lofton walked, and up came Garciaparra. LAT story

I was on my feet next to Alfred, Gabby, and the others cheering as loud as we could. Behind us the hopeful dad scolded his son as he tried to stand on the armrests rather than the seat. I turned quickly to see him get down and then turned back to the field were bases were loaded, Nomar was at the plate and the count was 2 balls and 1 strike.

Vizcaino threw the ball. Nomar hit it. And we watched it go up and up and up. It looked like a normal fly ball to center, but it wasn’t.

It landed right past the fence in center field.

A grand slam. It was also Nomar’s second walk-off homerun in a week of must-win games.

I don’t remember for how long we cheered as Nomar ran the bases and into a crowd of his teammates in white and blue. His smile must have been as big as those of the thousands of fans cheering him.

I turned and told the little boy, “hey, you said they ‘win’ and they won!”

“Give her a high five,” his dad said.

I hope that kid remembers the game. I know I will. Who wouldn’t remember the first time she saw a game-winning grand slam by one of the best players in baseball?

[On another note, the game was memorable because I ran in to my cousin, Robert, while he was working. Robert is an LAPD officer. It's been a long time since I've seen him that I almost didn't recognize him. Plus, he was in his uniform and was wearing shades, so I needed to check his nametage to make sure it was my cousin before I said hi to some random LAPD officer.]

Pillagin’ an’ plunderin’ in East Los… aaargh!

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Aaarrrgh! It's Talk like a Pirate Day!

Aaargh, it’s Talk Like a Pirate Day, mateys! If ye landlubbers need help, check the translator, aaargh!

About three weeks ago, th’ cabinmate and another mate, Gabby, plan’d a pirate theme party. All wenches and scallywags dress’d in their finest pirate rags. If they didn’t, they walk’d the plank! Aaargh!

Aye, aye, mateys! We had a jolly good time at the paaarrrty. The vessel looked finer than a treasure chest with the fearsome Jolly Roger flyin’ high above Boyle Heights.

The rotten scallywags drank many a bottles o’ rum and grog, danc’d to a fine fancy sea shantey an’ had us a grand good time.

An’ no, nobody gave up the booty. Aaargh!

Monday night baseball

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Nomar!

I don’t like the latter half of September. It goes by in a flash. Before I know it, the fall quarter has started, a bunch of new students have swarmed the UCLA campus and I’m back to 4-hour classes and lots of reading.

The trouble with late September is baseball. In case you didn’t know, I love the Dodgers. I’ve been following since I could say “el Toro” and remember jumping up and down wildly during the 1988 World Series with my dad. I’ve been a bad fan this season, going only to two games (last year I went to about a dozen). Then again, I’m on the road almost as much as the Dodgers.

As the season winds down, the races for a berth in the playoffs come down to the wire. I love and hate the excitement. I ignore my studies as I watch late and post-season games.

This brings me to tonight’s Dodgers vs. Padres games. First, I must say that I love my roommate for ordering cable. That means I can watch the Dodgers games on cable.

four! I started watching tonight and then stopped. The game wasn’t going so good. Dodgers were down 4-0 at the end of the first inning. By the end of the third, they had tied it up. The game continued like that all the way until the ninth inning. At this point, San Diego was up 9-5. A lesser fan would have turned off the TV and prepared tomorrow’s lunch.

I kept watching. Bottom of the ninth, Jeff Kent comes up to bat. He hits a homerun.

J.D. Drew came next. He hit the second homerun of the inning.

At this point, I called my brother wondering, what’s happening? I didn’t want to get too excited, because no one wants to be let down. The Padres managers then brings in a new pitcher. The excitement at Chavez Ravine keeps building as the score is now 9-7.

Oh, and there are no outs.

Russell Martin came up to bat. He hits a homerun.

The Dodgers are making three homeruns in a row seem like the norm.

Marlon Anderson came up to bat. He hits a homerun, the second of the night (he went five for five!).

i love l.a.! Okay. Did you get that? FOUR homeruns in a row. The fine fact-finders at Fox Sports inform viewers that this has only happened three other times in Major League history. The last time was in 1964.

The excitement in the 9th inning ended three batters later.

I was talking to Gabby about the game. The top of 10th inning scared us. The Padres didn’t give up so easily, got a couple of men on base and scored a run. Going in to the bottom of the 10th the score was 10-9.

Gabby gave her analysis of what needed to happen, “Lofton needs to get on base and Nomar needs to homer.”

Kenny Lofton gets walked. Vin Scully calls him a rabbit. Lofton has legs and has stolen 27 of 31 bases.

With Lofton on first, Nomar Garciaparra comes up to bat. Nomar had missed the last two games after an injury on Friday night.

Nomar must have been listening to Gabby.

He hit a homerun in to the left field bleachers.

The crowd got even crazier. Randy Newman’s I Love LA blared over the PA system as it always does when the Dodgers win.

Vin Scully stayed quiet for a minute as Nomar ran the bases with a slight limp. It was almost a replay of the Dodgers’ win in game one of the 1988 World Series when Kirk Gibson hit a game-winning homerun that no Dodger fan will ever forget.

Vin Scully ended his broadcast with a simple line, “I forgot to tell you, the Dodgers are in first place.”

I hope that doesn’t change.

ESPN recap, top photo from ESPN, and the other two photos by Malingering

Adrian at 21

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Adrian at 21

Last year, I asked Adrian if he would mind me uploading a baby picture of him to Flickr. It’s really cute… but he’s also lying face down and has no clothes on. He didn’t mind, he’s fun and easy going like that. He laughs at himself — and others, of course — even when he’s going through tough times. He’s smart, brave, caring and quite talented. He’s also the baby of the family.

Today is his 21st birthday. He doesn’t pose nude anymore, but he does have a ton of silly and fun pictures (collage to come). They’re a perfect reflection of his character.

¡Feliz cumpleaños, hermanito!

Mil palabras: Kinky

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Kinky's record-release concert

Thanks to losanjealous, I won a pair of free tickets for Kinky’s record-release concert at the Avalon in Hollywood.

I saw Kinky open up for Manu Chao on August 2nd but barely enjoyed it. The venue, Shrine Expo Center, had horrible acoustics and felt like a sauna. I spent most of Kinky’s set outside trying to get some fresh air, but failed miserably because everyone was smoking.

I like Kinky. I’ve seen them several times live, but it’s always been as part of a lineup or as an opening act. No problem, they get me dancing. This time was no different, but it outshined any of their previous concerts I’ve attended at the Hollywood Bowl, Universal/Gibson Amphitheater, and House of Blues in Anaheim.

Review

Isa and I arrived at the Avalon a little before 9 and got in the line for those on the guestlist. No, we weren’t that cool, but the bouncer pointed people who had tickets at will call that way. I picked up my envelope for two tickets at the window and Isa joked that I was a rockstar.

We made our way into the Avalon, already crowded with fans. Soon it would be filled to capacity as the rest of the fans made their way in. We ran in to one of Isa’s friends, Jerry, who was surprised to see me since I told him I wouldn’t be going. Tuesday night plans quickly change when the tickets are free. We left Jerry and his friend downstairs and made our way to the mezzanine. I know I’m not old and neither is Isa, but we both acknowledged that back in the day we would have surely squeezed our way toward the stage. We’re over mosh pits and being pushed around by sweaty people. We’d rather be upstairs where it was cooler and spacier. We had a good view of the stage and melee below without having to deal with their sweat.

The energy in the crowd and on stage remained high the whole way through. Gilberto bounced around the stage in the same manner as Rubén Albarrán from Café Tacuba and Roco from Maldita Vecindad. The frontmen of all three Mexican bands are small and thin, I’m sure the on-stage exercise helps. The other guys on drums, keyboard and guitar don’t attract much attention. The bassist, on the other hand, always gets my attention. César Pliego always dressed the same in jeans, boots, a t-shirt and his signature black tejana. Some guys think the look is a bit cheesy, but they’re just jealous. Pliego reminds me why I love Mexican men so much.

Kinky played a pretty long show and gave the energetic crowd a taste of their new album Reina. While, I enjoyed hearing some of the new stuff that has a stronger rock feel, my current Kinky favorites all come from their eponymous first album. I danced like a mad woman to “Mirando de Lado”, “Soun the Primer Amor”, “Más”, “San Antonio”, “Ejercicio #16″ and “Sol.”

Half the enjoyment from a concert comes from the music, but the other half comes from the atmosphere (see: my horrible experiene at the Maldita Vecindad/Julieta Venegas concert in July). The crowd at Kinky’s concert was one of the best I’ve seen this summer, second only to the multi-ethnic crowd cheering on Manu Chao and Radio Bemba. I wasn’t even all up in the mix near the stage, but I could still tell that the fans were excited and showed it by dancing to the beats.

Isa and I didn’t try to squeeze our way near the stage, mainly because at 25 and 26 we’re becoming squares. We watched the show from the upstairs mezzanne where it was cooler, we didn’t have to touch any sweaty neighbors, and we could dance more freely. When Gilberto dove into the crowd after playing three songs during the encore, I was glad we made the decision to go upstairs. I didn’t want to have to try and catch a sweaty singer.

Seeds of hate

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I’ve been connected and deeply involved with MEChA for 8 years. Never in that time did I or my peers try to incite an armed revolution in a reconquista of Aztlan. We didn’t consider ourselves to be superior to other races or ethnicities. Instead, we worked with students of many different ethnicities on common concerns. MEChA is completely misrepresented on right-wing blogs, talk radio, television, and even Flickr. I’ve realized that MEChA haters (critics are different, they have some logic involved usually) are ultimately scared of a bunch of college and high school students. We’re nerds. We got our heads in the books. In 35 years of existence we haven’t started a war for Aztlan. We just want to help our families and communities by becoming entrepeneurs, politicians, attorneys, professors, teachers, social workers, community organizers, etc.

I know in my heart that MEChA is good, but the hateful and false words still get to me.

My friend, Hector, sent me a link to a YouTube video titled Aztec Al-Qaeda. I was offended and sickened by the video. There are outright lies, irresponsible speculation, and some massaging of the truth. They got it all wrong. This is not an investigative mini documentary spreading the truth about an insidious organization. It is hateful, racist and libelous. By the video’s logic, I could end up trying to kill or sacrifice people because (a) I was in MEChA, (b) know a little bit of Nahuatl, and (c) participate in a Danza Azteca group.

The video bugged me enough to do something about it by flagging it as inappropriate on YouTube and sending in a complaint. It’s easy for me to count the many ways in which the claims made in the video violate the Terms of Use

C. In connection with User Submissions, you further agree that you will not: … (ii) publish falsehoods or misrepresentations that could damage YouTube or any third party; (iii) submit material that is unlawful, obscene, defamatory, libelous, threatening, pornographic, harassing, hateful, racially or ethnically offensive, or encourages conduct that would be considered a criminal offense, give rise to civil liability, violate any law, or is otherwise inappropriate

I am a strong believer in our First Amendment rights to free speech, but I also remember high school government. Some speech is not protected. Furthermore, the video is hosted on a privately owned site and the user agreed to those terms stated above when he registered.

Some may say the allegations made in the video are harmless and just those of some nutjob on the fringe. That’s what I thought when I heard about KABC radio host Doug McIntyre’s criticism of Academia Semillas del Pueblo, a charter school in El Sereno. He argued that the school was racist and separatist. A few weeks after McIntyre launched his verbal attack on the school, Academia Semillas del Pueblo received a bomb threat.

Perhaps these folks can find another hobby other than making videos full of lies and attacking a school. Or maybe they want to make a video on the octogenerian (a white man) who drove down a crowded farmer’s market in Santa Monica and killed 10 people including a 3 year old and a 7 month old. That was an accident because the man was 83 (and white), but according to the makers of the video Juan Alvarez committed murder because he had been part of MEChA and was in Danza Azteca.

More on Semillas del Pueblo and the recent controversy

Monday ten

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I’m going to write something real and substantial soon. I promise.

  • Yesterday, as I waited in the group C line for my Southwest Airlines flight from Oakland to LA, I realized something astounding. I won’t have to travel anywhere in October, well for business. Exciting.
  • I miss Oso and literally keep missing him. I think my travel has something to do with it. I don’t know if I’m ever going to get that bananas tshirt.
  • As much as I travel, I keep being reminded that the place I love most is home. After 6 years of living in the same apartment, I still feel odd calling it home. Home is the 3-bedroom house where I grew up in Hacienda Heights.
  • You know what makes home even better? VR/Papas, our dog. I love hearing his collar jingle as he rushes to the door to greet me.
  • I’ve dragged my feet on really figuring out some important things… like what I’m going to with my life. I thought I’d be able to do that during the summer, but classes start in three weeks and I’m still lost. The good thing is that I’m being less of a weenie about facing some of these tough issues.
  • One of those substantial topics I’m going to write about will be the strip club half a mile away from my house. I don’t like it or the fact that the strip mall it’s located in is now called “Showgirls Plaza.”
  • I’m also going to write about rafting in the Kern River with my cousins and our brush with death. Well, not really, but it was scary, risky and dumb. I haven’t had that much fun in a while.
  • I dressed up like a pirate last weekend for my roommate’s second theme party Surrender the Booty (the first theme party was Black & Gold). I love dressing up in costumes and am a little stuck on this year’s Halloween costume. Any ideas?
  • LA has been pretty hot lately, but nothing abnormal for late August or early September. However, San Francisco is the opposite. Folks on the streets were wearing coats and scarves I don’t get out until December (if at all). I love San Francisco, but I don’t like the cold. I like sun.
  • I found out about the National Latino Congreso rather late and didn’t end register or attend. Does this mean my Chicana activist card gets revoked?

That’s it for now.