Monthly Archives: March 2007

Día del Taco

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I like to think that I learn something new everyday. Today was no exception. While visiting some family members visiting from Guanajuato, I asked about their weekend plans. My tía Anita, who lives in LA, told me that they’d be celebrating our tía Lola’s birthday and el Día del Taco with a taquiza. Ralph and I were confused.

Tía Anita explained that a new holiday had been declared in Mexico in honor of tacos and that tomorrow, March 31st would be the first Día del Taco. I know, I know. Mexicans are always eating tacos, so what makes March 31st different? I don’t know, but I like the fact that such a day exists.

When I got home, I googled Día del Taco and found the official website. Apparently, there’s a big party in el Estadio Azteca in Mexico City. The website (in Spanish only) is full of information on tacos and how they differ through out the 31 states in Mexico.

Sadly, I can’t truly celebrate el Día del Taco. Eating a taco means eating a tortilla and I have one more week to go before Easter. I hope you all have plenty of tacos for me. If you’re in LA and still don’t know where to find a good taco, check out Taco Hunt.

Institute for the Frida Kahlo Obsessed

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I used to have a banner for my old blog that read “Frida obsessed Chicana? Not quite.”

I made the banner to attract new readers and poke fun at the fact that many Chicanas (and Chicanos) I knew were pretty obsessed with Frida. They had t-shirts, prints of her artwork around their rooms/apartments, dressed up as her for Halloween (complete with the unibrow), watched the Salma Hayek movie over and over, and randomly talked about her and her life.

I’ve liked Frida’s work ever since I was introduced to her by my cousin Bibi in 5th or 6th grade. Bibi was a design major at San Diego State and introduced me to Chicano art. She told me about why many of Frida’s self-portraits depicted her in a state of extreme pain. By the time I went to LACMA Mexico: Splendors of 30 Centuries in 6th grade, I was aware that Diego Rivera was a womanizer and had cheated on Frida.

But I’m not obsessed. And far from it. I’m like Jake and Tezozomoc, two of the guys behind Puro Pedo Magazine. A few years ago, they started making short films under the name TJ Films. One of the first, is Institute for the Frida Kahlo Obsessed. It’s now on YouTube in an abridged version. Enjoy!

Question of the week: Mexican weddings

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On Saturday during Mike (Ralph’s brother) and Melissa’s wedding, a mariachi made up of youths from San Jose played during the reception. I sat a few seats away from Ralph’s brother-in-law, Jimmy. As the mariachi played “Guadalajara”, he noted, “this always makes me proud to be Mexican.”

I nodded. The effect of mariachi music isn’t a surge in feelings of pride. Instead, the music takes me back to the days when I used to be part of a folklórico group. I danced all the way up until I began high school and replaced ballet folkórico with marching band. I don’t regret quitting dancing, but miss it tremedously… especially when I hear a [good] live mariachi.

On Saturday afternoon, while the mariachi played, I tapped my feet along to the music and hummed the tune. I imagined myself as a 13 year old, on a stage somewhere in Southern California, surrounded by other dancers like Danny and my friends Star and Miriam. While my feet moved quickly, I smiled out at the crowd and waved my blue dress to create a blur of colorful ribbons and blue fabric.

Every time I hear the mariachis, I think, ‘my Jalisco dress and white boots still fit. I wonder where I can find some folklórico classes for adults.’

La pregunta: What’s your favorite element of the Mexican wedding?

Una gran reflección

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It was an odd question for a MySpace survey.

“Have you ever smuggled any one in to the US?”

My friend answered, “yes… seriously, we smuggled in my grandma.”

I giggled and thought, ‘haven’t all Mexicans helped someone cross the border?’ It’s like having nopales in the backyard and having a tío named Pancho. It seemed like a given.

I asked Ralph if his family had ever helped someone cross. He said no, and it made sense since he’s 3rd generation and grew up much further from the border in Fremont.

This all came up around the anniversary of the one year anniversary of the huge immigrants’ rights marches. Remember la gran marcha?

One of the things that bugged me about the reaction to the marches was how our opponents made it seem like everyone marching was an “illegal alien.” They didn’t seem to realize that thousands of those marching were not immigrants themselves and were born in the US like me and Ralph. Other critics said the marches would fuel an anti-immigrant backlash because of the national flags and the sheer number of marchers (a million in LA) crowding US city streets.

The critics and anti-immigrant pundits didn’t seem to get it. Thousands of the marchers were citizens just like them. They didn’t understand that you don’t have to be an undocumented immigrant to care about immigrants’ rights and be motivated to march in the streets. I guess for them the only reason you would do something like march is out of self-interest.

Catharsis

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“Be thankful you’re alive,” Lori wrote in a MySpace bulletin. I checked out the photo. It was the brown one in which she looks melancholy yet peaceful. It reminds me of an Elliott Smith song, “Miss Misery.”

I opened up the bulletin.

Today is a special day, it’s my grandfather, Bartolo Mosqueda’s birthday. :) R.I.P grandpa….

But no seriously i’m thankful i’m alive and everyday this year, i’m just a lil bit more greatful for everything i have, and have accomplished… and on my way to accomplising. So many years have passed, but some events seem like just yesterday.

I read those words, and thought, ‘has it really been five years? Today’s not the anniversary, is it?’ I forgot the day my sister wouldn’t ever forget.

I only remembered March 23rd as my Grandpa’s birthday. He would have been 82 today. I had completely forgotten another event that occurred on March 23rd five years ago. I almost lost my sister.

It was an incredibly painful time in both of our lives. I managed to bury those memories deep inside. But like most painful memories, it doesn’t take much to take you back to that day. All I needed was a photo and those words to recall what happened on March 23rd. Today could have been different. Rather than just thinking of how much I missed my Grandpa, I could also have been thinking about how much I missed my sister.

I found myself sobbing like I had when my dad told me the news. He showed up at my apartment on a Friday evening under the guise that he had a meeting with a client in the area. He didn’t even get out of the car, but we sat in his Jeep in my apartment driveway. He began in that calm voice he reserves for the news that ends with “has passed away.” The tears rushed out uncontrollably. I sobbed and heaved and hiccupped.

I needed something else to remind me of that day. The tears weren’t enough. I went back and searched for what I had written in the old blog. I didn’t need the words to re-open the wound and make it feel fresh again, but it helped.

Lori finds catharsis in playing on the swings. I find it in writing. The words take me back to that time and remind me that it’s all in the past. There are five years after it when Lori and my family got through that difficult time and grew from the experience.

Five years. Damn.

Showin’ some love: Haj20, Latin American music connoisseur

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I hated eating in the MEChA office. Inevitably, one of the older students would respond too enthusiastically to my polite question, “anyone want some?” By some I meant, one of whatever I had, but the older student would take some to mean lots. The mooching always bugged me even though I’d been taught to share and never fight about food. Still, I couldn’t help myself from glaring at the older student as she grabbed her fifth french fry. Still chewing, she’d grab her backpack and head out to attend the last half of her political science class.

“Thanks, Cindyluuuuu,” she’d call out in a singsong voice. “Remember, sharing is caring.”

I may not want to share my french fries, but I will share music, rides and reasons why grad school is for suckers. I also really like people who share good music.

Hector/Haj20 is one of those people.

A few years ago he sent me a few CD’s filled with some of the best music from Latin America I’d never heard. Hector introduced me to some of my current favorites, like Babasónicos and Liquits. Hector sens me music he thinks I might like and finds the latest album by some band I’ve just heard about and want to check out. All I have to say is hey, “do you have the new ____?” Even if he doesn’t have it, he finds it.

Hector shares his love for Latin American music with anyone who wants to download one of his mixtapes. The most recent one features 18 songs by 18 Latinas (4 Mexicanas, 4 Brasileñas, 4 Chilenas, 3 Argentinas, una Colombiana, una Puertorriqueña, y una Dominicana).

Visit Diga no a la piratería to download any one of his five mixtapes.

Question of the week: Ignoring the things-to-do list

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I’m on twitter. If you become my friend, you can find out what I’m doing throughout the day. Please become my friend. Oso and Brenda are kinda boring (just kidding).

Truthfully, I’m not that much more exciting than my fellow twitter-ers. I’m usually doing something I’m not supposed to be doing and have found lots of creative ways to waste spend that time. For instance, right now I should be working on a research proposal that’s due today. I could also be looking over attendance records for the students in my program. But I’m not doing that either.

I’m sure you’re avoiding something too.

La pregunta: What should you be doing?

A post-affirmative action baby

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Ward Connerly is going to be on campus for a debate on affirmative action and the impact of Proposition 209 sponsored by KPCC.

Connerly was the main man behind, SP-1 and SP-2, policies that banned the consideration of race, ethnicity and gender at the University of California in 1995. He was strongly supported by ex-Governor Pete Wilson he wanted to make a highly political move on the Board of Regents and gain national prominence in an expected bid for the Republican nomination for president.

In 1996, Connerly’s California Civil Rights Initiative (or Proposition 209) was passed by a majority of California voters and banned affirmative action in other state agencies.

Connerly killed affirmative action in California. And then he took his show on the road to Washington and other states. Most recently, he supported an initiative that was passed by the Michigan electorate. He’s also going to another half dozen states.

Connerly’s actions have strongly shaped my own experience and political development. If he would have never backed 209 and SP-1, I would not have been part of the first class admitted in the University of California without the consideration of race. In the spring of 1998, I’d read the newspaper every morning and was well aware that eliminating affirmative action would mean that my class at UCLA or UC Berkeley would have much fewer Chicanos/Latinos, African American and Native Americans. I also wasn’t admitted to UCSD, a place I surely woud have been admitted to prior to the elimination of affirmative action. (By the way, I cried a lot when I got that letter because I felt that it would mean I wouldn’t be admitted to the much more competitive campuses, Berkeley and UCLA.)

To make a long story short (and ’cause I need to leave so I can get to the debate on time), without Connerly and 209, I’m not sure I would have ever come to this point where I’m at now. I work a lot on college access issues and have read a lot of the research literature on the importance of structural diversity at colleges and universities. I do research on what keeps underrepresented minority students in college at a place where they might feel like they don’t belong. And I wholeheartedly agree with Roy’s t-shirt (above). 209 is f***ed, and needs to be overturned.

El día de San José

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It seems like every time I call my mom, I get ahold of her as she’s thiking of me. She answers, “I was just thinking of you!” and then proceeds with the latest announcement or question she needed to ask. So-and-so’s pregnant, your cousin is getting married, pencil in X date for some super-important family event. I’m not sure if my mom thinks about me a lot, or if we’re connected in such a way that I know when to call. I’d like to think it’s a little bit of both.

On Tuesday when I called her, she told me that we’d be having a family get together for el día de San José on Sunday. March 19th is St. Joseph’s day and is always celebrated by my family because it’s Papá Chepe’s santo.

“We’re having a carne asada on Sunday,” she told me.

“Oh, is it for el día de San José?” I asked.

“Yeah, you know what he did? He went and invited everyone [her siblings] and told me last. I just found out. I need to tell Lori, Adrian and Danny too. We’re gonna have carne asada. Do you think you can make it?”

“Yeah. Sunday afternoon, right?”

“Yup. Invite, um, Victor.”

“No. It’s Ralph! Why do you keep wanting to call him Victor?”

I thought it was funny that my mom was the last to know about a mini-party at her house. She does the same thing to me and the siblings all the time. And no, I don’t know why my mom insists on calling el novio Victor.

Yesterday afternoon, I arrived in Hacienda Heights sans novio (he had to stay home, his tonsils grew back and he has tonsilitis). I greeted the my aunts and uncles. The crowd was a lot smaller than the usual family parties. As we ate carne asada and pollo asado, my mom noted that as we got older, the family got smaller. I guess it’s harder for all the cousins to show up now that they’re married and have their own families.

After a great meal, we got together to pray the rosary in front of the nicely decorated altar with an old picture of San José holding a baby Jesus surrounded by votive candles, flowers and a portrait of Mamá Chila, my great grandmother. Saying the rosary with the family is always a little amusing. My cousins and I try really hard not to laugh at each other or get distracted by a baby or dog. This time, we giggled at the site of Papá Chepe’s big sister, tía Antonia, insisting that she would kneel for the rosary.

My mom tried to tell her 91-year old aunt that not even the young people were going to kneel, but she did it anyway. As soon as the rosary was over, she got up easily.

Later that afternoon, we played the NASCAR version of Monopoly (my sister’s boyfriend is a NASCAR fan). I lost.

Fee increases give me canas

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Part of the reason I think grad school is for suckers: Tuition increases!

I’m glad I was an undergraduate in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Back then our fees decreased and even remained stagnant. And I feel kinda lucky. I was poor enough to get a lot of financial aid. I had work study, university grants, scholarships, Pell Grants, and Cal Grants. I took loans too, though I probably didn’t really need them, but I didn’t know it. I graduated after 4 years with about $10,000 in student loan debt.

If I was an undergraduate now, I think things would be tougher, ’cause funding for higher education has changed greatly since I graduated in 2002.

Yesterday, the Regents of the University of California voted to increase fees again by 7%. Since 2002, the fees have increased 79% for undergraduates, 84% for graduates (me!) and up to 131% for professional students.

I’m tired of this. I need to pay for those fees myself, I don’t get financial support from my family anymore. Last summer, I was really worried. On the one hand, I was questioning whether or not I wanted to continue in my PhD program. On the other hand, I feared that even if I did want to do it, I wouldn’t be able to afford it because my tuition and fees were about $8,000. Once you tack on rent, transportation, and other costs of living and my total cost of education was estimated at $26,000 by the financial aid office.

I decided to stay in school and took out a Federal Stafford Loan to pay for my fees. I may have been able to do it without the loan, but I didn’t want to worry about money. Early on in the fall quarter, I got a research assistant position. Graduate student researchers (GSRs) who work more than 10 hours a week and are enrolled in at least 12 units will get their tuition and health insurance paid for. Plus we get paid an hourly wage. It’s a nice deal, but GSR positions are coveted, especially in a field like education where faculty have limited funding.

I’m doing okay right now. I just don’t get to see the people (and dog) I love very often. Despite the fee increase, I’ll probably be okay next year too.

I just hope the stress of graduate school, a couple of jobs, being a student government officer, and trying to have a life won’t give me any more canas.

Links: LA Times article on fee increases and my post over at blogging.la. The comments are more interesting than the post itself. I like people who disagree with me (well, sometimes).