Category Archives: Cultura

Morning becomes offensive

The first present for blackface Christmas — what my play cousins at PostBourgie call the season shortly before Halloween and through Thanksgiving — comes from KCRW’s Instagram account.

I voiced my disappointment via Twitter and on Instagram.

This doesn’t make me want to subscribe to @kcrw again. #culturenotacostume twitter.com/cindylu/status…

— cindylu (@cindylu) October 28, 2012

I checked back a little later to find a flippant response from the person behind the Instagram account.

Oh right, I should just chill since it’s Halloween. I forgot that makes it okay. Not really.

Earlier this week I receive a mailer asking me to resubscribe to KCRW. Over the past ten years I’ve subscribed on and off as I enjoy the music and news programming. I was likely going to renew my subscription, but now am reconsidering.

I follow KCRW’s social media accounts on Twitter and Instagram. I was extremely disappointed, offended and saddened to see one of my favorite cultural institutions in Los Angeles feature one of it’s deejays (Anne Litt) in a Native American costume during the Masquerade Ball (10/27/12). While I respect an individual’s First Amendment right to wear what he/she wants, I do not support institutions that feature a prominent member in what is the Native American equivalent of blackface. I also do not appreciate the belittling response: “Hey y’all. No disrespect .. It’s Halloween. !!” (Screenshots can be found here: [link] and [link])

Dismissing valid concerns is not a suitable response for a public radio station.

Sincerely,

Cindy Mosqueda

For those not in LA, KCRW is a public radio station based out of Santa Monica College. They carry NPR as well as locally produced programming. Their music programming is highly regarded. I’ve always enjoyed the diversity on Morning Becomes Eclectic, especially when Nic Harcourt was at the helm. Harcourt featured some of the best bands in Latin America even though the primary audience is not Spanish speaking. I first subscribed in 2002 after starting my first full-time job. I subscribe on and off, mainly because I’m lazy about renewing my subscription or funds were tight in grad school.

Pocho studies

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Thanks to Daily Chicana’s recent post on how two Chicanas in the same family can be very different, I’ve become really interested in why my younger siblings, Lori and Adrian, are a lot less fluent in Spanish than Danny and me. I’ve seen this in other families and wonder if my family is the norm, exception, or somewhere in between.

A little about my family:

My parents both immigrated as children and completed all of their school in the US. They’re fluent in both English and Spanish as are most of their siblings. I grew up speaking Spanish almost exclusively with both sets of grandparents although they understand and speak a little. All of my first cousins are fluent in English.

In our home, my family spoke English and Spanish but it was hardly equal. I’d say it was 80/20 with a lot of code-switching and Spanglish. Now that Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni live with my parents full time, it’s less lopsided. However, our home is still English dominant.

With the exception of my grandparents, we didn’t watch much Spanish TV in our home. My mom wasn’t a novelera, but as we got older she did get in to a few series. My first novela experience was Rosa Salvaje. I started watching when I stayed at Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni’s house in Zacatecas for a few weeks one summer.

While we didn’t watch much Univision or Telemundo, we attended church services primarily in Spanish. Danny and I sang with the kids’ Spanish choir and were involved in other cultural activities like ballet folkórico. We spoke Spanish at choir practice, but mainly spoke English at dance practice and with our friends there.

As for the four kids, we’re all pochos (in the language sense) but to a different degree. I’m bilingual and biliterate, but know I’m not as strong as my friends who grew up speaking Spanish almost exclusively at home. I also get super self conscious when I spend time with my cousins in Mexico. I fear they’ll laugh when I trip over words. They don’t, they’re all very kind and some have actually complimented me on my Spanish. I studied Spanish grammar and literature in high school and minored in Spanish in college. As an adult, I’ve spent a lot more time visiting family in Mexico. My siblings haven’t been to Guanajuato or Zacatecas since they were kids. I also listen to a lot of music from Mexico and South America.

Danny was more fluent and confident in Spanish until we got to high school and I started taking Spanish classes. The least fluent are the younger two. Lori and Adrian speak and understand Spanish, but it’s what many would call “pocho” (literally incomplete, partially formed; colloquially it refers to US-born Mexican kids with less than perfect Spanish skills).

I’m not 100% sure why, but I bet Danny and I are part of the reason. With Danny and I speaking English most of the time, Lori and Adrian heard a lot less Spanish at home. When Danny and I were younger, we heard our parents speak both languages and spent more time at my grandparents’ home.

I’ve seen this with my cousins too. The elder children are fluent/almost fluent while the younger ones barely speak — or don’t want to speak — Spanish.

I was curious about this last week and asked friends on Twitter and FB. Some people related to my experience while others said all their siblings were equally fluent. Some had confounding factors. Like me, they studied their heritage language or spent time studying abroad during college. Some had families where elder children were born in the native country while the younger ones were born here. It was interesting to read the variety of experiences as well as the thoughts of parents with young children who are trying to raise their children bilingual (or trilingual in one case). It made me think more about raising a bilingual child when my partner is not a Spanish speaker.

It’s fascinating to me how the children in one family — only 7 years apart from eldest to youngest — could be so different in language acquisition.

Frida on my mind

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A month ago, Sean and I checked out In Wonderland: The Surrealist Adventures of Women Artists in Mexico and the United States show at LACMA. Despite seeing the banners all over the city featuring Frida Kahlo’s “Autorretrato con Collar de Espinas” (Self Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird), I waited until a few days before the show closed to check it out. I’m really glad I saw the show.

My older cousin, Bibi, introduced me to Frida’s art when I was in 6th grade. Thanks to Bibi, I knew about Diego Rivera’s philandering ways, the horrible bus accident and the monkeys.

I liked Frida and her art, but didn’t love it like some of my friends. I even prided myself on the fact that I wasn’t that kind of Chicana. I made a banner advertising that fact in my early blogging days. (And yes, I know there’s not one way to be a Chicana.)

Something stirred in me when I finally saw In Wonderland. Frida Kahlo was just one of about 50 artists featured. Most of her paintings were in in the section on self portraits. Despite being familiar with a couple of the paintings in the show (Las Dos Fridas, Autorretrato Con Collar de Espinas, Frida y Diego wedding portrait from 1931), I still had to stop and look at them for a bit. I stood in front of Las Dos Fridas amazed at the detail. Up close, I found new details I’d never noticed in prints, books or even a tableau vivant Halloween costume. I did the same with the wedding portrait. I’d always just thought of that one as an example of her small stature compared to el elefante, Diego Rivera. But this time I got the chance to read the text and imagine how she felt on her first wedding day.

I went through the show once and then walked back to find a crowd around Las Dos Fridas. I couldn’t blame them for stopping to stare and take it all in.

It may have taken twenty years to find my inner Frida fangirl, but she was there all along. I just needed to see the real thing to realize it.

It’s all fun and games…

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I spent Sunday afternoon in Ontario at a last minute birthday BBQ to celebrate Nancy’s birthday. As usual, hanging out with the cousins was filled with a lot of laughs, games, and an accident or two*.

Early in the afternoon, I played four square with the cousins and catch with the nephews. The nephews were a lot less competitive, but that’s probably because they’re toddlers and still getting the hang of throwing and catching.

Later, we had cake and strung up the piñata. After some swings by the few kids present, the adults took over. I got a couple of good hits, but mainly missed.

Even though I missed a lot, the guys didn’t. The piñata lost an eye.

After Adrian beat up the piñata, tío Pancho threw candy from the roof. As I shot the photo, I thought the situation looked sketchy and backed up a little. Those candy scrambles are always risky, especially when the goodies are thrown from higher up.

Unfortunately, I was right. Adrian left the melee with more than some Snickers. Ouch.

Lesson: piñatas can be dangerous for adults too.

*The accidents don’t happen often. We’re not that reckless or clumsy.

The privilege to sweat

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Some time last fall I discovered a new blog about running. I added it to my already too long list of running blogs in Google Reader. I unsubscribed a few weeks later when I realized I wasn’t very interested in what she had to say.

One thing that stuck out about this blog was how she frequently showed photos of her (or friends) in a t-shirt proclaiming “I ♥ sweat.” The shirt was sold to help her fundraise for an organization that does research to find a cure for a chronic illness.

There was something about the t-shirt that got to me, aside from seeing it a dozen times after following the blog for a couple weeks. I didn’t figure it out until I started thinking about the running community and issues of race and class thanks to a Runner’s World article.

I don’t love sweat. I sweat most days when I go out for a run, lift weights or go to the gym for some cross training. I chose to sweat most of the time because (a) I’ve never had a job that requires regular manual labor, (b) I live in LA where summers are comparatively mild and not humid and (c) I have the luxury of having my own car with air conditioning.

I haven’t always recognized my privilege, but family and friends keep me in check when they feel my soft hands that have never done “real work.” (Except when I help out with the biennial mulberry tree trimming project at my parent’s house as above.)

My grandparents’ and parents’ hands aren’t so soft and smooth. My grandparents came to this country to do hard work in the fields, landscaping, and in heavy industry. They didn’t sweat because it was their hobby and they loved it, but because they needed to feed, clothe and house their families. Through their work, they gave their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren opportunities they never imagined.

I get to leave work at the end of the day feeling energized enough to run 5 miles and work up a sweat. Thanks for giving me that privilege, abuelitos.

Out of the classroom, but still on my bookshelf

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I got the idea to start the This Day in Chicana/o History series some time in late 2009 or early 2010. I was inspired partly by other bloggers documenting Los Angeles history and by The Writer’s Almanac, one the many podcasts I listen to daily. After searching online and in old Chicana/o Studies textbooks for birthdays of famous Chicanas/os and dates of important events, I started the series. I wasn’t consistent with it back then and abandoned the project after a few months. (Definitely one of my weaknesses as a blogger and person in general.) I hope the current revival lasts especially in light of the struggle for a relevant education in Tucson.

When I started this project in early 2010, I had no clue a law banning ethnic studies was in pipeline in the Arizona legislature. HB 2281 particularly targeted the Mexican American studies program in Tucson Unified, a predominantly Latino school district. In May of 2010, Governor Jan Brewer — yeah, the one with her finger all up in President Obama’s face — signed the law. Tucson educators resisted the law and held on to Mexican American Studies until January when the Tucson Unified School District board voted to suspend the program or lose state funding. Over 80% of the books used in MA Studies courses were forbidden from being taught in the classroom. I’ve read many of these books, some are amongst my favorites. I read most in Chicana/o Studies courses in college.

Before I ever took a Chicana/o Studies course, I became more invested in school when the subject was my history or the authors of the assigned books had Latino surnames. This is saying a lot considering I was quite the nerd, especially in history and English. In sixth grade, I wrote a report on Edward James Olmos for my project on a famous American. It was the first time I ever read about the Sleepy Lagoon trial, zoot suits and Chicano theater.

In the summer before 10th grade, I read Rudolfo Anaya’s Bless Me, Ultima as an assignment for honors English. While I’d never been to New Mexico, stories of curanderas and witches who turn in to owls and have healing powers were vaguely familiar. I’d heard similar tales from my cousins who spent some of their youth in Mexico. In discussing the book in class, I hated my teacher’s take on it and how she pronounced Ultima (ul-TEE-mah).

Both Luis Valdez’s Zoot Suit and Other Plays (Olmos starred in the stage and film version of Zoot Suit) and Bless Me, Ultima will no longer be taught in Arizona schools. They’re just two books on a long list.

I haven’t read many of the banned books in years, but I’m committed to re-reading them thanks to Feminist Texican’s Read & Resist project. While this won’t introduce books directly to Tucson youth, it may shed some light on how ridiculous it is to remove these books from the classroom and get us talking about the important of a relevant education.

As for the This Day project, you may have noticed that all the postings this year are about famous men. I have many women on the list, but could use more. If you have any suggestions of people of events for the project, let me know in the comments or email me.

A bishop and a rookie

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Earlier today, I was on the elliptical listening to the Madeleine Brand show via podcast (one of my daily musts) and heard more details about a story I had briefly learned about earlier in the day.

Gabino Zavala an auxiliary bishop in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles had recently resigned:

For more than a decade, Zavala had harbored a dark secret. He is the father, church officials said, of two children, and had resigned his post. [LA Times story].

I knew the name. Zavala was the same priest who confirmed me in 1996 at St John Vianney. Now Zavala is gone. So is the church where I was confirmed.

And my faith? Still there, albeit shaken [hard] and stirred.

Don’t forget the ñ!

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There’s a lot of things that bug me in the blog and internet world. This is one of them:

PINATA

PINA COLADA

ANO NUEVO

CUMPLEANOS

ANGELENO

See something wrong?

Yes, the tilde is missing over the n. I love the ñ and have always been a little jealous that some of my family members get to add it to their surname (Ureño).

Angeleño may look okay without the ñ, but it was originally written like that back in the day. The third phrase on the list makes me giggle. It’s the perfect example of how leaving the tilde off the n changes the meaning of the word. It’s no longer “new year,” it’s “new anus.” Yeah, people will probably know what you mean, but it’s still awkward.

For the most part, the people who read my blog are not guilty of leaving off tildes, so you can skip this and leave it to the people who search for the following phrase:

How to add a tilde over an n

On a PC: control-shift-tilde + n
Using the key pad: alt+164 (I’ve also seen 0209)

On a Mac: opt+n, a tilde will appear, press n again

iPhone/iPad: hold down on the n, three options should appear, choose ñ

In high school, I used the Word Perfect insert character option or just added the tilde after I’d printed my assignment. As a Spanish minor in college, learned the PC shortcuts lest my grade suffer. Switching from a PC to a Mac for my personal computer meant learning more shortcuts. Adding accents was one of the first things I looked up when I got the iPhone. If you rarely write in Spanish or other languages with accents, umlauts, tildes and other characters, it might be tough to remember these shortcuts. An easier shortcut might just be searching for the properly spelled word you need on Google and then copying and pasting it into your document. Example: if you google “pinata”, piñata comes up immediately.

¿Quieren más?

This Penn State tutorial on typing accents and special characters probably has everything you need.

Feliz Ano Nuevo with Michael Peña (via Mun2)

Spanish alphabet photo by Nathan Gibbs, used under Creative Commons license.

Tamales tally

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Tamales are not my favorite Mexican food. They’re not even in the top five.

I used to pride myself on how few of them I could eat each Christmas season. Usually the count was somewhere around 2. I’d have one of the spicy red chile and pork tamales and one of the sweet cinnamon, pineapple and raisin ones for breakfast. The sweet ones are always best as breakfast on Christmas morning when my mom places them on a comal or a pan to toast them lightly. A savory/spicy tamal works just as well for breakfast.

This year, I’ve been craving tamales. Prior to Christmas, I’d only eaten on tamal and that bugged me. That changed last night and this morning when we had the traditional tamales and a bunch of other delicious food. Funny thing, Sean asked me if it was okay to have tamales for breakfast. I almost laughed at him. It’s not only okay, it’s condoned and might be the only thing available aside from some beans and eggs. He’s a newbie at Mexican Christmas.

The tamal tally is currently 4. Let’s see how many more I can eat.

***

It used to really bug me when I heard people refer to the singular tamal as tamale. It sounds wrong to my bilingual ear, but I know the English translation is tamale. In fact, my spell checker has tamal as incorrect and tamale as correct. I mentioned this to a friend once and he mentioned that tamale is closer to the Nahuatl word, “tamalli.” He reasoned that tamal was the bastardized Nahuatl term for the food we’ve come to love.

Anyway, who talks about tamales in the singular anyway? If you eat just one, you’re doing it wrong. Or you’re saving room for all the other delicious food. I can’t blame you too much.

Las Posadas

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Las posadas begin today and continue all the way until Christmas Eve. Reading Maura’s post on what las posadas mean to her reminded me that I need to buy the piñata for the first of two family Christmas parties on Saturday. Actually, I’m on piñata duty for both parties.

Anyway, the piñata comes after my favorite part. Singing “Las Posadas Villancicos”, or the actual song sung by two groups, one indoors and one outdoors.

En nombre del cielo
os pido posada,
pues no puede andar
mi esposa amada.

Aquí no es mesón
sigan adelante,
yo no puedo abrir
no sea algún tunante.

It goes on for several more stanzas.

For our family parties, we don’t actually go to our neighbors’ homes. Some of them would have no clue what we’re doing. And it’s been 20+ years since we did anything as elaborate as making costumes and setting up a nativity scene complete with an actual baby and a stuffed donkey.

We go much more low key. Our posadas are just a part of the family party. We split up the group in two. One goes outside and sings the part of Joseph asking for lodging. The second group sings the part of the innkeepers denying Mary and Joseph a place to stay.

My favorite part is always the joyful end when the kind innkeepers let in the Mary and Joseph and the tone of the song becomes much more joyful, “entre santos peregrinos.”

I can’t fault Maura for focusing on the food. I love ponche, canela (above), chocolate, champurrado and other sweet drinks to warm one up on a cold night. Paired with a buñuelo or some pan dulce, it’s even better.

But when it comes to las posadas and the family party, I’m too busy singing to grab a bite or a drink.