Mexican Americans and Authenticity in Folklore

In a recent traditional arts proposal, the applicant is asked to describe their cultural lineage. I see this as an important question because there has long been bias around lineage in Mexican traditional arts. And I welcome the opportunity to address it with depth and nuance.  The recognition of Mexican tradition bearers in Mexican American communities is typically weighted towards the Mexican born and those with lineage recognized by institutions when, in fact, our deep traditions are often transmitted informally, beyond institutional reach. 

These biases also have deeply personal resonance for those of us who are US born and sometimes treated as outsiders to our own heritage by people and institutions tasked with designating authenticity.  In college, my Irish American ethnomusicology professor, and director of our student mariachi, told a friend that I was ashamed of being Mexican because I did not behave in a manner that he recognized. The greatest folk masters with whom I have worked invited me into the tradition as a practitioner based on my ability, not place of birth, primary language, nor cultural affinity. I could not imagine teaching traditional music to my American born or non-Latino students under the condition that they could never be fully part of it.

I began the Los Cenzontles youth group at a multicultural arts organization in the 1980’s. The project’s success made its director feel threatened by our increasing independence. In 1994, I was given an ultimatum to forfeit my contract to the children’s album Papa’s Dream that I was independently producing for Los Lobos and Lalo Guerrero under a claim of intellectual property. I declined. Before I was fired, a celebrated African drum master, the director’s mentor, was tasked with giving me ‘one last chance’ to submit. In that meeting he became outraged at my resistance and screamed, while assaulting me, “You are nothing! Not even a real Mexican! You owe everything to ---- (the director). He made you!” 

I then incorporated Los Cenzontles Mexican Arts Center; we celebrated cultural independence, and began growing our program and organization based on the idea that culture belongs to those who work it - to borrow from Emiliano Zapata. And I could not be more proud of the accomplishments and impact that Los Cenzontles has made on its thousands of students and traditional music on both sides of the border.  

In our globalized era we must adjust our attitudes about authenticity, cultural belonging and identity. The rural economies and lifestyles that gave birth to Mexico’s folk traditions are gone or disappearing rapidly. Many elder folk masters now live outside their ancestral lands, and people continue to migrate, creating fluid opportunities for the flourishing of traditional arts in new places.  Yet, antiquated colonial attitudes and control that persist in the US and in Mexico dampen the possibilities of the traditional arts which thrive best when provided unobstructed air and fertile ground, whether rural or urban, in Mexico or the US. 

It is past time that we recognize broadly that Mexican Americans are a vital part of the diaspora of Mexican culture. And that our masters are masters. There is no sustainable alternative.

Eugene Rodriguez

Linda and the Mockingbirds

 "Linda and the Mockingbirds" is a film that chronicles a voyage my students took last year with Linda Ronstadt to her grandfather's pueblo in Sonora, Mexico. We brought 22 members of Los Cenzontles, a cultural-arts academy in a working-class neighborhood of San Francisco's East Bay, to perform in the cradle of Linda's family culture.

I founded Los Cenzontles (the Mockingbirds) in 1989 to teach young people traditional Mexican music, dance and art with an emphasis on rigor, responsibility and social connection. We instill in them a sense of belonging to our Mexican heritage and to our country, the United States. At our Academy, they are hosts and stewards. They take pride in its upkeep and cultivate its productive, respectful internal culture. Most educational institutions treat minority students like invited guests, however politely. But a strong sense of belonging is what best benefits children and a democratic society.

From San Francisco to Tucson, and across the Sonoran Desert to the Rio Sonora Valley, we never left lands that Mexicans have called home for longer than the United States has existed. And yet, we Mexican Americans are treated like strangers in our own country.

"Linda and the Mockingbirds" is not overtly political. It focuses on music, culture, identity and belonging through personal stories and songs. But politics surrounded our production like storm clouds, feeding its underlying emotional tension.

The day our bus entered Mexico — Feb. 15, 2019 —  a national emergency was declared at the border. The declaration was not a response to any real threat, but political theater designed to stoke White fear about a 'foreign invasion' by Mexican and Central American migrants. As such, it did not target us American Latinos, but we know that our citizenship is a thin shield against its true purpose: racial intimidation.

In 1993, we found an advocate in Linda Ronstadt, whose mariachi recordings brought widespread visibility to and pride for our traditions. For many, like Fabiola Trujillo portrayed in our film, hearing Linda's music as a child growing up in our neglected neighborhood gave her a sense of hope. At that time, as marginal as we were, I didn't imagine we would meet a person as famous as Linda. Yet she saw us and heard us. For nearly 30 years, Linda has provided us encouragement, guidance and introductions that expanded our opportunities.

In the plazas of Banamichi and Arizpe, Sonora, our children performed alongside young local Mexicans during the afternoons. At night, we adults sang Mexican rancheras and American popular songs with fellow traveler Jackson Browne, Linda's longtime friend and Academy supporter. The experience underscored the enduring power of music in challenging times, and offered us respite from the political acrimony at home.

As a Mexican American, I know well the corrosive impact of being treated as the other. Historically enforced by land theft, terror, derision, and the denial of opportunity, exclusion has hindered our progress. But we progress nonetheless.

My grandparents walked north across the border a hundred years ago. They and their descendants cultivated this land, built its economy, contributed to its culture, and served to protect it. My parents taught me to take pride in my Mexican heritage and to defend my rights as an American. Our student Verenice Velazquez once told me, in response to anti Mexican discrimination, that she did not feel that this was her country. I admonished her to not let such thoughts get into her head, echoing the words of my father.

America's identity myth, framed by white supremacy, does not include us, and many others. Its selective exclusion infects our national consciousness like a virus, propagated by intransigent institutions, stagnant cultural icons, and opportunistic politicians. And its destructiveness is no longer confined to minority communities. It is destroying our nation.

In August 2019, when we filmed our students' families at their homes in Richmond and San Pablo, we grieved for those who, days earlier, were massacred at an El Paso Walmart by a domestic terrorist for being Mexican. It was a deep open wound that provoked unusually emotional, candid interviews by our reserved community members. But almost as quickly as news reports flooded the media, they receded. Even after this year's mass protests against racial discrimination, Latinos are still largely invisible in public discourse. And when we do appear, it is to discuss only those issues that define our otherness.

We Mexican Americans know that we must work harder and be smarter to get ahead in this environment. Even though I resent it, I work through it with the hope that my son Emiliano will not have to. I have believed in, and championed, America's arc of social justice.

But the unbridled bigotry of the last four years has shaken my faith, and my father is no longer alive to reassure me. Yet, I continue to teach and make music and media that brings joy, reflection and, most importantly, nurtures our children's resilience that will serve them throughout their lives.

I can only hope that white supremacy has finally been exposed for its corruption and incompetence.  And that white Americans are beginning to understand the sense of beleaguered exclusion we minorities have long suffered.  Clearly, a system that excludes more than it includes is unsustainable.  We must realign American identity to reflect its reality.

"Linda and the Mockingbirds" captured our stories and cultures in a moment in time, but its sentiments and traditions are ancient. I hope it allows more Americans to better know Mexican Americans. But more than that, I hope it inspires a greater sense of shared belonging that will help allow our country to heal, unify, and survive.

Danza - The Timely Power of Collective Culture

 

In the age of social media, culture can often be reduced to a glance or gesture to attract maximum, momentary impact. it is certainly not the optimal platform to share a Mexican danza, especially as practiced by young students. Danzas are reverential, lengthy rituals practiced traditionally throughout Mexico. They are aimed at honoring a greater power, not the ego of the individual. Their intention is humility, participation and reverence, not performance or competition. 

In 2002, master folk artist Julian Gonzalez Saldaña, from Jalisco, Mexico, taught our student dancers and musicians the many movements of Danza de los Copetones in its entirety. He oversaw the creation of the costumes for which each dancer decorated their own copete, or headpiece, for which he cut bamboo that he found at the entrances of local freeways. Our teachers Marie-Astrid Do-Rodriguez, Lucina Rodriguez, and Tregar Otton taught our students to express the meaning and nuances of the costumes, dance and music. And we presented the danza to initiate one of our annual festivals at the San Pablo Civic Center. 

This video is unlikely to be viewed in its entirety, given its length, repetition, and imperfections. And that is ok. This was not it’s intention. Rather, we hope that people might scan through the video and consider the deeper intention of this collective effort and the earnest, dedicated student attention required for its preparation, rehearsal and presentation. 

Our recreation of Danza de los Copetones was not about attracting attention to the individuals involved. It was about honoring our collective spirit with humility - something that many of us are trying to practice today in the era of Covid-19. For that reason, I decided to finally edit this footage in full and share it. 18 years later. To remind ourselves that the power of cultural art, like the power of nature itself, is much greater than any one of us. And that only our collective spirit can light our path forward. 

Poverty, Shame and the Power of Cultural Resilience

In our society, driven by raw power and the incessant shriek of marketers, the humble are largely invisible. But they live, contribute, and create in spite of bearing the brunt of our most cruel inequities.  In our working class neighborhood, the high price of housing forces our families to share small fragile homes, sleep in garages and living rooms, creating unhealthy conditions. Health care, if available, is inconsistent, exacerbating illness and cutting short lives. Neighborhood schools offer the minimum to students most in need of quality education. Our children grow up barraged by political messages that mock our heritage, brand them as carriers of infestation and their immigrant parents as 'enemy invaders'. These are realities faced daily, and directly, by many of the staff, children, families and artists at Los Cenzontles Cultural Arts Academy, in San Pablo, California. And this is nothing new. 

To understand the deepest impact of Los Cenzontles' cultural work requires an understanding of the corrosive and insidious impact of shame that is imposed upon people living in poverty and those from poor countries. Shame makes us deny, and be ignorant of, our family histories and cultures. Shame deprives us of recognizing the values, contributions and sacrifices of our parents and grandparents. Shame robs our children the guidance and nourishment of family support and connection. Shame infects and disables us from within. Shame renders us invisible and silent even to ourselves.  

Over the past thirty years, Los Cenzontles has set our authentic cultural traditions into the hands, voices, and homes of children; onto historically inaccessible stages; and into films, videos and albums. Typically, the stories and songs of the working class are told in third person and passed through filters intended to soften their rough edges and conceal the stigma of poverty. But it is precisely the direct strength of our stories and songs that embody the perseverance that we must reveal, celebrate and encourage. Our intention is not to romanticize poverty, but to recognize the fortitude required to lift oneself, and one’s loved ones, above the miseries of poverty. And to appreciate the powerful nuances and resourceful art strategies of people in struggle. This is what our children must connect to, and build upon.  Because it is cultivating our inherited resiliency that will console us, fortify us, and bring us joy throughout our lives. 

Neighborhoods such as ours are, by design, built upon instability. There exists a constant buzz of insecurity threatening one’s sense of well-being and safety, not only because of crime, but also because of political, institutional and societal neglect. Los Cenzontles Cultural Arts Academy is a carefully cultivated space, a transformed strip mall storefront, designed to allow children and artists feel secure enough to take the kinds of risks that are necessary for deep learning, reflection and expression.  We thoughtfully created our unique pedagogy for today’s urban children from years of intensive learning with master artists, laborers by trade, who learned music and dance in family settings. 

At our Academy, rigor and connection are essential to releasing the power of art. We challenge children, beginning at four years old, to dance complex rhythms of Mexicanson. They loudly, and accurately, stomp percussive zapateado dance which develops balance, coordination, listening and confidence. Their teacher, also raised in our neighborhood program, understands, from experience, that demanding excellence from her students is an act of respect and empowerment. She requires them to listen carefully to the accompanying music and engage in improvised rhythmic conversation. 

And for us, the cultural arts are most transformational when connected to social context and personal expression. Timid teen girls, who speak in cautious hushed tones to strangers, belt out popular ranchera songs in full chest voice with surprising power. Parents reveal that their children, who previously wanted little to do with their ancestral culture or language, proudly sing with their grandparents at home. Young men who listen to rap with their friends grab ancient Mexican instruments and play with the intensity of hard rock – as practiced for centuries by Mexico’s hardest workers. Children quietly reflect on deceased loved ones with their peers as they create ofrendasfor our Dia de los Muertos altars. Students of mixed heritage, and those who don’t speak Spanish, discover and nurture the languages of art to connect to that part of their themselves. 

Los Cenzontles does not impose identity upon youth. Nor do we wish to join the noise of relentless marketing. We provide choices, awareness and discipline. In our fast moving, complex world of multiple, ever connecting, cultures, empowerment is not about confining oneself to, or reacting to, narrow stereotypes, but to use all of who we are to inform our voices. Amidst the din of social and political intimidation, one of the most difficult, bravest, and empowering things we can do is to be ourselves. In all its fullness, and without shame. 

Folk, vernacular and popular arts were not originally intended to be practiced with delicate, arms-length, reverence, but with directness, focus and energy. Their power is tied to their relevance and connection to social context. And these are the qualities that forged our country’s cultural identity. This is why working-class culture has contributed disproportionately to America’s national heritage - a contribution that is almost always unreciprocated. 

So, when the members of Los Cenzontles teach, perform and document our authentic traditions from within our community – and connect them to others - we do so with purpose and humility.  We work to activate our living heritage as our way to contribute the best of ourselves to our children and to our society - in honor, and with gratitude, to all those who did the same for us. 

Surviving a Myth

Why is there such stubborn, irrational defense of Donald trump’s corruption, ineptitude and betrayal? Because an ancient myth that has guided the western world for centuries is being threatened by changed demographics and culture. It is the myth of the omnipotent white man taming the natural world and its colored inhabitants. He is branded an entrepreneur rather than a predator; an investor rather than a plunderer. A romancer, rather than a rapist. And his counterpart, the enlightened liberal, is the guardian of our natural world; the arbiter of justice; the protector of us, the white man’s burden. Two sides of the same coin. White men move history and roam the world. To the Right he brings development, culture and enlightenment. To the Left he wrecks exploitation and destruction.  Either way he moves history. We, colored people, may only react. 

Why was Barack Obama’s presidency such a profound threat to this myth? Because he was nuanced, thoughtful, humorous, and cultured.  He did not confine himself to one of the two prescribed stereotypes that male leaders of color are allowed – the deified martyr or the revolutionary menace. He dared to be fully human. Worse of all, the daughters and wives of old white men voted for him and admired him – the same dynamic that got countless men lynched throughout history. 

And is true that plenty of women and people of color protect this myth as well to maintain whatever advantage they have found by its well-worn rules. 

There is a pivotal scene in the 1967 film In The Heat of the Night when black big city homicide detective Virgil Tibbs, played by Sydney Poitier, returns a slap to the face by a Southern plantation owner – who, horrified by this unimaginable act of defiance, sends his men to kill Tibbs. Reportedly, Donald Trump decided to run for president when he felt publically humiliated by Barack Obama’s roast at a Washington Press Corp dinner. This was the spark that inspired a movement of old white men to ‘fight back’ and regain the world order they feared they were losing. 

But what of our new world where leaders of all levels of business, education and civil society are increasingly women and people of color? The old myth is crumbling by necessity due to the reality of demographics and time. Even we were to fully adopt an Apartheid system, these old men, the mass of trump supporters, are dying. So, clearly we must adjust our consciousness and evolve our myths to reflect our changed world. 

During my thirty plus years of working with Mexican American youth I have always encouraged them to see themselves as complete individuals, leading their own narratives. I have worked for them to see that their family cultures are not mere reactions to white oppression, but complex and connected as they have always been. Tragically, we have often contorted ourselves to fit within the great white myth.  But the myth was always a lie. And now, in its death throes, we see the lie on a massive, absurd, and dangerous scale. It is our urgent duty to bury it. 

Why I Love Old Traditions

Give Me Love

 

 

We have criminalized poverty, migration, work, and hope.

Only the most vulnerable element of our corrupt and exploitative system of underground labor, the workers, are disproportionately punished and branded as villains and illegals, while businesses, homeowners, consumers benefit.

This new video features powerful images taken of migrants in Mexico and the US Mexico border by photo journalist Ken Light over the past four decades. They are painful to watch. but important to see, as they reveal a reality for many today, and the family history of many living among us. The music is our Mexican son version of George Harrison's classic song Give Me Love (Give Me Peace On Earth) that we recorded with David Hidalgo.