By: Wendy Carrillo
USC_AMST 554
READINGS IN CHICANO/LATINO HISTORY
November 20, 2009
When I was in high school in the mid 90’s, I wanted to join the MEChA group at Roosevelt High School in East Los Angeles. I went to a meeting where everyone said where they were born, some students mentioned cities in Mexico while others said they were born in the U.S., but validated their presence by saying that their parents were Mexican. When it was my turn, I said I was born in El Salvador. The room was quiet for a minute and then the next person went. At the end of the meeting, a few members approached me and asked why I wanted to be in the group, I wasn’t really Mexican.
I was made to feel like an outsider that day, I wasn’t really Mexican and I didn’t really belong. At 15, I couldn’t really explain how I landed in East Los Angeles as a young girl after escaping a civil war back home, how I had lost my biological father to that war, or how my mom came to America and remarried a man from Zacatecas; a man I have known as my father since I was six years old. In exploring the concepts of identity as a social construction, as identity is not a nationality, ethnicity or race, notions of identity seem fluid, and even more so are notions of self-identification. In “Coloring Class: Racial Constructions in Twentieth-Century Chicana/o Historiography,” Vicky Ruiz explains concepts of identity with people of Mexican birth or decent. She writes, “Self-identification speaks volumes about regional, generational, and even political orientations…multiple identities even surface within individual families.” In my case, my mother was Salvadoran, my (step) father was Mexican, my younger sisters, all born in the U.S. were Mexican-Salvadoran-Americans, and I was strongly identifying as a Chicana, in large part due to my uncles work with Chicano identity in East Los Angeles.
In “Chicana Lesbians: Fear and Loathing in the Chicano Community,” Carla Trujillo writes that much of the identity of Chicanas derives from the “parasitic” identification from a man, as we grow up “defined in a male context: daddy’s girl, some guy’s girlfriend, wife or mother.” While Trujillo is writing about the sexual identity of a woman through the historical “ownership” of a man, can it be possible to associate these notions of ownership through familial identity politics? Trujillo explains that heterosexual Chicanas “need not be passive victims of the cultural onslaught of social control,” if anything she goes on, “Chicanas are usually the backbone of every familia.” As my affiliation with Chicansimo grew from the teachings of my uncle, who very early on described old lands of green jungles and a connection to the earth, my connection to the indigenous teachings were also cultivated. Because my uncle was a Chicano, I also identified as one.
More urgently, the desire to learn more about Chicanismo grew as the desire to learn about Salvadoran history lessened. Within my own subconscious, my Salvadoran identity was present, but not immediate. In many ways, I first identified as a young woman of color, and most urgently, as non-white. In “La Conciencia de la Mestiza: Towards a New Consciousness,” Gloria Anzaldua clearly notes that a mestiza learns to deal with identity struggles by “developing a tolerance for contradictions, a tolerance for ambiguity.” While Anzaldua is strictly writing in terms of identifying as indigenous in a Mexican culture and Mexican in an Anglo society, she also states that a mestiza “learns to juggle cultures.” Probably one of the most important written works in identity, Anzaldua argues that attacks on identity such as “commonly held beliefs of the white culture attack commonly held beliefs of the Mexican culture, and both attack commonly held beliefs of the indigenous culture,” can also be applied in attacks on national border crossing identity, or as she terms “a consciousness of the Borderlands.”
In her poem “A Struggle of Borders,” Anzaludua writes that “because I, a mestiza, continually walk out of one culture and into another… me zumba la cabeza con lo contradictorio” [my head zooms with contradiction]. The perplexity of identity is daunting in a society that often exacerbates discussions on immigration and labels. Where does one begin to associate notions of transnational, multicultural, and multilingual identity? Writer Carlos Gallego infers that Chicana/o poetry “continuously aims to redefine what it means to be Chicana/o and how to best position this subject for a more equitable sociopolitical recognition.” In his work “From Identity to Situatedness: Rodrigo Toscano and the New Chicana/o Poetics,” Gallego examines the work of identity in popular Chicano poetry and argues that the work of border poet, Rodrigo Toscano is not often seen as “Chicano” because of his critique on identity thinking. He states that “rather than reinforce conventional notions of what is understood as the Chicana/o experience, he questions the ideological necessity for such identity reinforcement.” While the poetry of Anzaldua and others like Corky Gonzalez’ “I am Joaquin,” are vetted in the discourse of Chicano identity, thereby reinforcing and legitimizing a history, Gallego argues that simplistic readings of Chicano poetry don’t engage the reader in critical identity thought.
While the works are powerful and subject driven, he writes that “in today’s multicultural America, the identity politics of Chicana/o nationalism seems antiquated and misdirected.” Gallego’s work on understanding poetic themes is important within the study of Chicana/o identity because so much of what it praised in the field is based on poetic interpretation of social injustice, struggle, marginalization, oppression and concepts of “the other.” Gallego’s divorce from traditional viewpoints in Chicana/o identity is not a first. Chicana women of the 1960’s found themselves in a similar situation when it came to understanding their identity within the Chicano Movement and within Anglo feminist discourse. Through the writings of Beatriz M. Pesquera and Denise A. Segura in “There is no Going Back: Chicanas and Feminism,” hegemony and cultural nationalism played a role in “the frustration over patriarchy in the Chicano Movement and a ‘maternal chauvinism’ in the women’s movement.” Freedom of sexual oppression on the grounds of class, race and ethnicity was critical in the development of a Chicana perspective. Since then, the writings of many Chicana scholars on identity have dealt with understanding sexual identity, many of whom have written about the subjugation of lesbian Chicanas.
Ending female subordination was key in understanding Chicana feminist perspectives through a survey questionnaire that was mailed in 1988 to the 178 women of MALCS (Mujeres Activas en Letras y Cambio Social) by Pesquera and Segura; 101 of which were returned completed. Twenty-one years later, ending identity subordination within national boundaries could be the next step in Chicana/o identity. Demography and census numbers demonstrate that there are growing numbers of other national identities within the United States. These new multinational identities could be a new frontier within the study of Chicana/o identity. The Pew Hispanic Center reported that in 1980, Los Angeles alone had a population of 2,065,503 Hispanics, and 4,677,411 in 2007, representing the highest growth from any other American city. A 2007 report, also by the Pew Hispanic Center reports that Salvadorans are the 4th largest ethnic Latino group in the U.S. following Puerto Ricans and Cubans, reflecting that four-in-ten (38.5%) living in California and one-in-seven (13.95) living in Texas, major states in the discourse of Chicana/o identity. In the population meter, Mexican-Americans constitute 20.9 million (64.2%) of the Hispanic population in the United States, largely living side by side with Salvadorans in the Southwest.
As the Pew reports that the highest point of immigration of Salvadoran’s to the U.S. occurred in the late 80’s and early 90’s, and that the average age is 29, (coincidently just like me), it is enough time to create a generation of American raised Salvadorans, living and creating spaces of expressions alongside a Mexican-American/ Chicana/o community. As the origin of the Chicana/o experience and identity is based on radical views of society and politics, it’s not surprising to understand the correlation of young Salvadoran’s identifying with concepts of Chicana/o consciousness or Chicanismo. Moraga writes that “to be a Chicana is not merely to name one’s racial/cultural identity, but also to name a politic, a politic that refuses assimilation into the U.S. mainstream… [and] acknowledges out mestizaje-Indian, Spanish and Africano.” By refusing this assimilation to mainstream, Chicana/o identity, be it self-imposed or culturally awarded, is fluid and non monolithic, with a constant rebirth towards a new consciousness, a new raza cosmica.
I was made to feel like an outsider that day, I wasn’t really Mexican and I didn’t really belong. At 15, I couldn’t really explain how I landed in East Los Angeles as a young girl after escaping a civil war back home, how I had lost my biological father to that war, or how my mom came to America and remarried a man from Zacatecas; a man I have known as my father since I was six years old. In exploring the concepts of identity as a social construction, as identity is not a nationality, ethnicity or race, notions of identity seem fluid, and even more so are notions of self-identification. In “Coloring Class: Racial Constructions in Twentieth-Century Chicana/o Historiography,” Vicky Ruiz explains concepts of identity with people of Mexican birth or decent. She writes, “Self-identification speaks volumes about regional, generational, and even political orientations…multiple identities even surface within individual families.” In my case, my mother was Salvadoran, my (step) father was Mexican, my younger sisters, all born in the U.S. were Mexican-Salvadoran-Americans, and I was strongly identifying as a Chicana, in large part due to my uncles work with Chicano identity in East Los Angeles.
In “Chicana Lesbians: Fear and Loathing in the Chicano Community,” Carla Trujillo writes that much of the identity of Chicanas derives from the “parasitic” identification from a man, as we grow up “defined in a male context: daddy’s girl, some guy’s girlfriend, wife or mother.” While Trujillo is writing about the sexual identity of a woman through the historical “ownership” of a man, can it be possible to associate these notions of ownership through familial identity politics? Trujillo explains that heterosexual Chicanas “need not be passive victims of the cultural onslaught of social control,” if anything she goes on, “Chicanas are usually the backbone of every familia.” As my affiliation with Chicansimo grew from the teachings of my uncle, who very early on described old lands of green jungles and a connection to the earth, my connection to the indigenous teachings were also cultivated. Because my uncle was a Chicano, I also identified as one.
More urgently, the desire to learn more about Chicanismo grew as the desire to learn about Salvadoran history lessened. Within my own subconscious, my Salvadoran identity was present, but not immediate. In many ways, I first identified as a young woman of color, and most urgently, as non-white. In “La Conciencia de la Mestiza: Towards a New Consciousness,” Gloria Anzaldua clearly notes that a mestiza learns to deal with identity struggles by “developing a tolerance for contradictions, a tolerance for ambiguity.” While Anzaldua is strictly writing in terms of identifying as indigenous in a Mexican culture and Mexican in an Anglo society, she also states that a mestiza “learns to juggle cultures.” Probably one of the most important written works in identity, Anzaldua argues that attacks on identity such as “commonly held beliefs of the white culture attack commonly held beliefs of the Mexican culture, and both attack commonly held beliefs of the indigenous culture,” can also be applied in attacks on national border crossing identity, or as she terms “a consciousness of the Borderlands.”
In her poem “A Struggle of Borders,” Anzaludua writes that “because I, a mestiza, continually walk out of one culture and into another… me zumba la cabeza con lo contradictorio” [my head zooms with contradiction]. The perplexity of identity is daunting in a society that often exacerbates discussions on immigration and labels. Where does one begin to associate notions of transnational, multicultural, and multilingual identity? Writer Carlos Gallego infers that Chicana/o poetry “continuously aims to redefine what it means to be Chicana/o and how to best position this subject for a more equitable sociopolitical recognition.” In his work “From Identity to Situatedness: Rodrigo Toscano and the New Chicana/o Poetics,” Gallego examines the work of identity in popular Chicano poetry and argues that the work of border poet, Rodrigo Toscano is not often seen as “Chicano” because of his critique on identity thinking. He states that “rather than reinforce conventional notions of what is understood as the Chicana/o experience, he questions the ideological necessity for such identity reinforcement.” While the poetry of Anzaldua and others like Corky Gonzalez’ “I am Joaquin,” are vetted in the discourse of Chicano identity, thereby reinforcing and legitimizing a history, Gallego argues that simplistic readings of Chicano poetry don’t engage the reader in critical identity thought.
While the works are powerful and subject driven, he writes that “in today’s multicultural America, the identity politics of Chicana/o nationalism seems antiquated and misdirected.” Gallego’s work on understanding poetic themes is important within the study of Chicana/o identity because so much of what it praised in the field is based on poetic interpretation of social injustice, struggle, marginalization, oppression and concepts of “the other.” Gallego’s divorce from traditional viewpoints in Chicana/o identity is not a first. Chicana women of the 1960’s found themselves in a similar situation when it came to understanding their identity within the Chicano Movement and within Anglo feminist discourse. Through the writings of Beatriz M. Pesquera and Denise A. Segura in “There is no Going Back: Chicanas and Feminism,” hegemony and cultural nationalism played a role in “the frustration over patriarchy in the Chicano Movement and a ‘maternal chauvinism’ in the women’s movement.” Freedom of sexual oppression on the grounds of class, race and ethnicity was critical in the development of a Chicana perspective. Since then, the writings of many Chicana scholars on identity have dealt with understanding sexual identity, many of whom have written about the subjugation of lesbian Chicanas.
Ending female subordination was key in understanding Chicana feminist perspectives through a survey questionnaire that was mailed in 1988 to the 178 women of MALCS (Mujeres Activas en Letras y Cambio Social) by Pesquera and Segura; 101 of which were returned completed. Twenty-one years later, ending identity subordination within national boundaries could be the next step in Chicana/o identity. Demography and census numbers demonstrate that there are growing numbers of other national identities within the United States. These new multinational identities could be a new frontier within the study of Chicana/o identity. The Pew Hispanic Center reported that in 1980, Los Angeles alone had a population of 2,065,503 Hispanics, and 4,677,411 in 2007, representing the highest growth from any other American city. A 2007 report, also by the Pew Hispanic Center reports that Salvadorans are the 4th largest ethnic Latino group in the U.S. following Puerto Ricans and Cubans, reflecting that four-in-ten (38.5%) living in California and one-in-seven (13.95) living in Texas, major states in the discourse of Chicana/o identity. In the population meter, Mexican-Americans constitute 20.9 million (64.2%) of the Hispanic population in the United States, largely living side by side with Salvadorans in the Southwest.
As the Pew reports that the highest point of immigration of Salvadoran’s to the U.S. occurred in the late 80’s and early 90’s, and that the average age is 29, (coincidently just like me), it is enough time to create a generation of American raised Salvadorans, living and creating spaces of expressions alongside a Mexican-American/ Chicana/o community. As the origin of the Chicana/o experience and identity is based on radical views of society and politics, it’s not surprising to understand the correlation of young Salvadoran’s identifying with concepts of Chicana/o consciousness or Chicanismo. Moraga writes that “to be a Chicana is not merely to name one’s racial/cultural identity, but also to name a politic, a politic that refuses assimilation into the U.S. mainstream… [and] acknowledges out mestizaje-Indian, Spanish and Africano.” By refusing this assimilation to mainstream, Chicana/o identity, be it self-imposed or culturally awarded, is fluid and non monolithic, with a constant rebirth towards a new consciousness, a new raza cosmica.
Bibiliography
Anzaldua, Gloria, “La Conciencia de la Mestiza: Towards a New Consciousness”
Gallego, Carlos, “From Identity to Situatedness: Rodrigo Toscano and the New Chicana/o Poetics”
Pesquera, Beatriz M., and Segura, Denise A., “There is no Going Back: Chicanas and Feminism”
Pew Hispanic Center, September 2009, “Hispanics of Salvadoran Origin in the United States, 2007”
Ruiz, Vicky, “Coloring Class: Racial Constructions in Twentieth-Century Chicana/o Historiography,”
Trujillo, Carla, “Chicana Lesbians: Fear and Loathing in the Chicano Community”
Posts
So, I got my comments back from George Sanchez, he said I have strong opening, but that I need more...uhhh... historians in my piece. :/
ReplyDeleteooops.
Back to drawing board!