am I ethnic enough?

I know where I come from and I'm proud of my family and our history. But every once in a while, I wonder if I'm Latina enough.

It began when I was little at my Catholic elementary school. The first language I ever knew was Spanish. When I started Kindergarten, I was told that I wasn't allowed to speak Spanish any more (despite the fact that 90% of the class was Latino and spoke Spanish). Over the years, I lost my ability to speak Spanish. I could understand it well, but speaking, grammar, and writing became an issue.

Then I went to high school and took Spanish and it all came back to me--like riding a bike. Honestly, it all came back but one thing. My accent.

Some of you have probably heard me speak Spanish and have thought that I speak with the right accent, but I don't. I listen to Honduran, Mexican, Argentinian, Salvadorean, Columbian, Venezuelan accents all day long and my Spanish doesn't sound like that. Mine sounds different.

My accent isn't the only thing.. My appearance apparently makes me less Latina too. I'm pale skinned with green eyes and (dyed) red hair. A few weeks ago, I was doing a first interview with a potential client when he told me (in Spanish), "Your grammar is very good but you don't look Latina." When I asked him why he thought that, he replied, "Your coloring is off." What does that even mean?

Pondering this question over the weekend, I googled this topic and, time and time again, I came across the list. If anything made me feel even less like a Latina it was this:

10 Ways To Tell You're a Latina

You know you are Latina:

1. If you can't fight the urge to clap on a plane that has just landed!
2. If your boyfriend plucks, waxes or in any other way grooms his eyebrows even more than you do, then you are most likely a Latina...dating a Latino!
3. If even though you're fluent in English, you still refer to going grocery shopping as a compra.
4. If you have ever committed the cardinal sin and fashion faux pas of wearing socks with sandals!
5. If something immensely sad or something immensely adorable both elicit the exact same response of "Hay Bendito!".
6. If your grandmother's chancletas seemed to have some mystical boomerang powers, you know, she threw it at you and somehow it was magically back in her hand before you could even look up from your hiding place, then you are definitely Latina!
7. If Vick's VaporRub was pronounced Bibaporú and used by everyone in your family to cure anything from burns to acne to La Gripa to infertility.
8. If you have ever sat down on a couch and then immediately fallen off because of the slippery smooth surface created by the plastic covering the entire living room set...Latina all the way baby!
9. If you grew up with a mother and/or grandmother who made you eat a ton of their food to prove how much you loved them, and then called you gordita five minutes later while pinching your chichos!
10. If you are completely fed up with being called, fiery, spicy, caliente or any other adjective that could also describe a chili pepper, you are absolutely, positively, undeniably Latina.

In my whole life, I've only experienced #9 (and that's embarrassing to admit).

The fact is that Latinas come in all different colors, accents, sizes and experiences. Think of all the famous Latinas in Hollywood. Did you know that the following people are Latina?

Alexis Bledel (Rory of Gilmore Girls)
Jordana Brewster (love interest in the Fast and the Furious movies)
Camilla Belle (recently broke the heart of a Jonas Brother)
Cameron Diaz
Zoe Saldana (recently in the new Star Trek movie)
Kelis (hip hop artist of "Milkshake" fame)
Fergie (of the Black Eyed Peas)
LaLa (former MTV VJ)

And that's not counting the Latinos, like NFL QB Tony Romo and NBA star Carmelo Anthony.

There is no one single definition of being Latina. Within our own community there is so much diversity that homogeneity is impossible. And it's not just us. After all, what is Black? What is White? What does it all mean and why does it matter? It's as if society forces us to fit into these boxes that probably makes sense to the government (ie. US Census), but doesn't make any sense at all in the grand scheme of things.

So why tear each other down within the community? During the elections, I was surprised to hear people in the Black community claiming that Barack Obama just isn't Black enough. He was making history and this is what people were saying about him? What does 'being Black' mean? How is Obama not Black enough? As minorities, knowing what it is like to thought of as 'other', it's a shame that people within the same community chastise others for not being "(blank)" enough. As if being "(blank)" was some kind of universally accepted standard.

While I don't think the potential client I mentioned above was intentionally trying to make me feel like 'the other' within my own community, that was the end result of his comments.  I may have assimilated very well into this country, but I should not give anyone the power to make feel less like a part of my community.  

The next time someone makes me feel like I'm not Latina enough, I know exactly how to respond. I may not be Latina enough for them, but I am certainly Latina enough for me.

california blogging*: the day i met the mexican

Gustavo Arellano, the Mexican behind ¡Ask a Mexican!, had a reading and book signing in Orange County on the 18th of December. I flew home on the 17th. As soon as I found out about this reading (which was shortly before the trip), I just had to go. And I was taking Jesse with me.

On the day of the signing, I threw out an invitation to my sister in case she was interested. No, she hadn't heard of the ¡Ask a Mexican! column before (and she's not cool enough to read the OC Weekly), but Arellano also does investigative reporting for the OC Weekly on stuff going on in my home town like the attempted cover up of a sex abuse scandal at my high school, the attempted cover ups of sex abuse scandals in the local Catholic diocese, and the saga of OC's very own shady sheriff Mike Carona (actually, I think R. Scott Moxley's the lead on this story). In addition to all of this, he's also the OC Weekly's food critic.  I thought my sister would appreciate his work and find something she's interested in among the many items Arellano writes about.

She was free Thursday night so she agreed to go. Shortly before the event, somehow, my mom got roped into going as well. I didn't invite her, but since Jesse, my sister, and I were going, she might as well go too. Oh great. How embarassing!  That is so MEXICAN of us to travel in packs!

I had a feeling my mom wouldn't like the Mexican for two reasons: one--his criticism of the Catholic Church and, two--his criticism of my Catholic high school. She's so devoutly religious that there was a time when she believed that all of those people who were claiming they were sexually abused by priests were lying. All (hundreds and thousands) of them. Poor mom.

The signing was at Calacas, a cool independent store that carries lots of Mexican-inspired and themed art and clothing. The gathering was small but intimate, which was nice.

Arellano brought up a number of things during his pre-signing warm up chat. While he did touch upon his new book, Orange County: a Personal History, he spoke a lot about his column, ¡Ask a Mexican!, the ensuing book, his successful appearance on the Colbert Report, and food. His historical knowledge of Orange County and its origins was pretty impressive and I can't wait to delve into the book (my mom was kind enough to 'gift' it shortly after the reading so I could get it signed by Arellano for Xmas).

images 'borrowed' from ocweekly.com
While waiting to get my books signed (I had a paperback copy of ¡Ask a Mexican! for a friend and my hardcovers of both ¡Ask a Mexican! and Orange County), I saw that Jesse had purchased his own copy of Orange County and was in line behind me to get it signed (*swoon*). My mom was right beside me while Arellano signed the books and she asked him for his opinion on a particular restaurant. I was so glad she didn't chide him for his criticism of the Catholic Church which he did mention during his little chat (I cringed when he mentioned it--only because I knew my mom wouldn't be happy--and I turned to Jesse and whispered, "Well, he lost mom on that one."). But Catholicism aside, I think my mom saw Arellano as a local boy who had done good and was using his writing for positive and constructive change.

All in all, it was awesome to finally meet the Mexican. Having been a fan for a while, it was so cool to meet the guy behind the only column I look forward to every single week.

And it was especially nice to see that Jesse became a fan too.

*Yes, I know I'm back, but this happened while I was home! One more 'california blogging' post tomorrow.

the search for authentic mexican food in DC

I am often asked, "So, Liz, you're Mexican. Where can I get real Mexican food in DC?" And honestly, I do pride myself on knowing what's up with Mexican food because I've had the experience of eating the real stuff out of my mom's kitchen for so many years (my mom is an excellent cook and I wish I had inherited her cooking skills). Absolutely nothing compares to my mom's tamales, a family recipe that has been passed on from one generation to the next. Because of the deliciousness of her tamales, I won't eat them anywhere else because any other tamale would be a disappointment.

However, I am open to trying the other Mexican food that's out there, outside of my mom's kitchen. Unfortunately for me and my refined palate for Mexican food, that means I can tell when beans have been cooked out of a can and the rice doesn't have enough seasoning.

First off, Lauriol Plaza is not the best Mexican in DC. Actually, they have a combination of all kinds of food from Latin America and Mexico.  Don't get me wrong.  It's nice to have variety, but the food is decent, not over the top. Surely the reason why this restaurant is packed every weekend is because of the delicious margaritas, because their food is average and the service could be better. I will admit though that I do love their salsa.

The only dish I have eaten at Lauriol Plaza is the cheese enchiladas (actually, I lie. I did have their special once on crab and shrimp quesadillas and those were decent). Why? Well, because it's pretty freakin' hard to mess up enchiladas. And cheese is just cheese. But I've savored the dishes of friends I have gone to LP with and I fail to see the appeal, especially when there are other places in DC to get some yummy Mexican.

When I lived on the Hill, I frequented La Loma and La Lomita Dos (can't tell you why I haven't been to La Loma Uno). Again, average food, great drinks. On more than one occasion, I have questioned the freshness of the beans. Beans are one of the basic food groups in Mexico. If you ruin the beans, I don't have much hope for the rest of my meal.

By far, the best Mexican I've ever had in DC was at a now-defunct restaurant named Enriqueta's. It was on the non-trendy side of M St. in Georgetown (close to where M and Penn meet) and has since been replaced by another Mexican restaurant. I had been to Enriqueta's twice before I found out that it was closing due to the rising cost of rent. But those two meals were two of the best I've had in the city. The salsa was perfect, almost as good as my mom's back home (yes, she makes her own salsa and pico de gallo and guacamole too). I had the mole enchiladas both times I was there and the mole tasted just like my mom's: a perfect combination of spices and chocolate to create the little taste of heaven that is mole.

enchiladas de mole, rice and beans, image courtesy of www.ocmexfood.com

Since Enriquetta's closed, I have only had a handful of memorable Mexican meals in the District: most of them at Taquería Districto Federal. Owned by a pleasant Salvadorean man who married a Mexican woman, this place is not only good because the prices are outrageously low, but also because the stuff comes from Mexico! Like directly! Even the Coke (If you're wondering, Mexican Coke is sweeter than American Coke)! Also, they make their own aguas frescas and serve them out of cut out water jugs, just like all authentic Mexican places do. And the food...oh lordy. Just thinking about their tacos makes my mouth water.

 

aguas frescas, image courtesy of www.fruitilicious.biz 

If you're looking for fancy, authentic Mexican, check out Casa Oaxaca. I had the mole enchiladas there too and I was really impressed by how delicious it was. This restaurant is a great date spot, with it's low lighting and beautiful artwork on the walls. Jesse and I went there to celebrate an occasion with our friends and we were seated next to the kitchen, which normally I would be opposed to, but I welcomed the pleasant aromas that emanated from the kitchen. It reminded me so much of home.

Across the river, I've enjoyed a couple of Mexican restaurants--one of them being Casa Oaxaca's Arlington counterpart, Guajillo. But the place I go to time and time again to get my Mexican food fix is El Charrito Caminante on Washington Blvd. OMG. The tacos are to die for. The beef and chicken are seasoned, cooked to perfection, and practically melt in your mouth. The burritos are bigger than Chipotle burritos and stuffed with meat, pico, salsa, etc. You can even get them covered in salsa if you choose. Also, the prices are insane: $2 for tacos, $4 for burritos. Yeah, the menu is as limited as the seating there, but it's still a great quick fix Mexican place.

Here's the thing with Mexican food. It doesn't need to be complicated. It doesn't have to be fancy. All I ask for is proper cooking times, fresh ingredients, and appropriately seasoned items.

Is that too much to ask for?

*By the way, I am not a food critic, nor do I pretend to be. If you disagree with any of the above or have experienced an authentic meal in a restaurant not named, please comment. I have not been to every Mexican restaurant in the metro area, but I've looked for real Mexican for 5 years in this city so I feel like I've tried a lot.

happy belated day of the dead

Time is travelling much too fast now that I’m in AP (after pneumonia). I realize that this post is a few days late. El Día de los Muertos (or Day of the Dead) is November 2nd and it’s a Mexican tradition. Last weekend, when Jesse and I visited the OC, I got to show him what it’s all about.

For the uninitiated, the Day of the Dead is actually a celebration of life. Traditionally, the friends/relatives of the deceased person create an ‘altar’ as a tribute to the life of the deceased. It has the usual fare, like pictures and artwork and such. But (because it is a Mexican holiday), there’s also food. You cook then eat the deceased person’s favorite foods. And there’s even special Day of the Dead foods like, Pan de Muerto (bread of the dead) and sugary Calaveras (candy skulls). And no Mexican feast would be complete without music. Essentially, it’s a big party and the deceased person is the guest of honor. And since it’s a big party, no crying is allowed.

I still don’t get it. I mean, I understand the holiday. But I have a hard time getting all happy about someone who passed away, especially if that person is close to me (and long time readers of this blog know that this is a reference to my dad). So, no, I did not go to my dad’s grave site to celebrate the Day of the Dead. I took Jesse to Olvera Street instead.

For those of you who have never been to L.A., Olvera Street is essentially L.A.’s Old Town. It is basically where L.A. started, right across from the first Catholic Church in Los Angeles, the Church of Our Queen of the Angels (angels = angeles).

Luckily for us, Olvera Street was hosting a big Day of the Dead celebration. I took pictures of a few altars that were set up in memoriam.

Here is an altar for the ladies of Juarez. Over 300 women have been murdered in the border town of Juarez and the inept/corrupt police force there has been unable to capture the killer(s).


Not sure why, but everyone’s favorite Mexican hero, Emiliano Zapata, had an altar too.


There was an altar for our fallen heroes from SoCal.


This particular altar caught my eye because of the box of cereal in the corner.

I love me some cereal too, so I kinda connected with the deceased.

Here’s a close up of the detail.

Some of these altars are truly works of art.

Here’s Olvera Street (it’s only about 2 blocks long).


Here’s Jesse in front of one of the original buildings that line the street.


I’m digging this flag mural.


With the Mexican candy that was consumed and the shopping that was done, I have to admit that this day of the dead was anything but sad.

immigrant influx: the brown people are taking over!

I spent 6 years of my life managing stores for a retailer that I not-so-affectionately call The Crap. As a result, over the years, I had managed all sorts of different types of people—liars and do-gooders, lazy people and hard workers, shy people and total extroverts. Managing these people was often more challenging than the bitchy customers I encountered on a daily basis (in the larger locations I worked at, the bitchiness was encountered hourly).

As far as employees go, one thing was a constant—my stock teams were always phenomenal. No matter what store I worked in, the stock team (which consisted primarily of Spanish-speaking immigrants) worked the hardest. Members of the stock team would do the hard labor and tasks that regular sales associates would bitch and moan about doing. It was refreshing not to get any back talk from the stock team like I would with the sales team. They almost always showed up on time for their shifts and hardly ever called out. Despite their hard work, their pay was usually less than that of the sales people. The theory was that the sales people were the ones who were actually going out there and making the money, while the stock team worked behind the scenes and were thus not as important.

The stock people were obviously immigrants. Some were from Bolivia. Others were from Columbia. Still others came from El Salvador. They came with families or without. Some of them started families since moving to the U.S. Some of them were the oldest siblings in their families and the primary caretaker of their younger brothers and sisters. Some of them were legal. Others were probably not. Some of them went to school at night. And others had an additional job even though they worked 40 hours a week at The Crap. I once had a stock supervisor that worked 40 hours at The Crap and then worked 40 hours for another retailer as an evening stock supervisor. He sent half of every paycheck to his family back in his native country. I was in awe of him. I couldn’t imagine working 80 hours a week.

I have a lot of respect for immigrants…whether they are here legally or not (I’ve never been afraid to express an unpopular sentiment). I’ve witnessed their hard work and dedication first hand. I’ve listened as they told me their stories of how horrible their lives were back in the native countries—the financial hardship, the political turmoil, the drug cartels that inspired fear. That they would risk so much to come to America and proudly work the jobs that no one else wants is inspiring to me.

So when I read an article like the one I saw in yesterday’s Washington Post, I get really, really pissed. The article, titled “Sterling Park's Identity Crisis,” summarizes the Latino immigrant ‘invasion’ of the planned Loudon County community. In short, Sterling Park had been mostly white until the year 2000, when the Latino population boom began. This boom is not surprising, as Loudon County’s minority population is one of the fastest growing in the U.S. Since 2000, long-time residents claim that as the illegal immigrant population has increased (because all Spanish-speaking people are automatically illegal these days), gang activity has increased, crime has increased, property values have decreased, bilingual signs have been popping up everywhere, homes are overcrowded, home aesthetics are not being kept up, and neighborhoods are no longer safe.

However, the Post presents data that doesn’t support these claims. Apparently crime has been decreasing steadily in Sterling Park since 2000. Only 1 in 20 gang members is illegal. Sure property values may have decreased, but Sterling Park may be one of the remaining affordable communities left in Loudon. Most homes there date back to the 1960s and probably wouldn’t fetch as much money as say a home built in Ashburn in 2004. Also, homes are not necessarily overcrowded, as only a few homes in the last year have actually been cited by Loudon’s residential overcrowding enforcement office, despite having received almost 200 complaints.

So what’s driving these complaints? I think it’s anti-illegal immigrant sentiment driven by racism. I don’t much about Sterling Park (Jesse said it’s not regarded kindly by it’s affluent neighbors), but when the residents are longing for the homogeneity they used to enjoy and shun the hard-working Latinos for being illegals (an assumption fueled by racism), I can’t help but feel that racism has everything to do with this. All white community = euphoria. All white community + influx of dirty, blue collar brown people = dangerous place to live. What the f*ck? What is up with the assumption that all Latino people are here illegally?

The following quote from the article really got my blood boiling. Keep in mind that a 61-year-old Sterling Park resident said it.

"I don't want someone coming to my country and building another dang country inside of it," Wilber said. "It's like if you came home and found someone in your house and you said, 'What are you doing here?' And they said: 'Oh, the door was open; I just came in. By the way, I'm going to change some other things in your home, too.' "

Mr. Wilbur…I hate to break it to ya, but I’m sure Native Americans felt the exact same way some 400 years ago.

nothing but love for the mexican

I’m not sure how many times I need to tell you about this kid, but I’m sure that one more time won’t hurt. As I’ve repeated many, many times in this blog, I am a big fan of Gustavo Arellano, an OC boy who writes a column for the OC Weekly called ¡Ask a Mexican! (now in syndication and appearing in an alt-weekly near you). He invites readers to submit any kind of question you have ever wanted to ask a Mexican. Arellano ends up doing his fair share of stereotype dispelling (and confirming) and racism bashing, all while sounding incredibly knowledgeable. So what makes Arellano an expert on all things Mexican? Well, in several interviews that I’ve read, he doesn’t think he’s an expert and feels that anyone can write his column. Yeah, someone’s being a bit modest. The thing is that Arellano actually has a master’s degree in Latin American Studies (from FUCLA, so unfortunately he’s a Bruin) and his answers are always well thought out and researched, often quoting anthropological or linguistic experts. I’m a proud Mexican, but this guy has schooled me plenty of times.

Last week, Arellano came out with a book (coincidentally also titled ¡Ask a Mexican!), which is a compilation of some of his column’s greatest hits, some Q & A exclusive to the book and essays on various issues. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to pick up this book and I had been eagerly awaiting its release since I found about the book. Jesse and I headed out to Borders on Friday night and I searched for the book. To my delight, only two copies were left (sure there may have been some backstock but I’d like to think that they sold those too). I grabbed my copy and held on to it for dear life (I’m not sure why since it was unlikely that someone would rip it out of my hands) until Jesse and I were both ready to check out. Since then, I haven’t been able to put the book down (well, except for all day Saturday which was a Baltimore excursion) and I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. With the end of every chapter, I can’t help but think, Damn this guy knows what he’s talking about.

Here are some highlights:

What is it with Mexicans and jaywalking? No crosswalks in Mexico?

Run, Don’t Walk

Dear Gabacho: Try no streets. Although the number of urban Mexicans immigrating to el Norte is on the rise—Tulane University sociologist Elizabeth Fussell estimated in her 2004 paper, “Sources of Mexico’s Migration Stream: Rural, Urban, and Border Migrants to the United States,” that 61 percent of Mexican immigrants in 2000 came from cities with populations of at least 15000—most streets in Mexico still lack such amenities as stoplights, stop signs, or even lanes. Mexicans learn to navigate these mean calles from a young age and keep this mentality upon sneaking into the United States, where they find everything so orderly, so preplanned, so…lame. We ignored the jagged fence, deserts, and Minutemen that separate the United States from Mexico—what makes you think we’re going to obey a pinche YIELD sign when we’re driving?

Why do Mexicans always cram into a small car?

Baba Louie

Dear Gabacho: Because a burro can’t support more than three people.

See what I mean? Hilarious. I highly recommend his book. And if you’re a little short on cash, check out his column at the OC Weekly, which is always free!

For some of Arellano’s greatest hits, please click on the Gustavo Arellano tag below for my earlier posts on The Mexican (including a clip of his appearance on The Colbert Report). Also check out the current issue of the OC Weekly online for an article by Gustavo about the column and the book. And if that's not enough, check out this interview of Arellano from KROQ, the best station in Southern Cali.

i heart the mexican

My love for "Ask a Mexican!" columnist Gustavo Arellano has been expressed many times in this blog. And tonight I found out something that made me very, very happy. Arellano's book comes out May 1st and you better believe that I will be at the bookstore first thing that day. He may be a Bruin, but I'm willing to overlook that because he's so right on about almost everything.

Last week, Aesop, the blogger at Fight On Forever!, was kind enough to send me an essay Arellano wrote that was published in the LA Times on Friday (Thanks, Aesop!). It's about ethnically-themed parties and it's a good read. If this is the first time you've heard of Arellano, I encourage you to check out his column (a new one appears on the OC Weekly website every Thursday).

Fiesta like the fool you are
Forget political correctness: Parties that lampoon ethnic groups are as American as nachos.
By Gustavo Arellano, GUSTAVO ARELLANO is a contributing editor to Opinion and a staff writer for OC Weekly, where he writes the "¡Ask a Mexican!" column.
March 2, 2007

IF SOMEONE asked you to attend a Mexican-themed party, what would you wear? Would you sport long hair, spiked bracelets and a tattered T-shirt of rock en español dinosaurs Caifanes? Maybe visit Brooks Brothers and mimic the sartorial splendor of Antonio Villaraigosa? A snug gown a la Salma Hayek for the mujeres? Jeans, surely?

No. You're going to don a sombrero, glue on a fake mustache and act like a poor, despicable louse. You'll probably belt out a couple of lusty arribas for good measure. And you'll laugh. Really, what else could you do?

No one would recognize those other examples as Mexican, even though muchos Mexicans fit those descriptions. Not only that, but anyone who dresses up for an ethnic-themed fiesta wants to stand out, which means stereotypes: exaggerated takes on reality, some decades old, others as immediate as your office janitor. More important, cultural nuances at parties tend to disappear under a haze of bong hits.

It's important to keep the above in mind when discussing the recent spate of mexcellente bashes held by our nation's emerging scholars. The latest occurred in January, when students at Santa Clara University in Northern California were invited to a "South of the Border" party and attendees arrived as cholos, janitors and pregnant Latinas. The small campus — previously best known as the alma mater of NBA god Steve Nash — is in an uproar, and the national media have swooped in to cover the latest front in the immigration wars.

A college Mexican party — usually held under the auspices of the Greek system — is nowadays as much a part of university life as the Thought Police. A few recent examples:

• Two years ago, Alpha Epsilon Pi's USC chapter held a party titled "Once Upon a Time in Mexico," at which attendees passed through barbed wire and curious Latino onlookers were told to — yep — go back to Mexico.

• In 2003, a UC Irvine fraternity sponsored a "Drinko por Cinco" shindig in honor of the May 5 Mexican holiday and printed fliers that promised a "Dirty Sanchez Look-a-like Contest."

• In 1993, a UC Riverside fraternity advertised one of its gatherings with a poster showing a sleeping Mexican with sombrero and tequila bottle nearby.

• And, for the sake of historical merriment, this: a 1968 Daily Bruin article described a frat party where members flew a fake Mexican flag adorned with a middle finger in place of the Mexican seal and a list of excluded guests, namely "no Negroes, no Japs, no Zapatas, no Zorros, no dogs."

Each case was followed by the same ritual of hand-wringing: accusations of racism, rebutted with claims of ignorance or harmless fun, followed by protests and town hall meetings and an eventual half-hearted apology from the culprits. Peace was restored on campus — until the next opportunity to mock Mexicans.

So why do these incidents crack me up? Maybe it's the power of history. Americans have enjoyed dressing like ethnics at bacchanals since the days of the Boston Tea Party. Blackface, togas, sweat lodges, Oktoberfest, St. Patrick's Day, Tommy Bahama — the list goes on, even in this age of supposed racial acceptance.

Participating in such events seems to liberate otherwise placid souls from propriety and excuse momentary transgressions, all while lampooning the Other — a party mix more alluring than jungle juice.

No matter how many diversity workshops or school-sanctioned multicultural festivities universities may hold, these parties will continue. They're as American as nachos.

What's funniest about these controversies is the ridiculousness of the Speedy-Gonzales-for-a-day crowd. If trust-fund hotties think they can be as funny as Jack Black by dressing like my aunts, uncles and cousins, or by applying black lip-liner and calling themselves La Sad Eyes for a night, the joke is definitely on them, not us.

And for those of you offended by such tomfoolery: If someone is stupid enough to even attend an ethnically themed party, is browbeating really the cure? You'd be more effective just loading the culprits with tequila, then dropping them off in a barrio for a taste of the real deal.

Besides, spicy caricatures mesmerize more people than just drunken gabachos easily entranced by spicy caricatures. In his recently released "Tex[t] Mex: Seductive Hallucinations of the 'Mexican' in America," San Diego State professor William Anthony Nericcio calls such images "digital crack." Nericcio remembers how a 1950s-era New Yorker magazine illustration of a sleeping Mexican "still haunts me, as does the memory of laughing my ass off when I first saw it; here perhaps is born the idea of 'Mexican' hallucinations — ghosts realer than the real, who move us with their shadowy logic."

Nericcio is on to something. Visit your favorite taqueria and I bet you pesos to dollars that the store's logo probably features the same big-grinned, sombrero-wearing Mexican that caused so much grief at Santa Clara and other schools.

And few images during the 2006 World Cup were seemingly more startling than Mexican soccer fans wearing ponchos, drooping mustaches and sombreros as wide as satellite dishes. None of these Mexicans seemed offended — indeed, they were gleefully promoting the myth of the bandito. To laugh at others is human; to appropriate the laughter, divine.

the return of roo roos

I am actually a week behind on this post, so I apologize. Last weekend, I had the pleasure of seeing my friend Roo Roos, who was visiting from Philly. Dave decided that we would all have dinner and drinks at Guajillo, which I found out is really, really good. I highly recommend it for authentic Mexican. Being Mexican myself, I find that it is so hard to get real, good Mexican in this area. After all of these years here, I think I have finally found it.


Here are Enzo, Jenn, and Dave, sitting pretty after having a few drinks.



Here I am with Roo Roos. We had just finished our enchiladas de mole and they were delish!


Here I am, sandwiched between two sweet boys!

Tomorrow, I'll blog about my action-packed weekend...a little spa treat to myself, a birthday dinner in honor of me, and college football (of course).

another reason for me to hate the 'burbs

bug bites
Originally uploaded by lizzie c..

So, on Saturday, I went out to MD for a backyard bar-b-q party. Little did I know that mosquitos come out during the day (for some reason I thought they were nocturnal creatures...silly me). And mosquitos just love me. Unfortunately, the feeling is not mutual. I hate the little blood suckers because they leave my skin looking like this. And oh my god, I itch so bad, I just wanna scratch my skin raw.

By the way, yes, I really am that white. I'm probably the whitest Mexican out there. Don't make fun tho. I try to avoid the sun since my big skin cancer scare of '05. Yet, my bad mole (now gone and just a scar on my leg) never looked like these bites.

me and the Mexican are like this *fingers crossed*

The thick skin just came in. Fits like a glove.

In all honesty, yesterday was not the best day for me, particularly because I had never known of random people who would want me dead (and over a silly little blog post). My boyfriend, always the optimist, tried to get me to look on the bright side and encourage me. I didn’t even begin to see the light until he suggested that I write my favorite Mexican, Gustavo Arellano, to seek his guidance. Now you see, Gustavo (we’re on first name basis now) is a talented writer. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s snarky. But most of all, he’s opinionated (and he’s smart enough to back up his opinions). Regular OC girl readers know that I am a huge fan. And now he does too.

The thing with Gustavo (the columnist at OC Weekly’s “Ask a Mexican!”) is that he’s always pissing off someone. People leave nasty notes on his blog. They send angry letters to the OC Weekly. In fact, this week’s OC Weekly contains a letter asking that Gustavo be fired simply because he's pro-immigrant. Clearly, the kid’s had to face some adversity. Jesse was right in suggesting that I contact him.

So I emailed Gustavo. I informed him that I was a fan and I asked him how to deal with the haters. And the following appeared in my inbox:

Gracias for the love. I deal with the haters like this: anyone who doesn't love me is a MORON.

Gustavo
www.ocweekly.com

Yes, that’s true. I’m so not a moron. So, with thick skin and many opinions, I continue to blog.

Gustavo Arellano on the Colbert Report

The Colbert Report - 2006.06.19 - Interview

Ask a Mexican! Fever is sweeping the nation. For those of you who missed the Colbert Report on Monday, here is a clip introducing the East Coasters to Gustavo Arellano. And if you're a West Coaster who doesn't know Mr. Arellano, then shame on you! If you're in OC and don't know who he is, I am shedding a tear for you right now.

Ask a Mexican! on TV

Regular readers of this blog know that I have been raving about Gustavo Arellano, the person behind the Ask a Mexican! column in OC Weekly. Well, if you guys don't believe me when I tell you how awesome he is, then you can see for yourself on Monday. My favorite columnist (and soon to be your fave) will be on Stephen Colbert's The Colbert Report on Comedy Central on Monday. This dude's great so I hope you watch and enjoy!

best thing to happen to people trying to understand Mexicans

Today, my favorite OC Weekly columnist, Gustavo Arrellano, published a Mexican Glossary. I encourage everyone to check it out. The language is definitely rated R (that means no clicking on the link, Kaylee and Amanda), but then again, so is the rest of the OC Weekly. Here are some tasty morsels:

• Chica caliente: Hot chick. All Mexican ladies are chicas calientes.
• Cinco de Mayo: Holiday celebrating an obscure battle between the French and Mexicans in the 1860s that everyone in the United States uses as an excuse to get plastered. Our St. Patrick's Day.
• Tequila: Liquor distilled from the agave plant of central Mexico. Also flows in the blood of any real Mexican.

Also, the Glossary contains the translations of all the major Spanish curse words and phrases--just in case you really wanted to know what those mean. Man, I love this guy. Can't wait for his book.