LATINIDAD IS CANCELLED by Johanna Moncada Sosa
The concept of Latinidad (or so called “Latino-ness”) attempts to evoke a pan-Latinx identity for all people that identify as Latinx—to put it in basic terms. However, the concept raises the questions on what exactly it encompasses and for whom it is meant. In “Ni de aquí, ni de allá,” Paul Joseph Lopéz Oro examines the perceptions of the Garífuna people—a Black Indigenous group located in Central America. The piece particularly analyzes the Garífuna people in and from Honduras, the first Central American country they relocated to after being exiled from St. Vincent in 1635. Lopéz Oro states the Garífuna people are “members of three diasporas: the African diaspora, the Garífuna diaspora, and the Central American diaspora” and as a result, this diasporic identity essentially renders them as stateless beings because they are consistently questioned, challenged and neglected in places they occupy (63).
In Honduras, the majority of the population self-identifies as mestizo, a term used to describe anyone of mixed ancestry, specifically Spanish and Indigenous ancestry. Mestizo was also a category within the large, complex racial categorization system—known as the casta system—the Spaniards developed while occupying Latin America. Mestizaje as a racial ideology and structure, thereby, has also extended itself into being a political ideology of national identity and means of unity within Latin America. Mestizaje encompasses racial capital meaning the greater the distance from Blackness, the better. Although it is also rooted in anti-Indigeneity, Indigeneity is the “lesser of the two evils;” the preference between the two. It must be noted, however, that this preference doesn’t save Indigeneity from discrimination nor subjugation. Furthermore, mestizaje generates and propagates a colorblind mentality, one in which non-Black, non-Indigenous Latinx people are negligent of the issues Black and Indigenous communities face within the borders of each respective Latin American country.
What mestizaje is to Honduras and Latin America as a whole is the equivalent to what Latinidad is to the United States. Both constructions of racial democracy and pan-Latinx identity, but ultimately are rendered to be false. With immigration waves of Latin Americans, the “browning” of the United States has become inevitable. The large variety of Latin Americans are spread throughout the country, although many cities have hubs of ethnicities. Latinidad’s purpose is to promote Latinx unity within a country that is discriminatory to this group of people, however, Latinidad does not mean unity with all those from Latin America. Instead, it allows room for folx to pick and choose who they are an ally to and who they form Latinx solidarity with, further creating a superficial allyship. Consequently, Latinxs will also mirror their struggles with other Latinxs, such as Afro-Latinxs, to assert all Latinx struggles are the same. However, doing this minimizes and erases the specific vulnerabilities and oppressions of Black and Indigenous folx. Mestizaje and Latinidad ensure the perpetuation of the marginalization of Black and Indigenous communities. These terms—although applied in different locations, but inherently always linked to one another—are meant to serve as mechanisms of negotiation with and in approximation to white supremacy. The terms will always rely on whiteness as the end goal to reach the European colonizers. It would be a mistake to ignore that colonization is also an epistemological project under which mestizos/non-Black/non-Indigenous Latinxs are victims of the project. Nonetheless, at what point will they assume some of the shared responsibility? Which threshold is needed to cross to undo the structure? And lastly, especially within the context of the United States, at one point will mestizos/non-Black/non-Indigenous Latinxs ask the following question: what did my ancestors do to marginalize others whom share the same land with us?
Within the context of the United States, minorities must identify their origin before attaching “American” to it, i.e. African American and Native American. By doing so, it implicitly connotes the limit “American” reaches to and inherently normalizes whiteness as it is rare if we say “white American.” In “On the Backs of Blacks,” Toni Morrison writes, “Whatever the nationality of the immigrant, his nemesis is understood to be African American” (Morrison). It is always at the expense of Black people that immigrants, and in this conversation Latin American immigrants, will assimilate at a smoother pace if they inherit and propagate anti-Black attitudes, which it is distinctly “American” or “white.”
Similarly, one must “refine” the term Latinx as Afro-Latinx if they are of African descent to ensure their inclusion within Latinx conversations, thus implicitly indicating they were never within the conversation in the first place. Although it is important to distinguish the terms, it is also telling of the extent these terms had to be created since “Latinx” normalizes whiteness and continually perpetuates a violent erasure of Blackness and Indigeneity. All in all, Latinidad does not exist without anti-Blackness. Mestizaje intentionally blinds itself to the problems of Black and Indigenous communities within the land. Both notions attempt to complete the overall colonial project of erasure of Indigeneity and Blackness. For those who can fit within what these terms aim to accomplish, it can mean empowerment and representation, but for those who are on the margins, it can mean ostracization and misrepresentation. Overall, one must resist to these notions and betray them, because liberation for one cannot happen unless liberation is for all.
Works Cited
López Oro, Paul Joseph. “‘Ni De Aquí, Ni De Allá’: Garífuna Subjectivities and the Politics of Diasporic Belonging.” Afro-Latin@s in Movement, 2016, pp. 61–83.
Nationality by Jamel Hale
For my blog post this week I will talk about another powerful tool that colonialism used to help keep its control over the modern world and that is the development of national identity. The development of nations helps create a specific culture in an area which includes an ideal image of a citizen and excludes others. It has been used a tool to justify the action nations took to colonize areas, and is still a tool that justifies unthinkable acts a government take in order to preserve the ideals or security of a nation. Furthermore, the pride an individual feels in belonging to a nation further upholds the colonial structures that are set in place. I say this because most nations pursue a global capitalistic economy that requires inequality among its citizens. Thus, the citizens embrace and enforce those ideals whether they are aware of it or not. This may be a harsh way to look at things but for myself being an African-American I never really had a sense of national pride. And since coming to college I have seen people from different countries representing their national pride but the countries they represent uphold the similar ideals as America.
In the article by Paul Joseph Lopez Oro, he discusses the rejection of the Garínagu people by various nations. This group of individuals are rejected by the nations they inhabit because they go against the various nations’ dominant culture. In the article Lopez Oro writes that the “Garínagu people are members of three diasporas: the African diaspora, the Garífuna diaspora, and the Central American diaspora. They are simultaneously black, indigenous, and Latino; they can be Honduran, Belizean, Guatemalan, Nicaraguan, and American; they are part of Central America and part of the Caribbean. As an ethnic group they share a common language and culture, as well as histories of colonialism, displacement, and transnational migration that unite them across nation-state borders. Garífuna subjectivity is rooted in dispossession and resistance to colonialism and nation-states” (Lopez Oro 6). Their existence goes against any existing form of national identity. Unfortunately, this makes them targets but why? Why can’t they live in harmony with the dominant culture of the nations they reside in?
We learned in class by a fellow classmate that in Brazil there is a genocide of the Garínagu people. I don’t know much of the story but I know enough to say that a whole culture or group of people does not deserve to die. The idea of a shared culture is weird concept to try to understand but so powerful that it creates the join or die mentality. For example, fraternities and sororities create a certain culture that usually excludes certain type of individuals. But when you engage in deep thought about the subject you start to ask questions. Why is only this type of person allowed into that fraternity? Who set the standard for the type of girls in that sorority? Can the standard ever change? This is just a small scale in terms of exclusivity, and it’s baffling that such a child like behavior is applied to at the national level. Like I get that you want to be with people that share your values and beliefs but nations shame differing cultures to uplift their cultures. Where does it say two values can’t coexist? I understand that the Garínagu people don’t conform to the ideas of nations, race, or any post-colonial construct but I don’t understand why it is perceived as such a threat.
In addition to the threat that the Garínagu people presents to nations and race this article highlights another important issue, which is Latin America’s form of “enlightened racism”. Enlightened racism is a way that individuals do not consider themselves racist through some avenue of having black friends, but they implicitly they still hate black culture and the friends they do have are seen as an exception. This is an issue that I wasn’t completely aware of but kind of had a feeling of. Most of the Hispanic people that I am friends with usually consider themselves black because they have immersed their selves into the culture; however, I have been told that Hispanic people don’t like black people and heard stories of individual’s experiences. So, I have always had mixed feeling about the issue, and when a friend asked me do you think Hispanic people (I think he particularly used the word Mexicans) are racist I had no answer. Now I have more of an understanding of how race is perceived down in Latin America, and its more of the same. I definitely feel that they have covered it up better but after reading this article I see that they treat the others of their countries the same way the United States treat people of south of the border. This is just further examples of the self-perpetuating system that is dominating the modern-world. Which makes it that much more difficult to break from this way of living and thought when even across different cultures you see the same patterns of oppression being implemented.
Afro-Latinidad is Anti-Colonial by Frank Valdez
I believe that The Role of the Afro-Latino Writer and the Quincentenary by Carlos Guillermo Wilson is an example of anti-colonial practice. The article’s purpose is to shed light on the African diaspora that is often ignored in Latin America due to Eurocentric ideologies. The Spaniards might have lost the wars of independence, but they left their Eurocentric ideologies, culture, systems of power, and oppression behind. They left behind a system that upholds white supremacy but morphed into a new form. Putting “Afro” before Latino shouldn’t be necessary because Latinidad is black, but our society does not want to accept that. It is the same issue with Latinos in the US. Why do we have to say “Mexican-American” and “Central American – American” if Mexico and Central America are already part of the Americas. Using Afro-Latino is a way of reclaiming the blackness lost in cultures that continue to perpetuate white supremacy. Afro-Latinidad, like blackness in the US, is more than a race, it is a condition. Everything we love about Latin America is Black. Colombian and Mexican Cumbia has deep roots in Afro-Latinidad. So does menudo. Our music. Our food. Our Culture. “Our Identity” is built upon the backs of blacks, but we prefer to see it on white bodies instead of black ones.
Latin America’s anti-blackness is slick like a serpent. “Todos somos iguales” – es una tontería. The Spaniards left but their caste system remains. Negro. Indio. Moreno. Independence and Liberty is a lie. We still strive for this ideal whiteness that we will never reach. Latin America is white, brown, yellow, BLACK. Afro-Mexicans exist. Afro-Argentines exist. The fact that we have to put “Afro” in front is the problem. These nation-states were drawn by European hands. These identities were socially constructed by the Spanish and Creole elite. These caste systems were set in place to benefit the people on top of the social ladder. The only difference now is that the caste system is invisible: it is disguised with “race talk.” It is not letting your daughter date a “negro.” It is saying that they only live in the costas. It is not accepting Afro-Mexicans as a category in the census until 2015.
Guillermo Wilson practices anti-colonial practice by outlining the role of the Afro-Latino writer in Latino culture. The Afro-Latino has been given the burden of having to construct their identity out of the ashes of the negative stereotypes that have placed on them. “Hay que mejorar la raza.” Esta idea es una pendejada. Mejorar a ser que? A ser un colonizer, un oppressor, y un hypocrite. Las costumbres que recibimos de los españoles are just as Latino as Nahuatl or Haitian Creole or any of the African costumbres that the colonizers brought with them.
Anti-colonial practice is addressing the contributions of Afro-Latinos to Latinidad. It is bringing awareness to the issues and systems of oppression that affect Afro-Latinos in Latin America. It is distancing Afro-Latinidad from stereotypical images of lust and violence. It is outlining how hyper-criminalized and hypersexualized black and brown bodies are. Similar to the United States, learning about blackness in Latin America is taught as an extension of the rich African history across the world. This further privileges the colonizers.
Anti-colonial practice is Celia Cruz and Amara la Negra. Anti-colonial practice is Joe Arroyo’s “La Rebelion”:
Cuando el tirano mandó.
Las calles de Cartagena.
Aquella historia vivió.
Cuando aquí, llegaban esos negreros.
Africanos en cadenas, besaban mi tierra. Esclavitud perpetua.
¡ESCLAVITUD PERPETUA!
¡ESCLAVITUD PERPETUA!
This salsa that is danced by Latinos of every shade is Afro-Latino history. Anti-colonial practice is not letting Latinidad be separated from the Afro because they go hand in hand. As any Latino sings and stomps their feet to the song they are forced to repeat this history that Latin America has tried so hard to erase:
Y fue allí, se reveló el negro guapo.
Tomó venganza por su amor.
Y aún se escucha en la verja.
¡No le pegue a mi negra!
No le pegue a la negra.
No le pegue a la negra.
¡Oye men no le pegue a la negra!
No No No No No.
Oye, esa negra se me respeta.
Eeeh, que aún se escucha, se escucha en la verja.
Anti-Colonial practice is accepting and embracing that Latin America is inherently Black and working to demolish these systems of oppression that negatively affect Afro-Latinos and all Latinos.
Complex Identities by Ana Hidalgo
When I began reading Lopez Oro’s reading about Garífuna subjectivities, I didn’t realize how much exploration of Latinidad as a concept and its consequences would be included in the text. I think that this was an important reading for me because it helped me to see how oppressive mestizaje can be. I had always known that it was a dangerous concept that praised colonizers and oppressed black and indigenous people in Latin America. But I did not realize all the struggles that these groups face, specifically dealing with their diasporic identities and continuously being erased by their own countries. Seeing how they didn’t feel a place of belonging in Latin America or the United States showed me that this is because their identities transcend all borders that have been created by colonialism.
Central to colonialism is race and Garífuna people just like other black and indigenous people in Latin America are acutely aware that mestizaje and the colonial project that is alive and well in Latin America does not include them and therefore makes them susceptible to discrimination and violence. As Lopez Oro states, “Race is central to Latin American nationalism. It contends that the nation is a homogenous melting pot and connotes a dual process of cultural hybridity through biological race mixture.” (Lopez Oro 66). This means that Garífuna people especially can be seen as outcasts who have not fully assimilated into their countries. This is because they come from African descent and mestizaje rejects blackness and favors white Latinxs or those whose ancestors are European and indigenous. Mestizos are generally seen as the superior and with more skills and prestige. However, the cruel irony of this is that Garífuna people have a rich history and in reality have been in Latin America and the Caribbean since the earliest days of colonialism.
This struggle by the Garífuna to be understood and accepted on their own terms without being forced to assimilate seemed connected to Escalante’s paper on Self Determination and how indigenous groups will never have their autonomy when they operate through colonial structures such as hierarchical political parties and engage in capitalism (Escalante 119). Similarly, to the Garífuna people, indigenous groups such as those that are part of EZLN have existed in Latin America for thousands of years and are still forced to assimilate to mestizo ideas and institutions. A painful example of this is how even with an indigenous leader in Bolivia, indigenous groups were almost forced to give up their land for the construction of a highway. Reading about how difficult it is for these marginalized groups to feel at home made me feel frustrated and was a bitter reminder of how mestizaje can hurt those that do not bend to its will.
As I continued reading “ni de aqui ni de alla” I realized that any healing that Garífuna people can receive has to be on their own terms. This can be seen through the Honduran government’s attempt to be more inclusive by including afro-hondureño in the census. But this was unsatisfactory to many Garífuna people who feel like their identities are much more complex than simply identifying their African origin (Lopez Oro 75). Having their own government ignore the Garífuna people’s indigenous roots and unique experience with colonialism violently erases their history and does not allow for full acceptance in their countries. This is why identifying themselves as a diasporic people seems more accurate, especially as many of them are forced to migrate due to deepening structural inequalities and lack of cultural rights in countries such as Honduras (Lopez Oro 75).
This diasporic identity is especially beneficial as many Garífuna people migrate to the United States and settle in urban cities such as New York, Houston, and Atlanta (Lopez Oro 63). Seeing how Garífuna people encouraged other Garífuna people to put Other as their ethnic category in the US Census solidified to me their active resistance with current racial and ethnic realities in the United States and Latin America that prevent them from fully expressing their identities. It also shows that many Garífuna people have accepted their diasporic identity and have used it as a way to embrace their unique history and try to come to terms with the violence that they have experienced since the early days of colonialism. They may come to terms with this violence by rejecting mestizaje and its oppressive categories and acknowledging the rich history that they share.
Overall, these two readings left me more uncomfortable than ever with mestizaje due to it being rooted in violent assimilation. I can only imagine the violence that exists in my own family’s lineage. I also feel angry knowing that indigenous groups have to continue being exploited and persecuted in their own ancestral lands. Therefore, the active resistance of the Garífuna people and groups such as EZLN give me some hope that marginalized groups can attempt to advocate for their interests in spite of the harsh political and social environments that they are forced to inhabit.
Sources:
López Oro, Joseph Paul. “Ni de aquí, ni de allá”: Garífuna Subjectivities and the Politics of Diasporic Belonging.” Afro-Latin@s in Movement, 2016, pp. 61-78.
Del Valle Escalante, Emilio. “Self-Determination: A Perspective from Abya Yala.” E-International Relations, 2014, pp.115-122.
Brazilian Indigenous Sovereignty Movements #JaneiroVermelho #DemarcaçãoJA by Caro Campos
Genocide Act – Law 2889, of October 1st 1956. Section 1: Whoever, with the intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group as such: a) kills members of that group; b) causes serious bodily or mental injury to members of that group; c) deliberately subjects the group to conditions of life that are capable of causing the physical destruction of the group in whole or in part; d) adopts measures to prevent births within the group; e) transfers by force children of the group to another group.
Read that again.
I am with the understanding that the notion of law making, of policy making, does not make something right or serve with full certainty or function. Yet, this definition of Genocide articulated lastly in 1956, is a form of “re-sensitization.” By reading this definition over and over, I am more aware of the severity of the situations directly affecting me, around me, and beyond my physical existence. “Causing serious mental injury to members of that group” as part of this definition would mean that so much of what occurs on a daily basis, from the mental effects of microaggressions to chronic stress from living in poverty, is genocide. Does that minimize atrocities classified as genocide such as the Holocaust? Assigning the term genocide to what is occuring in Flint, Michigan I think is valid – a literal killing off of people, perhaps just taking longer and less immediately visible, less palatable for consumers to see it constantly on news media. Genocide of indigenous people is and has been, has always been, prevalent. What about intellectual genocide? How is selective memory a form of genocide? In exploring policies and forms of killing, I address the transnational politic of the fight for indigenous sovereignty through self-determination – a determination of psychosocial, communal, and societal standing imposed by the “self” and for the “self” – the autonomous, self-regulated collective.
The fight for indigenous sovereignty, autonomy, and self-determination in Brazil is a global movement. The movement transcends colonial borders as indigenous lands are not demarcated by them meaning they span several countries. For example, the Guaraní tribe spans Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay, and Bolivia. The current administration in Brazil is working to further the genocide of the indigenous people living in the interior of the country. Federal organizations created for the protection of indigenous rights, such as FUNAI, are allowing for land to be invaded and developed. The movement is made up of the indigenous people, allied co-conspirators, and community run social media collectives garnering national and international support and solidarity. The two hashtags at the top (#JaneiroVermelho and #DemarcaçãoJA) have been used internationally in support of the indigenous movement declaring their value and existence at protests conducted this past January. #JaneiroVermelho means Red January made for the “Nem Uma Gota Vermelha A Mais” or “Not One Red Drop More” campaign (signifying no more bloodshed of indigenous people in Brazil and more broadly Latin America). #DemarcaçãoJA means Demarcation Now, the act of demarcating space.
The Brazilian government is constructing the Belo Monte mega-dam on the Xingu River in the Amazon. The dam, if completed, will be the third largest in the world and is estimated to cost $17 billion (Survival International). It will flood 500 square kilometers of land, dry up certain parts of the Xingu river, cause huge devastation to the rainforest and reduce fish stocks upon which Indians in the area, including Kayapó, Arara, Juruna, Araweté, Xikrin, Asurini and Parakanã Indians, depend for their survival. The tribes say that if construction proceeds, the Xingu river will become a river of blood. Having been resisting for 520 years, since the 16th century, tribes have been searching where people would “live free from pain and suffering, the land without evil where we would find immortality and perpetual ease” (Survival International). Today they are squeezed onto tiny patches of land surrounded by cattle ranches and vast fields of soya and sugar cane. Some have no land at all, and live camped by roadsides. Indigenous peoples of Brazil have enormously high rates of suicide and homicide. In the state of Mato Grosso do Sul, the Guaraní tribe experiences one homicide every 12 days and one suicide every 7 days (Survival International). This blog post is a resource guide including films; primary source letters from indigenous leaders, tribes, several leaders, and global organizations; social media pages; and two quotes pulled from primary sources. The most powerfully and critically thought out piece (besides the personal testimonies) is the first source listed – an article written by an indigenous man problematizing the very notion of the phrase “indigenous sovereignty,” how the two words defined through the English language and vernacular invert and contradict each other.
Resource Guide → – Indigenous Sovereignty and the Political Subordination of Our Nations
Indigent: poor, needy, a needy person – Indigenous People in Response to Farmer’s Invading Land –
Letter by Coalition of Indigenous Tribes in Response to Monte Belo Dam – Aritâna Indigenous Leaders Letter to President Lula – Red January –
Culture of Resistance: Battle of the Xingu (Short Documentary) – MidiaNINJA Social Media Organization Working with Red January Protests –
Sonia Bone Guajajara – Indigenous Leader and Activist Speaking to Human Rights Commission (in Portuguese)
“The world must know what is happening here, they must perceive how destroying forests and indigenous people destroys the entire world.”
Kayapó Indigenous Leaders:
“…we know that we are going and we want to be killed and buried with our ancestors here where we are today, so we ask the Government and the Federal Justice not to decree our eviction/expulsion, but we request to decree our collective death and to bury us everybody here. We ask, once and for all, to decree our decimation and total extinction, in addition to sending several tractors to dig a large hole to throw and bury our bodies.”
Letter Guarani-Kaiowá of Pyelito Kue (2012)
Guaraní land in Latin America:
Other cited sources: https://www.survivalinternational.org/news/12073
https://www.survivalinternational.org/about/belo-monte-dam
Indigenous Leadership in the Linguistic Resistance by Devin Willis
The focus of this blog post is on the final chapter of Emilio Del Valle Escalante’s book, Restoring Indigenous Self-determination. The chapter is titled Self-Determination: A Perspective from Abya Yala. The reading teaches us about the origins of Abya Yala in the tradition of the Kuna people (located in the country of Panama). The term Abya Yala caught on with adjacent indigenous rights movements as an alternative to using the colonized names for places which subtly reinforce the neocolonial status quo.
I want to write about Abya Yala and the indigenous rights movements as presented in this reading. I was genuinely inspired by the people whom we read about. Escalante’s work imparted two distinct theories of change onto me as a reader. The first theory of change is about how justice movements, no matter how localized, tend to broaden into the most inclusive version of themselves. The second theory of change, in conversation with the first, concerns how the idea of Abya Yala has introduced numerous people to the concept of linguistic and epistemological resistance to the neocolonial Western order.
The facet of identity which guides my thoughts presently is education. The dominant group would classify the indigenous people of Kuna Tele as uneducated. Yet, as tends to be true, those with the least access to academia go on to produce the most salient theory. The Kuna people, with their own esoteric language and belief system, introduced the justice community to linguistic resistance. I personally was moved by this reading and how Abya Yala called my attention to how my basic communication in language can support the erasure of indigenous people, names, and places. Therefore, my takeaway about change from this reading is to pay attention to language or the lack thereof as an important site for change and theorizing.
It is necessary to rewind briefly and elaborate on the term “dominant group.” In the context of Latin America that party would be the historical upperclass of white, Spanish-speaking colonial elites. Some terms that are applicable to Latin America’s historical dominant class: conquistador, colonizer, or criollo. The contemporary dominant group includes a myriad of people under the multicultural neoliberal order. White Americans and transnational corporations are implicated in the dominant group nowadays.
In this moment it is common practice to center the most marginalized voices in any conversation about the future. I wholeheartedly support this practice. And I have noticed that in my North American experiences the indigenous community is often excluded due to their social invisibility. As evidenced by the Kuna people or the Aymara in Bolivia, indigenous issues can quickly become everybody issues. This brings me to the second theory of change. I noticed that even in very specifically indigenous struggles like the EZLN in Chiapas, the movement for indigenous peoples’ rights was organically reiterated until it reached a fully inclusive form. This sentiment is epitomized in the Marcos quote, “Marcos is gay in San Francisco, black in South Africa, Asian in Europe, etc.” to emphasis solidarity with all marginalized people. These two small lessons give me hope.
Mestizaje in Latin America by Angie Aramayo
“¿Mami, porque nací de color marrón y no blanco como los otros?”
“Hijito, porque tu nacistes como yo y tu abuelito.”
“Y porque no como el color de Papi?”
“Porque nosotros somos capuli”
Mestizaje is seen and understood differently in each Latin American country. I can only speak from my Peruvian experience when I say that I did not hear of the word “mestizo” until I came to the states. I did, however, hear the words “moreno(a)”, “cholito(a)”, and “negro(a)”. These terms were labels given to people with darker complexions. For example, the word “cholito(a)” has been given to the decedents of indigenous people. This population typically lives near the mountains and speaks Quechua. The concept of race within Latin America goes way back to the caste system where the indigenous population and the colonists reproduced, whether it was through rape or marriages, and created a population with different skin complexions. This defined the hierarchal structures within these societies, placing the whiter individuals at the top of the hierarchy. In Afro-Latin@s in Movement by Petra R. Rivera-Rideau, Jennifer A. Jones, and Tianna S. Paschel, we see that “race is central to Latin American nationalism”. (66) One can see this the elitist positions in their government, business companies, and everything in between. Even the assumption that different countries have a larger population that is of white complexion while other countries have a larger population that is of darker complexion.
Many Latin Americans assume that because their countries did not have racially militant groups such as the K.K.K., that they, as a society, don’t have racial inclinations to the degree of their American counterparts. These racial inclinations are often seen as implicit bias from Americans or underlying segregated areas in a city. Some would even argue that racism is not a dividing issue that plagues social and public life in their respective countries. However, when examining racism at an individual level, such as the family unit and their values, one can see that racism, while subtle, is very much present. Oftentimes one hears things like “Hay que mejorar la raza” or “One needs to better the race” coming from older generations. This is the case for many young Latinx people within our generation and it is something that they must navigate while still trying to remain respectful to their parents, but yet challenging this outdated view. A personal example of this is the conversations my mother and brother had, as shown above. When my brother first came to the states he became more aware of the different skin color complexions in the United States. He asked my mother why he was “marron” or “brown”. Instead of agreeing, my mother said they were the skin color “capuli”. Many years later, my brother and I came to find out that the term “capuli” doesn’t have anything to do with skin color. My mother just came up with this word to reject the idea that her son is “brown”.
The article says it perfectly, “the notion of mestizaje is inherently and explicitly about whitening through race mixture” (66). As seen from my personal example, mestizaje is a way that Latin Americanists can get further away from their indigenous complexions and closer to whiter ones. This is so rooted into their social lives that terms like “moreno(a)”, “cholito(a)”, and “negro(a)” are constantly used as nicknames with the addition of an “-ito” at the end. This way Latin Americans can soften the harshness of the word, produced by the colonizers, to the point that it can become normalized. When Johanna mentioned that Latin Americans wish to be treated better by Americans in order to have their culture and experiences recognized, however, these same Latin Americans do not do the same for those of darker complexion. I remembered incidents with my family that perfectly reflected this. At times I believe that Latin Americans are just simply ignorant of these racial issues. Other times, I believe that they just don’t care enough to make a change. Racial politics takes place in both Latin America and the U.S., however, what I want to further examine is the discussion of racial politics between Latin Americans in the U.S. I believe that space forces people to identify or act differently, therefore, Latin Americans can at times feel the need to stand up for racial discrimination in the states, since it can be an uncomfortable space, but not say a word when they are in their countries of origin. It feels as though those who move from these spaces stand out because they have the knowledge to see the difference in the way Latin Americans get involve in racial politics.
Self-Determination and Decolonial Practice in the Age of Capitalism by Lossa Zenebe
In their article, “Self-Determination: A Perspective from Abya Yala” Emilio De Valle Escalante explores the concept of Abya Yala1 by using The Zapatistas in Mexico and The Movement Towards Socialism in Bolivia as case studies. Although both of these movements are anti-colonial and establish self-determination for indigenous people, they take up two different forms; one is centralized while the other has a more horizontal organizational structure. Escalante uses these varied forms to analyze “what is at stake” when people resist colonial dominance regardless of their means. Abya Yala offers us the decolonial epistemology needed to fully understand and discuss indigenous self-determination.
Escalante’s article brings up the question of what decolonial practices can look like while existing within an age of capitalist domination. In other words, what does revolution look like when the the global economy is dominated by western capitalist powers? How can revolutionaries maintain their decolonial principles and practices while participating in this global economy? These are some of the questions that I will be exploring in this blog post. I do not intend for this post to be a direct answer to these questions but rather an examination of the social conditions that resulted in these issues as well as an analysis of the ways in which indigenous people have dealt with these questions.
First of all, I want to acknowledge that decolonization looks very different in a settler colonial state such as Canada or Israel than it does in a colonized state such as Palestine or Ghana. So while certain systems and forms might work for colonized nations, it does not necessarily mean that it will translate similarly in settler nations because of their varied conditions. For example, while electoral politics is not a feasible road to liberation within settler nations because it would still be perpetuating rather than dismantling the colonial government, it might be a useful path for countries like Bolivia and Venezuela.
As a result of capitalist domination of the global market, often times, these formerly colonized nations are forced to participate in this economy in order to receive the resources needed to sustain their population. Sometimes, even when they try to participate, they are stopped with sanctions on goods they export in order to create an economic crisis as a pretense for intervention. I feel like we, especially as americans, are too quick to criticize the economic decisions of newly liberated nations in the global south without considering the limitations of their choices for as long as capitalism is dominating the world. I believe that a much better use of our energy would be playing our part in the struggle against imperialism. As people who live in the imperial core2, there are certain advantages that we have and should utilize to help comrades in the global south. This can take the form of resisting U.S. intervention through increasing awareness and demonstrations against predatory economic policies.
Latinidad by Frank Valdez
Cien por ciento Mexicano
Cien por ciento Latino.
Nuestra sangre viene de los Españoles. Indígenas. Africanos
De los conquistadores y los conquistados
De Aztecas. Mayas. Taínos.
De guerreros
somos un identidad
Una raza…
Latina?
Latinidad is full of pride. We wave our flags and rep our country harder than anyone.
Latinidad is used to embody almost a whole continent of people united by shared colonization from European imperialism. However, this existence of Latinidad as an identity can sometimes blind us from recognizing our privileges within our own communities. This Latino identity is also used as a system to uphold the myth that the Latino community has overcome racism. We claim to be one race, however solo cuando nos combiene. We love our nationalities but if we really love our land and “our people” then we would know the history of our land and our people. We would know that we are not one race. Latinidad is multiracial. Not just multiracial but multi PRIVILEGED. Our history of our people is deeply rooted in bloodshed, rape, stolen land, and slavery. This creation of a Latino identity was created to perpetuate the marginalization of Afro and Indigenous bodies. We claim to come from the same blood but solo cuando nos combiene. Only when it is beneficial to us. When we rep our Aztec culture at soccer games but perpetuate the present day marginalization and oppression of indigenous Mexicans every day. Our perpetuation of a national identity or the mestizo identity, in general, is what oppresses these groups of people in our land. Latinidad was born from violence, therefore, Latinidad itself is violent.
There are people in our land who do not identify as Latino or Hispanic or Mexican. They identify as Nahuatl or Mayan or one of the other hundreds of indigenous groups that still live in Latin America to this day.
“Nuestra sangre viene de indígenas que vivienron hace muchos anos”
Muchos años?
Las mismas indígenas que son nuestros vecinos?
We talk about indigeneity like it is extinct; like there aren’t people still trying to hold on to their culture from a thread; like there aren’t indigenous and African descendants who are still being force-fed Spanish every day. And whose schools and governments are trying to wash their native tongues and culture away with jabón y agua.
Colonization has not gone away, it continues every day through this post-racial myth that is Latinidad.
We love indigenity in our huapango
We love the African diaspora in our salsa
We love it in our soccer teams
But we do not love it on our Latin identity
Si soy orgulloso de ser mexicano
Pero no soy orgulloso de la historia de Mexico Las raíces mexicanas no son de España
Las raíces mexicanas son mas profundas …
Ni de aquí, ni de allá by Frank Valdez
Ni de aquí, ni de allá
A phrase so easily said, yet so complicated and so full of nuances.
Chicano. Tejano. DominicanYork. Nuyorican. Central American-American
We make words to try to name this phenomenon of in-betweeness.
Stuck in between two homelands – connected to one through presence and the other through ancestors, language, and culture.
What does it mean to be home?
Where is home?
Can home be the line between two lands?
How can you say you are from a place that you have never truly known?
And how can you say you are from a place where your family feels like visitors despite having lived there for decades?
Ni de aquí….
This place is not where I come from.
It is only the place where we ended up.
It is the place that my family was forced to come.
We have been visitors in this land for generations and we are constantly trying to prove our presence here.
We are the marked category.
Our success is marked as an exemption to the statistics and as an “example” to our community.
pero..
This land is where I was born and raised.
This is where I learned to walk and talk.
This is the skyline that I see every morning and every night.
This is where my grandparents started a life for us.
Ni de allá…
I love Houston, Texas.
The culture, the music,
Mi identidad no es solo mexicano – es mexicano americano, es Tejano, es Chicano
My connection with Latinidad is a lot broader than the Mexican towns my family comes from
Yo aprendí cumbia from Salvadorans
I listen to Dominican bachata and merengue more than I listen to Mexican huapango and corridos
Houston is where I learned my Mexican culture
The Mexicans I have always been around have always been immigrants
A Mexican immigrant culture
Which is not the same as Mexican culture
My official language is a “broken” one – Spanglish
I eat confleis for breakfast, arroz y frijoles para el lonche, y parqueo la troca en el driveway
Chicano rap, Tejano, and cholo cumbia are the anthems of where I am from.
A homeland in between two homelands
Too Mexican for the Americans and too American for the Mexicans
Going back to the homeland…
A feeling like no other – going back to discover your roots.
Experiencing a different way of life
Going back and forth
“the grass is always greener on the other side”
While in the US we grab onto every little ounce of culture we can that reminds us of the land that we only know through the stories of our parents and grandparents.
However, in the homeland, we are reminded that the land is not like in the stories.
“Dr Coss, NL siempre vivirá en mi corazón” my grandfather and his sisters say
But what if this place does not exist anymore… at least not like it did before.
The real “Mexico” lives on through cuentos under the neon Houston moon
Our “Mexico” has immigrated just like us
I love my culture but it has its ugly side too… Staples of Mexican culture like lotería cards
El Machismo – the way in which we allow men to be promiscuous but shame women for any ounce of sexual expression
La Mexican Hegemony – The Anti-Central American sentiment the Mexican government and the people have toward our Southern neighbors
El Mestizaje – the Anti-Blackness and Anti-Indigenity that exist in Mexico and the myth of racial equality
El Homophobia- the fear and shaming of LGBTQ people
El Chisme- the constant judgment and gossip that is in our community
But there is also La Cumbia, La Familia, and El Grito.
I choose which cards to embrace and which to throw away.
Ni de aquí, ni de allá
Yo soy de aquí y también de allá
Review of Saudi Garcia’s An Afro Dominican Resource Guide by Ashley Grullon
In An Afro Dominican Resource Guide, Saudi Garcia explores the beauty of being Afro-Dominican all while calling out the people who find ugly within this identity. The intersectionality of being Afro-Dominican is a curse until you find out that the curse was imposed onto you by the colonizer and that you are, in fact, blessed. By this, I mean that there is a struggle for Afro-Dominicans in embracing their African roots but once they realize that the only reason they are struggling is because the colonizer imposed their ideas and standards onto them, they are liberated and able to love themselves and their heritage, all whole facing hardships.
Garcia calls out certain struggles that Afro Dominicans face when trying to find or embrace their identities. Garcia says that no one teaches Dominicans how to be black and this lack of teaching, has a negative effect on the lives of Afro-Dominicans and their identity. It creates resentment, sadness, anger, and feelings of exclusion. Not being taught to embrace your actual identity scars someone for life.
The first part of this guide allows us to see that Afro-Dominicans are oppressed. Garcia tells us that “Dominicans have internalized the feelings of inadequacy that come from facing discrimination while existing at the imperialist and colonialist cross-hairs of two powerful majority-white societies: Spain and the United States” (page 38). Dominicans have taken the hate that was imposed on them, hate that they have digested, hate that they have spitted out onto themselves and onto other Afro-Dominicans and they have started to undo it. This hate is slowly but surely being undone by Afro-Dominicans all over the Dominican Republic and in the rest of the world. By doing things like practicing Afro-Dominican religions in public, dancing in a way that is linked to African roots (palo, gaga, etc.), and taking care of one’s natural hair, Dominicans are embracing themselves and their African-ness, instead of hating themselves and their African-ness.
The second part of this guide shows the beauty that is Afro-Dominican-ness. Garcia’s main point in creating this guide was “to move away from denigrating Dominicans as “ignorant” of their blackness and instead highlight the culture makers, artists, and activists’ que estan poniendo en alto the African ancestry that is tacitly embedded in our cultural makeup” (page 39). She does this by focusing on music, dance, aesthetics, visual and performance art.
When it comes to music and dance, she focuses on musica de palos, this being musica de la religion que los Africanos crearon cuando llegaron a la isla. The religion being Cofradias and is predominantly looked down upon because it’s a result of the African Diaspora and its often misinterpreted as “brujeria.” She also focuses on groups and artists that have helped with the promotion and acceptance of this type of music. My favorite and one that matters a lot to the acceptance and promotion of this type of music is Marily Gallardo and Kalalú Danza Artes Escéncias Afroantillanas in Villa Mella, Republica Dominicana. This school is a safe place where young Dominican women can connect with their ancestry through dance. In terms of Dominicans belonging Diaspora, this school is doing monumental things because it takes solving the problem of hate and ignorance to the place where they believe began, the Dominican Republic.
Garcia also focuses on the visual performance of curly natural hair and how in the Dominican Republic there was a lot of hate and backlash towards women who wore their hair naturally. In this specific part though, she mentions how Dominican women are fighting that narrative, specifically Carolina Contreras through her salon, Miss Rizos salon. She then turns her focus on performance artists and specifically focuses on spoken word artists like Elizabeth Acevedo, Gabriel Ramirez, etc. She briefly mentions artwork and performance art that addresses intersectional identities within being Dominican, like race, gender, class, sexuality, and migration, and issues Dominicans face. By only mentioning artists, Garcia is bringing to light the culture of Afro-Dominican people in order to allow the readers to understand the efforts these people are doing to promote their culture and the African-ness in their cultures in a positive light. This is important because what better way to understand a country and a group of people so diverse than through their culture, culture that is carried throughout time and full of rich history.
Overall, I enjoyed reading this Afro-Dominican resource guide because it was about uplifting and empowering Dominicans when most narratives pertaining Afro-Dominicans are about how ignorant and prejudice they are and about how Afro-Dominicans do not know they are of African descent. This resource guide taught its readers how Afro-Dominicans are fighting the ignorance and prejudice that goes on within Dominican communities both in the island and off the island.
Afro-Latinx Literature 
