#chicana y/n

[fl3shm4id3n]

Can you do a Mexican!reader x the Metkayina+sully kids?like her showing them about her culture.

Cᵤₗₜᵤᵣₑ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐚'𝐯𝐢 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬. 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ ᴋɪᴅꜱ x ʟᴀᴛɪɴᴀ/ᴄʜɪᴄᴀɴᴀ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀ��ᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ᴍᴇᴛᴋᴀʏɪɴᴀ ᴋɪᴅꜱ x ʟᴀᴛɪɴᴀ/ᴄʜɪᴄᴀɴᴀ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

Tw: None ♡

A/N: Hopefully this is to your liking ♡, sorry if I missed anything.

Masterlist

The Sully and Metkayina kids that humans didn't have culture, or their culture was just technology. That was until they met you. A girl that was apparently with a group who had been helping the Na'vi against the RDA. At first they were a bit skeptical towards you since they've never seen you before, but they decided to give you a chance. You seemed very on going and nice to them. You had a very nice aura and welcoming personality. The kids liked you instatly.

They were very curious to know about you, how you lived and whatever else they asked. When you had told them that you were from a different race, they grew more curious. They thought all humans were the same, but no. You had told them about your culture. That was when they had learned that you were completely different from the humans that they've known and heard. You had told them everything, from the beginning. They were almost fascinated. The humans were like the na'vi, they had their owns 'clans' and own cultural customs. They wanted to learn more. So you told them almost everything that you could.

The kids also noticed a few things about you. How you never put your purse anywhere near the ground. You carried a hippy bag over your shoulder, which held your belongings and other things you liked the carry. No matter where you were, your purse never touched the ground ever. They thought it was weird, when they asked you on why you did that. You told them that it was considered by luck to put your purse on the floor. That's when they understood on whenever you sat on the floor on the sand, your purse would be on your lap, nowhere near the ground.

One night that you were all hanging in the marui of the Sully's you decided to tell them scary stories. You told them the typical story of 'La Llorona' they seemed very interested and a bit scared, they asked a lot of questions on why a woman would do such actions. You explained to them that the story is to teach that your actions have consequences.

Another thing about you, was how you respected the elders. It was common for them to also show respect for the much older people in the clan, but you? You would show them as much respect. When you were asked to do something, you'd do it no questions asked. Even towards the adults. Normally they argue on why they had to do it, you wouldn't ask why you had to do what you were told. You'd just do it.

You've also told them how you valued family. You'd explain how family was the only that was close to you and the only people you can rely on when you need it. You've also told them that not all family is considered to be loyal, and how some can be very toxic. They understood where you came from, they too also thought as their family as valuable like you did.

[cliffburton]

25?

did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year?

i started developing my band oc's, a 70s all girl occult rock band (think integrated like fanny and sounding like black sabbath/coven/70s pentagram, that stuff) and a story abt a doomy zombie girl but it's all so, so rough, nothing's set in stone

band is a quartet, no name yet:

toni bolero is the bassist and singer, butch(y) mexican/chicana (i don't even have their geography or timeline right) that looks like geezer with cliff's stache but in black, frontwoman* the way al cisneros fronts sleep. *toni's what you'd call genderweird but she can't quite put it into words, very dykey! but that's abt it for her, and tended to keep that to herself. reserved, but open to talk n talk n talk if she was in the mood and found the interviewer's questions interesting enough. the band broke up in the late 70's (i think late 1979) after the death of their keyboardist (more on her later), they released a last album in late 1980/early 1981 in memory of her and the band, with material they already had written down with her, kinda the way and justice for all was written; much heavier album, with losing their keyboardist they also lost their psychedelic element.

toni, after the band naturally fizzled out, was part of a thrash band for maybe a couple of years, only girl in that band. i'm not too sure abt what went on but one of the dudes hated her and one of the dudes got very close to her.

morgan cosgrove, the keybordist, was daughter of a forensics couple, or they owned a morgue, or something i don't remember how i arranged that. thing is, she became fascinated with death, dead bodies, decomposition, the afterlife, all that, she went to piano lessons as a kid to be distracted from the gruesomeness, she couldn't escape it but it gave her something to look forward to. i'm not too sure how she died but it was def after a gig, maybe barely after getting backstage. she was a lesbian and helped toni figure some stuff out abt herself, morgan was also the most mysterious i think,,, i don't think she did much press if any.

i don't wanna go anywhere with this really, i just want to explore the idea of an all-girl lezzy occult rock 70s band. i think could do some comics (no clue where to put them tho LOL) abt them since that's the best way to tell their story, i think. lesser-known 70s rock bands don't have as much info on them as, say, ledzep or sabbath, so i want things to be left up to interpretation.

now, the zombie girl story: i may situate in the late 2000's since i wanna reference dopethrone and early EW, but i also want it to be a rather atemporal story. it's in first person, i want it to be half a horror story, half some girl telling you abt her day. the protagonist is (tentatively) named mag, magdalene gottlieb was the name so she could call herself maggot but it's too religious to me LOL, and she talks about how she goes slowly and secretly rotting, she knows she's dying but everyone either fails to notice it or brushes it off as her being weird. i don't have much else built. it's a story in a similar tone to ginger snaps but with the solitude aspect to it.

[isabella-111]

Ok so I saw this eddie Munson head canon where Y/n wears eddies bandana as a shirt and I had to do a little sketch of it (very rough took like a couple minutes to finish so it’s definitely not the best) so here it is also I forgot who wrote the headcanonn but if anyone find out or knows please tell me so I can credit them :)

These drawings were based by myself (skin tone and body type) also in case anyone was wondering I’m Chicana (my mom is Mexican and my dads part Mexican as well )

Draft 1 cartoon draft 2 more realistic

[sexypinkon]

                                  S     E     X     Y     P    I    N     K

                               Save the Date | Scherezade Garcia

A Virtual Artist Lecture with SCHEREZADE GARCIA: WHEN THE SEA IS MY LAND. This is the first in a lecture series organized as part of my Chicana/o & Latinx Art course this semester, and is free and open to the public. Tuesday, February 7, 2022 at 5pm MDTRegister at https://bit.ly/3s5fXbk

[helaintoloki]

Just What I Needed

pairing: Xavier x Latina!reader

warnings/details: language, small amount of angst, fluff, unedited, some of the dialogue is in Spanish :)

notes: don’t really know what this is and I mostly wrote it for myself so I don’t expect much. But seeing the Chicano neighborhoods and stuff in last night’s episode reminded me of my family and the neighborhoods we used to live in so I wrote this. Hits close to home for me. Enjoy

“I don’t mind you comin here, and wastin all my time”

1983

“¡Amá, ya me voy!” She calls out as she rushes out the door, bag carelessly slung over her shoulder as she hurriedly steps into her beat down truck. It had been a birthday present, bought with scrounged and saved up money her parents had collected. It wasn’t much, but she loved it all the same.

The chatter of the neighborhood children and loud shouts of the street seller on the corner are quickly drowned out by the sounds of Fleetwood Mac playing from the stereo. She doesn’t want to go to work today, but the world stops for no one and so she continues her trek to her nine to five job.

The Hot Dog on a Stick uniform is tight and itchy, but y/n keeps her complaints to herself as she takes the orders of various customers and works over the hot dog fryers. It’s humiliating squeezing the lemons for the lemonade but that’s when she gets the most tips, from guys ogling at the way her breasts bounce with each pump of the handle.

By six o’clock she’s burned out and tired, sick of the smell of ketchup and very close to smacking the next bitch who so much as tries to open their mouth and insult her. She doesn’t need anymore of it, and she only puts up with this stupid job to pay for school and help her parents. She didn’t have the same opportunities as the other kids did in school, didn’t have scholarships lined up or free rides to anything or any saved up money. It wasn’t so easy being poor and growing up in the rougher side of town, but she was tough, and she managed.

“Nice uniform,” a voice pipes up, and y/n has to refrain from rolling her eyes at the blonde girl standing in front of the counter.

“What can I get you?” Y/N sighs.

“Oh, I’m not here for food. My friend, the one standing over there with the nice ass, thinks you’re a real hot chick. Can he get your number?”

She peers over at the boy, casually leaned back against one of the tables as he flashes her an award winning smile. And she almost says yes. Almost.

“Not interested,” y/n says. “I’ve gotta make some more lemonade.”

And she walks into the back room to get more lemons.

~~~

“That lemonade you made was really good,” Xavier smirks, taking a long, obnoxious sip from the plastic straw held between his plump lips.

“Thanks,” y/n shrugs, uninterested, and he pouts.

“C’mon, I’m really trying here,” he insists, “I wanna take you out. Let me take you out.”

“Do you even know my name?” She retorts.

“Course I do... y/n,” he says, blatantly reading off of her name tag. “One date, I promise. If you don’t like me I’ll stay far, far away from you and your delicious lemonade.”

He winks, and y/n is really tired. Tired of work, tired of constant studying, tired of putting up with society’s bullshit. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t need a night out away from it all. And Xavier wasn’t too terrible looking.

“Alright. Pick me up tomorrow at six.” She tears a napkin free from the holder and scribbles her number and address. “I don’t like to wait.”

“You’ve got it babe,” Xavier grins, gladly swiping the napkin from her fingertips and waltzing away. And y/n almost regrets her decision. Almost.

~~~

Xavier checks the address written on the napkin five times to assure him that he’s in the right neighborhood. Little kids run around in the street while their fathers sit on their porches with a beer in hand as soft Spanish ballads play from their stereos. He’s in the ghettos, a part of town he’d never stepped foot in, but he tries not to pay any mind to it as he steps out of his van and approaches the front door.

A woman opens the door, little kids running around behind her. Her graying hair is tied up into a neat bun, apron tied securely around her waist as she cradles a baby in her arms.

“I’m Xavier,” he smiles, offering his hand. The woman only stares at it. “Shit, umm...” he tries to think back to the basic vocabulary he had once learned in Spanish class but comes up empty handed, so the only thing he can muster is a weak and shaky, “Hola?”

Y/N appears behind the woman, a small smile on her face as she kisses her mother on the cheek.

“Orita vengo, mamá. Voy a pasar un rato con mi amigo Xavier.” If he had been a puppy, all could have seen the way his ears would perk up at the mention of his name, the only word he understands in the sentence.

“Con cuidado, hija,” her mother warns, and y/n simply shakes her and presses another kiss to her cheek.

“Sí mamá. Te quiero.”

And the door shuts and it’s just the two of them again on the creaky porch.

“She seems nice.”

“She is,” y/n nods, “what’s that?”

“Oh, these. Flowers,” he says, a soft smile on his face as he hands her his offering. “I’m usually more of a quick hook up or one night stand kind of guy so roses aren’t really my jam. But I have a good feeling about you.”

“Nerd,” she scoffs, her blushing cheeks and sheepish smile hidden behind the bouquet.

~~~

They go go karting and play mini golf, and y/n even gives Xavier permission to pull his cheesy little stunt of guiding her golf swing so she’ll make it in the hole.

He wins her a stuffed animal with his skee ball tickets before the pair finally settles down and grabs some slices of pizza.

“Having fun?” Xavier asks.

“Honestly? More fun than I thought I’d have,” y/n admits.

“Why were you so scared to go out with me anyway?”

“I wasn’t scared,” y/n corrects, silently staring down at her pizza. “Not of you. But of what you represent. No offense, but most white boys like you don’t want girls like me as a long term deal.”

“And what kind of girl are you?” Xavier asks, but his voice is sincere as he gazes into her eyes. His hand reaches across the table to gently grab a hold of hers, and she smiles.

“A poor Chicana girl living in the not so glamorous side of Los Angeles. A girl with no money, no fancy clothes. A girl with brown skin.”

“Well you know what I see? A strong, gorgeous, badass girl with the biggest fucking heart I’ve ever seen. None of that shit matters. Not to me. I only see you, y/n. Just you.”

She lets him lean across the table and kiss her, the taste of Coca Cola still fresh on his lips. And she savors the taste, savors Xavier, and allows the walls around her to crumble until it’s just the two of them together.

And being alone with Xavier really isn’t all that bad.

~~~

1984

“Babe, guess what?” Xavier grins as he flops on top of her resting figure on the bed. The mattress springs creek and groan and y/n lets out a small groan at the impact, quick to shove him off.

“It better be good,” she sighs, smiling slightly when he presses a quick kiss to her forehead.

“You and me working as camp counselors baby, just us together for the rest of the summer.”

“Counselors? I don’t know... I didn’t really plan on spending my summer in some sweaty camp,” y/n replies, nose scrunched slightly in disdain.

“Oh, c’mon, it’ll be fun! Montana will be there and so will Chet and Ray. Plus you’ll get to see this gorgeous face every single day,” Xavier grins cheekily, and y/n lightly swats him away.

“Wouldn’t you rather go to the beach or something?”

“C’mon, y/n, please,” Xavier begs, chin resting on her abdomen as he stares up at her with his big blue puppy dog eyes. She hates him for it.

“I hate you sometimes, you know,” she frowns, fingers carding through his blonde hair. But Xavier smiles triumphantly knowing he’s won the battle, and rests his head happily against her breasts.

“I know,” he sighs happily, arms wrapped around her waist. The smell of her mother’s cooking wafts through the house and reminds him of how hungry he is. “Can we have some of your mom’s, umm... what’s it called again?”

“Chilaquiles,” y/n answers with a fond smile.

“Right, chilaquiles,” he affirms, and despite how terrible his accent is she appreciates the effort. He’s been trying his best to learn, and y/n doesn’t think Xavier realizes just how much it means to her.

She watches him get up out of bed and stop in the doorway, shooting an expectant look at her as she remains lying in bed.

“Which camp are we counseling at exactly?” Y/N asks, top half propped up on the back of her elbows.

“Camp Redwood. I heard it’s to die for.”

[celestianstars]

honey-chicana, Amalia, mooom??? Could you pleeeeaaase write something about Chris Evans and reader / y/n (whatever her name is ) arguing . I need some drama / angst (headcanon, blurb whatever you like 🥺🥺🥺🥺 please

I got you my love! Working on something kinda angsty with Chris, it’ll be posted to @honeychicanawrites !!!

[hollow-haven]

psst you don’t know but I also happen to be *whips off sunglasses* a Latina :) ¡Soy Chicana! ¿Y tu?

THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING.I’m half n half! Dominican and Puerto Rican.

[rginternetpress]

Ogier/ Ingrassia logran su octavo campeonato

Ogier/Ingrassiahan conquistado su segundo triunfo en el Rally de Monza para cerrar la era World Rally Car. Además, este francés termina su etapa como piloto oficial en el WRC con su octavo título en nueve temporadas.

Sébastien Ogier se ha proclamado octocampeón del WRC tras conquistar el Rally de Monza por segundo año consecutivo. Con este trabajado triunfo, el francés cierra su etapa como piloto a tiempo completo en el Mundial de Rallies con un nuevo entorchado, erigiéndose como el gran rey de la última década en la especialidad. En la despedida de los World Rally Cars, que darán paso a los 'Rally1' híbridos, Elfyn Evans ha demostrado ser un digno rival para Ogier con su segundo puesto, certificando a su vez el título de constructores de Toyota. Por detrás del subcampeón ha terminado Dani Sordo, sumando otro podio a su palmarés junto a Hyundai.

Aunque el francés llegó a tener ventaja mayor a seis segundos durante el viernes, el británico acabó ese día al frente, dejando el escenario listo para que ambos intercambiaran el liderato cinco veces a lo largo del sábado.

Al final, Ogier controló el liderato para las tres etapas del domingo. En la primera (Grand Prix 2), él y Evans hicieron el mismo registro, con todo y el hecho de que Ogier tocó una barrera de una chicana, pero fue en el primer paso por Serraglio cuando la distancia se amplió de forma definitiva, ya que Evans perdió la línea en una curva, bloqueó los frenos y se le apagó su auto.

Esto le hizo perder siete segundos ante Ogier, quien a pesar de ser tres décimas más lento que su adversario en la Etapa power stage, logró el triunfo absoluto por 7.3 segundos.

De esta manera, Ogier derrotó a Evans por 23 puntos en el Mundial 2021, asegurando su octacampeonato con cinco triunfos y siete podios en doce fechas. Además, totalizó 54 victorias en su etapa piloto oficial en la categoría estelar, todas junto con su navegante Julien Ingrassia, quien se retira. Asimismo, el 1-2 de ambos le da a Toyota un título nuevo de constructores.

Dani Sordo completó el podio del Rally de Monza para Hyundai, en un día en el que recortó su desventaja a 21 segundos ante Ogier. Su coequipero Thierry Neuville fue cuarto, con los consuelos de ganar el power stage y asegurar el tercer sitio del Mundial, ayudado en parte porque Kalle Rovanperä fue noveno tras recibir órdenes de equipo para asegurar puntos, en caso de que Ogier y Evans abandonaran.

Hyundai cerró con Oliver Solberg en quinto y Teemu Suninen, reemplazo de Ött Tänak, sexto.

Rally de Monza

Final

1 Sébastien Ogier/Julien Ingrassia (Toyota Yaris WRC) 2h39m08.6s

2 Elfyn Evans/Scott Martin (Toyota Yaris WRC) +7.3s

3 Dani Sordo/Cándido Carrera (Hyundai i20 Coupe WRC) +21.3s

4 Thierry Neuville/Martijn Wydaeghe (Hyundai i20 Coupe WRC) +32.0s

5 Oliver Solberg/Elliott Edmondson (Hyundai i20 Coupe WRC) +1m32.0s

6 Teemu Suninen/Mikko Markkula (Hyundai i20 Coupe WRC) +2m22.6s

7 Takamoto Katsuta/Aaron Johnston (Toyota Yaris WRC) +2m34.5s

8 Gus Greensmith/Jonas Andersson (Ford Fiesta WRC) +2m50.2s

9 Kalle Rovanperä/Jonne Halttunen (Toyota Yaris WRC) +4m49.6s

10 Andrea Crugnola/Pietro Ometto (Hyundai i20 N Rally2) +9m06.9s

[sciencespies]

The Complicated Relationship Between Latinos and the Los Angeles Dodgers

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-complicated-relationship-between-latinos-and-the-los-angeles-dodgers/

The Complicated Relationship Between Latinos and the Los Angeles Dodgers

Since the 1970s, Los Desterrados, meaning “The Uprooted,” have annually convened at their childhood stomping grounds right outside of the gates of Los Angeles’ Dodger Stadium. These reunions are an opportunity for families to reminisce about the old neighborhood—these are the communities of Palo Verde, La Loma and Bishop—together known as Chavez Ravine.

The families had moved into the area in the 1910s during a time when restrictive housing covenants prevented Mexicans from living elsewhere in the city. Soon, however, with stores, a school, a church and salon, they created a self-sufficient community.

¡Pleibol! En los barrios y las grandes ligas

The extraordinary stories of Latinas and Latinos, alongside the artifacts of their remarkable lives, demonstrate the historic role baseball has played as a social and cultural force within Latino communities across the nation for over a century and how Latinos in particular have influenced and changed the game.

Buy

And by the 1950s, the people of the three established neighborhoods enjoyed a vibrant community life that included fiestas and parades. Desterrados board member Alfred Zepeda remembers having three cultures:

We had the Mexican culture that our parents brought to us from Mexico, and we spoke Spanish at home and things like that. We would go outside out in the neighborhood where we would gather with the guys, and it was a Chicano culture, which was different. They spoke half Spanish, half English and, you know, the music was rock n’ roll and rhythm and blues and stuff like that. And then we walked a mile or two miles down, and then we were in the American culture. Everything would change, and we would go into a different world.

Today, they gather outside Dodger Stadium, because their homes and community are now buried beneath it. Before their neighborhoods were flattened to make way for Dodger Stadium, Mexican American youth roamed the hills of Chavez Ravine and spent their days playing games, including baseball.

A few months before the Los Angeles Dodgers broke ground for their stadium, Los Angeles sheriff’s deputies forcibly evicted families from their Chavez Ravine homes with television crews broadcasting the two-hour melee across the nation.

(Miller/USC Libraries/Corbis via Getty Images)

It was during the summer of 1950, when nearly 1,100 families of Chavez Ravine received notice from the Los Angeles Housing Authority that their homes would be torn down for the construction of a public housing project. The city had designated their neighborhoods as “blighted,” a term used most often to condemn areas predominantly occupied by racial and ethnic minorities. When residents organized and resisted, the city of Los Angeles invoked eminent domain against them, allowing the seizure of private property for public use.

A baseball letterman sweater is held in the collections of the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History. Chavez Ravine resident ball player Richard Martinez lettered in the sport at Lincoln High School.

(NMAH)

But shortly afterwards, the city scrapped the housing project, and in 1957, it negotiated a deal with the Los Angeles Dodgers to build a modern concrete stadium in Chavez Ravine at the edge of downtown Los Angeles.

Two years later and a few months before the Los Angeles Dodgers broke ground for their stadium, Los Angeles sheriff’s deputies came to the home of one family, the Arechigas, to forcibly evict them. Television crews arrived and the two-hour melee was broadcasted across the nation. In one shocking scene, sheriffs carried Aurora Vargas out of her home against her will, reopening the deep wounds of racism that for some residents have reverberated over the decades.

Before their neighborhoods were flattened to make way for Dodger Stadium (above), Mexican American youth roamed the hills of Chavez Ravine and spent their days playing games, including baseball.

(Wikimedia Commons)

Even as displaced residents were working to rebuild their lives, the Dodgers began courting Latino and Latina fans. In 1959, the team became the first to broadcast their games on the radio in Spanish, hiring Ecuadorian Jaime Jarrín as the team’s radio announcer.

Jarrín’s broadcasts brought the game into Latino homes throughout Southern California and northern Mexico; his dramatic play-by-play narrated every pivotal moment. By 1970, Jarrín had become the first Latino to win the industry’s prestigious Golden Mic Award, and in 2018 he was inducted into the Ring of Honor at Dodger Stadium.

Complementing Jarrín’s popularity was the meteoric rise of Fernando Valenzuela, a left-handed pitcher from the rural town of Etchohuaquila in Sonora, Mexico, who also won the hearts of Latina and Latino audiences.

In 1959, the team became the first to broadcast their games on the radio in Spanish, hiring Ecuadorian Jaime Jarrín as the team’s radio announcer

(Wikimedia Commons)

When Valenzuela took the mound on opening day in 1981, he caught the nation by surprise with his signature screwball pitch—which he’d learned from his Mexican American teammate Bobby Castillo—to win in a shutout against the defending division champions the Houston Astros. Valenzuela would go on to win his next seven starts. He had arrived as an unknown immigrant on the team, but he would dominate the game, inspiring LA’s Latino audiences, who represented 27 percent of county’s population.

Hanging on to announcer Jarrín’s every word, they soon began calling their team “Los Doyers.”

No one could have predicted Valenzuela’s popularity and with the steady rise of “Fernandomania” creating pride, droves of Latinas and Latinos—including some of the children of Los Desterrados—came to the stadium to witness the ascension of someone like them to greatness.

When Fernando Valenzuela took the mound on opening day in 1981, he caught the nation by surprise with his signature screwball pitch.

(Wikimedia Commons)

According to Jaime Jarrín, only eight to ten percent of the audience at Dodger Stadium were Latino before Valenzuela took the mound. Fernandomania changed the face of the stadium for decades to come. Together, Valenzuela and Jarrín transformed Latinos into Dodgers fans, and by 2015, 2.1 million of the 3.9 million fans attending Dodger games were Latino.

These layered histories have made Chavez Ravine a central site of Latino life across the region—a site of injustice that demands reflection, and in a space where they fought for pride and dignity long before the Dodgers moved west.

This essay by Priscilla Leiva, an assistant professor of Chicana/o and Latina/o Studies at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles, was adapted from ¡Pleibol! In the Barrios and the Big Leagues / En los barrios y las grandes ligas by Margaret N. Salazar-Porzio and Adrian Burgos Jr. Leiva has served as advisor to the Smithsonian’s upcoming exhibition, opening April 1, 2021 at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History.

#History

[fl3shm4id3n]

Can we get a part 2 of Mexican!reader where maybe she shows them some Mexican clothes and tradtional dances?

Cᵤₗₜᵤᵣₑ ₚₐᵣₜ ᵢᵢ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠.

ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜʟʟʏ ᴋɪᴅꜱ x ʟᴀᴛɪɴᴀ/ᴄʜɪᴄᴀɴᴀ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ), ᴍᴇᴛᴋᴀʏɪɴᴀ ᴋɪᴅꜱ x ʟᴀᴛɪɴᴀ/ᴄʜɪᴄᴀɴᴀ! ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

Tw: None ♡

Masterlist

The kids seemed to really like learning about your culture. So you decided to teach them some more about it. Luckily you had found stuff from back home, it bellowed to your mom. You decided to take them to the kids to show them what they were. You had taken some toys, old pictures and you had even found a Oaxaca. It was in condition and it was very pretty.

When you taken the stuff back to the kids, it was Tuk who really liked the Oaxaca, it was black but had very vibrate colors. She had tried it on, it surprisingly fit her. You had let her keep it. You continued to show them the others things, such as the photographs that were from your family. The boys were mainly curious on the toys, since they were slightly similar to the ones that they grew up with.

As you showed Tsireya and Kiri the pictures, you told them about what year they were from and other questions they had. Tsireya was curious if they had any kind of dances and any more kind of clothing. You told them about the Huipil, the china poblana and you had brought up the Oaxaca again. As for the dances, you told her about the Jarabe Tapatío, Concheros, Matachines and Jarana yucateca.

For more information, you had showed them videos of the various dances. They were very interested. The movements from the dancers were very cool to seen, a lot what happening on the video. Not only that, but what they wore, caught their attentions by the colors and how the clothing matches the dancing. This reminded them of their kinds of celebrations and dances when it came to the clans. They too wear attire that fits the dances.

They wanted to try and do those dances. You wanted to try them too. So you all to try and dance, it was hard at first since you didn't have a dance instructor, you had to watch videos in attempt to learn. You and the kids would spend hours watching the videos, trying to study the moves and how to imatate them. Afterwards you'd all be at the beach trying to do those same dance moves, you didn't have the attire that they wore, so you used what you had and even tried remaking the clothing that the dancers wore.

Tsireya was a quick leaner, she already knew how to dance, so it was easy for her to get a hang of the dance. Even though Neteyam wasn't much a dancer, he too learned quickly. Meanwhile Kiri had decided to do her own thing same with Rotxo and Tuk who also decided to do their thing. Both Ao'nung and Lo'ak are tying to one up each other, they weren't dancers, but they still attempted to compete between the two of them

[rockenlarocas-blog]

The Emergence of Rock Culture in Mexico – Part I: Rebeldismo y Refritos

During the 1950’s, rock n roll was sweeping across the world, with the likes of Elvis and Little Richard leading the charge. The United States was already engulfed in rock n roll by the time it began to cross the border into Mexico in the late 50’s. Early introductions of rock n roll to Mexico came largely through films, displaying the rebellious nature of young US rock n rollers, and as this began to grow, the Mexican government’s fears of a disruptive culture forming within the country began to grow.

The youth of Mexico were allegedly giving in to ‘rebeldismo sin causa’ (rebellion without cause), starting to oppose the repressive stability and ideological conformity of a one-party state that they had grown up with[1], and rock n roll was threatening to undermine these very ideologies. Eventually, Mexican Congress passed a bill in 1960 designed to protect the nation’s ‘buenas costumbres’ (proper family values) and protect the state’s revolutionary project[2].

In terms of music, there was also a restrictive tariff imposed on record imports, as an attempt to keep out the ‘noxious influence of rock n roll’, but soon enough the era of rocanrol had begun.

The early incarnations of rock n roll in Mexico came in the form of ‘refritos’ – from the verb refreir, meaning “to refry” – which was basically a Spanish “refashioning” of foreign music by imposing local standards on what were foreign rock tunes. This was done primarily through changing the lyrical content of the music in order to conform to the ideological standards that were set by the state. An example of which is the song “Good Golly Miss Molly” by Little Richard, which was recorded as a refrito by Los Teen Tops, entitled “La Plaga”. The original Little Richard lyrics portrayed messages of recklessness and implications of opposition to parental authority, whereas Los Teen Tops’ altered version became one of youthful merriment.  

“La Plaga” – Los Teen Tops: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmpC-pdPd8

“Good Golly Miss Molly” – Little Richard: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQ6akiGRcL8

[Picture from https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Los_Teen_Tops] 

Soon enough, the mass media in Mexico was promoting the rocanrol movement as one that reflected the aspirations of middle and upper-class society. Cinema was also used as a method for helping with the promotion of new bands, and the films being played always ended with the youthful protagonist respecting the values of family and patriarchal authority[3].

This said, after 1964, the aggressive and rebellious influences of British and American rock music began to take hold. Bands began to immigrate to Mexico City where they were able to enjoy more access to music from the other side of the Mexico’s northern border. Middle-class youth began to tire of refritos, even despite having little access to hear the original versions of the songs that were being ‘refried’.

A band called ‘Los Dug Dug’s’ had made their way to the border city of Tijuana, where they began performing in an all-night gentlemen’s club. Due to the location of Tijuana, Los Dug Dug’s primarily found themselves performing in front of US tourists, who didn’t want to hear the refritos of songs they knew in English, so Los Dug Dug’s quickly learned to play the songs that their audience demanded. This allowed them to eventually return to Mexico City to give the youth of Mexico the music that they were yearning for, and eventually allowed for other bands to follow suit. 

The shift in musical practice began to push the boundaries of early Mexican rock ‘n’ roll, and contributed to the emergence of native youth counterculture. called “La Onda”[4], which will be explored in Part II. 

[All information in this post was learned and adapted from “La Onda Chicana: Mexico’s Forgotten Rock Counterculture” by Eric Zolov]

[1] [2] [3] [4] Zolov, E., “La Onda Chicana: Mexico’s Forgotten Rock Counterculture”, Rockin’Las Américas: Rock Music Cultures Across Latin & Latin/o America (2004).

[revistasentimental]

CALIMOCHO STYLE

por Javier Zugarazo Tamayo

Rubén Ortíz Torres en el MUAC 

Customatizmo es una palabra híbrida que toma prestado custome (hecho a la medida) del inglés y el sufijo -ismo (cualidad de) del español: neologismo o simple síntoma de la customización de la lengua. La práctica de la customización no es nueva y tiene muchas posibilidades, se puede customizar desde prendas de vestir hasta identidades como la del “cholo” - una forma de ser híbrida, echa a la medida de quién así se denomina. Como escribe Sylvia Gorodensky en Arte Chicano como cultura de protesta (1993), el vocablo cholo tiene origen en el inglés show-low, locución que denominaba el fetiche por los automóviles y su enchulamiento, una práctica arraigada en la cultura chicana y de cuyos avances tecnológicos Ortiz Torres se ha servido para el pimpeo de sus pinturas. Este neologismo, customatizmo, es usado por Rubén para denominar su producción artística y es también el título de la retrospectiva que presenta actualmente el MUAC.  Fotografía, pintura, escultura, readymade, videoinstalación, grabado, entre otros medios reúnen tres décadas de trabajo del artista. 

“Calimocho, chilango, chaquira, campechana, chevy, hi 'n' lo”.* 

Mexicano de nacimiento, Rubén vive y trabaja desde 1990 en Los Ángeles. Es un personaje fronterizo no sólo en términos geográficos sino también temporales. Imágenes históricas viajan en el tiempo para aparecer en su obra como fantasmas, portadoras de identidades en resistencia. Su trabajo es síntoma de la condición política, económica y social de la frontera México-Estados Unidos, cuyo linde, aún con río y muros, no impide la migración, contaminación y diáspora cultural. Como artista border su obra se alimenta de la cosecha proveniente de ambos lados del río y de la cultura global: está presente la escuela mexicana de pintura, el movimiento muralista mexicano y su posterior revisita en el arte chicano (influencia evidente en América Blanqueada - Whitewashed America de 2014), la imaginería religiosa, las culturas precolombinas, la televisión, el formalismo y la cultura popular. 

“Dub, bling bang, limo, bbq, re-mix, p2 3d”.*

Se puede clasificar su obra como posmoderna pero no pastiche. No hay una yuxtaposición random sin sentido ni fundamento. Es más bien palimpsesto, una escritura por capas de referentes vivos. No es sólo imagen sino signo completo, significado con significante reflejados en un prisma polisémico (como en la serie de gorras de equipos de baseball intervenidas o Verdadera historia de la conquista de la Nueva España de 1992). No deja de ser irónica, cuenta con el elemento sátira y con esta atraviesa la historia política-social, y la del arte; saluda a Duchamp y se apropia de Picasso. 

“Anarcocapitalista, uretano, anarcosindicalista, warrio, fronterilandia, pikachu”. 

Y lo que hace con imágenes lo repite con texto, como en Bandera Magonista de 2013, una pintura viva que reacciona al calor humano y en donde se puede leer el lema “Tierra y Libertad” clave de los movimientos revolucionarios mexicanos, que rebotó en la lucha de Reies López Tijerina y otros más que combatían en los Estados Unidos por los derechos de la comunidad méxico-americana. A Bandera Magonista acompañan otras banderas nacionales customizadas, y otras que sobreponen ideales contrarios o eso aparentan.

“Homie, ranfla, ojibwe, guatexmex, demoiselle, perrada, pedorreo, pedomovil”.* 

Rubén Ortiz Torres es denominado como artista mexicano pues nació en este territorio, pero considero que su nacionalidad ha sido ya borrada, que a manera de paquete de coca ha sido lanzado en catapulta o enviado por túnel para atravesar la línea y es ahora su consecuencia. Dueño de un lenguaje de arraigo local pero ya sin nación conocida.

*Palabras sueltas, la mayoría partes de los títulos de las piezas en la exposición.

[aguasantastattoo-blog]

Mascaras chicanas para @rodriguezlopezpichu, una vez más, gracias por confiar en nosotros.🙏 Echo con cremas @sumuntattoo Para citas y consultas 📩 o al tlf 615972346. También en av Buenos Aires N 3 VIGO. . #vigo #tattoovigo #teis #galiciatattoo #art #tattoo #tattooidea #aguasantastattoo #tattoolife #tattooed #tattooer #tattoomodel #tattooist #cholotattoo #vigotattoo #ink #tattooaprentice #bnw #chicanotattoo #inkedboy #tattoomachineporn (en Vigo, Spain) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6nqvseIDYO/?igshid=v5ag5daox62c

[misangremellama]

I do a lot of questioning. Growing up, my parents encouraged me to be vocal and to not shy away from curiosity. My mother would always remind me, “curious people are smart” and my father would add on, “asking questions does not make you vulnerable-it makes you courageous.” They encouraged my headstrong, and sometimes stubborn, behavior. They never wanted me to shy away from speaking so loudly or bravely, hence why I began writing.

Over the years, a lot of my questions have been answered. I know where babies come from and why the earth revolves around the sun. I know where the ducks fly when the winter comes and why Sunday’s are the best days to eat barbacoa tacos. I know why boys pick on girls and why heartbreak is not the worse thing in the world. In my 18 years of questioning, I have learned things quickly and some things slowly.

Yet, there is something that took me a l-o-n-g time to learn because I had to question it so much:

My identity.

My whole life I claimed to be Chicana. My paternal grandfather was a migrant worker in Texas, and to this day he never eats grapes. My father and mother were both activists in college for Mexican-American students. My maternal grandfather worked in the restaurant business his whole life to feed a family of 7, and not every customer was keen to the idea of tipping a Mexican. Before I reached the age of 12, I was proud to be Mexican-American because my family struggled, but survived.

Then I went to middle school. A middle school with a 98% Hispanic population. A school where almost every brown kid spoke Spanish.

“Your mexican, but you can’t speak Spanish? Pinche gringa.”

“Does anyone in your family speak Spanish?”

“You should learn Spanish-it is your native tongue.”

“If you call yourself American, then you can’t really be Mexican.”

I remember going home and crying after a long day of remarks from my peers. I remember being placed in Spanish 1 and being laughed at by my closests friends. I remember being angry at my parents for not teaching my brother or I the language. I remember telling my grandparents to talk to me in Spanish, but hating myself for not having a tongue that could flip-flop.

12 year old Bianca was only 4 feet, and could only handle so much criticism. She did not understand why so many of her peers judged her. They had the same skin color, similar last names, and they shared the same culture. Was this not enough?

And…it wasn’t like she did not know Spanish at all. Her grandparents and parents were bilingual. She knew what part of Mexico her family was from. She knew when Mexico’s independence day was (#NotCincoDeMayo) and she could roll her R’s; she understood better than she could speak.

Spanish was a part of her life… it was not her whole life.

But to many kids there, and to many people in today’s world, speaking Spanish is the key to be included in the culture. The language is what makes you; it is what gives you validation.

I never learned how to say “no hablo español” without sounding ashamed. I would give a small, awkward smile, but soon I could feel the cloud of embarrassment rush over me. This embarrassment is what made me take Spanish more seriously. It’s what made me watch Univision, what made me listen to Tejano and Banda music, what made me encourage my friends to speak in Spanish around me. This embarrassment is what made me feel like I was not “enough.” If I couldn’t speak Spanish, I could not be Chicana.

For many other Chicanos, Mexican-Americans, Hispanics, and Latinx’s like me, not speaking Spanish was a barrier that separated us from a large part of our culture. Our “Latino experience” is different from our Spanish-speaking brothers and sisters. But then again, our experience is different not any less. In the Latinx community, the idea of what makes one Latinx or Hispanic is an ongoing debate. It is sad that there is division and anger in my own community when there is so much going against us already.

And this is another question I continuously ask myself — when will the judgement and criticism in our community end? I do not have an answer, but I do know that my inability to speak Spanish does not exclude me from the conversation.

I am now 18 years old, studying at a prestigious, predominantly white institution. The idea of clinging onto, and being disgustingly proud of, my identity has never felt more crucial. I can now proudly, without awkwardly smiling or hesitating, say “yo soy Chicana.”

To my fellow non-Spanish speakers who are scared of the looks of disappointment from our community, who cannot put “bilingual” on our resumes, who scream the words to reggaeton music (because in our heads volume equates knowledge): please realize that you are not alone.

I know the feeling of “not being enough,” and of questioning if you can really claim the Latinx/Hispanic identity. Remember that the language is from our colonizers, and our ancestors were once harmed and beaten for being able to roll their r’s.

To my fellow non-Spanish speakers: know that we are apart of the larger community. Know that your skin is something to be proud of and you do not need validation. The language is beautiful and we all are aware of, more than anyone, the benefits of being able to speak it, so know there is still time to learn.

And now to my Spanish-speaking hermanas y hermanos: I am not less than you. I am not a gringa or a mentirosa. I am not ashamed of my culture. I am not afraid of your judgement, your eye rolls, or your looks of disgust anymore.

To my Spanish-speaking hermanas y hermanos: I am learning. In fact, I have been learning. I do want to speak Spanish. To my Spanish-speaking hermanas y hermanos: your ridicule and mocking when I do speak in Spanish is not appreciated. How can I be comfortable speaking the language when the community mocks me for “not sounding right?” Know that I can hear your judgement and whispers, but it does not make me feel ashamed anymore. To my Spanish-speaking hermanas y hermanos: my parents did not fail me. This is insulting and far from the truth- the reason they cannot speak Spanish perfectly, and why they could not teach their children, comes from a time in history where speaking Spanish was wrong. Look it up. To my Spanish-speaking hermanas y hermanos: I am proud.

It took many years to reach this point, to love myself for loving my culture, for realizing that speaking Spanish is not the only thing that validates my identity. I am learning, I am trying, but I am happy with who I am becoming. My voice will not go unheard in the Latinx/Hispanic community. I love my brown skin. I love rolling the r’s in my last name. I love learning the language and being able to understand it better each day. I love the way I grew up, and the judgement I had to go through to reach this point. I love not having to question this part of me.

[ezineglamboyant-blog]

Read our blog article on Chicana Rap, Recording Artist, Ms Krazie. Only on G L A M B O Y A N T: The E-Zine. Click HERE to view the post, glambies. <3

Only on glamboyant-ezine.com