Latina

Living and Loving in Dos Lenguas

mandy — Sat, 20 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

Janet Romero-Leiva is a queer, feminist, Latina visual artist and writer whose work explores immigrant displacement, denied aboriginality, queer and of colour existence, living and loving in dos lenguas, and the continuous intersection of identities that shape who she is and how she moves in this world. Janet immigrated to Canada at the age of seven and has since been trying to find her footing between America of the north and America of the south. She loves smoothies and cartwheeling, and can often be found reading children’s books at the Toronto Women’s Bookstore.

Why did you start writing poetry?

It was by accident; I didn’t really know that is what I was doing, but I started writing because I felt a need to express and somehow release things I was trying to make sense out of—like my queerness, my feminism, my latinidad, and my experience of being an immigrant child.

What is your writing process?

I write a lot when I am trying to sort something out—a thought, a feeling, an experience. Mostly it’s from a feeling of discomfort or confusion. I will usually sit with the feeling for a while before I write about it and will usually write down a line or two so I can revisit it when I feel capable of going back to that discomfort. When I do go back to it, I write about the experience itself, what feelings came up for me and when I have felt this before. Then I edit until I manage to capture the feeling more than the actual experience.

Who are your influences?

Chrystos was the first poet I read that made me think I could write too, so I obviously love her. Also Gloria Anzaldua, Cherrie Moraga, Audre Lorde, Qwo-Li Driskill, and Lee Maracle.

You used to manage the Toronto Women’s Bookstore. What is lacking in the publishing world?

The publishing world is lacking feminists, queers, people of colour, trans people, working class people, folks with (dis)abilities, immigrants, and older people's writing. A big problem is that the majority of people in publishing are not the people on this list, so they don't see a problem with this. It’s not that no one is publishing people of colour, queer people, etc. It’s that the big publishers and bookstores make it very hard for the independents to stay in business. I think another factor is that, because we have not seen ourselves represented in literature, it is hard to imagine that this can change, so part of it is believing that this is possible for us.

What role do you see poetry having in activism?

I equate poetry with activism. We need to hear/know/understand the world from various perspectives, and I think poetry allows us to express and hear things in a way that traditional methods—like speeches and academic writing—do not because it evokes a feeling, and when you leave a talk/conference/march you will forget the words you heard, but the feeling will stay with you.

What advice do you have for young writers, women of colour writers, and queer writers?

Keep on writing, regardless of what people say—good or bad—and continue to write what you need to write. Share your writing. If no one hears what you have to say then it is only you who will benefit from your work, which is great and important as a growing and learning tool, but it is also great for us to hear you, to normalize our reality, and be an influence to others who may not have the words to express the many wonderful and difficult things we live.

Read the full interview at Black Coffee Poet

Written by: Jorge Antonio Vallejos, November 20th 2010

Violence Against Latina Immigrants: Citizenship, Inequality, and Community

admin — Fri, 06 Aug 2010 22:31:00 +0000

By Roberta Villalón

NYU Press

I generally do not start reviews with blanket statements, but I simply cannot say enough positive comments about this book. As a student of Gender & Sexuality studies, as well as community activism and Hispanic studies, I was greatly interested and inspired by this thoughtful, critical, theory-meets-activism approach to the difficult and devastating reality of violence against Latina immigrants.

The author, Roberta Villalón, is a professor of Sociology at St. John’s University in New York City, where she is active with both the Committee for Latin American and Caribbean studies and the Women and Gender Studies Program. According to her author biography, Villalón was inspired by the corrupt, and often deadly, political regime of her childhood in Argentina, and has since dedicated her professional career to studying the harms and realities of inequality on multiple levels from institutionalized corruption to domestic abuse. With her academic grounding in political science, international relations, and sociology, as well as her Latin American/Latina focus and affiliation with various immigrants and women’s rights organizations, Villalón brings a fresh, critical perspective to the discussions of resistance in social movements, particularly activist feminist grassroots discourse and efforts.

In Violence Against Latina Immigrants: Citizenship, Inequality, and Community, Villalón’s writing/research process was mainly based on her work on the ground as an activist researcher with a legal nonprofit organization that offers free services to individuals who have suffered from domestic abuse. The clients were typically female, undocumented immigrants, a population she notes as particularly vulnerable to violence: domestic, structural, cultural, and symbolic. In her book Violence Against Latina Immigrants, Villalón combines her observations and struggles with individual clients and their processes with the complicated bureaucracy of our national immigration system, with personal interviews with staff. Even though well intentioned, the staff and general organization were often limited by funding and legal restrictions. They were therefore, as Villalón claims, forced to work within and, unfortunately often perpetuated, the oppressive cycles and systems of structural inequality, specifically in their construction of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ clients. Although the organization started from a radical, revolutionary grassroots project, many of the employees seem to be jaded, and accepted the limitations, an unfortunate although (arguably) sometimes necessary common ideological shift for non-profits when the practical issues such as funding, staff, and helping people in the immediate present are realistically addressed.

Villalón notes these frustrating contradictions and dilemmas that further the cycle and reproduction of inequality, and calls for more advocacy, networking between community organizations and policy changes that would aid this particularly vulnerable population. She calls for people, especially those with the desire and power to change policy, to “focus on the ways in which (these women) experience exploitation, marginalization, powerlessness, cultural imperialism and violence” in order to make the “invisible, visible," while also avoiding the equally oppressive victimization narrative that would further deny their agency.

Overall, the text proves to be a critical study into the complex intersection between immigration, citizenship and violence, particularly in regards to race, gender, heterosexuality, and nationality, and I would recommend to all interested in women’s, immigrant, Hispanic, or general sociopolitical studies.

Written by: Abigail Chance, August 6th 2010

Waking Up in the Land of Glitter: A Crafty Chica Novel

admin — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Kathy Cano-Murillo

Grand Central Publishing

Waking Up in the Land of Glitter is Kathy Cano-Murillo's first foray into the world of novel writing. The author, known to her crafting disciples as "Crafty Chica," already has a well-established fan base because of her popular crafting books, web series, nationally syndicated newspaper column, instructional craft cruise to Mexico, and product line.

A few pages into the book, I could have sworn it was written by the same author as Houston, We Have a Problema. I quickly detected the same seemingly recycled character types: the young fiery Latina with no sense of direction, and her suave Latino love interest, always so cunning and elusive. Admittedly, I’ve grown sick of these caricatures, but I’m happy to report that Waking Up in the Land of Glitter scores much higher marks than its doppelganger.

Murillo’s first novel tells the story of Estrella (Star) Esteban, the wacky, spoiled daughter of two of Phoenix’s most prominent proponents of the local art scene. Star's parents own La Pachanga, a restaurant/community center/art space that also happens to be where Star works, doing what can only be described as a half-assed public relations job.

Crafty Chloe, the villain for the first two-thirds of the book, first comes into Star’s life when she interviews her after someone defaces a popular mural at La Pachanga, which happened to be created by local artist and Star’s sort-of-boyfriend, Theo Duarte. What Chloe doesn’t know is that Star did the defacing herself after one too many tequila shots.

What ensues is not original, groundbreaking, or thought provoking—it’s simply cute. After Theo and Star's parents find out she’s the one that ruined the mural, Theo breaks up with her (though they were never really together; "it’s complicated"), and her parents fire her, making her sign a contract saying that if she doesn’t get her life together she’ll have to move out of their home and stop working at their restaurant.

It is during this time we get into the cheesy coming-of-age tale, in which Star bands together with her best friend Ofie, an obsessive crafter with no crafting talent, Chloe, and a young gay teenager named Benecio to create centerpieces for what’s called the Crafting Olympics. It is also around this time that Star becomes an artist after talking about it for years, despite never picking up so much as a pen.

Despite clichés, bad dialogue, and not-so-intriguing characters, I was pretty hooked on this book and read it in just a few days. I suppose I’m a sucker for stories revolving around charmed lives—you know the type: it always works out for them in the end. And for Star, it all works out: She has an art show at her parent’s restaurant and sells every piece within hours, Theo proposes in a ridiculously elaborate way on her birthday, and she has enough money to buy a property on the same lot as La Pachanga so she can open her own crafting studio.

As I get older, I realize that not every book I spend time reading has to be an earth shattering, groundbreaking, eye-opening event. What you get with Waking Up in the Land of Glitter is a cute though trite little tale that will leave you wishing real life worked out as seamlessly as it does in books.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, March 25th 2010

The Gloria Anzaldúa Reader

admin — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 17:01:00 +0000

Edited by AnaLouise Keating

Duke University Press

I should probably start by saying that I absolutely love Gloria Anzaldúa. She was a writer whose work focused mostly on her identities as a woman, Chicana, lesbian, feminist, etc.—identities she insisted could not be separated from one another. She is probably best known for co-editing This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color and for her book Borderlands/La Frontera, The New Mestiza.

Anzaldúa’s work engages me in a unique way, so I was equal parts ecstatic and apprehensive to start The Gloria Anzaldúa Reader. There are so many ways this could go—there could be too much new or obscure material, too much old material, too much academia, etc. Luckily for me, the book provides just the right balance and showcases Anzaldúa in a way that made me love her even more.

The book is divided into four sections: early writings, middle writings, images, and later writings. The divisions are based mostly on chronology, but there are also certain themes that are more prevalent in one section than another. Every section starts with a quote from Anzaldúa’s works and each piece has a short introduction. The introductions were very useful because they often provided the context of where it fit into Anzaldúa’s writing, listed some of the themes in the piece, and sometimes suggested what other works to read in order to explore the themes in that piece.

What I liked most about this book is that the editor, AnaLouise Keating, does a great job of including a bit of everything in almost every way. There are poems, fictional stories, autobiographical pieces, drawings, transcripts of talks and email exchanges, and so forth. In terms of content, there are at least a couple of pieces for all of the issues important to Anzaldúa: feminism, culture, queer studies, and disability. For example, the book contains an interview about spirituality and sexuality, a piece about her preference for the term “dyke” instead of “lesbian,” several pieces about culture and identity, a poem about the process of writing, an email exchange about disability, and the list goes on. It gives a great introduction to people who have never before read Anzaldúa’s work, but even die-hard fans will like the book because it includes a good amount of unpublished material.

I enjoyed almost everything included in this book, but I did earmark a few that stood out to me. There were a few pieces about how Anzaldúa started writing and the methods she uses for writing that I liked a lot. Similarly, a piece on creativity was one of my favorites, in which she explores the rational mind, imagination, her sensitivity to the world around her, and how all of that comes together when doing something like writing. There was also a very funny story about a woman so saddened by her husband’s death that he comes back as a ghost, at which point she realizes just how sick of him she really was.

One thing that I might have changed is the placement of the images. It was great to include them and a couple of the drawings make my list of favorite pieces in the book, but I think putting them all together in between other chapters seemed awkward. For me, it was reminiscent of a biography with photos in the middle. Perhaps spreading them throughout the chapters might have been better and more in tune with Anzaldúa’s own style of switching through mediums within the same work. But I have to admit that this is probably just nitpicking to find flaws in an otherwise incredible book.

Written by: frau sally benz, February 9th 2010

Tell Me Something True

admin — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Leila Cobo

Grand Central Publishing

Tell Me Something True is about a young woman, Gabriella, who spends a summer visiting family in Colombia and what she learns about her mother, Helena, upon discovering her diary. Helena died when Gabriella was only a baby, so the image Gabriella has of her mother is broken when she is confronted by the secrets her mother kept. Meanwhile, she is dealing with her own life and the complications that arise as she develops a relationship with the son of a drug lord.

After reading the first few chapters, I thought I was going to hate it because it seemed too predictable. But as I kept reading, I felt myself drawn in by the lives of these two women and ended up really liking the book. Despite its predictability (which I found problematic throughout the entire book), it was the development of the characters that I enjoyed. I felt there was a lot about both Gabriella and Helena that I could relate to. As a Latina growing up in the U.S., I struggled with fitting in, balancing independence and obedience, managing expectations, visiting family abroad, etc., and I think a lot of that was captured very well in this book. Of course, these struggles aren’t exclusive to Latinas, and I think there is something for everyone to connect with as they read.

The structure of the novel is one of the things I liked most about it. Each chapter switches back and forth between Gabriella’s experiences in the present, written in the third person, and entries from Helena’s diary, written in the first person. Because the diary entries are moving forward in time (for the most part, anyway), there is an anticipation that comes with each entry as the reader waits to know the whole story. I like novels that jump through time and shift narrators, so in some ways I was the ideal reader. Those who find such narratives frustrating might have a hard time connecting to the story.

Based on the reviews I’ve read, another complaint people have about this book is that they don’t like the ending. There isn’t much I can say without giving it away, but I will say that in many ways the ending made me connect with Gabriella’s character even more. In my opinion, it was a more realistic ending rather than the typical storybook ending. There are also some questions left unanswered about other characters, so there isn’t the sense of closure that people expect. Personally, I don’t mind not knowing, but I can certainly see why others would feel let down by the ending.

So if you like books with traditional narratives and happy endings, you probably shouldn’t pick this one up. But if those things aren’t particularly important to you, this book might be a pleasant surprise, even with its predictability. At its core, this novel is a coming of age story with a couple of twists. It’s also about relationships – the ones that fall apart unexpectedly, and the ones that strengthen under unlikely circumstances.

Written by: frau sally benz, January 24th 2010

Selenidad: Selena, Latinos and the Performance of Memory

admin — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 00:58:00 +0000

By Deborah Paredez

Duke University Press

“This is not a book about Selena, but about what it means to remember her,” explains the author in the opening statement of her book. Remembering Selena is a remedy that releases the emotions of her grieving family, her fans, and those who became engaged in her music only after discovering the impact that she had on Latino communities.

Selena, a pop diva from Corpus Christi Texas, was murdered by her fan club president, Yolanda Saldívar on March 31, 1995. Instantly, Selena became a posthumous icon—a symbol—the object of adoration by many. Selena’s museum was erected in her honour in Corpus Christi, and Selena’s monument graces the downtown area of her native city. Selena: A Musical Celebration of her Life _(2001), the film _Selena (1997) with Jennifer López, and even A Conversation with Academics about Selena that aired on television (1999) explore her life and how she changed the perception of Latino music. In 2003, Selena Live - The Last Concert, which included her famous hit "Como la Flor" (Like the Flower), was released on DVD in her memory. It also served as a method for experiencing latinidad as an effective mode of belonging.

Who was Selena? Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, lead singer of Selena y Los Dinos started singing at the age of five. She was a U.S.-born Latina who grew up speaking English in a working class family that had lived in Texas for several generations. Her father, Abraham Quintanilla Jr. forced her to learn Spanish so she could further her career. Selena was voluptuous, had a Latina’s features and exuded a sexual charisma on stage. Her famous glittering purple pantsuit hugging her hips was a signature of Selena’s skill as a performer. She gained popularity through musical performances of a Tejano music that was often ignored by the mainstream and even by Latino communities. At the age of twenty-three, she was worth over five million dollars.

What does it mean to remember her? When she was murdered, Selena became the ‘Tex-Mex Madonna’ and the focus of collective suffering on both sides of the border. She also became the unquestioned queen of mestizo pop music. Many Americans invested emotionally, politically and financially in Selena’s posthumous life as they had previously in the lives of Evita and Frida Kahlo. The films made about them attracted the attention of people all over the world.

Through remembering them, a Latin explosion or boom promoted the mourning of collective memories; it also capitalized on the cultural, economic, and political concept of latinidad _in the United States. Selena launched not only _latinidad, but also initiated the Latin music boom that emerged in the 1990s and created Latino mega-stars.

Deborah Paredez’ study on Selena’s posthumous importance is well written, engaging, and timely. She reveals the cultural, political, and economic dynamics of some commemorations of Selena. She further explores the reactions of Latinos and mainstream Americans after Selena’s death. Selenidad enables—if only for a moment—a sense of belonging to communities of the living. A great and easy read coupled with a selection of interesting photographs.

Written by: Anna Hamling, November 14th 2009

Latina/o Stars in U.S. Eyes: The Making and Meanings of Film and TV Stardom

admin — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 23:25:00 +0000

By Mary C. Beltrán

University of Illinois Press

Beltrán’s study about Latina/o actors’ contributions to U.S. film, TV, and popular culture is illuminating and very well organized, researched, and written. The writer has explored and conveyed to us an abbreviated overview of the historical evolution of Latina/o representation and stardom in Hollywood films and U.S. television; major components of what she terms “Hollywood Latinidad.”

The growing role and influence in complex cultural productions in the United States stems also from the steadily growing Latino populations in the United States. In the 1960s Latino population was 4.5% of all the citizens of the States; in 2008 it has increased to fifteen percent or more than one in seven in the population of United States.

Latinos are becoming increasingly visible and influential in popular culture yet there has always been a hint of marginalization. Most carry labels of “the Latin lover,” “bandito” and “spitfire” amongst others. Yet Latin actresses and actors portray richly textured characters and consequently Latina/o opportunities for stardom (stardom meaning the object of public fascination) are slowly increasing. Stars are viewed as role models especially for young people, they are supposed to help establish social attitudes amongst U.S. citizens. The study is divided into seven chapters: the first chapter with its spicy title “Latin Lovers and American Accents: Dolores Del Río and Hollywood’s Transition to Sound,” Beltrán explores the rare opportunities that benefited a handful of Latina/o actors in the 1920s.

Next three chapters, namely “The Good Neighbour and Prime Time: Desi Arnaz and I Love Lucy,” “A Fight for ‘Dignity and Integrity’: Rita Moreno in Hollywood’s Postwar Era” and “The Burden of Playing Chico: Freddie Prinze and Latino Stardom in Television’s Era of ‘Relevance’” explore Latina/o opportunities and star promotion during the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s.

Chapter five “The Face of the ‘Decade’: Edward James Olmos and Latino Films of the 1980s” focuses on shifts in Hollywood’s structure of Latinidad as Latina/o filmmakers began to have an impact on a national level.

The remaining two chapters “Crossing Over the Latina Body: Jennifer Lopez and the 1990s ‘Latin Wave’” and “Ethnic Ambiguity in the Era of Dark Angels: Jessica Alba and Mixed Latina/o Trends” analyze star promotion in relation to the career and development from Latin star image during their rise to mainstream stardom. Without doubt, this study is a successful attempt to reach students from film and media studies, students of Spanish and Latin American studies and all others interested in the notion of culture. Equally, it is an indispensable tool in the classroom for any instructor passionate about delivering interactive seminars about the evolution of Latina/o national identity since the silent film era.

Written by: Anna Hamling, October 21st 2009

The Drifter

admin — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 16:53:00 +0000

By Lindi Ortega

Cherry Tree Records

The wanderlust, the whisky, the love-done-me-wrong– Mexican-Canadian musician Lindi Ortega sings it all out on The Drifter EP, and even if you're not a fan of indie country folksiness, her voice calls to you. The singer's voice lulls and disarms with a sweetness that could be borderline saccharine. Nonetheless, she is saved by her expansive ability to belt out a tune. If you heard her singing in a bar, you'd probably be forced to put down your beer.

Ortega's EP has only four songs, so before you know it, the album is over. But the brevity could be a metaphor for the love affairs in some of her lyrics: Here today, sing about it tomorrow.

"Dying of Another Broken Heart" is a deadpan perspective on breakups: "I should hold a funeral for every love I’ve lost." Ortega's guitar and keyboards play out the rhythm of a pop-folk lullaby in contrast to the cynical humor. Except for an interlude of bells where the lullaby takes over, this mix of sweetness and cynicism works well.

"All My Friends" transposes Ortega's wit onto an allegory for alcohol and drug addiction. She sings about "Jack" and "Mary Jane", the "friends" who will kill her dead. Despite this heavy-handedness, Ortega plays the expert staccato chords of a protest song, complete with Jewel-like vocals.

"Black Fly" and "Drifter" provide a different kind of protest: the refusal to end relationships without "one last taste." "Black Fly" is the most orchestrated composition on the album, with drums added to guitar and vocals. A song with pop-country verve and Hollywood bravado, it could be a lost track from Thelma & Louise. But "Drifter" lowers the guitar and keyboard to bossa nova volume, creating a music box melody. Pristine and unadorned, Ortega's voice stays in a muted key. This is the album's most experimental work, and it shows her indie side.

Still, both songs are ballads for co-dependency: "Sometimes lies are sweet like honey/ When you tell me/ that you love me so/ I drink it up you know." "Drifter" is an extended voice-mail message for an elusive lover: "I wonder what you’re running from/ Yes, I wonder if I could be the one/ to make you stay." (Step One for co-dependents: Do not leave songs as voice-mail messages.) But Ortega can sing with a boldness that needs no serenity prayers. Why not evince the same boldness with her lyrics?

Mainstream and indie, sweet and cynical, co-dependent and standing on her own, Lindi Ortega experiments with many musical personas, and, despite a few missteps, The Drifter offers the work of an eclectic artist worth exploring.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, August 28th 2009

La Americana

admin — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 17:34:00 +0000

Directed by Nicholas Bruckman

People's Television

This review will probably be a bit dated, as Nicholas Bruckman’s 2008 documentary appealing for more welcoming U.S. immigration policy has been superseded by our new president’s openly liberal views on the issue. However, La Americana still manages to be refreshing, ambitious, and important, particularly for those who are still skeptical of Obama’s stance or who simply don’t know much about the immigrant experience.

Bruckman makes a valiant effort to de-generalize the issue or, rather, the people it affects most, by focusing on one woman’s journey to the U.S. as an illegal immigrant from Bolivia. Her story is not the one to which we are accustomed: Maria does not come to New York in pursuit of some variation on “The American Dream;” she is only there in the hopes of making enough money to cover medical expenses for her daughter Carla, who was left paralyzed by a bus accident as a young girl. Ironically, Maria’s need to take care of her daughter ends up being somewhat of a detriment to their relationship, as it keeps them apart for several years.

For a film that’s bookended with two liberal quotes on immigration—the first by JFK and the second by Obama himself—La Americana is surprisingly unbiased in its presentation. Though Maria is a special case and certainly doesn’t represent all the illegal immigrants in New York City, let alone this country, her story is told in such an unadulterated manner that I wasn’t left feeling manipulated or like I was being pitched a political ideal.

It only helps that Maria herself is quite relatable and likable; she speaks candidly and without a speck of naïveté, so much so that even in spite of her situation, we never pity her. When she moves back to Bolivia on Carla’s quinceañera, we are finally able to see the awful living conditions her family endures there, but Maria never breathes a word of despair. She says nothing of how poor the available health care is there—we see it for ourselves, as she is forced to carry Carla up flights of stairs to the doctor’s office.

Unfortunately, the money Maria saved up in the States cannot sustain her and Carla for more than several months, and it is with a world of regret that she must move back to the U.S. It is at this point, at the end of the film, that we are reminded of Bruckman’s agenda, but not by Bruckman himself; it is Maria who pushes for change, eloquently expounding on what the term “American” means and what it should mean.

As I watched Maria tearfully explain that all Americans came from immigrants, I was surprised to realize that I’d never been allowed such emotional access to an illegal immigrant before. Bruckman has done something truly revolutionary by concentrating on this woman’s story: he’s personalized a group of people that has typically been pluralized and portrayed as a single mass, a collective “issue.” With the help of his film, perhaps those who still have trouble breaking that convention will at least begin to see illegal immigrants as people rather than a problem.

Written by: Caitlin Graham, August 27th 2009

Latin American Women Artists of the United States: The Works of 33 Twentieth-Century Women

admin — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 09:21:00 +0000

By Robert Henkes

McFarland & Company

The art world is full of niches large and small that showcase a variety of visual languages and regional cultures. A seeming labyrinth to the outsider, this complexity makes it a bit of a hunt to find American artists that speak to you—especially artists who have not been accepted by mainstream America.

In this delicious treat of an art book, the late Robert Henkes, painter and teacher, examines the art of thirty-three Latin American women artists who worked or lived in the United States. Entries are alphabetically arranged, from San Francisco muralist Juana Alica to Santa Fe painter Bernadette Vigil who studied under Diego Rivera. Other artists include Carmen Herrera, a Cuban artist of great stature who lived in New York City in the mid-1950's; self-taught painter Nora Chapa Mendoza; and installation artist Patricia Rodriguez. In each entry, Henkes writes about the style, influences and works of the artist followed by a summation called “Career Highlights,” in which he provides a brief resume of the artist. The entries are also beautifully illustrated.

I remember reading the diary of a writer who wrote that she liked to have a “book debauchery” evening. She would pour a glass of wine, make a pile of art and photography books around her on the floor, and luxuriate in the sheer heaven of playing with all her books—reading whichever parts struck her fancy, leafing through the pages with childish delight, and stroking the pages as if the magic that created them would flow from her fingertips into her soul.

Latin American Women Artists of the United States is a book you can dip into here and there and be transported. It’s an absolute treasure. Most of the photographs are black and white, and a middle section features exceptional color plates. My favorite images are Dora de Larios’ stoneware sculpture called Innervision (a depiction of an artist’s inward contemplation that unites the spirituality of antiquity with modernity), and Catalina Gonzalez’s Boom Box, punk-inspired geometric shapes pushing aggressively against conventional frames.

Henkes’ prose has been called “choppy” by some, but I disagree; I like his style for its old world, straight-to-the-point authenticity. He discusses how the fight for women’s rights and the feminist movement continues to shape talent and genius and how Latin American women artists seek to unite their two cultures as they weave the sacred, political and personal throughout. Henkes also provides a lot of art history in digestible bites that is intellectually succinct and fascinating. In the book’s introduction, he writes:

“The language of visual art is universal. It is ironic that in order to enter the realm of international art, one must first be recognized in a regional sense. Yet, as a regional artist one is isolated from the world market…it seems essential to first isolate (in order to identify) Latin American art before expecting it to enter the mainstream of American art. The question as to what is ‘American’ in American art continues to go unanswered.”

This is an inspired book and one that offers much joy and magic.

Written by: Cheryl Reeves, March 16th 2009

Houston, We Have a Problema

admin — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 17:23:00 +0000

By Gwendolyn Zepeda

Grand Central Publishing

It’s never a good sign when you have to begin a book review with, “I really wanted to like…” Gwendolyn Zepeda’s completely uninspired first novel Houston, We Have a Problema is disturbingly typical—which is perhaps the worst thing you can be as a writer.

I really wanted to like her Latina protagonist Jessica Luna. I was hoping she’d be fiercely smart, funny, and unexpected. Sadly, she stopped being promising about four pages in. Zepeda allows her character to fall victim to the usual clichés featured in both movies and literature pertaining to the Latino culture. Watch as Jessica Luna worries about the size of her ample ass. Watch as she pines and obsesses over the attractive Latino painter who treats her like shit, but superbly provides the drama she “loves.” Listen as she makes earth-shattering observations, such as, “He was the kind of guy who obviously loved his mother, and therefore he always treated women like gold.” Aside from that, Jessica Luna simply wasn’t a likeable character.

Perhaps you’re not supposed to admit things like this, but I was reading Michelle Tea’s Rose of No Man’s Land at the same time as Houston, We Have a Problema. The two books are worlds apart, but they are both written in first person from the main character’s perspective. Tea’s main character is a young teenage girl while Zepeda’s is a twenty-six-year old woman. Despite this fact, Rose of No Man’s Land managed to be biting and intellectually stimulating; it had backbone and its character had nuance and layers. Zepeda’s character Jessica Luna lacked depth of any kind and was completely self-involved, uninteresting, and annoying.

You’re forced to sit through her every mundane thought concerning her ridiculous love life and her boring job at an insurance company. Her internal struggles are so trivial that her “problems” are laughable. This sad state is only compounded by the fact that she visits a psychic for guidance—should she date the gabacho or the Mexicano? Should she do web design or try for a promotion at the insurance company? By the end of each chapter you’re left thinking, who gives a fuck?

Houston, We Have a Problema was obviously intended to be Jessica Luna’s coming-of-age tale, but if falls very, very flat. It also only furthers certain negative stereotypes associated with Latinas; that all of us love drama, that we want men who are bad for us, that we’re meek, apologetic, and indecisive. Though the protagonist routinely says she’s purposely steering clear of marriage, she spends more than half the book obsessing over men. Jessica Luna lets her life pass her by, unwilling to make her own decisions and unable to pinpoint whatever it is that she wants. I’d like to say that the novel ends on a promising note, but it doesn’t. In the end she dumps the white guy and the Latino painter … and then entertains the thought of dating two new men. Big whoop.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, March 9th 2009

Latino Politics: Identity, Mobilization and Representation

admin — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 02:08:00 +0000

Edited by Rodolfo Espino, David L. Leal, Kenneth J. Meier

University of Virginia Press

This book is a major contribution to the history of Latino politics in the United States. It is an indispensable reference for historians, economists, and political scientists, as well as any serious reader interested in the Latino political situation in the U.S.

At its core is a series of five parts: each of them consists of approximately three essays that give a thorough analysis of such themes as identity politics, political action and public opinion, coalitional politics, political representation, and the future of Latino politics. Latinos have not yet attained full representation within U.S. politics, just as they haven't achieved full equality in American society.

Citing the constant growth of the Latino population in the U.S. (35.3 million in 2000), and its numerous complexities and diversities, the fundamental question of Latino political identities are reconstructed for the purpose of various political organizations. David Leal moves the focus from group identities to individual identities. He explores the concept of "Latino public opinion" and if it does, in fact, exists in the U.S.

In the following section, Michael Jones-Correa explores the relevant approaches to the understanding of the Latino political experience from the ethnic, transnational and immigrant perspectives. The dominant attitude that prevails amongst political scientists is to treat Latinos as mere observers in ethnic politics in the U.S., Jones-Correa argues.

The essay by Luis Fraga and Sharon Navarro on Latino politics in terms of gender politics is of major importance. The descriptive differences between Latino men and Latina women are well delineated. For example, Latina heads of households are less likely to vote that their males counterparts. Also, patterns of both gender and ethnic representation vary considerably by state. California leads with 23%, the largest representation of Latina women; Texas has the lowest representation, 21%.

Latina feminists have organized numerous regional and national conferences to address their concerns; first wave feminists incorporated issues of race, class and gender by addressing experiences of poor working class Mexican women. Second wave feminists focus on labour movements. One of the first national labour figures of Mexican descent was Lucy Eldine González. Most historians list her as a Mexican Indian. In the history of labour movement, there were some extraordinary women leaders living at the beginning of the twentieth century, such as Luisa Capetillo (1880-1922), Concepción Torres and Juana Colón. They opened the possibilities for Latinas' further work against traditional patriarchy. Even though Latina women have not yet played a major role in politics, it has begun to change.

In the next chapter, the writers focus on the political identities of the Latino and comparisons of Latino political actions. Matt Barreto explores the characteristics of candidates that affect Latinos’ voting habits and Ricardo Ramírez analyzes the characteristics of the Latino population that shapes the choices of political candidates. Louis DeSipio and Adrian Pantoja compare issues of identity within Latino subpopulations, for example, comparing Puerto Ricans with Mexicans and Salvadorans.

Essays in section four examine the political representation of Latinos in a variety of institutional settings. For example, Espino focuses on Latinos’ representation by Latinos members in the U.S. Congress; Jason Casellas studies the representation of Latinos in the U.S. House of Representatives. Eric Gonzalez-Juenke examines their representation in local educational systems while Nick Theobald looks at the degree of responsiveness to politics amongst the Latino population.

The last section, in which Valerie Martinez-Ebers and Manuel Avalos examine the implications for the future of Latino politics opens the area by academic scholars future research.

This latest study of Latino politics is comprehensive and illuminating. It also advances our understanding of the Latinos issues in the U.S.

Written by: Anna Hamling, February 8th 2009

Hijas Americanas: Beauty, Body Image, and Growing Up Latina

admin — Mon, 13 Aug 2007 18:08:00 +0000

By Rosie Molinary

Seal Press

Hijas Americanas is a book that discusses the issues that Latinas raised in the United States face. It’s an extensive analysis of cultural differences and the different ways in which they assimilate, while still incorporating the values and traditions ingrained by family. Rosie Molinary conducted an extensive survey (which she includes at the end of the book) and based her book both on her findings and on her experiences growing up. While the concept is extremely interesting, the style of writing is rather repetitive, and the actual reading can get tedious. Molinary recounts the experiences of the women surveyed and, while at first it’s entertaining, it becomes predictable and redundant: “Thalia a twenty-seven-year-old Chicana…”, “Gloria, the forty-year-old Puerto Rican who grew up in …” eventually it reads more like a study written for a college class than a comment on biculturalism.

While the book covers several topics, from sexuality and stereotypes to religion and how being Latin affects them, I couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t necessarily a cultural issue. Dealing with how others perceive us, finding our independence from our parents and discovering our sexualities, these are issues that we all have to deal with. The stories relayed in _Hijas Americanas _are exclusive of the Latin culture, yet if you interchange cultures and anecdotes, you could very much be reading about any group of people. I did enjoy the few bits in which Molinary discusses her personal experiences; it is in these instances that the book displays a frankness that is captivating and playful. She shares with all sincerity the story of a woman finding her identity, and that is something women of all cultures can relate to.

Written by: Jessica Sánchez, August 13th 2007

Latina Activists Across Borders: Women's Grassroots Organizing in Mexico and Texas

admin — Mon, 23 Jul 2007 14:10:00 +0000

By Milagros Pena

Duke University Press

Milagros Pena’s book, Latina Activists Across Borders, is a significant attempt at recording the oral histories of women responsible for developing and running NGOs (non governmental organizations) in Mexico and the border cities of El Paso, Texas and Ciudad Juarez. This particular kind of work is necessary to further understand how women organize as activists outside of more privileged academic, feminist settings.

As a feminist who chose to leave the academy, I am often baffled by how women comfortably practice their feminist values outside the sanctuary of women’s studies departments and women’s centers on college campuses. In many ways, practicing feminism outside of the ivory tower takes guts, particularly in those parts of the U.S. (and elsewhere) that insist men and women practice and participate in traditional gender roles. Pena’s book provides some insight on how women outside of the academy practice feminist values in what could be considered hyper-patriarchal locations.

The notion of taking “baby steps” has a very real impact in places where feminist ideas and beliefs are considered foreign, feared or maligned. I was impressed by one interviewee from Michoacan when she proclaimed what an achievement it was for women to meet (outside of the home) to discuss feminist-informed initiatives. Of course, there are places in the U.S., other than the border, where minute actions would also be considered quite significant—the small, southern town where I live, for example.

The importance of networking between NGOs, even those with a religious impetus, is vital for the survival of these grassroots efforts. It is important to note, that the organizers interviewed in Mexico saw a natural relationship between the goals of organizations with religious roots and those with more feminist ones. In other words, they were not mutually exclusive. Both types of organizations worked to help those in need. Yet, many of the women in Mexico were careful about labeling their efforts feminist since local reactions to preconceived, reduced views of what feminism entails (primarily, those who reduce it to “man hating,” and those with religious reasons for resisting feminism) are rather entrenched. Instead, these organizers have labeled their activism as part of a “woman’s movement” to help soften the edges of public misperceptions of feminism. While this magical renaming no doubt helps to get women in the door that need the services and programming these NGOs provide, it also has the potential to further entrench the idea that feminism is something to be feared, denigrated and resisted.

The book is worth reading for those who work in NGOs, study feminist theory or consider themselves feminists. The tone is academic, as is the language, but the excerpts from the transcripts are quite interesting and warmer in tone than the whole of the book. There are varied ways of practicing feminism and this book underscores those multiple practices as being necessary for surviving a patriarchal and capitalist reality.

Written by: Denise Menchaca, July 23rd 2007

NACLA Report on the Americas (Mar/Apr 2007)

admin — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 20:59:00 +0000

By North American Congress on Latin America

Free thinkers must support the independent, alternative publications in this country as a protest against mainstream media’s skewed priorities. Inevitably, news is slanted. With an independent publication, the chance of reading the unvarnished truth is enhanced.

If you wish to embrace diversity and heighten your understanding of our neighbors “South of the border,” read the NACLA Report on the Americas. If you wish to know whether feminism thrives in Latin countries - where machismo is rampant and conservative religious groups oftentimes manipulate governmental officials like puppets - READ this issue.

Be warned, this is not light reading. The articles are stuffed with statistics, historical facts and political jargon. You must think when you read this information. You have to want to read it.

I don’t feel too amiss in telling you about the different chapters inside: Taking Note, Open Forum, Interview, Update, Reviews, ¡YA! Youth Activism and the Report. There are seven separate articles in the Report. While I read them, I thought radical, feminist philosopher Mary Daly’s thesis on the idea of not banging your head against the establishment “wall” and, instead, creating your own empire. If you fight the system, you’re giving your energy to the system, and they will use you. Nicaragua’s Daniel Ortega’s betrayal of his feminist compañeras, the women who fought with him to overthrow the former regime, is an example of Daly’s point.

I was also reminded that history repeats itself. The women in the U.S. who fought for our right to vote at the beginning of the 20th century met with violent resistance. We’ve come a long way, baby, indeed; yet, why is the resistance still so belligerent at times? In South America, they actually have a Christian Democratic Party. The Left is quite conservative. Women are involved in the reforms, yet the reforms are not enough, and not all women embrace the proposed feminist changes.

At the same time, Chile has a woman president, Michelle Bachelet, who is an agnostic! Considering Chile’s past, and the infamous bloody military regime, this is an astounding triumph! It makes me wonder. Will the U.S. ever catch up?

The writing in these columns is very clear. The interview with Ruben Martinez, a “trenchant writer on immigration and the migrant experience,” was especially interesting. Women in this country, particularly feminists, should read this report. Our sisters to the South are in a fierce struggle for their rights.

Written by: Patricia Ethelwyn Lang, April 19th 2007