Latinos, repórtense
¿Te consideras una Latina?, le pregunté a una amiga que vivía en Puerto Rico y dijo, “No, que va. ¿Yo? No. Yo soy puertorriqueña.” Pero cuando se mudó a Nueva York estaba muy orgullosa de ser Latina. Y así pasa con la mayoría de nosotros, los supuestos Latinos del Norte y me imagino que es porque por un lado sentimos como una solidaridad más amplia con los hispanoparlantes y por el otro los medios no nos deja olvidar que sí, somos Latinos, carajo.
Sometimes it can be difficult to embrace the Latino thing because that quest for common ground with the rest of our brothers and sisters can constitute a rather insipid watering down of our individual cultures. In fact sometimes I think that Latino, the feeling, the attitude, the identity has become transformed from algo que refleja el corazón de donde venimos into a way of being, or state of mind that involves “Latinos” constantly explaining how confusing it is to deal with our Americanization and, our frankly eroding Spanish skill set.
Entonces cuando sale un proyecto como “The Latino List,” que estrena a finales de septiembre en HBO (Hispanic Broadcasting Opportunity), provoca una curiosidad intensa sobre cual puede ser la última versión de lo Latino. Por una hora, la pantalla pequeña se llenará con imágenes y voces de nuestra gente, hablando de sus vidas, explicando lo rico de tener una conexión con el misterio de ser distinto, diferente.
Conceptually, “The Latino List” is an alternate version of “The Blacklist,” which appeared on HBO in 2008, the product of a collaboration between photographer Timothy Greenfield-Saunders and African-American ex-New York Times film critic Elvis Mitchell. The idea is, Greenfield Saunders brings famous African Americans to a studio and takes portraits of them, and at the same time they are interviewed for a documentary, which makes it feel like you are sitting in the room while the portraits are being taken.
“The Latino List” is directed solely by Greenfield-Saunders and says that it uses interviews conducted by PBS reporter Maria Hinojosa, but she is entirely offscreen and her voice is not heard except at the beginning, when she introduces the documentary. The entire premise of “The Blacklist” is to create a charged, confrontational atmosphere, where African American figures like Chris Rock and Al Sharpton engage you with their idiosyncratic take on the black experience with varying degrees of intimacy. The slogan on the documentary’s website (“An answer to the persistent taint that Western culture has applied to the word “black”) explains how Mitchell wanted to take the idea of the word “blacklist,” which means a list of people whose views and way of being are rejected, and flipping it to allow African Americans to take pride in being outsiders.
La página de “The Latino List” dice que el documental “offers a unique glimpse into the vibrant and burgeoning culture of Hispanic America.” O sea un glimpse na’ ma’. La historia nuestra se presenta más como la historia de un grupo inmigrante que quiere ser parte de lo “americano,” no un grupo dinámico y combativo que nunca se asimilará. Sale América Ferrara, empieza hablar de Betty la Fea, no menciona que la novela se originó en Colombia, y dijo que lo que provocó el éxito de Ugly Betty fue que era una historia de una familia hispana que eran hispanos por casualidad y que ese no era el foco del narrativo.
It’s one of those things many Latinos say. “I don’t want to be known as a Latino writer, I want to be a writer who happens to be Latino.” Porque la política de affirmative action ya tiene a la gente tan loca que tienen miedo de que si afirman su identidad Latina, el mainstream va a pensar que son un token. Van a pensar que eres un bobo al que le dieron trabajo para poder decir que pusieron un Latino allí y no son racistas. Alguien que en realidad no tiene talento. Por eso, la estrategia se convierte en insistir que uno no es un “Latino writer” porque un “Latino writer” no es un “writer” verdadero.
Déjame decirte algo. Yo siempre he estado orgulloso de ser un Latino writer y no me van a quitar ese apodo. No voy a dejar que ganen los mainstreamistas.
But you know, América comes off pretty well explaining how embarrassing it was for her to grow up in an Anglo neighborhood in the San Fernando Valley and how she finally became a success. You can tell she was born to play that role, Ugly Betty, en inglés. Much of the Latino List is about success, and the stories the subjects tell about their parents or their neighbors telling them that they have to work their Latino butts off if they expect to become a success, and then almost every single one of them say, you know, they were right, I worked my butt off and I’m a success, and I owe all of my success to them. With a little help from my driving ambition.
Para mí, uno de los cuentos que mejor lució fue la historia de Anthony Romero, el jefe de la ACLU en Nueva York. Habló del racismo sutil en la gran familia puertorriqueña y también de la dificultad de enfrentar los prejuicios contra los gays. Pero el cuento de como se evaporó la crítica de su papá sobre su masculinidad en el hospital, en los momentos finales de la vida era algo con lo que todos nos podemos identificar.
Did we have to see Gloria Estefan again, with Emilio, and that photo with the Obamas where he looks like Henry Kissinger? Like Pitbull, whose pained nostalgia for Cuba was bookended by stories of reading José Martí poems at a bar and revealing that his mother was a stripper, the Estefans pronounced another classic “Latino” narrative: We were too Anglo for the Hispanics and too Hispanic for the Anglos. The tragic mulatto in-between two cultures story that maybe most of us can’t seem to shake but that doesn’t mean we aren’t trying hard to.
Which brings us to the professional Latino, John Leguizamo. My man has it all down, the Spanish conquest, the Jewish schoolteacher, the hard-knock life in the streets, Bajando por estas calles espantosas! Esto sí que es auténtico. No me importa un carajo que no tiene sangre puertorriqueña. Este muchacho, como Ismael y Kako, ¡está por el libro! He may just be the chingón that Sandra Cisneros claimed to be looking for in her segment. (I loved the way she claimed to forever be a chingona like we were all supposed to know what that meant.)
Not far behind in this regard is Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor. Before the camera she came alive with a certain charm that can only be found in the projects in Soundview, da Bronx. This was real. She told the story about learning how to dance salsa like it was the true test of being Latino and the image of her floating past Supreme Court justices like it was the Copa on Saturday night was priceless. Y ni mencionó lo del mofongo.
She seemed like the greatest single reason to vote for Obama again. No other Latino/a can claim that.