[Home] [Headlines] [Latest Articles] [Latest Comments] [Post] [Mail] [Sign-in] [Setup] [Help] [Register]
Status: Not Logged In; Sign In
Mexican Invasion Title: Mexican culture about more than beer commercials Last summer, the family and I found ourselves in Durango, Colo., in the southwest corner of the state. Thinking to take in a bit of the local pageantry, we headed to the Bar D Chuckwagon for dinner. It was exactly what youd expect outdoor seating, cowpokes ladling out hearty food on metal plates: chicken and steak, beans and biscuits. Our tablemates were mostly retirees, and while our politics were, shall we say, not in harmony, we managed to carry on general conversation without taking our butter knives to each others throats. Respect the elderly, I told myself, repeatedly, through gritted teeth. After dinner came entertainment, in the form of the Bar D Chuckwagon Wranglers, an energetic quartet of men representing the old-time Roy Rogers school of country music, with big cowboy hats and big belt buckles and kerchiefs jauntily tied around their necks. We knew we werent in Chicago anymore when they launched into a parody of Old McDonald Had a Farm, only this was a misfit farm populated by crippled animals a stuttering cow, a harelip dog, a lisping snake (with a hith hith here, and a hith, hith there) that sounded remarkably like the stereotyped parody of gay mens speech youd hear served up as humor in the 1970s. My wife and I exchanged glances. What to do? When in Rome, all in good fun, right? Besides, what could we do? Storm out of the Bar D Chuckwagon because its show offended our finely tuned, big-city, liberal sensibilities? Then came Low Riders in the Sky, a parody of Ghost Riders, sung in a thick Cheech & Chong growl. Their tires were all on fire, and their hubcaps they did steal. . . The crowd roared those funny Hispanics and their low-slung, hoppin, stolen cars! I couldnt have been more surprised if the Wranglers had come out in blackface and straw hats, strumming banjos and singing about watermelons and the Swanee River. It bothered me enough to consider going up to the owner, who joined the Wranglers onstage for a few final tunes, to explain that it is the 21st century now, perhaps time to put away the crude racial stereotypes. But I couldnt imagine that conversation going well, and besides, the Arizona border was 100 miles away. Who knows how theyd react out here? Since then, it occurred to me that this kind of prejudice may not be safely limited to the Southwest. Recently, I visited the National Museum of Mexican Art in Pilsen. And was reminded that maybe we arent as far removed from Low Riders as wed like when, thinking to share my thrilling columnists life with my Facebook friends, I went to write in the update section that I was on my way to the museum. But before I did, I had to pause, worrying about what might get written in my absence, concerned that just the word Mexican would spark something ugly from all the otherwise pleasant Chicago-area folk trading photos of comic squirrels on Facebook. I decided to risk it. My Facebook friends did not let me down, and the National Museum of Mexican Art turned out to be a revelation. I dont want to say that beforehand I thought of Mexican culture as big sombreros, Lucha Libre and the cucaracha; but the truth is, if you put a gun to my head and asked me to name three Mexican artists, Id be a dead man. The museum is spacious and airy and colorful no white walls here, but shades of tangerine and fuchsia and robins egg blue. Mexico is about color, said museum founder and president Carlos Tortolero, who showed me around. The place is small it isnt the Art Institute but whats there is filled with engaging contemporary and political art, sweet Day of the Dead tableaux and pieces with a wry worldliness and humor, such as Mona Lupe, Cesar Martinezs delightful blend of the Mona Lisa and the Virgin of Guadalupe. The museum is fun, has a great gift shop, and admission is free. Its always been very important to us to be free, said Tortolero. Cinco de Mayo is Saturday a historical holiday commemorating a military victory. But also a day that has been embraced by beer companies as just another party Halloween for Hispanics. Which on its face is fine. But it could also be something more. Mainstream Americans could use the day as an opportunity to learn a bit about a complex culture that is either unknown or maligned by too many of us. Hispanic immigrants are going to increasingly define the U.S. over the years to come. Their public face who they are or seem to be for too long has been set by the Bar D Chuckwagon Wranglers crowd, all too eager to use the illegal entry of a few to indict everybody else, and as a free pass to let their wildest racist fantasies roam. America needs to do a better job of understanding this culture that were absorbing every day, and a visit to the National Museum of Mexican Art is a great place to start. Post Comment Private Reply Ignore Thread Top Page Up Full Thread Page Down Bottom/Latest Begin Trace Mode for Comment # 3.
#2. To: Mad Dog (#0)
And what sensibilities would those be Neil????? Yell "You're all racists" and storm out of the joint!!!!! ROTFLMMFAO...... Rules for Leftards #4) Accuse others of being what you are and doing what you do!!!
It's the secret of the D&R party's success.
There are no replies to Comment # 3. End Trace Mode for Comment # 3.
Top Page Up Full Thread Page Down Bottom/Latest |
[Home] [Headlines] [Latest Articles] [Latest Comments] [Post] [Mail] [Sign-in] [Setup] [Help] [Register]
|