The Crying Woman

As you stroll along the lakeside you listen to the gentle lapping of the water on the shore. The moon glows in a blood-orange hue just above the horizon as dusk falls over you. In the distance fireflies bounce and bob over the tall grasses that peek out along the waterfront. The ground is moist beneath your feet and the soil softens beneath your every step as you walk along, admiring the moon’s reflection over the lake, the chirping of the crickets, and the occasional call of an owl. But then something seems off. You suddenly feel warm over one side of your neck and you look over your shoulder; it’s the unmistakable sensation of the invisible pressure of someone else’s gaze falling upon you. You know you’re being watched. The speed of your steps increases. More than just speeding up, a draft washes over you, blowing against you, trying to push you back but you press on. You’re almost running now and it’s at this point that you realize you only hear the crunch of the grass and soil beneath your feet. No more chirping crickets. No more hooting owls. The water is completely still as you come to a standstill. Where did the fireflies go? All you hear is your own breathing coming in shaking, stammering, gulps. Then you hear something else. It could be your mind playing tricks on you but you hold your breath to make sure. It starts off like a moaning but that’s only because it sounds muffled, off in the distance. You want to run but you don’t know where the sound is coming from and it’s impossible to tell if you’d be running towards it or away from it. The moaning gets louder but it isn’t just moaning. The pain is the same but it is something more. Wailing. Weeping. As though the world around you is crying for something that’s happened. Or. Something that’s about to happen. Something that cannot be stopped or prevented. It’s the crying of a woman who has lost everything. Soon the crying is everywhere- it’s upon you. And it’s the last thing you hear…

La Llorona is a cautionary tale told throughout Latin America. Think of it as the Sleepy Hollow story of the Spanish speaking world.

There are many different versions of the story but the bare bones of it is this: There was a woman who killed her own children to be with the man she desired. She was subsequently spurned by her lover and as a result she killed herself. However, because of her atrocities she is forced to wander (usually near a body of water), weeping for what she had done, weeping for her lost children and looking to replace them. She is looking for her children and will often take children who misbehave or wander off.

Needless to say it has scared the hell out of many, many children.

It is difficult to say exactly where this story originated as there are examples of similar tales all over the world. Among the ancient Greek gods, the big guy, Zeus, had an affair with Lamia. When Hera, Zeus’ wife, learned of the affair she forced him to give up his relationship to Lamia who was then forced to eat her own children. Out of jealousy, Lamia preys on human children and eats any that she catches. The Greeks have some pretty messed up stories. Other variations of La Llorona’s story say that those who hear her weeping are marked for death, not unlike those who hear the wailing of the Gaelic Banshee. Other possible origins of the story point to the Spanish invasion of the Aztec empire. Some say the goddess Cihuacoatl is weeping for the fall of her people. Others point to La Malinche, a native woman who served as an interpreter for Cortes and turned her back on Mexico. Though there is no hard evidence to support it, some say she bore the conquistador a child and was later abandonded.

An interesting website that provides more detailed aspects of the current legend of La Llorona can be found at www.lallorona.com/la_index.html. It tells different stories of La Llorona as a witch, a harlot, a siren, and a virgin. They get a little creepy so don’t read them late at night by yourself.

As for why the story exists, like most stories it is probably a cautionary tale. On one level it is meant to keep children from wandering off. Like the boogey man or Michael Jackson, these characters are meant to frighten children and keep them away from strangers. It is also a warning for young women to either avoid being enticed by the wrong man, or to remember the sacred duties of a mother. Pre-Columbian women had a lot more power and influence than their conquered descendants. The European conquerors did not have the same idea of the sacred feminine that the indigenous peoples of the Americas had and as such did many things to destroy their ideas of the role women should have in society. That’s just the way it went and the story of La Llorona, a woman who is forced to an eternity of misery because of her failure as a wife and mother, may have been a part of that.

Whatever the origin of the story, it is a scary one. It’s certainly enough incentive to keep it in your pants a little while longer. Because if you’re getting down to it and the woman starts weeping… well, I can’t imagine any good will come of that.

Loteria!

There is a reason Bingo is typically played by senior citizens in the rec-room of a church on Saturday afternoons. It’s boring. You sit around with your marker or checks and your squares of cardboard with numbers scattered randomly over it. Someone up at the front of the room tumbles a container of numbered ping pong balls and drones out a new number every few moments. You sit and wait. You sit and stare, listening for the chance to mark a number on your square, passing the time, letting it float away while you engage in an activity just captivating enough to keep you from falling asleep… Someone gets five numbers in a row or column or angle and then you start it all over again as you wait out the last remaining moments of your life that comes in between your nightly, blissful release of sleep. Bingo is depressing.

But it doesn’t have to be! Imagine if instead of calling a number like B-12, the person drawing recited a poem. Your card, rather than a grid of numbers resembling an Excel spreadsheet, is full of colorful drawings so familiar that they have become iconic representations that you now find on t-shirts and posters. Imagine if Bingo were fun! This is the game of Loteria.

The basic premise of the game is exactly like Bingo. You get a card with a 4x4 grid of colorful drawings of items, people and animals. Rather than pulling ping-pong balls out of a bucket there is a deck of cards that corresponds to the pictures on your board. And just like its boring, American counterpart, the goal is to get a row or a column or an angle across the board. Oh yeah, and rather than using a marker or a check, my family always uses pinto beans to mark our progress but you can also use bottle caps or little rocks or anything you like.

Loteria is Spanish for lottery and the first games of this type came over from Spain in the 1700s. At first they were hobbies of the wealthy but eventually they found their way in local fairs and parties. Different companies and artists have over time put their own spin on the characters and the cards, just as has been done with playing cards for poker or variations on the Monopoly board game. However, the most popular and enduring set, the Loteria game that EVERYONE has and plays and is familiar with is made by Pasatiempos Gallo, SA de CV (known as Don Clemente Inc in America). They have been producing the game since 1887.

When playing, rather than just naming the item or character on the card that has been drawn, it is not uncommon for the speaker to use a riddle or poem to describe it. For instance, the poem associate with El Borracho, The Drunk goes:

¡Ah, qué borracho tan necio, ya no lo puedo aguantar!
Oh, what a foolish drunk, I can no longer stand him!
For El Violoncello:

Creciendo se fue hasta el cielo, y como no fue violín, tuvo que ser violoncello.
He rose up to the heavens, and since there was no violin, he had to play the cello

These are not the most profound little sayings, but they’re fun and can be improvised in any way.

Loteria is a fun and simple game where all of my cousins can play together on Christmas or Thanksgiving. This is not so with the Wii where we can only play four at a time at best. No, no, we need something that can get around ten people of all ages, all at once. You can also mix it up by betting on which card will be drawn, playing several boards at once, and of course, making it into a drinking game. Mexicans typically don’t need a game to drink but I guess for those of you who aren’t Mexican (and just supposed to be) you can add this to your themed party along with a piñata and a sombreros next to the margarita machine. Though if you really want to make your party authentic, kill a pig in the morning and make some delicious carnitas in the evening… I dare you. Oh yeah, and save the blood for cooking.

Zoot Suit Riot

The Zoot Suit should probably fall under the category of “I was supposed to be Mexican” rather than “I am supposed to be Mexican” but it carries a certain relevance because it is a huge part of Mexican-American history that I have alluded to in other posts. Zoot suits are basically just like any other suit, characterized by a jacket, trousers, sometimes a vest, and often worn with a nice woven shirt and topped off with a hat, often a felt hat or a fedora, and finished off with a gold chain and pointy leather shoes. There is the play, Zoot Suit, which was turned into a film starring Edward James Olmos (see: American Me; see: Stand and Deliver) about the Zoot Suit Riots that took place in Los Angeles during World War II.

The zoot suit, or traje pachuco, was co-opted by Mexican youths from the black community. Black celebrities like Cab Calloway and various jazz musicians during the Harlem Renaissance wore the suits, which they called “drapes,” were aptly characterized by a young Malcom X: “a killer-diller coat with a drape shape, reet pleats, and and shoulders padded like a lunatic’s cell.” A variation of the suit was also worn in 1930s England by teenagers who called themselves “Teddy boys”. Their zoot suits were often brightly colored and had velvet lapels to which all I can say is… well, just leave it to the British to do something like that.

Pachuco’s adopted the style and to this day maintains an influence in Mexican culture in America, particularly in Southern California. Those who “lean like a cholo” do so because the original pachucos leaned back to maintain those pleats in their slacks. The late 90s saw a brief mainstream revival of the style and attitude, again centered in Los Angeles, during what has been called the swing revival/cocktail movement when big bands and swing music were again en vogue; Swingers is a great example of the era. The origin of the name “Zoot Suit” is probably from the hard “s” sound that native Spanish speakers might use when pronouncing the word “suit” in English and thus is simply the same word repeated twice, once with a heavy Spanish accent and once without.

Dodger Stadium sits on Chavez Ravine where many Mexican immigrants used to reside. During the Great Depression there was already a great deal of racial tension as many Americans felt that these immigrants were taking jobs away from them. I’m glad to see that we’ve come so far since then. Outside of Mexico, Los Angeles had the highest concentration of Mexicans, and most of them were relegated to the poorest areas and because of discrimination and propaganda were seen as invading outsiders and were forced to work for very low wages. Just like every oppressed culture before and since, these Mexicans created and preserved their own culture- style, dance, language, and dress, which for the youths was all about the zoot suit. Beyond that there were a couple of events that brought Los Angeles to the boiling point.

In 1942 nine men were accused of murdering Jose Diaz at Sleepy Lagoon. This is the story that is the focus of the play, Zoot Suit. During the trial, in order to prevent the defendants from “misleading the witnesses,” none of them were permitted to wash or cut their hair or change their clothes. The nine were convicted and sentenced to long prison sentences though eventually each conviction was overturned. Of course this is the very short version of the case and I highly recommend everyone to take a deeper look into this very interesting case.

The second incident occurred on May 30, 1943. Many military personnel were stationed in Southern California, most of them on their way to the war in the Pacific. No one knows who threw the first punch but there was an altercation between some sailors and some pachucos that led to the start of the riots four days later. June 3, 1943 a group of sailors again got into a fracas with a group of pachucos, this time the sailors claimed they had been jumped, and with this last straw the LAPD jumped into the fray. Hundreds of servicemen and both on and off-duty police officers jumped into pick-ups and taxi cabs and went around beating up and arresting anyone and everyone who looked Mexican or was wearing a zoot suit. Zoot suits were torn off of whoever was wearing them and burned in the street. At this, the Zoot Suits decided to fight back and for the next several days were the Zoot Suit Riots.

More than 150 people were injured and 500 “latinos” were arrested, charged with everything from vagrancy to rioting. The local press extolled the attacks by the servicemen for the cleansing effect of their attacks. Zoot suits were banned by a city ordinance. The press called it a suppression of criminal acts by the Mexican community. When First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt called them what they were, race-riots resulting from long term discrimination against Mexican-Americans, the Los Angeles Times wrote a scathing editorial, accusing Mrs. Roosevelt of having communist ties and stirring up race discord.

Eventually, like powdered wigs and cravats, zoot suits simply fell out of fashion. They are still worn from time to time by pachucos and vatos who want to dress up. And shops like El Pachuco in Fullerton provide a wide array of colors and accessories. But clearly the zoot suit was more than just a mode of fashion, at least for a time. Zoot suits were a marker of rebellion to some, and an indicator of identity to others. Whether it was worn to provoke or inspire is regardless of the fact that they are some sharp looking suits.

If a bunch of guys from the city want to be hoodlums or thugs, join a gang or cause trouble, or just be part of a scene, there really isn’t much I can do affect that. But I’ve got to tell you, I would much rather see a bunch of guys hanging around in suits, even if they are ill-fitting suits, than pants that could house several animals, and prints in which a clown would feel silly. At least you can respect someone who takes pride in how they dress.

CHAKA!!!

Did you ever ride in a car on or near a freeway in Los Angeles? It could be the 101, 605, 60, 405… You name it. Did you ever glance over at an overpass or an on-ramp? If you have been near a wall of concrete within the limits of Los Angeles County over the last 30 years you have probably seen his name. More than likely you’ve seen his name so many times it has blended in with the landscape like Golden Arches or yellow shells that reach high above the highway down every stretch. His art is not quite the street inspired art of Basquiat. He isn’t a “clever” one-liner like Banksy. His art is what it is. In most cases it’s simply his name in various stylized fonts and representations. His name is his expression. His name is his reaction. His name is Chaka.

It’s impossible to say exactly when graffiti art goes from vandalism to collectible. When it comes to something as subjective as art, coming from a place like the streets of Los Angeles, it usually takes a nod from the likes of Ashton Kutcher or Christina Aguilara. On one hand it truly is a form expression by an impoverished or frustrated segment of society that is reacting to a number of factors from lack of opportunity to racism and prejudice or maybe even out of boredom and lack of supervision or the presence of one or both parental figures. Graffiti by definition is an act of vandalism where one person deliberately places their own message over an intended message. A person has to have the belief that their own personal message, be it their tagger name or an elaborate painting or simply a coded message for someone else to see, is more important that the intentions of the person who had that particular wall built or that particular set of concrete erected. Outside of the legality of tagging or graffiti there is the moral and ethical standpoint: if a community is composed almost entirely of one particular group of people and an outsider, an interloper, an invader (as they might be seen) from another group and another place decides to build something at the expense of the native group, who has the greater right to the visual representation of said location? It can be seen as petulant and juvenile, clinging to a sense of angst that one generally outgrows. You never hear of someone in their 40s getting caught for tagging.

There are varying degrees of graffiti. There is much that is associated with gang culture and that type of graffiti requires little explanation. It is usually ugly and very simple in style with little to offer and is usually intended as a means of communication indicating a territorial marking or used to pass a message. On the other side there is a sense that the artist behind it is looking to create rather than destroy. In all honesty most graffiti art is not what I would call art at all. It is often very boring and predicated upon nothing. It has no style or sense of history, rather it is stylized but fails to really build on anything that has been done before. It becomes a cycle of different people doing the same thing over and over again. This is not an unfamiliar concept to the art world. Andy Warhol took familiar images and silk screened them over and over and over until they became art. This is not unlike what Chaka did but rather than using an established image he made his own and put it everywhere until it became meaningless and meaningful at the same time. It became more than a senseless and isolated act of vandalism and became something of a brand not entirely unlike the swoosh on your shoes, the horse on the hood of a fast car, the bunny profile on your dad’s magazine, or those four little window panes on the bottom left corner of your screen for 90% of you.

Chaka is thought to have committed over 20,000 acts of vandalism with everything from a Sharpie to a can of paint. In 90s he was finally caught and Daniel “Chaka” Ramos was tried and convicted and did some jail time. When he emerged he was the new cause célèbre of the art world as were so many graffiti artists of the time. As an interesting side note it is rumored he tagged the courthouse elevator during the course of his trial. Now people pay him to paint their walls or, short of that, canvases to hang on their walls. He’s had gallery shows and I’m sure he’s got something up in a museum somewhere. His art still doesn’t do much for me but I think it’s a splendid example of self publicity of an anonymous persona.

Keep an eye out next time you’re headed down that stretch of the 605 freeway, just south of the 60 as you’re heading through Pico Rivera. Next time you watch the video for Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit, take a gander at Dave Grohl's bass drum. I think you might spot a familiar name.

Dia de los Muertos

Halloween is soon approaching and various costume shops have popped up all around town. Grocery stores and places like Target are stocked up on gigantic bags of “fun-size” candy and everyone is getting ready to trick-or-treat. Plenty of people engage in Halloween traditions like carving up a jack o’ lantern, playing practical jokes to frighten one another, and going to haunted houses. Those of you who paid attention in history class you’ll remember that Halloween is the word we have for the phrase “All Hallows Eve,” also known as the day before All Saints Day which falls on November first. All Saints Day is a catholic holiday and is followed by All Souls Day. This one-two punch of holiness is collectively known as The Day of the Dead or Dia de los Muertos.

Those of you who really paid attention in history class will know that most of our Christian holidays are placed around ancient pagan celebrations. This doesn’t mean Christian holidays are without significance but rather that their calendar dates were selected out of pragmatism rather than marking the yearly anniversary of an historic event. For instance, say you’re from Spain and trying to convert a bunch of Aztecs to Christianity. Rather than telling an entire nation that their belief system is ridiculous you say, “Hey, instead of sacrificing virgins to the volcano on this day we paint eggs and pretend a giant, mutant rabbit hides them for children to find. Doesn’t that sound much better?” At first people are hesitant to follow along but when they notice that all the hot, young virgins are into it then the guys tend to follow along. My conservative, Christian, jr. high school did something similar. On Halloween they would hold a “Harvest Festival.” It was not a Halloween celebration per se but everyone wore costumes and played games and avoided witches and ghouls and smashing pumpkins and sacrificing virgins.

Like so many other things Mexican, Dia de los Muertos has its roots with the Aztec civilization. The observance goes back to a festival dedicated to the goddess Mictecacihuatl (great triple-word score for those of you playing scrabble!). She, along with her husband, Mictalntecuhtli, rule over the underworld and she, in particular, watches over the bones of the dead and together they make a lovely couple to have over for coffee and board games. She is the original form of a figure still looked to as Santa Muerte. Other indigenous civilizations such as the Olmec and Mayan and others had similar beliefs and observances but we’ll just lump them all together for now. Also, as I said above, Dia de los Muertos is typically celebrated on November 1st and November 2nd. That is because the first day is dedicated to remembering those who never had a full life, like children, and is thus more specifically referred to as the Day of the Innocents. Deceased adults are revered on the second day which is also called the Day of the Dead.

Despite what you may be thinking, Dia de los Muertos is not simply “Mexican Halloween.” Where Halloween celebrations tend to embrace and/or focus on the more macabre aspects of death with a play on fear and all things ghostly in a haunted house type of flavor, Dia de los Muertos is probably more akin to something like Memorial Day but rather than only remembering soldiers who have given their life it is a time to remember all those who have passed. The decorations associated with Dia de los Muertos do have some semblance to American Halloween decorations- skulls, tombstones, death, and things of that sort, they have a much less sinister connotation. Also, in contrast to Halloween where the point of the costumes is to trick or frighten lost souls back to their rightful place, Dia de los Muertos is a time to welcome visits from spirits of those who have gone on to the next life. During this visit you can ask the departed to relay messages and prayers. It is also customary to visit a grave and decorate it while bringing along some of that person’s favorite things and foods. This can also be done in the home. It is not uncommon to find a small altar with a picture of the deceased along with a cross and a picture or statue of the Virgin Mary. It’s a very interesting mix of how a pagan religious observance has melded with Christianity.

Another really cool looking aspect of Dia de los Muertos is the prevalence of skulls and skeletons. These are made in to costumes and decorations of all kinds. More importantly they are made in to candies and cakes. Take a walk along Olvera Street in Los Angeles, or though the Mission district of San Francisco and you will see people in costumes that resemble Jack Skelington from Disney’s “The Nightmare Before Christmas” except that he seems to be wearing some sort of mariachi suit. Then, of course, you’ll have to get a sugar skull and maybe a tamale. There are festivals and parades and all that. What I’ve realized is that recently the practice of kids going trick-or-treating has become popular in Mexico- it’s fascinating how the two cultures are reflecting one another.

There is no one answer to the question as to what Dia de los Muertos is all about. The mishmash of indigenous celebrations combined with a European influence is similar to celebrations found all over the world. I grew up trick-or-treating but I would be the last to turn down a sweet, sugary skull.

-original artwork of a bitchin' Dia de los Muertos themed lucha libre costume provided by nate garcia