Mexican Independence Day was a week ago, and I was sick and delirious. That didn’t stop my mom and I from exchanging celebratory messages.
The 16 of September also marks the beginning of Hispanic Latine Heritage Month here in the United States. This in itself is kind of annoying, because it’s the perfect example of this country lumping together an entire two continents worth of culture into Mexican/Chicane culture, and then naming it after our colonizers.
The word Hispanic has always been a weird one for me. In the 2020s, I think the distinction between Hispanic and Latinx is more widely understood. I didn’t properly learn it until high school. Before I learned that Hispanics are anyone who speak Spanish, and Latines are anyone with Latin American roots, the distinction to me was different. Hispanic is what I call myself to white people. Latina is what we call ourselves in a big group, and mexicana is what my Welita affirmed me as my entire life. Tu eres mexicana. Ten orgullo. My middle school years, I moved to rural hill country with my dad and his ex-wife, my white stepmom. This environment was the first time a racial slur was directed at me. I hung onto Welita’s voice with my mind’s entire might. Soy mexicana. For better or for worse.
Having a quince was an issue of contention. My father didn’t want that for me, for a couple reasons. A baby dyke and yet-to-crack trans egg, I wanted to revel in femininity for one night. I wanted to wear a loud ass dress and be proud of my roots. I still look back on it fondly, even as a trans person. That night, those months leading up to it, shopping up and down Jefferson in Dallas for my dress, a Bible, a rosary, and yes, of course, the tiara my Welita would delicately place on my head, I had orgullo.
Spain thought using “Hispanic” for its colonies would unify their imperial chokehold.
Presently, I don’t wish to associate with that history. An old professor convinced me to go to Spain for his study abroad class, and let me tell you… I was called “mexicana” to my face by strangers more than once. I felt hypervisible and nervous to speak like the pocha I am. Back home, in Dallas, I just am. Comments about my Spanish are in good faith.
We speak Spanish because our ancestors didn’t have a choice.
I don’t want to dive into the Latinx/Latine/Latin@ discourse because frankly, it’s tired. Like, just call people what they want to be called. It’s not harming you! If someone asks me to call them Hispanic I’ll do it! But I want to dispell the myth that non-Latinx white people came up with Latinx. First of all, it’s straight up not true. And propagating that myth strips Latines of our agency.
If you know me or my work, you know I alternate between what I call myself. Latinx, Latine, Xicanx, Tejana, Tejano, Chicano. Maybe it’s my nonbinary-ness, but I love having a wealth of words to describe myself. To me, these words all exist in a varyingly overlapping venn diagram.
The first caveat, that maybe I should have opened this newsletter up with, is that I am specifically talking about the United States here. Race and ethnicity are culture-bound phenomena. What I’m saying applies to my life and others’ in the US. It does not apply the same way in other countries, contexts.
I respect that not everyone wants to use “Latinx.” Like I said, do whatever you want so long as it’s not impeding anyone else. I’m just ironing out some thoughts here. I prefer Latinx for myself. A common complaint about it is that it’s hard to say in Spanish. That is true, but as a USian Latinx person, I like disrupting both english and spanish. It’s my work as a poet a lot of the time, too. When referring to a nongendered group of folks, I like using “Latines.” It’s easier to say in both languages. It also mirrors a lot of gender neutral language I use, like my person pronoun elle, or words like amigue, stuff like that.
What I’m not down for, is toxic machismo ass men in social media comments screaming at people who dare use a word that doesn’t center them. Yeah buddy I know you don’t have a problem with Latino. That’s because you’re Latino. Just like my mom is Latina, and I am Latinx. This can all coexist.
I am especially not down for non-Latinx whitesplainers trying to lecture Latines on why they should/n’t use whatever term. Sit this one out porfa.
That being said, I think this month is a useful time to reflect on what community is. Its purpose, its flaws, its potential. If there’s any kind of topics that would be of interest for trans poetica, hit me up! Ideas rolling around include a review/personal essay blend on Family Lore by Elizabeth Acevedo, and a round-up of trans latine writers (there’s not a ton of us)
Whew. Alright. Still with me?
I want to share some writing I’ve done celebrating or even critiquing our cultura:
Book Reviews:
“Chicanismo and Longing: Cloud Delfina Cardona’s What Remains” - my first ever review of an incredible poetry chapbook
“Emilly Prado Spins Her Chicana Coming-of-Age Story in Funeral for Flaca” - review of a gorgeous Chicana, bipolar memoir-in-essays
“Cuando estoy solo: Mark Oshiro’s Each of Us a Desert, Community, and Self-Preservation” - I don’t read a ton of YA, but y’all. this book!! poesía, queerness, belonging
Microreview of Javier O. Huerta’s American Copia: An Immigrant Epic - this is one of my favorite books of all time. Huerta is brilliant. translanguaging icon!
Interviews:
“sustaining pride in dos culturas: a conversation with felix iii” - I got to chat with Felix III about his incredible MXA poncho designs.
“unraveling latine tender transness: behind dali valentino’s viral vaquero costume” - aka a write-up of some of the most fun hours of my life. Dali is absolutely brilliant, kind, and talented. check them out!
Creative works:
“any time i tweet like an angry trans person” - solicited by Olney a while back, I wrote this poem using only my tweets (QEPD)
“Origen” - my Best of the Net nominated poem about choosing my name!
“Candy People Explode When They Get Scared” - short, complicated essay about sexual assault, where I begin to think about how our culture enabled my silence
“Latinx Poetry” - so very proud of this manifesto-disguised-as-poem. It lived in Houston City Hall with 7 other incredible poetas this summer.
My zine I just dropped $0+, I WISH I WAS CREATING (with the option to add a limited edition trans poetica sticker)1 - check out a relevant page below. I think it’s a good spot to end this.
Hasta next time,
<3
You may have noticed that I recently added a paid option for this newsletter. Subscriptions help me continue doing the freelance/poet thing while also being trans and disabled. Plus, if you subscribe as a founding member, I’ll send you a zine grab bag!
That said, trans poetica will always always remain free. I do this because I love writing and connecting with likeminded folks. “From each according to their ability, to each according to their needs.” Thanks for reading this far down!
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