VULGAR DISPLAYS OF IDENTITY
There are times when life particles align themselves into iconic constellations to teach us a lesson.
You know, like when you pay attention for the fist time to, say, India because in the same week you make a new acquaintance from there, read a book about the country, try its food for the first time, and realize you really want to go there.
Re-reading Octavio Paz´s Labyrinth of Solitude (by the way, a mandatory book for Mexicans, especially those who´ve spent a long time abroad) triggered one of those constellation moments for me. The first part of the book is devoted to understanding the pachuco (zoot suit) movement of the 1930´s-40´s. According to Paz, the whole movement, most emblematically represented by a style of dressing was but a reaction to a multi-dimensional rejection, coming both from the inside and outside, as well as from their Mexican past and American present and future. The pachuco then, in a desperate effort to find his place in society, does so most easily through the exaggeration of his fashion. The message is clear. Pachucos (and all their present day equivalents: gangster, punk, cholo, etc.) are incapable of fitting into their past because they can´t see themselves as what they are told by their elders they are. But at the same time, they can´t meet the expectations of the new culture surrounding them, which demands from the new arrival a thorough and immediate mimicry. The host society then reacts with a mixture of fear and rejection towards the pachuco and, at the same time, his very source, the society that mothered him, refuses to take him back because he´s not like them anymore.
Intelligent as you are, dear reader, I´m sure you´ve now seen this pattern reflected on almost every sub-culture that emerges from the clash of other two. Gangsters in the United States, especially those formed within the African American and Latino environments, and most reactive groups that originate typically from 2nd generation immigrants are obvious examples.
But what about ourselves?
Zoom out with me for a moment and take another look at the pattern described by the pachuco and you may see more of my constellation. I´ve recently become addicted to Weeds. (The TV show, thus the capital W). And one of my favorite parts of it is the introduction, which summarizes wonderfully the statement the show is trying to make. For those of you who are not familiar with it, Weeds is about a typical higher-middle class American suburb where everybody fights daily battles with themselves and their surroundings to maintain appearances and to keep up with a demanding lifestyle and, in so trying, they constantly add more and more skeletons to their closets episode after episode. Characters do all kinds of things, from selling marihuana (therefore the name of the series), to plotting against each other, to taking all kinds of drugs (both legal and illegal) in order to stick up their heads above everyone else. The better home, the happier-more normal-looking family, the best car, etc. And here we get again to the pattern. Can you see it? Antisocial behavior, exaggerated displays as a statement of, more that what one is, what one is most definitely NOT.
How much of what we are is nothing but what we try NOT to be?
Stars keep being added to this constellation as I put on these glasses to look at life particles around me. Inevitably, as any responsible thinker should do, I look at myself first and EUREKA! There it is. I find that I also put on the zoot suit (metaphorically speaking) and choose sides in this supermarket we call reality, where we stroll around filling the cart of our identities, careful not to represent what we don´t want to be. I see the parts of me I wear most visibly to the world. I also understand the inevitability of it all, and therefore that there is a certain responsibility we hold towards each other as mirrors. But most importantly, I understand that everyone around me is a lot more complex than I see, and that the mirror they can be for me isn´t black or white, left or right, us and them, and that the one thing we can never stop being is ourselves.
You know, like when you pay attention for the fist time to, say, India because in the same week you make a new acquaintance from there, read a book about the country, try its food for the first time, and realize you really want to go there.
Re-reading Octavio Paz´s Labyrinth of Solitude (by the way, a mandatory book for Mexicans, especially those who´ve spent a long time abroad) triggered one of those constellation moments for me. The first part of the book is devoted to understanding the pachuco (zoot suit) movement of the 1930´s-40´s. According to Paz, the whole movement, most emblematically represented by a style of dressing was but a reaction to a multi-dimensional rejection, coming both from the inside and outside, as well as from their Mexican past and American present and future. The pachuco then, in a desperate effort to find his place in society, does so most easily through the exaggeration of his fashion. The message is clear. Pachucos (and all their present day equivalents: gangster, punk, cholo, etc.) are incapable of fitting into their past because they can´t see themselves as what they are told by their elders they are. But at the same time, they can´t meet the expectations of the new culture surrounding them, which demands from the new arrival a thorough and immediate mimicry. The host society then reacts with a mixture of fear and rejection towards the pachuco and, at the same time, his very source, the society that mothered him, refuses to take him back because he´s not like them anymore.
Intelligent as you are, dear reader, I´m sure you´ve now seen this pattern reflected on almost every sub-culture that emerges from the clash of other two. Gangsters in the United States, especially those formed within the African American and Latino environments, and most reactive groups that originate typically from 2nd generation immigrants are obvious examples.
But what about ourselves?
Zoom out with me for a moment and take another look at the pattern described by the pachuco and you may see more of my constellation. I´ve recently become addicted to Weeds. (The TV show, thus the capital W). And one of my favorite parts of it is the introduction, which summarizes wonderfully the statement the show is trying to make. For those of you who are not familiar with it, Weeds is about a typical higher-middle class American suburb where everybody fights daily battles with themselves and their surroundings to maintain appearances and to keep up with a demanding lifestyle and, in so trying, they constantly add more and more skeletons to their closets episode after episode. Characters do all kinds of things, from selling marihuana (therefore the name of the series), to plotting against each other, to taking all kinds of drugs (both legal and illegal) in order to stick up their heads above everyone else. The better home, the happier-more normal-looking family, the best car, etc. And here we get again to the pattern. Can you see it? Antisocial behavior, exaggerated displays as a statement of, more that what one is, what one is most definitely NOT.
How much of what we are is nothing but what we try NOT to be?
Stars keep being added to this constellation as I put on these glasses to look at life particles around me. Inevitably, as any responsible thinker should do, I look at myself first and EUREKA! There it is. I find that I also put on the zoot suit (metaphorically speaking) and choose sides in this supermarket we call reality, where we stroll around filling the cart of our identities, careful not to represent what we don´t want to be. I see the parts of me I wear most visibly to the world. I also understand the inevitability of it all, and therefore that there is a certain responsibility we hold towards each other as mirrors. But most importantly, I understand that everyone around me is a lot more complex than I see, and that the mirror they can be for me isn´t black or white, left or right, us and them, and that the one thing we can never stop being is ourselves.
Lo conseguí, Carlos. Esta va a ser una buena manera de practicar inglés. Un abrazo y gracias por todo.
ReplyDelete