Between Two Cultures

Pocho, Chicano, Hermano Mexicano

Hello friends! I’m Walther, and this is Peregrino. You’re about to read essay #23 of “40 Before 40,” a memoir I intend to finish before I enter midlife.

Today, I bring you some thoughts about identity, culture, and assimilation. Please consider subscribing if you haven’t! Cheers!

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“The Tortilla Wall” separates Tijuana from San Diego and extends into the Pacific Ocean. Photo by Barbara Zandoval on Unsplash

September 16th marked the anniversary of Mexico’s independence, making me think about living between two cultures.

I was Americanized before I moved to Phoenix. Even though Monterrey isn’t a border town, the influence of the US is notorious when it comes to music, movies, television, and fast food. Many people learn to speak English and travel to Texas regularly since it’s only three hours away. On top of that, I didn’t do what most people did in Monterrey. I rarely cared about soccer. I wouldn’t religiously grill every Saturday and didn’t listen to regional music. I guess you could say I wasn’t Mexican enough.

About a dozen years ago, I moved to Phoenix and have been here since. I’m American now, not just Americanized. I’m married to a first-generation Mexican-American from California, and we communicate primarily in English. We haven’t taught Spanish to our kids, and have been to Mexico two times in the last decade. I jokingly call my kids gringuitos or pochitos but never chicanos.

Gringo is a word used by Mexicans to refer to Americans. Pocho is slang to refer to Mexican Americans and Mexican immigrants. A Chicano is an American of Mexican origin or descent. Pocho and Chicano can be used negatively, as in not Mexican enough.

I was telling Diana about the caste system in Mexico during Spanish rule and how this is still in the Mexican collective subconscious. We’re still trying to see where someone falls in the “Mexicaness” scale.

We were watching the stream for “El Grito” (Mexico's independence celebration) this year, and something caught my attention. All the performances focused on Mexico’s indigenous groups. It was good to have kids, descendants of these indigenous groups, take the stage and speak in their languages. At least Nahua, Maya, Purépucha, Mixteco, and Rarámuri groups were represented.

However, this reinforced the idea I already had in my head. If you’re from one of these indigenous groups, you’re even more Mexican. I’m what you would call a “mestizo,” a mixture of Spanish and indigenous. Which indigenous group? Ancestry.com hasn’t figured that out yet; I’ll keep you posted.

I understand that indigenous groups in Mexico have been relegated and looked down upon, and this may be a way to undo this and put them front and center. But Mexico is the product of 300 years of Spanish occupation. It’s a mestizo country, and that’s one of my favorite things about it, especially the music.

Son Jarocho is a mixture of Nahua, African, and European influences that developed around Veracruz. Son Jalisciense, the precursor of Mariachi, is also mestizo. The Spanish brought guitars, violins, harps, and brass instruments to Mexico. The Spanish used these instruments for the liturgy, but they made it to the secular realm.

I wish I had seen prehispanic dances like “La danza de los viejitos,” a Purepecha dance from Michoacan where dancers wear old people masks and was used to worship the “old god,” ask for a good harvest, communicate with spirits, learn from the past, and try to foresee the future. Or “Los voladores de Papantla,” the Totonac ritual of asking the gods for rain, consists of dance and the climbing of a 30-meter (98 ft 5 in) pole from which four of the five participants then launch themselves tied with ropes to descend to the ground. The fifth remains on top of the pole, dancing and playing a flute and drum. Or “La danza del venado,” a Yaqui ritual performed in the northern states of Sonora and Sinaloa where deer are considered a deity. But there was no of that in the program.

Diana and I watched the Arizona State University Symphony Orchestra play Mexican composer pieces. We discovered ASU has its own Mariachi, which was a pleasant surprise. But the second half of the show was my favorite. Three-time Grammy award winner Mariachi Garibaldi de Jaime Cuellar was the special guest, and they played what I would call “Mariachi Standards” with the ASU symphony.

It was a very nostalgic moment, feeling the vibrations of the music going through my body and singing songs that I hadn’t heard in a while but I knew by heart because I grew up listening to them at weddings and quinceañeras.

Back to the Chicano thing, there were two small performances before Mariachi Garibaldi took the stage. One by Professor Micha Espinosa, a Chicana theatre artist and actor, talked about her experience of September 16th growing up with the music, the dancing, and the food accompanying this celebration. Zarco Guerrero took the stage next; a mask maker and performer, he delivered a monologue as “la comadre,” a middle-aged woman talking about her excitement for the Mexican “party season” that starts with September 16th, and continues with “Día de los Muertos,” Christmas, New Years and ends around Epiphany or sometimes Candlemass.

These performances were delivered in Spanglish, which means they primarily spoke English with some Spanish sprinkled here and there to spice it up. I liked that they were in Spanglish because I talk like that at times with Diana or friends of mine who I know speak English and Spanish. This may make me a Chicano, but I need to eliminate the stigma associated with that word.

I think a lot about assimilation and trying to be American, but at the same time, I’m Catholic, which is counter-cultural. Ultimately, I’m okay with being neither Mexican nor American enough as long as I’m fully Catholic. Living between two cultures is a balancing act. I don’t want to lose, forget, or turn my back on my roots. I recognize that Mexican culture is vast, and I’m far from an expert, but I know I’m the best person to pass on that treasure to my children in hopes that they may appreciate it and make it their own. Like two trees grafted together, we’ll have to wait and see what fruit comes from this.

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Before you go

I have some questions for you

1. Are you a [something]-American?

2. Do you live between two cultures?

3. How many languages do you speak?

4. Am I overthinking this whole assimilation thing?

5. Have you listened to a Mariachi live?