Gather round, kiddies, and let me tell you a tale of woe! Recently, some white lady wrote a novel about some Mexicans. Oprah Winfrey swooned over it and gave her official endorsement and said white lady cashed in. Stephen King and Sandra Cisneros both gave it their official seal of approval and Ka-fuckin-ching, kids. The lady is rich and a movie deal is in the works. The internet, as is custom these days, pissed and shit themselves silly over it. The result? A clusterfuck of fashionably late, butthurt victim culture, best sellers galore and the cherry picking of sacrificial lambs. Huzzah.
Note: I am not going to link any of the “woke” butthurt articles here about this lady’s book or screenshot any tweets. There’s a bunch. Do your homework. The work in question is called American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins. Look it up.
I posted the following on my Instagram account the other day:
Dear people crying foul over this book:
You have a point but here’s the thing; Yes, we have a voice that the mainstream ignores, but it’s fucking hypocritical to complain when WE don’t support our own voices! Ask me how I know! It’s fucking ridiculous to watch people bitch and moan about not having our voices heard when WE routinely ignore them ourselves and then wonder why we are invisible. Fuckin’ dummies. Spare me your butthurt and victim complex. 🙄 Continue reading American Butthurt→
Recently, Mexican artist Fabian Chairez, displayed his controversial painting of Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata, at Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City as part of a Zapata exhibition with more than 140 pieces, and people lost their minds over it. Protests erupted in violence outside of the museum and protesters rushed into the museum lobby, threatening to block the entrance until the painting was removed. Descendants of Zapata himself have threatened to sue the artist and the museum for the high crime of depicting Zapata as gay.
At the core of this “controversy” you have two things. One: art. Two: people who dislike said art. That’s it.
Some guy painted an image that some people dislike and now we’re stuck in this circular argument of what constitutes “art” and who gets to decide what’s offensive.
The people in category two believe that the painting is so wholly offensive to their delicate sensibilities that no one should be allowed to see it and that it should not exist, period. Further, they believe the artist should be punished for even daring to create it.
Recently, amidst all the chaos going on in the world, I noticed a push to rename “Hispanic Heritage Month” to “Latinx Heritage Month.” I could write a full dissertation on this ridiculous topic alone but I won’t – not now – no need, nor interest. But there should be…
I also noticed that there is a coordinated effort, with the Library of Congress, to effectively edit Wikipedia to include “latinx” in already established articles of history and or information. This is blatantly re-writing history…alas, it’s not on anyone’s radar.
This should concern people but I know it won’t. I often worry that no one is documenting this era of Chicano history the way we did earlier decades…or fighting to preserve what we have and ensure that it is not erased or edited to be politically correct.
If we continue to collectively sit on our hands long enough it will be as if we never existed because that’s the eventual goal of these slash-and-burn folks. The “latinx” movement will see to its complete erasure and then corporate Amerikkka and the politicos will swoop in and finally have one homogeneous bastardization to market to. Ya basta.
Anyway, reading about this effort prompted this impromptu poem. Enjoy.
The older I get the more I feel like I repeat myself. It’s a weird feeling as a writer, especially if you’ve written a ton of stuff and haven’t organized it very well. You start to ask yourself: Did I already write about that? Have I said that before? Twice? Three times?? I know I’m guilty of that and in my mind I feel like some geezer who tells his same war stories over and over to family rolling their eyes back in their heads…bah! Like I said, it’s a weird feeling but indulge me here for a bit while I talk about my experience as a publisher.
Recently, a fellow writer and aspiring publisher asked me for some advice on the business. He asked me what BSP could do for him that he couldn’t achieve on his own as a self-publisher. It’s a great question and I had to be completely honest with him: not much. At least, not any more. Continue reading Publishing pariah→
Recently, the age old issue of “Latino” representation in Hollyweird reared its ugly head again on social media. People argued. They lamented. They moved on. This is an issue that was covered in ¡Ban This! in an article by Chicano actor Del Zamora titled “Where Are the Latinos in Films, TV?” The article, which was originally written for the L.A. Times in 1996, illustrates that this issue never improves, it just makes a cameo now and again. At the time, I felt the need to include the article in the book because the issue is as relevant now as it was then and also in 1996. Yet, Zamora’s point still stands:
“After all, as one Hollywood executive explained to me, “We don’t have to put you in movies…there were no Latinos in Gotham City and you still came.”
This is a complex issue with a relatively simple answer. We (and I use that term lightly these days), don’t vote with our dollars. The executive from the 90s was correct: we buy tickets anyway. Continue reading Representation in Hollyweird→