HOLA Y BIENVENIDOS, me llamo Nezua Limón Xolagrafik-Jonez! But you can call me Nezua or just Nez. Please press any key on the keyboard to continue in English.
I think it’s sort of funny, it makes me smile, how once the phone loop machines used to ask you to press a number to continue in English, but lately with the anti-Hispanic ravings of Dobbs, Buchanan, Tancredo and all the rest, it has been decided that this line about choosing languages is simply too great an affront to The ‘Murkan eardrum, reverberating so mellifluously with all these Spanish options when—really—we’re just trying to enjoy a non-ethnic phone call into a corporation (which certainly does not employ any non-Englishers) so we can figure out how this extra forty cents got tacked onto our English-speaking phone bill! The funny part is the alternative. Because how have they solved this? Well, now the choice to press buttons and enter Español-world is given to the caller in actual Español! Which makes me smile. So is Lou happy? No button pushing for you, my fine friend! English now the default of smiling phonebots everywhere! But it looks like you have OPENED THE DOOR TO SPANISH and now it is being spoken from between the glossy lips of that pleasant phone operator, who seemed so damn pure, so damn non-hyphenated, so AMERICAN—but what the hell does it mean now when a smooth-voiced non-accented robotgirl on the phone can flip suddenly into perfect Spanish? It sort of makes you wonder, hey, Lou? It sort of injects a note of uncertainty into your whole Englishy day. It’s a note played by a secret Flamenco fingernail that must surely be wagging behind your head if only you could whip around quick enough! Whip it, Lou, whip it!
On that, let me say thank you to our operators—who are quite human—for giving me this brand new stool and this bright hot spotlight on the front page of Feministe, the very first blog to quote me as a woman. In fact, this has happened a few times, this thinking Nez is a woman. Or perhaps just allying me with ustedes as a way of insulting me. In fact, in most cases, this has been part of an interesting lesson online. A lesson in how women and men are perceived. For instance, if you are verbal, thoughtful, and care about how things might affect children or the environment, this often seems to edge you into a womanly frame to others. I don’t know. I have to say that paying attention to how men and women are imagined—in a very broad and online sense, of course—I don’t care for the model I am often primped for! But I never have and anyway, it doesn’t matter. I am what I am, just like that cat with the anchor tattoos says. And that is often a different thing from day to day. But anyway, big thanks to Jill, mostly, who I wrote back and forth with when she first approached me and wondered would I please Mexify the Feministe blog.
So yes, I am an American of Mexican descent, and that is why I am on the island. You can normally find me at The Unapologetic Mexican, though I have been known to guest post in a few highly-esteemed places, leaving piñata shreds and strains of brass in my wake. This is my introductory post, and I won’t get too deep here, just wanted to give you a feel for where I’m coming from, and where I am generally coming from is the viewpoint of a fellow who was born in exciting times (1969 and raised in communal homes/adobe houses/tents) to fascinating people (a Chicano poet from L.A. and an early grad valedictorian white girl from Queens who quickly became a full-blown hippie) who came together in an unusual way (shotgun in grandfather’s hand and his insistence on their marriage) in strange settings (see UCLA dorm room, see small shack, or tent on highway’s edge, or house with tree-stumps for stairs, or multiple family dwellings…). Because of much crossover and experience jumping lines (surname name changed when adopted at 8, changed my own first name at 8, moving every year or so from city to suburb to rural, etc), my life has erased the notion of hard lines and divisions and reliable labels, and I very often get into conversations with people about this. About this reliance on a label. I find many use them and forget once applied that they have just applied one. I find that often, I do this, too. But then I forget I have done it, and that, of course, eases my stress…. 🙂
I feel I exist and have existed in the netherspace where one is forced or empowered or given opportunity to navigate new ground, or to bring their purportedly dissimilar or impossible parts into harmony and discover the illusion (and the quite real pain) of dichotomy. It is a righteous and desirable pain, as it points toward a higher ground. This is an area sometimes called Mestizaje in the world of Chicanismo, or Chican@ literature and study, and the word is related to “Mestizo,” which to some is still insulting (due to the origins of the term which was once used to denigrate the offspring of the Mexican Indian and the European/white conqueror), but to many others simply means “mixed.” As I understand it, “Mestizaje” expands the “mixed” or “borderlands” notion in a metaphorical sense, and this explains perfectly my experience in so many ways. Sex definitions/roles, “Race,” Class. I have hopped a few boundaries and felt both sides. It’s been enlightening. It’s been endarkening. It’s been a hell of a ride. It’s opened my mind to the Other side. And…makes it tough to fill out multiple choice questions tests.
But here are some labels for now, because we need them at least as a starting point: I am an artist and an author (published under another name). I stay at home with my youngest daughter and juggle my art projects while her mother works outside of the house. I am a self-produced musician. I eat very healthy, and I drink good wine. I don’t have a lot of friends, but it is not because I am not friendly. I just don’t really know where to meet them anymore. Or I find myself hard to tolerate when they are around. Or maybe it’s them. I’m never sure. But I don’t mind being by myself, and I enjoy the projects I do by myself. That said, I think with all the amazing feats that can be accomplished in life, of all the fantastic sights to see, and the heady views and experiences, very little beats hanging out with good friends and just having a good time wherever you be.
So the sun is exploding like a nuclear lemon in my eye, hot light spilling over the sill and oozing down onto my mixing board and keyboard. Here on the West coast of the USA, it’s just six am. I guess I’ll take that as my cue and say hasta pronto. But one more thing, as the man in the trenchcoat said. Let’s get the comment policy out front. I’m sure you are all very cool people, and from what I see, are able to think and speak quite intelligently as individuals. I know that here, people are very used to keeping an eye out for sexism, and I’m sure it’s a bit of the same thing as what I keep my eyes out for often. “Racism”—as we call the strange mixture of fear, ignorance, and hate—reminds me of Agent Smith in The Matrix. It’s really bigger than any one person, and any good person on the street that you see can suddenly quiver, shake and morph into that Agent Smith, can become a mouthpiece for that vast ocean of Othering that has taken place throughout time. Racism belongs to no one person or kind of person, or sex of person. We call can be Agent Smith at a given moment. So I don’t really take it personally when it comes my way, although blogging as an “unapologetic mexican” insures there is no shortage. I don’t take it personally, but I don’t take it, either. I won’t take it here, I won’t argue it. Nor will I delve deep into anger. Some people get into long comment threads where hostility is given vent and it goes on and on and back and forth. So I don’t mean to sound unduly antagonistic, but I am just making it clear up front that I don’t personally do that. If I feel hate or ignorance or willful non-understanding is trying to claim ground, I won’t endlessly engage it. I do not need to prove my resilience or tolerance or even joust it into the open where all can see it. I wouldn’t argue a citizen once they turned into Agent Smith, after all. I would run like hell. Here, if you are hashing something out between yourselves, cool. I won’t interfere. But if a comment thread wanders into ugly, unwarranted territory, or I feel this “racism” thing is aimed at me and a commenter won’t be cool even when engaged with reasonably, I will either ban said commenter (from my posts, not the blog entire) or delete them, period. However—with a little girl who needs most of my attention during the “working day” hours, and a graphic art business to tend, and my own blogging as well, I will not be on top of every single comment as it is made. More likely, I will have to come back and check on the thread and make responses much later. So if Agent Smith pops up, keep an eye out for me, cool? You know I got your back. And I do apologize to the general readership for this addendum, to those who do not need it. But I’ve been surprised in the instances where I thought such notices were unnecessary before. So better to have it out there and not needed, if that be the case.
Finally, thanks again, Feministe. And el gusto es mio, amig@s! Good to be here. Let’s get our week on.