Cultura, Halloween

Halloween on a budget: Mexican calendar girl

Calendar girl (3)

If you’ve ever picked up a calendar from a bakery, butcher shop or other small business, you’ll recognize the stylized images of beautiful women in typical Mexican garb. I wrote about this years ago on the old blog:

La Adelita as a chromo art Mexican calendar girl

Part of this idea came last night. I went to have $1 tacos and sangría (yum!) with Ome at Don Antonio’s. I noticed the cheesy carnicería/panadería style calendars on the wall. One had a drawing of a higly sexualized Adelita. I loved it. So, we flirted with the cute waiters and they gave us calendars to take home with us.

The first representation of a Mexicana is a painting of la Adelita, but she needs to put on a little more clothes or a bra. If you’ve seen Mexican chromo art calendars, you’ll know that the men and women in the images are idealized depictions. The men are bronzed, muscular, and virile. The women as voluptuous and gorgeous. Angel Martín’s painting is no different.

***

Inspiration and the costume

I cut off the ad for the restaurant and affixed calendar (the pull-away two month per page kind) and left the calendar hanging in my bedroom. Mexican calendar girls kept following me around a few years later when friends gave me a journal with an image of a vintage Mexican calendar girl on the cover. I carried it around until it started falling apart and the pages were filled. The image comes from a book called Mexican Calendar Girls.

All of these lovely [light-skinned] Mexicanas inspired me to dress up as a Mexican calendar girl for Halloween. I ditched the idea because I had to buy a new huipil blouse. I gave away my favorite after I lost weight.

If you don’t mind conceptual costumes, want to get out your pretty embroidered blouses and rebozos, then a Mexican calendar girl might be a good costume.

Calendar girl (2)

Mexican Calendar Girl

1. Huipil (embroidered blouse) – I used the white ruffly blouses worn by Mexican restaurant waitresses everywhere because that’s all I had available

2. Full-length skirt and boots or sandals

3. Rebozo (shawl)

4. Dramatic makeup and hair in braids

5. Big earrings, bangles and a rose to carry or pin in your hair

6. Calendar pinned below your blouse with an advertisement for a bakery or other small business (print 2 months side by side on white paper, make sure to include lots of saint’s days)

Obviously, I didn’t make the calendar. I didn’t buy anything for this costume except the rose hair pin.

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Corriendo, Cultura

A Chicana’s running heroes

This is how I psych myself up for a marathon: reading about some awesome runners.

NY Marathon - René Cuahuizo, Edison Peña, Juan Jesús López

René Cuahuizo and Juan Jesús López
René and Juan are the only guys on this list who are not professionals or runners at the elite level. It doesn’t matter. They’re still fast and I still find their stories inspirational. Last year, René and Juan, were tapped to accompany Edison Peña, the Chilean miner known for running up to 6 miles a day while trapped in a mine, during the NY Marathon. Oh yeah, that was on a couple days’ notice. After the race, they still had to go to work at their respective restaurants. Who says Mexican immigrants don’t work hard?

Desi Davila

Desiree Davila
Usually when I think of Chula Vista athletic standouts, I think of Little League teams that go on to the Little League World Series. Now I think of it as the place where Desi Davila was born and raised before going off to hone her skills as a runner at Arizona State. Desi Davila now lives in Michigan and trains with the Hanson-Brooks running team. In April, she was the female runner up at the Boston Marathon. Her 2:22:38 was the fastest ever by an American woman in Boston. Her time makes her the third fastest American woman in the marathon (behind Deena Kastor and Joan Benoit Samuelson).

Ana Guevara

Ana Guevara
I wrote the following in an old post about my memories of being in Mexico during the 2004 Olympics: In 2004, the hype was all about Ana Guevara, a sprinter favored to win the 400 meter dash. While out dancing one Friday night, everyone in the club stopped to watch one of the preliminary heats. Everyone cheered loudly and ordered celebratory shots when Ana won that heat. On the day of the final in 400 meter, my cousin woke me up cheers of “¡Vamos, Ana!” Almost all Olympics commercials featured Ana. It was pretty exciting. But Ana didn’t win gold, she won the silver.

Leonel Manzano

Leonel Manzano
Things I have in common with Leonel Manzano: roots in Guanajuato, we’re bilingual, he’s on Twitter and he wants to inspire youth to do their best. Differences: a bunch more. Leo made a name for himself winning a bunch of Texas state championships, then going on to University of Texas, Austin and being a standout there. In 2008, he represented the US in Beijing. He’s fast thanks to a lot of hard work and genetics. Leo is a small guy, but he has a large heart that can “pump more blood and oxygen to his muscles than most men his size” (NY Times). Leo’s personal best in the mile is 3:50:64.

Sylvia Mosqueda

Sylvia Mosqueda
We have the same surname and are both from the San Gabriel Valley. The similarities end there. Sylvia Mosqueda is a pro, I’m slow. She’s had a long career winning a 10,000 meters NCAA championsip (1988), qualifying for the Olympic trials several times, and winning or being the runner up for the USA half marathon title. Her personal bests are 10,000 meters is 31:54:03 (1996), 1:10:46 (2002) for the half marathon, and 2:44:47 (2002) in the marathon. Sylvia has also coached at the collegiate level. Once at a running store, the cashier asked Lori and me if we were related to Sylvia. We shook our heads no. If we were, we’d be a whole lot faster.

Arnulfo Quimare

Arnulfo Quimare
Arnulfo’s Quimare’s talent for distance running is documented in Christopher McDougall’s bestseller Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen. In McDougall’s first description of Quimare, he writes: “While searching for a guide, I’d learned that Arnulfo Quimare was the greatest living Tarahumara runner, and he came from a clan of cousins, brothers, in-laws, and nephews who were nearly as good.” He’s amazing and fast, holding his own agaist Scott Jurek, a top American ultramarathon runner, during the inaugural Copper Canyon Marathon organized by the book’s protagonist, Caballo Blanco. Read Born to Run, you’ll be inspired by Arnulfo’s humility and speed as well as by the Raramurí (aka Tarahumara), the Running People, who live in Chihuahua’s Copper Canyons. [Photo by Luis Escobar]

The USATF has a list of other Hispanic runners and coaches in honor of Hispanic Heritage Month.

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Boda, Cultura, Fotos

31, UCLA & finding my religion

Fire hydrant 31

It’s hot out there, folks. Stay hydrated.

***

I got through the work day with some help from my Puro Pedo Magazine colleagues. We started making up titles for fake research papers on Latino movies. I offered up a few including “We have to be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans: Poch@ identity formation in Selena.

That’d be a neat dissertation topic, no? I’m already interested in racial/ethnic identity formation… it could happen. Or not.

I should probably just focus on Latino college students majoring in the sciences. I find those kids interesting. Just don’t ask me to remember their names.

Yesterday afternoon, one of the sophomores in the Program (aka Job1) spotted me at St. Augustine, a church in Culver City. I’ve passed by dozens of time while driving and running, but had never attended a service there. We got to St. Augustine with 15 minutes to spare before Mass and walked around the grounds. As we walked toward the school and parking lot, two young women passed by. The woman in a yellow sundress doubled back.

“Cindy!”

I was surprised she knew my name. She picked up on this.

“Hi! I’m in [program]! I’m a sophomore.”

“Oh, hi! Um… you’ll have to tell me your name, I forget students’ names all the time.”

I felt so embarrassed that I didn’t recognize her at all. The name thing happens more often. After their fall quarter freshman seminar, I only see the 80+ students a few times a quarter and interact with them mainly through email. I’d have to make flash cards to remember everyone’s names. I see current/former [Program] students all the time on campus, but have never seen one off campus unless it was a UCLA-related event.

She told me her name and I introduced her to Sean. I told her it was our fist time visiting St. Augustine, her home parish. She invited us to grab some food and cake at the anniversary celebration for the sisters associated with the parish, but we were full.

I’ve been pretty spotty on Mass attendance since going away to college. I’m working on getting back in the habit thanks to Fr. Ricky at St. John Vianney. When Sean and I met with him about having our wedding at SJV, he reminded me that I need to practice my faith as part of my preparation for the sacrament of marriage. Attending only on holidays, Lent and the occasional wedding wasn’t going to cut it.

Sean — who grew up Lutheran — has been accompanying me to Mass. When we’re in Hacienda Heights on a Sunday, we go to SJV. When we’re in LA (most Sundays), we’ve been going to St. Timothy in Rancho Park. Yesterday we skipped their noon service in favor of the 5 pm youth service at St. Augustine in Culver City. I generally like youth services, they’re much livelier. I like St. Timothy, but I haven’t been able to make it through a service without breaking in to giggle fits thanks to a man his 60s/70s always sits front and center. First, he has an interesting look. He has a big belly, a beard and long gray/white hair he twists so it sits atop his head (kinda like a Snork). His hair makes him easy to spot. Second, he draws out the final word of hymns long after everyone else has finished singing. It’s rather odd to hear his deep voice hang over with “eviiiiiiiil” or “peeeeeeace” in an otherwise silent church. The first time he did it, we were surprised. The next few times we tried unsuccessfully to suppress giggles.

I need to pick a new parish. SJV is great, but I won’t go to Mass weekly if I have to drive 30-45 minutes just to make it there. St. Augustine offers more Masses, including a Spanish service at noon and the youth service at fives. St. Timothy’s latest service is at noon and it’ll help me work on keeping a straight face.

Any tips on choosing a church or parish?

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Cultura

The curious case of Zoë Saldana

Zoë Saldaña

Yesterday during my regular pedicure at my local nail salon, I picked up a copy of the September issue of Latina Magazine. I used to subscribe years ago and then let my subscription lapse. Aside from the constant code-switching which always felt forced and inauthentic. I don’t dislike code-switching or Spanglish. I speak and write like that, but I also recognize that it’s tough to write and make it feel natural. I did appreciate that their models were often real women and they were not 5’10 and 115 pounds.

I haven’t paid much attention to them lately, at least not positive attention. A few weeks ago, I heard about their inane list on 10 Latinas who have played “the help” in movies or television shows. It was a tie-in to the movie of the same name. For obvious reasons, there was a bit of social media outcry. It wasn’t about the perceived status of maids, nannies or domésticas; their work is valued and important. Instead, the criticism arose from the tone deafness of the article. There was no criticism about the lack of meaningful roles for Latinas and Latinos. The blurb about Lupe Ontiveros mentioned her estimate that she has played a maid 150 times, but was in no way critical of the fact that she didn’t have many other opportunities.

Anyway, as I flipped through the magazine, I checked out the details of Zoë Saldana’s photo shoot. On the same page, they included thumbnails of her previous covers for the magazine in May 2006 (far left above) and June/July 2009 (middle). I was surprised to see the change in skin tone between her first cover and subsequent covers. I know all magazines do a lot of touching up, but it’s interesting to see how much they’ve lightened her up over the years. Way to celebrate Afro-Latinas, Latina Magazine.

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Cultura, Fotos, Mexico

31, El Cargadero, Zacatecas & tamborazo

Treinta y uno

During the fiestas de San Rafael, the patron saint of El Cargadero, the ghost town comes to life with migrants who have returned for the festivities. I’ve never been there for the feasts in October, but 4 years ago my parents went with Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni. During the day, they went through the bureaucracy of signing over the grandparents’ house to my mom. In the evening they joined the festivities in the Plaza del Migrante or watched the borlote (commotion) from the balcony. My grandparents’ – well, now mom’s – house overlooks the main plaza. This was great for people watching, but not great for making international calls.

My dad called me one evening during the trip. Even though he was inside the house with the windows closed, I could still barely hear him. It wasn’t the connection; the background noise of drums and horns from down below was drowning him out.

The sound was familiar. I’d heard it several times before at anniversary parties, weddings, birthday parties and any other special occasion. Pretty much every big party on the Zacatecano/maternal side of the family featured a tamborazo zacatecano.

I must confess, I’ve always been ambivalent to tamborazo, which sounds a bit like a marching band[1] sometimes. It might just be the Guanjuato/paternal musical influence, but I never warmed to the music. For backyard parties, the tamborazo was always too loud. Sometimes, the horns and woodwinds sounded out of tune and the musicians weren’t that good. There was no singing; and after a while songs started to sound the same. Like the rest of my cousins, I was usually glad when the band took a break and the DJ played pocho-friendly music. Despite my ambivalence, I danced, especially if my 91-year old tamborazo-loving grandpa pulled me out to the dance floor. I love dancing with Papá Chepe and will take every opportunity I get while he can still dance.

I feel a little bad for feeling this way. I’m supposed to be proud of my culture and champion it, right? Even if it hurts my ears?
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