RIPOSTE
by RIP RENSE |
|
WELL, CIERRA MI BOCA!
(July 23, 2012)
A recent
KCET on-line
column by “poet and journalist” Adolfo Guzman-Lopez
begins:
“I see the edges of a
Spanish bilingual future in Southern California, a time when
speaking Spanish is as accepted and expected as hearing French
in Quebec. It'll be a time when non-Spanish speakers don't feel
threatened when they hear Spanish in the workplace and on the
street.”
This is so puzzling. Yet
one is relentlessly hearing such pronouncements from latino
public figures in Southern California, as if they think no one
here has ever heard
Español
before 2012. Mr. Guzman-Lopez, esteemed education
reporter for KPCC-FM, yearns for a time in Los Angeles when
Spanish is “as accepted and expected as French in Quebec,” a
time when “non-Spanish speakers don’t feel threatened when they
hear Spanish.”
Well, cierra mi boca!
Call me demente, but gee, Mr. Guzman-Lopez, I think
that time arrived quite a while ago. I mean, Los Angeles,
anybody? Spun a radio dial lately? Visited an elementary school
classroom? Se habla Español !
Of course, Mr. G-L was
born in Mexico City and grew up in Tijuana and San Diego, so
perhaps he lacks first-hand history of the situation. Speaking
as one who grew up in and around Los Angeles, I would like to
assure Mr. G-L that Spanish is accepted and expected here. About
as accepted and expected as Los Doyers, Mexican bus-boys
on bikes, drive-by shootings, and La Opinion. Hell, part
of the L.A. Times is in Spanish. Threatened? The only times I
have ever felt threatened in situations involving Español
were moments where I briefly conversed with native Spanish
speakers in their own language, inspiring open hostility. “You
can speak to me in English,” one guy spat, outright hatred in
voice and face. How dare the gabacho attempt to speak
en mi lengua! Still, most of the time I manage a couple of
poorly constructed sentences in Spanish, native Spanish-speakers
seem to appreciate it. Especially the ladies at Philippe’s, Home
of the French-Dip Sandwich, some of whom barely understand
English, by the way.
Threatened? Hey,
if you want to get absurd about it, when I was five years old,
my favorite place to eat was Taco Tio en Costa Mesa.
Grease-dripping ground beef tacos with lettuce and queso
amarillo were exquisito. (And if you find that
reference too white boy, I direct your attention to Gustavo
Arrellano’s new book, Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered
America.) My first words of Spanish came in the ‘50’s: “Se
habla Español at Lou’s Garage.” In the ‘60’s, I listened
to East L.A. bands on KRLA and KHJ radio---Cannibal and the
Headhunters,
Thee Midnighters, et al.---and in the 70’s, along
came El Chicano,
Santana,
Tierra,
Freddy Fender, others. KMEX,
Channel 34, has been on the dial almost as long as I’ve been
wasting my brain on television. I learned some Spanish in 6th,
7th, 8th, 9th, 10th grades, and a year in college. (Right, shame
on me for never becoming fluent, but I’m lazy that way.) I lived
in a dorm at Cal State Northridge that was about 50 percent
Chicano Equal Opportunity Program students, including my
girlfriend at the time, who went on to become a lifer in the
L.A. Unified School District with a doctorate in education. I
still remember the “R.A.” (resident assistant), a long haired
Chicano from whose room Santana constantly pulsed, and my
roommate was a nice kid whose parents toiled in the fields of
Oxnard. The Chicano Studies “radicals” used to hang around the
CSUN Daily Sundial all the time, pushing their agenda.
Good guys, as I remember them, if a bit single-minded. Years
later, I wrote the first article in a major newspaper (L.A.
Herald-Examiner) about a good East L.A. band in need of a
record deal. They were called, uh. . .oh yeah, Los Lobos. Right.
Now nothing less than a venerable, revered American musical
institution.
Accepted? What on
earth is Mr. G-L talking about?
I mean, if 51 percent of the people start wearing
top hats, am I supposed to go out and buy one? What if I’m not
interested in top hats? What if I don’t like them? |
You drive around L.A. and see thousands of businesses,
signs, billboards in Spanish. Hell, half the streets and
communities start with “la” or “el.” El Monte and La Puente,
anyone? Take a stroll past most of the high schools around 2
p.m., from the Valley to San Pedro, and count the number of
white kids walking home. (Hint: you sometimes won’t see any.) I
turned on KPFK the other night and the entire program was in
Spanish. Author/editor Gustavo “Ask a Mexican” Arrellano,
Dios mio, was the commencement speaker for the 2010 UCLA
graduation. And like him or not, and I don’t, our mayor (I
prefer “menor”) is an L.A.-born-and-raised Chicano
with “Born to Raise Hell” tattooed on his arm. I mean, Spanglish
spoken here. And yet:
It'll be a time when
non-Spanish speakers don't feel threatened when they hear
Spanish in the workplace and on the street.
Where does this idea come
from? Who feels threatened by hearing Spanish in the
workplace or the street? This is what we call in English a
canard, or mentira en Español . Is there a
pervasive belief among younger generations of Chicanos that
Spanish is brand-new to Southern California, and that there is
some great fear of this language on the part of non-Spanish
speakers? Hmm. . .I wonder, then, why we have widespread
bi-lingual (sometimes tri-lingual and quadra-lingual) education,
and why every government document is in four or five different
languages, beginning with good old Spanish. Navigated a phone
menu recently? Marque el dos para Español . . .
I don’t know exactly
where this fiction originates, but I’ll bet dollars for
chimichangas that it comes largely from college “Chicano
studies” departments that essentially teach a few basic things
in the guise of fomenting “pride:”: this land was stolen from
you, whitey hates you, and now you are taking back your land
from whitey. Payback, ese. I have encountered this
attitude innumerable times since the sixties, usually in the
form of hostility, mistrust, condescension toward. . .me.
Let me go on the record
here. I didn’t take anyone’s land. I have never discriminated
against anyone based on race. I do not hate Mexicans or
Mexican-Americans. What’s more, I am part of several generations
from the ‘60’s that have been nothing if not revolutionary in
egalitarianism. The ethos: evaluate people based on individual
behavior, not race/ethnicity/religion/culture. Put simply: I am
not The Man, homes. Most of the evil white folk I’ve
known in my life have adamantly opposed any form of
discrimination, and enthusiastically supported attempts to
effect legal equality on behalf of minorities and women.
Como se dice
“ironic?”
And this whole notion of
payback, well, it’s just cancerous. One generation “pays back”
for sins committed against a previous generation? Now there’s a
recipe for success. I believe the uh, Hatfields and McCoys stand
as the shining example of where this “logic” ends. And the
Montagues and Capulets. Well, all people must have their little
plots, their little identities, their little dramas, their
little fun, and no hay nada nuevo bajo el sol.
But back to Mr. G-L’s
wish that L.A. become “comfortably bi-lingual,” like Quebec.
I thought it already was comfortably bi-lingual (one of the most
multi-lingual cities in the world, actually), but of course, I
don’t think Mr. G-L is really saying this. I think he is saying
that he looks forward to the day when non-Spanish speakers in
L.A. must speak fluent Spanish. Subtext: Spanish-speakers
here generally are bi-lingual, but are nearly the majority, so
now it’s whitey’s turn. This is a not a benign egalitarian wish,
as he might perhaps think, but a subtly expressed ethnocentrism
that boils down to this: there are so many of us, you should
start speaking our language if you want to be a part of the new
society here, chingao. I remember another Chicano
“poet-journalist” (er, when did
getting up in front of a microphone and declaiming egomaniacally
make one a “poet?”)
Ruben Martinez, years ago, following his KCET feature on quinceañeras (basically a party for
turning fifteen, marked, as far as I can tell, by renting a
limosine) saying something to the effect of “Maybe you’d better
start planning your own quinceañera. . .” Translation:
our culture is becoming dominant, so maybe you’d better start
adopting it. Sheesh.
I mean, if 51 percent of
the people start wearing top hats, am I supposed to go out and
buy one? What if I’m not interested in top hats? What if I don’t
like them?
No, it is not Spanish that “threatens” non-Spanish-speakers, it
is ethnocentric bullying on the part of a vocal faction of local
Spanish speakers. And the attitude is hardly limited to Chicano
studies brainwash victims. Consider my encounter with the
wonderful “caregiver” who made life bearable for a friend of
mine who just died after about 12 years in bed with multiple
sclerosis and diabetes. “You know, Mr. Rip,” she said, “I come
to this country with nothing! Mexicans are very strong! We know
how to survive! And you know, this is our land! You took it from
us!” (I said nothing. You can’t win that argument.)
Look, people do not
like being told implicitly or overtly that they must
suddenly adopt new customs, language, culture. No people. So
yes, this is “threatening.” Which brings up a benign term that
was vilified long ago by academia: integration. Gasp! I
said it! Will I be prosecuted by the political correctness
police? By CSUN Chicano Studies founder
Rudy
Acuña? In former times, immigrants from many nations
wanted to come to the United States, and understood that part of
coming to a new country meant new customs and culture. Not
abandoning old ones, but adding new ones. So most learned
English, and they sought to consider themselves as American
(i.e. U.S.) citizens who happened to be from elsewhere, or in
the case of second, third (and so on) generations, American
citizens who happened to be of x-descent.
Of course, this noble
idea was naive, as members of the white majority variously:
patronized, dismissed, discriminated against, beat, murdered,
incarcerated, enacted real estate exclusionary laws and laws
barring “intermarriage,” and, of course, set up fiendish
concentration camps for the most patriotic cultural group ever
to become U.S. citizens: Japanese-Americans. It’s one vile
record. But it does not justify ethnocentric arrogance,
generations later. Nothing does. As a Japanese-American friend
of mine told me recently, voicing a very unpopular attitude
among her younger Japanese-American friends: “I’m not
Japanese-American. I’m American. I’m an American who happens to
be of Japanese descent.”
How enlightened that is.
Imagine such a thing: not defining yourself primarily by your
ethnicity or culture! Wow. Confounds some of you, does it? Well,
would you define yourself primarily by the fact that you wear
designer clothing? Your tattoos? Or would you rather define
yourself by your. . .character. . .achievement. . .values? (What
a concept.)
Further, our hombre del futuro notes as
evidence of the coming “bi-lingual SoCal” the fact that there are
billboards in Spanish for. . .hard liquor and beer! Yeah, that’s
social progress! |
But
what of “ethnic pride,” a leitmotiv in this society for
decades? What’s wrong with that? Just this: it’s one thing to
embrace aspects of a given culture, but it’s quite another to
define oneself entirely by them. What ethnicity/culture, after
all, is not shot through with good and evil in its history? If
you’re German, are you proud of Hitler? If you have murderous,
pillaging Spanish conquistadores in your heritage, and enslaving
Franciscan friars, and Aztec/Mayans who cut out the living
hearts of babies and virgins in offer to their gods, should this
inspire pride? If your European ancestors enslaved African
blacks and wiped out indigenous North American peoples? And so
on.
Then there is the
enormous and growing issue of insularity. My grandparents came
here and learned English. My wife’s mother came here and learned
English (as part of her citizenship class, incidentally.) If I
move to France, I would not presume to spend the rest of my life
speaking English and consorting with English-speaking people. I
would learn French, enjoy learning French, enjoy learning about
French society, enjoy meeting French people---even if French
society never came to regard me as a “Frenchman.” But vast
numbers of immigrants in recent years simply come to the USA to
game the system for cash---in business, real estate, whatever
(and are given the red carpet treatment by Uncle Sam if they
have enough money.) Or to simply live more comfortably. Many
feel no responsibility, let alone desire, to become fluent in
English, socialize with people who are fluent in English. They
remain in insular cultural enclaves: mini-satellites of their
own countries. I encounter more people than ever before who
speak only their native tongues---and the tragedy of this is
that it is separating. From separation comes suspicion, and from
suspicion comes threat, and from threat comes conflict. I mean,
if the main language currency here is English---as it is in the
world---must one learn Mandarin or Korean or Tagalog or Armenian
or Spanish just to communicate with immigrants who speak little,
poor, or sometimes zero English?
You know, if I lived
in a Spanish-speaking city in a Spanish-speaking country
where the growing minority population spoke English, I would
never make it a cause to push for more, more, more English in
every aspect of public life. I would consider that rude,
presumptuous, arrogant, ethnocentric, ridiculous.
Oh, but never mind the
rantings of this old gabacho. After all, I’m the guy who
dismissed the idea of ethnic studies majors out-of-hand while I
was still in high school. I wondered: if you get a degree in,
say, black studies, what does that qualify you to do, become
black? And of course, most of these majors were either designed
to, or quickly devolved into, programs for instilling
ethnocentricity, victim-complex, resentment, shoulder-chips,
hostility, arrogance. They have actually become the single
greatest factor, I believe (along with so-called gender
studies), in fomenting rampant cultural divisiveness,
separation, suspicion, factionalizing, enmity that has been
epidemic in this society during the last 30-40 years. As I’ve
written before, it’s e pluribus unum backwards. Out of
one, many, instead of out of many, one.
Yet Mr. G-L, as is the
wont of those steeped in “payback” mentality (he is a
self-described "incorrigible
ethnocentrist," by the way) brings up the ugly past to
implicitly justify his vision of tomorrow:
“Cal State Northridge
professor Fredric Field reminded an auditorium of linguistics
students recently that Los Angeles schools just a few
generations ago used to fine students for speaking Spanish at
school. So if language is what we've got to express complex
thoughts then isn't any prohibition or curtailment on the use of
a language a limitation on thinking?”
Whoah! Wait a second,
there, Mr. Poet-Journalist. I'll take your word that
students were fined for speaking Spanish (and other languages,
no doubt) in schools here, long ago. (I don't know the history
here, or how widespread this was, and could find nothing on the
web---outside of Field's claim that students somewhere in L.A.
City Schools were fined a penny a word for speaking Spanish on
the playground.) Well, why would this be? Racism? Not hard to
believe. But what of the idea that it might have been a tool to
help induce English fluency, seeing as English was the language
used by their teachers and schools? If I move to Lithuania, I
can’t expect that schools there will teach me in English. (I
once studied Mandarin in Taiwan, and administrators refused to
speak to me in English, despite the fact that I had not even
begun school.) Yet as I said earlier, bi-lingual education
(referring to Spanish) has been rampant here for decades. What’s
more, there is zero “prohibition or curtailment on the use of
any language” in this country.
Repeat: there is zero
“prohibition or curtailment on the use of any language” in L.A.
today, or the country. Exclamation point. Therefore. . .
Just who, Mr. G-L, is
“putting a limitation on thinking” in Los Angeles? Hm? Your dire
brain-police warning is wholly concocted, premised on nothing.
Besides, just because schools teach courses in English, are not
Spanish/Mandarin/Korean/Whatever students allowed to think
in their own languages? What limitation?
Señor G-L, what kind of deranged, borracho
thinking is this? That Spanish on your shirt is kind of like Mormon
underwear, making you extra-special and invulnerable? |
Well, here, apparently, is Mr. G-L's answer. Ever hear of
“inter-comprehension” classes? Me, neither. Yet Mr. G-L
enthusiastically reports: “At Cal State Long Beach, researchers
such as Clorinda Donato and Markus Muller are pushing
inter-comprehension classes.” Read: classes taught in Spanish
and English. To which I say, hey, isn’t Shakespeare difficult
enough to learn in one language, without mixing it up with
another? This is just deft, politically correct agenda at work,
ever pushing, pushing, pushing for more, more Español in
schools and public life. Mr. G-L seems to imply that the lack of
“inter-comprehension classes” is a “limitation on thinking." Get
it?
Then he rears back and
lets fly a big breaking curve ball worthy of Fernando
Valenzuela:
“Glimpses of the
bilingual SoCal future echoed at the recent Dodgers game where
Spanish language broadcaster Jaime Jarrin was honored.”
Stee-rike! Thu-reee!
Nope, nope. I’m sorry, but Jaime Jarrin was not
honored for speaking Spanish---he was honored because he has
been broadcasting the Doyers damn near as long as Vin
Scully---54 years, by my count. That would be, uh, past and
present, Mr. G-L. Yet this, he asserts, is a “glimpse of the
bilingual SoCal future.” Nope, nope, it is still more
evidence that Spanish has long, long been “accepted and
expected” here. Or perhaps Mr. G-L refers to some Stephen
Hawking physics here in which past, present and future all
happen simultaneously? (And no, I have never listened to a
single game broadcasted by Jarrin or his son, Jorge, though I’ll
bet either of them puts gum-flapping Charlie Steiner and the
incomprehensible Rick Monday to shame.)
Further, our hombre
del futuro notes as evidence of the coming “bi-lingual SoCal”
the fact that there are billboards in Spanish for. . .hard
liquor and beer! Yeah, that’s social progress! Let me just say
this about that: marketing goes where the money is, and
shameless monetary exploitation of ethnic factions is no mark of
any kind of progress. Hell, if anything, latino leaders
should protest this patronizing, condescending mining of
Spanish-speaking dollars by (probably white) corporations. Let
alone the fact that this encourages alcoholism.
But wait! Here comes
the pieza de resistencia, the final irony, the big
enchilada, pardon the expression. This part of Mr. G-L’s column
just left my mandibula en el piso, folks. I mean, really.
I can scarcely believe that I was reading what I was reading.
Brace yourself, gente:
“The Dodgers handed out
30 thousand t-shirts with Jarrin's signature catchphrase, ‘Se va,
se va, se va...’ ‘It's going, going, going...’ It was cool to
see all kinds of people wear the t-shirt at the game, Latino,
black, white, Asian. See, nothing happens to you when you wear
Spanish on your chest.”
WHAT? (Sorry for the
caps, but I think they are called for. In fact, I’ll repeat
them.) WHAT?
See, nothing happens
to you when you wear Spanish on your chest.
Is he saying that if that
stupid gringo, Brian Stow, had been wearing Spanish on
his T-Shirt, then the two guys accused of turning him into a
brain-damaged quasi-vegetable by savagely beating and kicking
him after the game would have. . .left him alone? That suspects
Louie Sanchez and Marvin Norwood would have called Stow “bro”
and bought him beers instead of (allegedly) nearly killing him?
Just because he had a little Español on his chest? Oh,
really?
Señor G-L, what kind of deranged, borracho
thinking is this? That Spanish on your shirt is kind of like
Mormon underwear, making you extra-special and invulnerable? You
are a respected journalist covering hard news stories for KPCC-FM
radio, a full-grown adult, yet you write something this idiotic,
schoolyard, stupid. . .racist? Yes, racist. What you are saying
here, whether you realize it or not, is: the white boy in the
Giants shirt would not have been beaten had his shirt said, oh,
“Se va” or perhaps, “Los Gigantes.” Join our club, and we
won’t kill you!
Gasp.
Wear Spanish on your
clothes so you don’t get beaten nearly to death, says
“poet-journalist” Adolfo Guzman-Lopez. Yes, that’s a poetic
“bilingual SoCal future” you envision, amigo.
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