Culture and Heritage of Indigenous Classic Artisans of National Orientation

Culture and Heritage of Indigenous Classic Artisans of National Orientation

Growing up and while in high school, I never considered my roots or my label. I never stopped to ask if I was Hispanic, Latin American, Mexican-American, or Chicana. I was born in Ciudad Juarez. My parents crossed me over on Christmas Eve of 1975 in their vehicle and declared me as "American". My mom had had a miscarriage while under the care a doctor in El Paso. Her situation could have been prevented if her doctor would have detected her illness. After that, she vowed never to deliver her children in the United States. Besides, my mom was born in Juarez, was raised in the U.S., graduated high school, and became a U.S. citizen; she figured I could do the same. And I did.

In the summer of 1994, I followed my Navy boyfriend to Idaho Falls, Idaho. Talk about a major culture shock. I had never felt so brown. While at the mall, I wondered in to a place called The Boot Ranch, the owner, Jack, happened to be the only one in the shop. I don't remember if I went in looking for a job, but I came out with one. I do recall Jack telling me he needed someone who spoke Spanish to communicate with the farm workers, someone who would be able to ask them what size boots they wore, how the boot felt, and how much the total would come out to. One day, while Jack was in Boise at the other store, the manager told me my services were no longer needed. No reasons, no explanations. The reason I tell this story is because this event lead me to question whether I was Hispanic, Latin American, Mexican-American, or Chicana. I didn't feel I was an American, because I was not like them, and I was so far away from Mexico, too far to call myself a Mexican.

I had heard the term Chicano, but wasn't sure what it meant. Upon returning to Oceanside, California to live with my dad, I began to watch Univision, and heard the word Hispano, "El Orgullo Hispano". I thought that sounded good, so I began calling myself a Hispanic. Then I heard the word Chicano tossed around by all these cool, good looking people I identified with on Univision, and without a second thought, hesitation or questioning the meaning, I began calling myself a Chicana.

In looking for the meaning of the word Chicana or Chicano, I consulted with the American Heritage Dictionary, I used the dictionary on my computer (which by the way, did not recognize the word Chicana, only Chicano. I had to add it onto my spellchecker.) I even "asked Jeeves". I tried going about it the academic way, doing a brainstorming 'web', an outline, but neither of these were a solution to my dilemma. So, what does being a Chicano mean to me, an American of Mexican descent? What is an American? I was born in Mexico and became a Naturalized U.S. citizen; am I a "real" American? I tried breaking it down into two words "chic" and "ano" and defining each word. "Chic" I found out means stylish and elegant, and "ano" in Spanish means anus. I guess this makes me a "cula elegante" and elegant asshole. Finally, I made an acronym of the word, and came up with the beginning of the answer to my question.

"C" is for Culture. The word culture has many different meanings and all of them seem to define who I am. I am a collection of the arts. I am art, music, dance, literature, and any other intellectual activity that can be defined as art. I am knowledge and sophistication. As a student, I am being enlightened through education and exposure to the arts and by participating in them. I share beliefs and values that my family shares, such as customs, practices and social behaviors that help identify the particular place, class, or time to which I belong, just as I was identifying with the brown people like me on Univision. But what I found most interesting is that I am also "growing biological material in special conditions" (American Heritage). Like cottage cheese, we were taken out of our element to grow in a foreign land, in specially controlled conditions and still be categorized with the rest of the dairy products; we're not milk and we're not cheese, we're something in between. We are a cultivation of the land. My grandfather was a brazero and if he were alive today, he would probably agree that he was the epiphany of tillage. Especially since without this occupation, Mexicanos wouldn't have stayed here long enough to become Chicanos.

"H" is for Heritage, something we are born into, the riches of our past, something that is passed on to us from generation to generation. My last name is the only inheritance my grandfather left us because it was the only thing his father left him. Perhaps my abuelito Chava was not at all concerned with leaving a legacy for his children, or with putting food on the table, as much as he was concerned with sleeping around with Juana, the neighbor. No wonder my abuelita hates my first name. Thanks to both my abuelito and abuelita, we were born into a family of singers, poets, drunks and locos. These are the riches of my past. This is my heritage.

"I" is for Indigenous, belonging to a place: originating in and typical of a region or country. It sounds great, but where do we belong to? I personally claim both countries as my own. I've lived in the San Francisco Bay Area and San Diego's North County. While I California, I liked telling people I was born in Mexico. I was born in a foreign country. People would ask, "Where are you from?" I guess I wanted to belong and say, I was from California, or even Tijuana, but I would end up saying from El Paso, Texas; only to find out that they were from El Paso, as well. Then we'd begin asking what school each of us was from and that's where the territorial rivalry would begin. Indigenous also means natural or inborn, presented at birth. Once again, I was born in Mexico; therefore, I feel I have an equal claim to both sides of dirt that separates us between man-made lines of severance. Where ever you go, there you are. And wherever I go, I am an indigenous person; that's the place I belong to.

"C" is also for Classic, meaning top quality and generally considered to be of the highest quality or lasting value; this term also refers to something created or made, such as a work of art. Classic can also be defined as definitive, "authoritative and perfect as a standard of its kind" (American Heritage). I would love to truthfully be able to say that what I do is of the highest quality. Pero los dichos no se inventaron por nada. The term "jale Chicano" had to come from somewhere and as the name states, I'm afraid it came from us…Chicanos. If there is a short cut to doing things, we will find it. That's not to say that although something is done a la carrera or con nuestras nalgas, it isn't perfect, as perfect as it can be. Classic was also defined as "generally accepted: conforming to generally accepted principles or methods" (American Heritage). This is true because no matter where we go, we manage to establish ourselves, plant roots and call that area "home." The fifth definition was "extremely and usually comically apropos: apropos to an extreme degree, usually with a comical or ironic twist" (American Heritage). With all of the drama in our lives, it is necessary to be comical, maybe even sarcastic. In Spanish there is a term I don't think exists in English: albur. It is so much more than witty banter; it's a play-on-words that is lost in translation. It takes a crafty individual with a great sense of timing to master the albur, sometimes called el doble sentido. As a Chicana, I pride myself in being able to carry on a conversation involving albur with the finest.

"A" is for Artisan a skilled craftsperson: somebody who is skilled at a craft. When our ancestors came from Mexico, they more than likely brought with them a trade of some sort. I come from a family of panaderos, bakers. My mom's family are all pintores de brocha gorda, construction painters. And if people that work at Subway can be called "Sandwich Artists," why can't we be "Tamal Artists," or "Burrito Artists." We have also brought with us the art of tejer (croche), cocer (sew) something I don't see to many women my age in the United States learning from their ancestors. The truth is, if we can make it, we will sell it and call it art.

"N" is for National meaning characteristics of people of a particular nation. Our physical characteristics are what sets us apart. When I was living in Alameda, people would ask me if I was Pilipino, Polynesian, or Hawaiian. When I would reveal my ethnicity, I would hear with disappointment, "Mexican?" Language is another characteristic I thought all Chicanos shared, but the mere fact that I sometimes can't even communicate with my father tells me language is not a characteristic all Chicanos have in common. This much is true regardless of your citizenship; all Chicano ancestry comes from the same nation, Mexico.

"O" is for Orientation: our location, our path in life and our position on different issues. Chicanos all have a path in life that we're following, some of us aimlessly, pero con ganas. We have our opinions and a position regarding issues that affect our daily lives: religion, politics, money and love, to name a few. Our location is the border, the southwest, Midwest, east coast, west coast, it is all the United States.

So now if anyone asks what or who I am, I can proudly say, "Chicana." I now have a clear definition of what it means and can inform others that a Chicano is a Culture and Heritage of Indigenous Classic Artisans of National Orientation.