Art of the Gilded Age/ Social Justice & Visual Arts

Thomas Eakins
Max Schmitt in a Singule Skull, 1871

Let's Deport Everyone!

The current, hotly contested debate on immigration is moving more into the realm of the extreme. And it is going to get hotter and ever more dangerous! Newton’s Third Law of Motion states that “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” The action? Decades of a broken system that deports and separates thousands of families that have undocumented and documented members. A system that also promotes the destitution of hundreds of thousands of young people who cannot go to college because they came to the U.S. as paper-less children. Moreover, legal proposals that instill fear and hatred for the more than 12 million undocumented.

The reaction? Millions of people, mostly Latinas/os, marching on March 10, 2006 and every May 1 since then in cities across the country, demanding comprehensive immigration reform. Another reaction was an increase in Latina/o voter participation, especially in swing states, that voted for President Barack Obama because he promised to address immigration in his first 100 days. Due to former Chief of Staff Rahm Emmanuel and others in his close circle, he never followed-up on his obligation. In a last-minute gesture, he pushed for the passing of the Dream Act, a bill that would’ve provided a path of citizenship to the foreign-born if they came to the U.S. as children and either went to college or joined the military. The Democrat-controlled Senate rejected it twice.

Now we have another sort of reaction, one that could have been expected, but many wished would never come. A national move to the Right. The result of the midterm elections was a Republican re-take of the House of Representatives, an increase in the Senate, and a ridiculous 690-seat gain in state legislatures across the U.S.

On January 5, in a press conference by the “Coalition of State Legislatures for Legal Immigration,” the new goal for the right-wing was made clear. Challenge the 14th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution, which allows for citizenship by anyone born in the country, in state government so that it can climb the ladder to the federal level. In essence, the vision is to deport all of the “anchor-babies” of the undocumented, along with their families. According to one Oklahoma legislator, the issue of citizenship is the “holy grail of the illegal immigration debate.” For a California Congressman, the issue is about proving that “it takes more than walking across the border to become an American citizen. It’s what’s in our souls.” Six states, from Pennsylvania to Nebraska, are beginning to discuss such legislation and the coalition is pushing 40 other states to do the same.

One of the main arguments for this attack on a 143-year-old Constitutional Amendment is that the U.S. is one of the few countries in the world that allows birth-right citizenship. This is true. No country in Europe does so, and some, like Ireland, France, and the UK have repealed such laws in the recent past. Hatred for the “other” is the main motivation. For the Europeans, it is the belligerent disgust for the Roma peoples or “gypsies,” that are “diluting” their alleged national cohesiveness. And even more ironic is their hatred for Middle-Eastern and African peoples, who, as former colonial subjects in their vast Empires, were contracted to work to maintain their economic productivity. If anyone thinks that anti-Latina/o racism is not motivating the immigration debate in the U.S., think again! After the draconian SB1070 law was passed in Arizona, allowing police authorities to detain anyone “who looked like” they did not have papers, another deceitful bill was approved. HB 2281 bill outlawed all ethnic studies classes from K-12, most notably Chicana/o studies, in a largely Mexican state (and a former territory of México).

It is evermore frightening when it was the “Tea Party” – a loosely connected body of reactionary populists who want to reinterpret the constitution to meet their own, utopian ends – who put these demagogues into power. But this utopia is, obviously, not for everyone. Whenever there are those who are openly calling for the exclusion of human beings while using language that speaks to an almost spiritual calling blessed by God, beware of their final solution. In the distorted rationale of such movements, “the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

Originally published in January 2011 gozamos.com and La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper

Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Don't Challenge Anything

In the national pantheon of lesbian and gay history, President Obama will have a special place for his accomplished effort to repeal the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) regulation in the United States military. DADT, a controversial measure since its inception seventeen years ago, officially allowed lesbian, bisexual, and gay people to join the ranks of this country’s most revered institution, only if they did not reveal their sexuality. On December 22, 2010, President Obama, after a majority vote in Congress four days earlier, finally signed into law the revocation of this discriminatory measure in the presence of a large, supportive crowd in the Interior Department auditorium. Many in the media and friends and associates of mine understandably applauded this act for its human rights contribution and the potential momentum it could offer to a national LGBTQ movement. However, another message was also sent that day–one in which for some is an oversight, while for others is the crux of a malicious agenda: if LGBTQ people want any sort of recognition or civil rights, it is done by including ourselves into this society, not by challenging it. The end result will not be true societal transformation or liberation for LGBTQ people, but the promotion of politics of assimilation that do not represent or address the interests of much of the “community.”

It does not take a fool to recognize that DADT was discriminatory and unconstitutional, as ruled by California Judge Virginia A. Phillips on October 12, 2010 in response to a lawsuit by the Log Cabin Republicans. The origins of the regulation are from the Clinton administration’s quest for complete inclusion of lesbian, bisexual, and gay people in the military. Prior to DADT, recruiting officers were obliged to question and screen potential candidates for “homosexual tendencies.” This was done in order to “protect the morale, mission, and accomplishments” of this prestigious fighting force from such a “severe personality defect,” as stated in official documents. Of course, top military leaders and the public refused to accept drastic changes, so a deal was struck. Gay, bisexual, and lesbian people could serve silently without questions but be discharged if she or he “came out.” In an announcement of the new policy on July 19, 1993, former President Bill Clinton argued that it was “the right thing to do and the best way to do it.” Ever since then, there has been a trend in the national LGBTQ movement to push the policy further, for complete and utter integration and acceptance of lesbian, bisexual and gay people in the military.

However, it would be too easy just to say that the military is discriminatory and should be more open and not inquire if we should be validating such an institution in the first place. There lies a problem. The voices that advocate for LGBTQ social justice but not in a way that accepts current institutions for all their violence and inherent exclusionary power, are left out of the dominant discourse. It is our responsibility to ask the question: when and how does an issue become an “LGBTQ issue”? In other words, who has the power to mark an issue as representing a particular group identity? Who has the resources to make something important at the national level? How inclusive is a civil rights campaign? More importantly, which issues are deemed more important and for what reasons and what compromises are made and at whose expense? It is no coincidence that a conservative organization, whose Board of Directors are made up of all homosexual white men – the Log Cabin Republicans – were the ones who filed the successful lawsuit presided by Judge Phillips. Organizations such as this, whose core values include a “free market, limited government, and a strong national defense” do not have the interests of all LGBTQ people, especially those of queer people of color, in mind.

In an act of political protagonism, the Obama administration requested in an appeals court a judicial halt of Judge Phillip’s order to the Pentagon, which was already preparing to stop following DADT after the ruling. The Supreme Court also upheld the request by the presidential administration. This was all done so that President Obama could take full credit in destroying the policy, since he has come up short on other campaign promises. This is where things get interesting. The repeal was passed as a stand-alone bill because it was taken out of a large Pentagon policy bill that Republicans were filibustering. Republicans, as the alleged guardians of a moral conservatism that seeks to uphold the institution of family, voted in large numbers for the repeal, but only after it was taken out of the original package. The reason? The bill included Democrat-sponsored last-minute provisions, most notably one that would have created a path to citizenship for undocumented peoples who came to the U.S. as children. Without coincidence, the DREAM Act had been defeated again around the same time of the DADT debates. The successful lawsuit by members of a conservative elite and the belligerent refusal to pass any sort of comprehensive immigration reform speak to what is the national LGBTQ movement. It is about polishing or should I say, “whitening” the image of LGBTQ people into a non-threatening package. In other words, dirty, brown immigrants are threatening this country’s institutions, while the clean, white gay man or lesbian down the street are playing by the rules even if they are a “little different.”

Luis Aponte-Parés and Jorge B. Merced in “Página Omitídas: The Gay and Lesbian Presence,” pinpoint the socio-historical origins of a movement that initially sought radical social transformation and an agenda of cross-cultural and political connections to one that “excluded or subordinated other types of oppressions.” In their study of the Puerto Rican and Latina/o presence in the emergence of an LGBTQ movement in the 1960s and 1970s, they saw that those with power, capital, and access created an agenda that served their interests, which were for white, middle-class gay men, and at times, women. This exclusive vision is evident even in the DADT spectacle, where the presence of transgender voices were absent. But those deviants don’t matter, right?

We should have a much more open society, without a doubt. However, nowhere in the call to remove DADT was there a call to the end of the wars in Afghanistan or Iraq. The discourse has been: include us in society and not reshape it to meet the needs of everyone. In very few prominent places is there a call to reshape an institution in which people learn to kill and conquer foreign lands. Imagine a world in which the resources used to dismantle DADT were put in–with LGBTQ people at the forefront–to change U.S. foreign policy and the devastating mission of the military all together. The immediate and long-term results of dismantling DADT will be the swelling of the ranks of a massive military industrial complex, making it a more effective fighting force of death and destruction. When there are those who say all this was a success for the movement, one must ask, for whom? For transgender people who still cannot serve? For people of color, who enlist in higher numbers, who not only suffer homophobia and transphobia, but housing discrimination, income inequality, and everyday racism? For us, the military becomes an only escape out of poverty and lack of opportunities. For the millions of people around the world who become causalities of war? Now that DADT is repealed, a new kind of policy has emerged, one which says don’t ask questions, don’t tell any truths, and don’t challenge anything too much. As LGBTQ people, that is not the kind of movement we should be applauding or building.

Originally published in the January edition of La Voz del Paseo Boricua and Gozamos.com

The Politics of Flags, Gandules and Lechón

Oye, if you haven't noticed by now, I love the Puerto Rican people so much. We have done many great things and we have an abundance of potential. Nonetheless, due to the fact that we have been dragged through the mud of history for so long, we have picked-up some negative habits that act as barricades in our way to a healthier, more vibrant community.

Por ejemplo: Anyone who even briefly listens to a fast-paced, ficha slamming domino game or catches some bochinche hidden between the aisles of the grocery store, will notice the common “Pero bendito,Puerto Ricans are just so lazy” or “We are not united like the Mexicans are!” It is just too common for us to think of ourselves as just collectively lacking y punto. Instead, I suggest, there should be a: “Las cosas son bien malas, but look at all we have accomplished!” or “how do you think we can change things?” And even better: “how can I challenge myself and my people to address certain issues that is understood as pressing and important?” I assure you, things would be much different for us as a community if we all asked questions that were a little more critical and dedicated even a little time to making things better for us all. This is not to fall into the same trap of cynicism from atop an ivory tower, but to push and agitate the people that I care so much about.

Undoubtedly, there will be those who will respond to all this with: “but I don't get into politics.” Others, even worse, will say “¡La gente de La Division son bien locas!” because many of us working in the community believe in independence for Puerto Rico, which is an often tainted idea. Sorry to shock you though, Boricua, but politics is does not exist just through a ballot box or marching down the street, but can be found in everything we do, like at a domino game or the grocery store. Mejor dicho, Puerto Rican identity and culture is highly political and the expressions of which speak to strong beliefs that can serve as points for community action.

Many of our people enjoy the smell of arroz con gandules don't we, with a little lechón on top of that during Christmas Eve while playing parranda in the background, right? What did it take for that to even be possible, decades after Boricuas came to the U.S., and still be present amongst the third and fourth generations? Those everyday things like food and music from an island across the ocean, reveals the collective push to affirm that we should not erase who we are. While other ethnic groups were skillfully allowed to Americanize over time and forgot their language and traditions, Puerto Ricans never hyphened our identity to “Puerto Rican-American.” As the salsa lyrics by the black Boricua composer, Tite Curet Alonso, eloquently states, “Yo sé que no te gustó que yo plantara bandera, pero a lo hecho pecho, también yo tengo derecho” (“I know that you didn't like that I put up my flag, but what's done is done, I too have a right”). Even our flag, made in 1895 by pro-independence exiles in New York City and made illegal until 1952, is a colorful political statement that we are here and refuse to change, especially in the United States.

Just recently I took my grandmother and her partner to a concert of age-old Puerto Rican music full of trovadoras and rapidly playing cuatro guitarists from the island and Humboldt Park and noticed the songs, sung by young ladies of the mountains, praising “our flag and our nation.” And interestingly enough, as I looked to my left, I saw my grandmother and her boyfriend – in their 50s and 60s - teary-eyed and quietly emotional. I asked if everything was ok and she responded: “This reminds me of my parents and my childhood... I miss Puerto Rico.”

She has been in the U.S. for 43 years and her boyfriend, for only 3 years. Their time of distance is different but their physical distance is not. They no longer live in Puerto Rico, but Puerto Rico stays alive in them and those, like myself, who cannot remember dancing danzas at weddings under the palm trees. But still, we are Puerto Ricans, whose identities are located here, in Chicago and in Humboldt Park, different but with strong connections, like Spanglish, simultaneously new and old. We are The New Boricuas, you can say and saying so is very political. And as we see ourselves as political beings we must, hopefully, see that each and every one of us can be actors in social transformation and must do so on behalf of the needs of our people.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper, December 2010 edition

A Chicago Puerto Rican in Hartford

It always baffled me when friends and colleagues of mine would see me outside of the fluid boundaries of Humboldt Park and comment, “Oh wow, you’re outside the two flags!” While such remarks are made in fairly good-humor, they are more telling about the deep-seated feelings about people who do community work. In other words, “those activists” are too narrow-minded or insular; they do not experience or understand the world outside a few blocks, which of course, is bad. All in all, a sentiment of “I could never do that kind of work, because I’ll end up like that” is felt. That kind of idea only damages the possibilities of maintaining and expanding work that seeks to improve the lives of community residents. And more importantly, those who get hurt the most in the process are the very residents themselves.

Just recently, I traveled outside the neighborhood to attend the Puerto Rican Studies Association Conference in Hartford, Connecticut. Although I listened to the work of the Puerto Rican intelligentsia, which for me proved that our communities can also produce great scholars and intellectuals, I also wanted to understand what connections could be drawn between academia and the people they study. This faraway New England city always peeked my interest due to its very large Puerto Rican community, which, in terms of proportion, is the second largest in the U.S. Plus, the mayor and much of the political establishment is led by Boricuas. Therefore a few friends and I ventured outside the walls of the swanky hotel where the conference was held to see what links could be made between Paseo Boricua and Park Street, the economic and cultural center for the Hartfordian Boricua.

As we walked down Park Street, there were visible signs of urban decay and poverty: the multiple young men, walking around with seemingly nothing to do and some “run-down” homes and buildings. Of course, this is what outsiders too often focus on, especially when visiting communities of color. What is most important and amazing, and perhaps sometimes even overlooked by community workers and academics, were the distinct signs of economic and cultural development. Block after block there were small business ventures that included everything from restaurants and cafes, to bookstores, record shops, and jewelers. As I entered these places of business, it was obvious that they were all owned by Puerto Rican and Latina/o longtime residents who also employed longtime local residents of color.

Social networks and civic engagement seemed to be rich, with residents conversing with each other as they walked down the street and in cafes, and some passing out information on electoral candidates. Furthermore, there were multiple buildings that have been reconstructed to look like structures in Viejo San Juan, with pastel-colored façades and iron-gate balconies. The neighborhood also included murals and community centers that depicted cultural and political themes of the island. Yes, social ills existed, but there was a community that was economically vibrant and culturally puertorriqueño – an important place in which to continue addressing the problems we face as a nation.

In Humboldt Park, we are also developing our community on our own terms, similar to that of Hartford, by holistically intersecting economics, politics, health, housing, and education within the framework of Puerto Rican identity. All this is done with the idea that in a racist and classist society, how can we own the places we live in, create a legitimate internal economy, and address the issues that affect us. Thus, to those that say that community workers are too “stuck” in Humboldt Park, I say that it takes a strong connection and sense of rootedness in your own community to truly appreciate and understand what others have built and to create a common agenda that will lift us all up as a people.

Originally published in La Voz del Paseo Boricua newspaper, November 2010 edition