By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
DEAR MEXICAN: Why is it que cada vez that I talk to Hispanic people (not many Mexicans in New York yet), it seems they have a fantasma that they think lives in their houses? I know that Carlos Mencia has used this in his material, but I wonder if la raza is more liable to be haunted than other ethnic groups. Also, why does the chupacabra only live in Hispanic areas (including the South Bronx), but never in rural Mississippi?
Spooked in Soho
DEAR GABACHO: This column is ¡Ask a Mexican!—not ¡Ask a Hispanic!—but I'm making an exception for you because doing so allows me to dispel a long-held myth: The chupacabra isn't Mexican. The fantastical creature that preys on livestock (hence its Spanish name, which translates as "goatsucker") has obsessed fortean minds and popular culture in the Americas for the past 15 years. Its first claimed sighting was in 1995 in Puerto Rico, and other witnesses across Latin America (including the American Southwest and Florida) have also have reported seeing the creature. As Benjamin Radford reported in his well-researched, well-written Tracking the Chupacabra: The Vampire Beast In Fact, Fiction and Folklore, folklorists have long-considered Latin American culture a fountain of mysticism and tall tales, legends usually created as socio-Jungian explanations of life. The chupacabra, according to this school of pensamiento and a folklorist Radford cites with a bit of skepticism, is "a form of cultural resistance that many [Latinos] use to maintain social bonds and gain control over growing fears surrounding the perceived destructive effects of 'toxic' U.S. political and economic imperialism." Typical—when in doubt, blame the problems of Latinos on gabachos, the true Nosferatus.
DEAR MEXICAN: A couple of weeks ago, to the horror of friends and family, my wife and I walked across the bridge from El Paso into Mexico for a day of wandering the mercados of Juárez. Our friends said we were crazy. The fact that we saw only three other obvious gabacho tourists over the course of the day shows that U.S. tourists are terrified of Juárez. Most of the usual border liquor stores were boarded up, and those that were open had scant inventory. The mercados favored by the locals, on the other hand, were buzzing. So, were we crazy to go? We had a great day.
Viviendo la Vida Loca
DEAR GABACHO: While your reasoning is fine—narcos usually shoot at their enemies or Mexican-Americans returning to the rancho and lay off gunning at gabachos lest the U.S. Army pull another Punitive Expedition—they're rather trigger-happy at the moment. Besides, why visit Juárez when you have El Paso—statistically one of the safest big cities in the United States—right across the border? It has everything Juárez has, plus Chico's Tacos, purveyors of the double order of rolled tacos, baptized in a flurry of Cheddar cheese and tomato sauce—as close to a Mexican god since the days of Quetzalcoatl.
GOOD MEXICAN OF THE WEEK! Another Chuco landmark—Cinco Puntos Press, purveyor of fine Mexican-American books and a friend to the Mexican. Its catalog is at cincopuntos.com.