academic, Cultural Studies, lucha libre, masculinity, Mexican wrestling, Professional Wrestling

The Big Comeback (Post)

I can’t stay away.

There, I said it.

No apologies, no profound reasons: there was no magical moment wherein I realized that I wanted to continue writing about pro wrestling.

Well, maybe. There was one particular interaction with a fellow luchador which reminded me that my work is not done.

In the wake of Richard Spencer’s well-deserved punching, I came across a shirt that read “Punch More Nazis.” I had one printed for myself to wear during and upcoming show, and attempted to rally the rest of my colleagues at Lucha Libre Volcánica to follow suit. Sónico, the other half of Los Sexi Mexis, responded by stating that “we’re luchadors; not activists.”

Sónico’s argument is perhaps not inaccurate. However it presupposes that professional wrestling is completely devoid of political significance. Assuming that wrestling was somehow completely isolated from the realm of politics, I may have conceded. However, knowing that professional wrestling is thoroughly steeped in ideology, I continued with my original plan to wear the shirt. Our exchange did remind me that I still have work to complete in this realm.

Accordingly, I am compelled to again write about pro wrestling. Within the next week I intend share a proposed outline and itinerary for completing this project. It is admittedly an ambitious one, and incredibly multifaceted. As is customary for my approach, I will address professional wrestling in a critical academic fashion. However, in order to make the topic accessible as well as to offer a thorough exploration, I will utilize a multimedia approach that will include images, video, and audio, in addition to writing. The aforementioned approach ensures that each post will be unique, but also that completing each one will be no small task. Consequently, I may not be able to provide weekly updates, save for the occasional unrelated musings.

As previously stated, this will only be a pure “wrestling blog” in that it will be demonstrably using examples from wrestling for argumentative purposes. That is to say I will be writing about wrestling in an academic sense, but I will not be “chronicling” the history of wrestling, writing about my own wrestling adventures, nor providing fan insights like a damned mark.

It has been a while, but I’m stoked to be back. 🙌🏽

Cultural Studies, lucha libre, party

Who Will Protect the Piñatas? White Savior Syndrome Strikes Again

I recently had the pleasure and honor of being a guest judge at the 2015 Annual Piñata Bash in Seattle, Washington. A day or two preceding the event, a random individual posted on the Bash’s event page on Facebook, asking if we were partnering with any Latino organizations, and (not so) subtly accused the Bash of co-opting Mexican culture. Initially I was only put off by the condescending—yet blissfully ignorant—tone of the post. However through 30 seconds of Facebook stalking, I was instead offended by the fact that the perpetrator was white. And by “white,” I don’t mean just physically white in appearance, I mean clearly in no way a Latina. Chicana. Mexicana. Hispanic. Whatever nomenclature you prefer.

Which of course, brings me to the focus of this discussion: white people, please stop trying to tell us how to conduct our culture.

Before you assault me with angsty retorts in the comments section (I’m looking at you, recent liberal arts graduates), let me clarify two things: I’m not saying that you ought not to align yourselves with historically oppressed peoples, as we love and appreciate your support; I am *also* not trying to speak on behalf of oppressed peoples everywhere. What I *am* saying, is that not everything which vaguely resembles a thing that you understand as a tenet of a specific culture is a potential battleground against cultural appropriation.

Let’s take the case in question: the Piñata Bash is, in fact, organized by a group of white individuals. Never mind the fact that less than a minute of research would have revealed that the event was being sponsored by Lucha Libre Volcánica, which is owned by a Mexican and is an exhibition of a Mexican folk art. The point of contention for this person seems to be the central theme itself: the piñata.

This is one place where her critique breaks down: another minute (I know! So much time…) of research yields that the piñata may originate in China well before it ever became a Spanish tradition. For those of you who are unaware, China is not in fact, in Mexico. Further, Spain (if you’re following, happened to have adopted the Chinese tradition) was an imperialist occupier of Mexico. Essentially this means that the piñata is at least two-steps removed from Mexico—Spain’s cultural imperialism notwithstanding, of course. This is where I encounter a second problem with the critique: at what point do we judge something as cultural appropriation?

Had the Bash utilized reductive Mexican stereotypes of poncho-wearing, brown-skinned Mexicans in sombreros, I would have had nothing to do with the event. However, the event consisted of people building piñatas of any theme, none of which were in any way reductive or in any way demeaning towards Mexicans (such themes include one piñata titled “The Patriarchy”). If anything, the Bash was a celebration of the piñata in and of itself as an an idea: a demarcation of cause for celebration.

But beyond assaulting papier mâché (spelling and accents courtesy of the internet) with a stick, this misguided inquiry provoked further questioning about how authenticity and culture are policed. Where would such a conception of cultural currency put a luchador like me: a half-Mexican adoptee who was raised functionally lacking of any relationship to Mexican culture? What about my white colleagues in the sport, who are sometimes better performers than their Mexican counterparts? What about my friend La Avispa, who is white but speaks way better Spanish than I do? Do her language skills have more cultural currency than my skin tone and Mexican blood? Does it matter that she’s a white woman performing within an arena that is traditionally occupied by Mexican men? Sex and gender aside, how ought we to go about quantifying one’s ethnicity, and at what point does one lose the “cultural privilege” of being “ethnic?” Did I even technically qualify as a “supervisory Mexican” for the Bash? Did she know that I am adopted, and that’s why she insisted that we partner with a local Latino non-profit to “legitimize” the event?

I am the byproduct of a Mexican immigrant father and a white (mostly German, with a hint of French, and tidbits of Native American) mother; I was later adopted as an infant by a white family. During the course of my life I’ve been told by several (usually white) adults that I should “connect with my culture.” As a child I was completely unclear as to what that meant, short of learning Spanish or eating exclusively Mexican food. As I have become an adult, I am not any less confused as to what it means to “connect with my culture”: I am unclear as to where culture ends and begins. Regardless of my “connection” (or lack thereof) to Mexican culture, I grew up as a person of color. The quality of being Mexican is always already thrust upon me by a culture that identifies white as normative, and thus my “authentic” Mexicanness is largely irrelevant to my life experiences as a brown male. Regarding the Bash, this particular individual was out of her depth in the attempt to level a critique about the event. And although frustrating, I found myself asking more questions about cultural appropriation and who has the right to officiate public events involving (not white) culture. While I do not have the answer, I know for damned sure it was not this particular person.