Dear Mexican: My gabacha friends and I marched in the May pro-amnesty rallies and wanted to show our support on our chests as well as our feet. We wore T-shirts that read, “I only (picture of big, juicy lips) mojados” on the front, and “Yo solo (lips) mojados” on the back. Some Mexican guys complimented the shirts, but my Chicano studies-type friends got angry. They said I was colonially objectifying Mexican men as sex objects and that gabachos can’t ever use the word “mojado” because it’s like the n-word word in English. They were pissed, and they dissed. I feel bad—should I? – Chica Against Making Immigrants Scapegoats, Enemies, Targets and Animals
Dear T-Shirt: Your unfortunate experience reminds me of an apocryphal quote attributed to Emma Goldman; after a comrade told the anarchist icon that her gaiety wasn’t helping the Cause, Goldman replied, “If I can’t dance, I don’t want to be part of your revolution.” Similarly, the P.C.pendejos who trashed your smart, sexy mojado (“wetback” in Spanish) camisetas show why most Mexicans and children of Mexican immigrants wish Chicanismo would go the way of the Frito Bandito. Protest with playfulness is a tradition in Mexican culture—witness Super Barrio, a corpulent masked wrestler who emerged to fight for victims of the 1986 Mexico City earthquake and went on to serve in Mexico’s Congress. The culture of Chicano activism, while fighting the good fight, also creates insufferable, self-righteous bores whose idea of political humor is screaming “GO BACK TO EUROPE, PILGRIM!” at geriatric gabachos. I blame Chicano studies, which corrupts the brains of young Mexicans with antiquated concepts like victimization, objectification and grade inflation, all anathema to the libertarian Mexican soul. Besides, what male, straight or joto, doesn’t want to be sexually objectified? Oh, and mojado isn’t the n-word of Mexican Spanish; that honor falls to “Guatemalan.”
Dear Gabacho: Forget Lawrence—the Mexican’s Kansan cousins tell me that the best jornaleros hang out a few blocks east of the state line at Kansas City’s Westside CAN Center (2136 Jefferson St., Kansas City, Missouri, 816-842-1298; don’t feel left out, Weekly readers—find your own hard-working brownies at the Laguna Beach Day Labor Center smack-dab in the middle of Laguna Canyon Road). Pick your tool-wielding Mexican with pride, Five Dollars; men like you—entrepreneurs who undercut the American worker by replacing him with cheap immigrant labor—pushed our country to glory. But do me a favor: press Lawrence’s city fathers to open a day labor center. Many municipalities across los Estados Unidos have solved their day laborer problem by funding such locales; at the centers, the mad capitalist ballet of curbside jornaleros gets tamed into an orderly, litter-free exchange of labor. According to “Comparing Solutions: An Overview of Day Labor Programs,” a 2004 research paper prepared by the Idaho-based Day Labor Research Institute, many cities with day labor centers found that taking jornaleros away from street corners put less of a burden on taxpayers than allowing them to roam. “Not only was money saved,” adds Institute director Lynn Svensson, “but also police were freed up to deal with crime rather than what they consider nuisance calls.” So fight crime,!gabachos—build a day labor center in your neighborhood. As for the chainsaw translation question, it’s “¿Sabes cómo usar un motosierra?” But just say, “Trabaja hard, or I’ll call la migra,” and your Mexicans will comprende whatever mangled Spanish you may sputter.
Got a spicy question about Mexicans? Ask the Mexican at firstname.lastname@example.org. And those of you who do submit questions: include a hilarious pseudonym, por favor, or we’ll make one up for you!