Los menos que menos que nadie: Interview with Lukas Avendaño
Lukas Avendaño photographed by Mario Patiño
Source: quepasaoaxaca.com
Fragments of an interview with the Mexican muxe performance artist Lukas Avendaño Friday, May 15, 2020 |
Fragmentos de una entrevista con el artista de performance mexicano muxe Lukas Avendaño |
Conducted, transcribed, and fragmented by Marios Chatziprokopiou Edited and translated in English by Alkisti Efthymiou |
Realizada, transcrita y fragmentada por Marios Chatziprokopiou
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Antigone, justice, and the periphery of the periphery |
Antígona, justicia y la periferia de la periferia |
LA: I believe that beyond human rights there is a cultural construction in relation to justice. Justice is the principle. I was brought up in a family where we were taught to do what was just, regardless of inconvenience, and under this principle I began to encounter the disciplines of anthropology and the arts. Once I started combining them I forced them to respond to the needs of justice, because it seems true to me that studying law or legal sciences does not make you a responsible person or a person in favor of human rights. |
LA: Considero que, más allá de los derechos humanos, hay una construcción cultural con relación a la justicia. Éste es el principio. Fui educado en el seno de una familia donde se nos inculcó hacer lo que era justo más allá de lo que era conveniente o inconveniente. Con este principio fui encontrándome con las disciplinas de antropología y las artes. Una vez juntas, fui forzándolas a que respondieran a las necesidades de la justicia, porque me parece cierto que el hecho de que estudies derecho o ciencias jurídicas no te hace una persona consecuente o en favor de los derechos humanos. |
[…] Aside from how I understand and judge Antigone’s claim to bury her brother, what seems transcendent to me is the direct confrontation that she has with the figure of authority. And this is where this search process has plunged us in. Beyond searching or not searching, beyond visibilizing through my performative practice the demand for my brother Bruno’s appearance, there is a deliberate confrontation with the figure of authority. |
[…] |
[…] What bothers power is not the rightness of the claim but how someone “insignificant” can put authority in a situation that confronts it. This is precisely the role of Antigone. Antigone does not exist. Antigone is not a political entity. She has no political existence. She is invisible because of her position as a woman. In my case I am invisible because of my socio-economic position, because of my gender and ethnic adscription, because of my peasant position, and so on. I am invisible. That is why I allude to the fact that “I am less than less than nobody.” Because even being nobody is already a political category. But when you become less than nobody; or less than less than less than nobody; you are in a position more peripheral than the periphery itself. |
[…] |
[…] [From] social disappearance to labor disappearance to ethnic disappearance, and, lastly, to physical disappearance. This is what I am trying to illustrate when I say, “you are the periphery of the periphery.” You can be a disappeared person and be the son of the deputy, the senator or the governor. And that gives you another possibility. Or you are disappeared and you are the daughter of a businessman and so on. These people were already somebody. But when you are nobody, because you don’t appear, because you are unemployed, indigenous, a migrant, then you are already a disappeared person, politically, socially, at work. |
[…]
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Searching for Bruno |
Buscando a Bruno |
LA: The intervention [related to the disappearance of my brother Bruno] was not born as a performance. It is a denunciation. But not one that aims to make visible the issue of the disappeared. It seems to me that the issue of visibility is an intermediate stage. What I want is not to visibilize, what I want is to clarify. The ultimate goal is to clarify the disappearance of my brother Bruno, allowing for an exercise of justice from the place of those who have been violated to be experienced. The ultimate goal is that there be justice. Even if we can recover or find the people we are looking for, in finding them, in bringing them home, there can be an exercise of justice. It seems that people are left in limbo when the objective is to visibilize. But this is an intermediate step… When I first made this act of denunciation, and this term seems to me more accurate of the context in which it was born, it was presented at the consulate of Mexico in Barcelona, on June 21, 2018. it was born like this: as a denunciation. |
LA: La intervención [relacionada con la desaparición de mi hermano] no nace como una performance. Es una denuncia. Pero no una denuncia que intente visibilizar el tema de los desaparecidos. Me parece que el asunto de la visibilidad es un estadio intermedio. Lo que yo quiero no es visibilizar, lo que quiero es que se esclarezca. El fin último es el esclarecimiento de la desaparición de mi hermano Bruno, permitiendo que se experimente un ejercicio de justicia desde el lugar de los vulnerados. El fin último que buscamos es que haya justicia. Si bien podemos recuperar o encontrar las personas que se están buscando, que en este encontrarlos, en este traerlos a casa, puede haber un ejercicio de justicia. Pareciera que las personas se quedan en el limbo de que el objetivo es visibilizar. Pero no es visibilizar. Este es un escalón intermedio… Cuando hice por primera vez este acto de denuncia, y este término me parece más preciso del contexto en el que nace, es cuando se presenta en el consulado de México en Barcelona, el 21 de junio de 2018. Nace así: como una denuncia. |
Later it was presented for the second time at the Chopo University Museum of the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) in the context of an academic event on “situated thinking,” organized by Dr. Ileana Diéguez. In the event I was with Miguel Rubio; there is a video on Facebook of the talk that took place after the intervention between Miguel Rubio, Ileana Diéguez and myself. This is when we were already talking about “an intervention.” |
Posteriormente, se presenta por segunda ocasión en el Museo Universitario del Chopo de la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México (UNAM), en el contexto del evento académico “pensamiento situado”, convocado por la doctora Ileana Diéguez. En el evento me encuentro con Miguel Rubio; hay un video en Facebook de la charla, realizada después de la intervención, donde está Miguel Rubio, Ileana Diéguez y yo. Allí es cuando ya se habla de una intervención. |
In the specific case of the Mexican consulate in Barcelona, the confrontation is direct. There is an authority figure that has the obligation to respond to my demand, to my request. The act of denunciation takes place in the public space, where I am completely vulnerable to passers-by, to the police itself. We are talking about 2018, just after this case when some young people with a van crossed the Rambla, the main touristic street in Barcelona, and ran over many passers-by. Everything concluded with the murder of these boys, accusing them of being terrorists. |
En el caso específico del consulado de México en Barcelona la confrontación es directa. Hay una figura de autoridad que tiene la obligación de responder a mi exigencia, a mi solicitud. El acto de denuncia se lleva a cabo en el espacio público, en donde estoy completamente vulnerable a los transeúntes, a la propia policía. Estamos hablando del 2018, cuando recién había acontecido una situación en la que unos jóvenes con una furgoneta atravesaron la Rambla, la principal avenida turística en Barcelona, y arroyaron a muchos transeúntes. El caso concluyó con el asesinato de estos muchachos acusándolos de terroristas. |
The issue was very sensitive. My presence in the public space could be read at some point as a terrorist act where I was violating the institution or the diplomatic representation of Mexico in Barcelona. That is why I speak of an act of denunciation. When this action is transferred to the UNAM, it changes completely. First because it is not happening in the public space, second because it is happening in an institutional, cultural site, in an academic context, and third because the immediate political actors on whom the responsibility for my demand should fall are not present. |
Era un tema muy sensible. Mi presencia en el espacio público en algún momento pudiera leerse como un acto terrorista en donde estaba vulnerando la institución o la representación diplomática de México en Barcelona. Por eso hablo de un acto de denuncia. Cuando esta acción se traslada al Museo Universitario del Chopo en la UNAM cambia completamente. Primero, porque no está sucediendo en el espacio público; segundo porque está sucediendo en un recinto institucional, cultural, en un contexto académico; tercero porque no están los actores políticos inmediatos sobre quienes debe recaer la responsabilidad de mi exigencia. |
After the Chopo Museum, the intervention moved to the Museum of Contemporary Art of Oaxaca (MACO), where the action began along the tourist walkway that starts at the former convent of Santo Domingo de Guzmán, where I was walking carrying a bouquet of white flowers on my head until I arrived outside the MACO, where this action of accompaniment took place. Later we continued inside the MACO where a talk was given in the presence of Ileana Diéguez and Miguel Rubio. This is the third time the intervention has happened. |
Después del Museo del Chopo la intervención se trasladó al Museo de Arte Contemporáneo de Oaxaca (MACO), donde la acción inicia con una caminata por el andador turístico que parte del ex convento de Santo Domingo de Guzmán, en donde camino cargando un ramo de flores blancas en la cabeza hasta llegar afuera del MACO, donde sucede esta acción del acompañamiento. Posteriormente seguimos dentro de las instalaciones del MACO donde se da una charla en presencia de Ileana Diéguez y de Miguel Rubio. Es la tercera ocasión en la que sucede esta intervención. |
The fourth occasion was in the context of the Hemispheric Encounter of Performance and Politics in 2019. The context was similar to that of the MACO and the Chopo Museum. It happened in a cultural-artistic-academic context; there was the presence of the museum authorities, I was no longer so exposed, and the authorities to whom the message was directly addressed were absent. Let’s say that the only time the proposed political effect has been achieved, was in the act of denunciation that took place at the Mexican consulate in Barcelona. |
La cuarta ocasión que sucede es en el contexto del Encuentro Hemisférico de Performance y Política en 2019. También el contexto es muy parecido a lo del MACO y al Museo del Chopo. Sucede en un contexto cultural, artístico y académico; existe la presencia de las autoridades del museo, ya no soy ya tan expuesto, y las autoridades a quienes va directamente dirigido el mensaje están ausentes. Digamos que la única vez que se ha logrado el efecto político propuesto, es el acto de denuncia que se hizo en el consulado de México en Barcelona. |
MC: How do you treat the issue of the co-performers, of your accomplices, the people who accompany you? And what is the symbolism of the companion’s dress but also yours?
LA: The dress is the traditional female clothing of the Zapotec women of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. All the other costumes are festive except for the one I wear, which is black. The black is reserved for mourning. I cannot wear a festive costume because of the quality of the event I am enunciating. But I invite the other people, to the extent that they are not directly experiencing this violent act, to wear the festive clothing. It is also an attempt to create an image that can evidence this dichotomy between festive and not festive, joy and sadness, and everything that can be read when these images appear, one in monochromatic and the other in color. |
MC: ¿Como tratas esta cuestión de los co-performers, de tus cómplices, las personas que te acompañan? ¿Y qué simboliza el vestido de los acompañantes, pero también el tuyo? LA: La indumentaria es la indumentaria tradicional femenina de la mujer zapoteca del Istmo de Tehuantepec. Todos los otros trajes son festivos salvo el que yo uso, que es el negro. El negro esta reservado a cuestiones de luto. No puedo usar un traje festivo por la calidad del suceso que estoy enunciando. Pero las otras personas en la medida de que no están directamente viviendo este acto violento entonces las invito a que puedan ellas tener esta indumentaria que es festiva. También es como un intento de crear una imagen que pueda evidenciar esta dicotomía festivo-no festivo, alegría-tristeza, todo lo que pueda leerse cuando aparecen estas imágenes, una en monocromático y la otra en colorido. |
[…] I tried to contact the Mexican Consulate to get an answer and I never got a response. I did it by telephone, I did it by e-mail and I never got an answer. Then, since it was very certain that if I arrived without a previous appointment they would not answer me, in a premeditated, deliberate and favorable way, I didn’t want the consulate staff to have arguments to tell me “you are not Mexican,” so I decided to put on my clothes as if it were a suit of armor. To say: if there is someone here at this moment with all the legitimacy to be attended to, it is me. Because I bring all the formal, gestural, and symbolic elements, which will leave no doubt to the authority as to whether I deserve to be received or not. That is how I decided to present myself at the gates of the consulate with my passport in my hand and I told the security, “I am a Mexican citizen and I need to be attended.” I didn’t say, “please, I don’t have an appointment, please receive me,” no. And that’s how this whole process began to unfold. |
[…] |
The clothing is my way of bringing forward the “ethnic memory” of my maternal genealogy, of my sisters, my mother, my grandmothers, my great-great-grandmothers, and therefore bringing to the present my tradition, my culture, and everything that goes with it. This was the main argument that made me decide to do it this way. And they ended up receiving me: the vice-consul received me and I gave him a letter of 36 pages where I explained why I believe that the constitutional and human rights of myself, my brother Bruno, and the rest of my family have been violated by the Mexican authorities. Given that I am neither a lawyer nor a human rights specialist, I asked friends to help me write the document, arguing legally in relation to the facts and to the international protocols according to which Mexico has set up an institution committed to watch over and safeguard human rights, and therefore is obliged to enforce them. This is the corpus that this document integrates, and I asked to be received. Later, outside the consulate, as a political act, I did the action of accompaniment Buscando a Bruno (Searching for Bruno), which is how it was later called. |
La indumentaria es mi manera de traer toda la “memoria étnica” de mi genealogía materna, de mis hermanas, mi madre, mis abuelas, mis tatarabuelas, y por lo tanto traer al presente mi tradición, mi cultura y todo lo que conlleva. Este era el argumento principal que a mí me hizo tomar la decisión de hacerlo de esta manera. Y terminaron recibiéndome: me recibió el vice-cónsul, le entregué una carta integrada de 36 hojas donde iba narrando porqué estoy diciendo que los derechos constitucionales y humanos míos, de mi familia y de Bruno se están siendo violentado por las autoridades mexicanas. Dado que no soy abogado, ni tampoco especialista de derechos humanos, pedí a unos amigos que me ayudaran a redactar el documento, argumentando jurídicamente en relación a los hechos y protocolos internacionales según los cuales México ha creado una institución comprometida en vigilar y salvaguardar los derechos humanos y, por tanto, está obligada a hacerlos valer. Este es el corpus que integra este documento, y pedí que me reciban. Posteriormente, afuera del consulado, como un acto político hago la acción del acompañamiento Buscando a Bruno, que fue como se llamó después. |
[…] One reality is what it means to be Mexican and another reality is everything that is interwoven at the community level, at the level of collectivities, at the level of cultures that claim or have practices with an ancestry in the Amerindian tradition. For example, I can present myself to the institutions in charge of procuring and imparting justice, but I am a subject worthy of attention only to the extent that I am able to articulate a discourse based on positive law. If I am not able to articulate this discourse, I am made invisible. Because they don’t care about dealing with collectivities and with Indian identities. They deal with “Mexican citizens.” |
[…] |
[…] I deeply believe that, in front of a situation like this, a humanitarian crisis with the disappearance of people – in Mexico they don’t call it a “humanitarian crisis” but, considering the fact that in less than ten years more than 70,000 people have disappeared, I say that it is – we all have responsibilities in one way or another, from the field that we operate in. |
[…] Creo profundamente que, ante una situación como ésta, una crisis humanitaria con desaparición de personas – en México no la llaman “crisis humanitaria” pero el hecho de que en menos de diez años se contabilicen más de 70.000 personas desaparecidas, yo digo que lo es – todos tenemos responsabilidades de una u otra manera, desde el campo que nos toque abordar. |
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Archaeology of Memory |
Arqueología de la memoria |
LA: With authors and artists like Eduardo Galeano, Chavela Vargas who becomes nationalized as Mexican, and Pedro Lemebel and Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis (The Mares of the Apocalypse) we have a common history. So common that we express ourselves in the same language, which is Spanish. This is the first premise: a common history which doesn’t have to do with privilege, but rather with having lived histories of dispossession, histories in which we have become the “nobody” in Galeano’s terms. Why am I so emphatic on “the less than less than nobody”? Because I have heard many times people delegitimizing the other’s argument by saying “you are nobody.” And one thing I say is, if I had to have university studies – and I summarize it in saying that it was a premeditated act of “stubbornness” – is because I heard someone say, “shut up, you didn’t go to school!” |
LA: Con estos autores y artistas como Eduardo Galeano, Chavela Vargas que se auto-nacionaliza mexicana, y Pedro Lemebel y Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis tenemos una historia en común. Tan común que nos expresamos en la misma lengua: castellano. Eso es una primera premisa: la historia en común que no tiene que ver con el privilegio, sino más bien con haber vivido historias de despojo, historias en las que nos hemos convertido en los “nadie” en términos de Galeano. Pero ¿por qué soy tan enfático cuando digo “los menos que menos que nadie”? Porque he escuchado muchas veces personas que, para deslegitimar el argumento del otro, dicen “tú eres nadie”. E incluso una cosa que digo es, si tuve que tener estudios universitarios – y lo sintetizo en decir que fue un acto premeditado de “emperramiento” – es porque una vez escuché alguien decir, “¡cállate, no fuiste a la escuela!”. |
The Two Fridas (1989) by Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis (Pedro Lemebel and Francisco Casas)
Source: Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis
[…] Where did I belong? My proximity to Eduardo Galeano and Pedro Lemebel has to do precisely with starting from the periphery of the periphery. On the other hand, it has to do with the fact that they do not necessarily write from rationality, even if it is from rationality that I assimilate their argumentation; they write from emotionality. And this is where I find this practice that I call “archeology of memory.” The archeology of memory does not necessarily appeal to rationality but to emotionality. This empathy that I establish when I talk about my sister, my aunt, my grandmothers, comes precisely from emotionality because, at the end of the day, what connects me with them are emotional images, not words, not logos, but emotionality. And what connects me with Chavela Vargas is this archaeology of memory that she enunciates when she interprets a song and the way she does it. |
[…] |
In relation to The Two Fridas. In the 1930s, when the Mexican nation-state was institutionalized and General Lázaro Cárdenas del Rio was the president of the republic, he sends intellectual artists traveling across the Mexican provinces to systematize all the symbolic codes that will later give a sense of belonging and generate the symbolic framework on which Mexican identity is based, what it means to be Mexican. After the 1930s, Indians no longer exist; only Mexicans exist. And as part of this great group of intellectuals and artists, Frida Kahlo arrives to the Isthmus of Tehuantepec, accompanied by her then companion Diego Rivera, Tina Modotti, Sergei Eisenstein, Miguel Covarrubias, and José Vasconcelos himself, who is called the father of the National Autonomous University of Mexico, was secretary of public education and had written the book Ulises Criollo (Criole Ulysses). The Mediterranean culture might have permeated his imaginary but this is not the Ulysses of Ithaca, this is a Creole Ulysses. Vasconcelos says, “now the new Mexican is going to emerge: We are not the mestizos, we are not the peninsulars. We are the Creoles, the bronze race.” That’s how he calls it. In this book, he says that if there is any indigenous race of which Mexico could be proud, it is the Zapotecs of Tehuantepec. It was necessary to talk about a type of Indians in Mexico and it was the Zapotecs: they were proud, they were arrogant, they were not submissive like other Indians from other parts of the country. |
En relación a Las dos Fridas. En los años 1930, cuando se institucionaliza el estado-nación mexicano, y general Lázaro Cárdenas del Rio es el presidente de la república, él manda a los artistas intelectuales a recorrer la provincia mexicana para sistematizar el código simbólico que posteriormente dará sentido de pertenencia y generará el entramado simbólico de la identidad mexicana, de lo que significa ser mexicano. Es decir que después de los años 1930, ya no existen más los indios; solamente existen los mexicanos. Y en este gran grupo de intelectuales y artistas llega al Istmo de Tehuantepec Frida Kahlo, acompañada por su compañero de entonces Diego Rivera, Tina Modotti, Sergei Eisenstein, Miguel Covarrubias y el propio José Vasconcelos, el mismo intelectual al que se le llama el padre de la Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México porque era secretario de la educación pública y ahí escribe su libro que se llama Ulises Criollo. Puede que la cultura mediterránea haya impregnado su imaginario, pero éste no es el Ulises de Ítaca, es un Ulises criollo. Vasconcelos dice, “ahora va surgir el nuevo mexicano: no somos los mestizos, no somos los peninsulares. Somos los criollos, la raza de bronce”. Así la llama. En este libro dice que si hay alguna raza indígena del cual México podría sentirse orgulloso son los Zapotecos de Tehuantepec. Se había que hablar de un tipo de indios en México y eran los Zapotecos: eran altivos, orgullosos, soberbios, no eran sumisos como otros indios de otros lados del país. |
The Two Fridas (1939) by Frida Kahlo
Source: historia-arte.com
This image of the Tehuana woman is an image that is reproduced by the cinema of Sergei Eisenstein or by Miguel Covarrubias, who has an ethnographic work called The South of Mexico. There is also Tina Modotti and the photograph of the Tehuana; Diego Rivera and the murals that he reproduces in the National Palace and in the Secretary of Public Education, and as a gossip, as a myth, it’s said that Diego Rivera fell in love with a Tehuana. And then Frida Kahlo adopts the clothing of the Tehuana, to become the Tehuana that Diego Rivera was always in love with. The Tehuana as imaginary, as symbol, as icon, this figurative construction. And it was from there that Frida Kahlo adopted the Tehuana’s clothing in her daily life, which was later reflected in her artwork. As in Mi vestido cuelga aquí (My Dress Hangs There), which she made in New York, where her dress is hanging on a rope. She has a recurring series of Tehuana clothing. |
Ésta imagen de la mujer Tehuana es una imagen que se va reproduciendo por el cine de Sergei Eisenstein o por Miguel Covarrubias, que tiene una obra etnográfica que se llama El Sur de México. Está también Tina Modotti y la fotografía de la Tehuana; Diego Rivera y los murales que pinta en el Palacio Nacional y en el palacio de la Secretaria de Educación Pública, y a manera de chisme, a manera de mito, se habla de que Diego Rivera se enamoró de una Tehuana. Y entonces Frida Kahlo adopta la indumentaria de la Tehuana, para convertirse en la Tehuana de la que Diego Rivera siempre estuvo enamorado. La Tehuana como imaginario, como símbolo, como ícono, esta construcción figurativa. Y fue de ahí que Frida Kahlo adopta en su cotidiano la indumentaria de la Tehuana y que después se ve reflejado en su obra plástica. Como en Mi vestido cuelga aquí, que realizó en Nueva York, en donde en un mecate está colgando su vestido. Tiene una serie recurrente de la indumentaria de la Tehuana. |
There is another one called Diego en mi pensamiento (Diego on My Mind), a self-portrait from the chest up, where she paints herself wearing an accessory that here we call bidani roo, which is like a glow of a virgin, and on her forehead she paints Diego Rivera. And well, perhaps the most recognized or most circulated work is that of the Two Fridas, in which she is on one side dressed in the traditional clothing of the Tehuanas and on the other she is in her western dress. And she is holding a locket in her hand with a picture of Diego Rivera. What I do is not innocent when I decide to take the two chairs to this act of denunciation. I am aware that Frida Kahlo’s work exists, I am aware that the Yeguas del Apocalipsis exist, so what I want is to return to the place that deserves to have this image of The Two Fridas, which is Tehuantepec. Kahlo creates The Two Fridas, where she is dressed in the Tehuana costume, when she leaves Tehuantepec. And many people have never heard of Tehuantepec, they have never heard of the Tehuanas, but they do know the work of the Two Fridas. And well, surely Casas and Lemebel did not know the context of the Tehuanas. It is an act of justice from my part, for the memory of the Tehuanas, for the Tehuanas themselves. That’s why I speak of the memory of my feminine genealogy, of the archeology of memory, so that the sign, this symbol, returns to its place. |
Hay otra que se llama Diego Rivera en mi pensamiento, es un auto-retrato de busto, donde ella se pinta con una accesoria que aquí llamamos bidani roo, que es como un resplandor de una virgen, y en la frente pinta a Diego Rivera. Y bueno, la obra quizás más reconocida o más circulada es la de las Dos Fridas, en la que está por un lado vestida con la indumentaria tradicional de las Tehuanas y por el otro está con su vestido occidental. Y en la mano tiene un guardapelo en donde tiene la foto de Diego Rivera. Lo que yo hago tampoco es inocente cuando decido llevar a este acto de denuncia las dos sillas. Es porque soy consciente que existe la obra de Frida Kahlo, porque soy consciente que existen Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis. Entonces lo que quiero es regresar al lugar que merecen tener esta imagen de las Dos Fridas que es Tehuantepec. Porque esta construcción de las Dos Fridas, con Kahlo vestida con el traje de Tehuana, es cuando ella se va de Tehuantepec. Y mucha gente nunca ha escuchado hablar de Tehuantepec, nunca ha escuchado hablar de las Tehuanas, pero sí conoce la obra de las Dos Fridas. Y seguramente Casas y Pedro Lemebel desconocían el contexto de las Tehuanas. Entonces es como un acto de justicia también para la memoria de las Tehuanas, para las propias Tehuanas. Por eso hablo de la tradición de la memoria de mi genealogía femenina, de la arqueología de la memoria, para que regrese el signo, este símbolo, a su lugar. Y por eso lo planteo de esta manera. |
Diego on My Mind (1943) by Frida Kahlo
Source: North Carolina Museum of Art
Being muxe |
Muxeidad |
LA: If I had to give a definition of muxeidad (muxeity), I would say that it allows us to live life itself in a less orthodox way within the framework of a cultural ecosystem that escapes any gaze that refers to a privileged place of power. Be it the legal gaze, the heteronormative, the white, the rational, the anglosaxon, and so on. Even the academic. The moment you start from a privileged position of power, the cultural ecosystem of muxeidad fades. And the one who tries to look at it or learn it is left with a sensation of a mirage, an illusion. Because I deeply believe that the only way to learn from the corporeality and from the physicality of the formal or symbolic gestures of muxeidad is precisely in situ. Otherwise it is as if you are throwing your fists in the air. I have met people who think that those who recognize themselves or describe themselves as muxes walk in their daily life every day with their head glowing and wearing costumes. This happens only in festive acts. Many people have come to conduct interviews or make documentaries but only during the festive acts. They thus leave with this image and everything seems like paradise, according to their own values. But they will never be able to distinguish when it’s a gimmick, or a parody of a gimmick, or a fake gimmick, or a nervous tic. They are going to think all the time that the people who are making this gesture are sending signs of courtship. When in reality there are four different codes that, if you are unfamiliar with muxeidad, they escape you completely. |
LA: Si tuviera que dar una definición de la muxeidad, diría que permite vivir la vida misma de una manera menos ortodoxa en el marco de un ecosistema cultural que escapa a cualquier mirada que se remita de un lugar privilegiado del poder. Sea desde la legalidad, la heteronormatividad, la blanquitud, la racionalidad, la anglosajonia, desde donde sea. Incluso desde la academia. Siempre que partas de una posición privilegiada de poder, el ecosistema cultural de la muxeidad se desdibuja. Y aquel que intenta mirarlo o aprenderlo se queda con la sensación de un espejismo. Porque creo profundamente que la única manera de poder aprender desde la corporalidad y desde la fisicalidad de los gestos morfológicos o simbólicos de la muxeidad es precisamente in situ. De otra manera es como si lanzaras manotazos al aire. Porque de repente me ha tocado encontrar personas que piensan que aquellos que se reconocen o se describen como muxes anden en su cotidianidad todos los días con el resplandor en la cabeza y con los trajes. Esto sucede solamente en actos festivos. Y muchos de los que han venido para hacer entrevistas o documentales solamente vienen en el acto festivo. Pues se van con esta imagen y entonces todo parece en efecto como el paraíso, en sus propios valores. Pero nunca podrán distinguir cuando se trata de un guiño, o de una parodia de guiño, de un falso guiño, o de un tic nervioso. Cuando se le presente el gesto, ellos van a pensar todo el tiempo que las personas que lo están haciendo están mandando signos de cortejo. Cuando realmente son cuatro códigos diferentes que, si eres ajeno a la muxeidad, se te están escapando. |
[…] The scene of Réquiem para un alcaraván, in which the muxe cannot wear the traditional clothing for [Judeo-Christian female] rites, is real. I said to myself that, if it cannot happen in real life because we, muxes, are invisible in this sense of the rituals, then I am going to make it feasible in a representational act. I wanted to demonstrate the contradiction, not delegitimize the rituals, but demonstrate the contradiction of how we are excluded from rituals that have been repeated for hundreds of years as an absolute criterion of truth. |
[…] |
It was then that I decided to experience mourning while wearing female garments, but wearing them without the huipil. The huipil would be the equivalent of the blouse. But I go out with my torso naked. Because being muxe is not that you want to become a woman. What is the purpose of wearing a huipil? To take care of and safeguard the feminine “modesty” that lies in the eroticization of the breasts. This part of the body is so reserved for women because they are the ones with breasts, which become objects of desire and eroticization, and so on. Since the muxes don’t have breasts, then I thought that it didn’t make sense for me to wear the huipil. Nobody was going to eroticize me because I don’t have breasts.
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Fue como decidí entonces vivenciar el luto a partir de las indumentarias femeninas, pero sin el huipil. El huipil sería el equivalente a la blusa. Pero salgo del torso desnudo. Porque ser muxe no significa que te quieras convertir en mujer. ¿Cuál es la finalidad de usar un huipil? Cuidar, salvaguardar el “pudor” femenino que radica en la erotización de los senos. Esta parte del cuerpo es tan reservado para las mujeres porque son las que tienen senos, cuales se conviertan en objetos de deseo y de erotización etc. Como los muxes no tienen senos, entonces pensé que no tiene sentido que pusiera el huipil. Nadie me va a erotizar pues yo no tengo senos.
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No to victimization |
No a la victimización |
LA: Mexican positive law recognizes you as a victim when your rights are violated. And sadness is associated with victims. Joy is associated with the absence of pain. Likewise, laughter is associated with informality, with non-seriousness. It’s like playing a little bit with these western values. When dealing with a serious subject, there are people who say that you can’t be laughing, you can’t be joking. “Get serious. It’s a serious subject.” In this act that I try to do, it’s not that I’m not going through sadness, but I’m not going to allow power to victimize me or to re-victimize me. Despite my pain, I am going to say that joy is the most subversive act in this context where sad sentiments seem to be the only value that those of us who are less than nobody have. Sadness. Re-victimization. And this is also a deliberate political decision. Because we Indians are presented as pitiful, as victims, as suffering… Yes, we suffer. But I am not willing to accept that they pity me. I am not willing to accept it. |
LA: El derecho positivo mexicano te reconoce como víctima cuando tu persona es motivo de una vulneración a tus derechos. Y la tristeza está asociada con las víctimas. La alegría está asociada con la ausencia del dolor, con el no dolor. Como también la risa está asociada con la informalidad, con la no seriedad. Entonces es como jugar un poco con eses valores occidentales. Porque, cuando se está tratando de un tema serio, hay gente que dice que no tienes que estar riéndote, no puedes estar bromeando, “Ponte serio. Es un tema serio”. En el ejercicio que intento hacer, no es que no me esté atravesando la tristeza, pero no le voy a dar herramientas al poder para victimizarme o para re-victimizarme. Pese a mi dolor, voy a decir que la alegría es el acto más subversivo en este contexto las pasiones tristes donde pareciera ser que son el único valor que tengamos los menos que menos que nadie. La tristeza. La re-victimización. Y esto también es una decisión deliberada política. Porque a los indios se nos presenta como pobrecitos, las víctimas, como si sufren… Sí, sufrimos. Pero no estoy dispuesto a aceptar de que me digan pobrecito. No estoy dispuesto a aceptarlo. |