By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: In Philadelphia, where I live, there are three Spanish-language stations on regular broadcast television. None of them offer English subtitles. I bet plenty of people of all heritages would like to check out Spanish language television, or the news from Central America or whatever, if we could get subtitles. I called one of the stations (Univisión) about it but they said there are no plans to offer subtitles. Channel 35 here in Philly has Chinese, Korean, German, Russian, Polish, and Italian programming, all with subtitles. Your thoughts?

Broad Street Broad

Dear Gabacha: Your letter has been in my ¡Ask a Mexican! archives for so long that your question is no longer needed—but I’ll todavia answer it because it allows me to raise a great point. Last year, Univisión announced it was going to offer English-language captions for most of its telenovelas and even some news programs, although it didn’t necessarily have gabachos in mind. Rather, the move was prompted by Univisión’s realization that assimilation is inevitable in this country, and that if it didn’t acknowledge that English is the ultimate destiny for every Mexican in el Norte, it would become as relevant to the Mexican experience as canned tortillas. It’s not a new tale—the ethnic press has long had a vibrant place in American letters (the first Spanish-language newspaper published in los Estados Unidos goes back to the early 19th century), but the only ones that survive more than a couple of generations are those that understand they’re only temporary phenomena, that their days are numbered. That’s why this infernal column also has a shelf life: when the Reconquista is finally complete, I will turn the burro over to my gabacho intern so he can explain America’s largest and whiniest minority to the ruling Mexi class.

I’m a gringa from Iowa and I’ve been dating my Mexican boyfriend for about three months now. He knows I’m from a background that’s as white as they come, since I’m German-Norwegian mix. But he fell in love with me because I think I shocked him. See, I speak Spanish, I listen to Spanish music, and we even met at a club for cumbia and bachata dancing. And he is puro mexicano with no English. He always calls me his “sexi gringa/guera” pero, lately, he’s been calling me his mexicana también when we’ve gone out dancing or for drinks. Why is that?

Melodia Confusa

Dear Confused Melody Gabacha: Because he loves you—you’re no longer just a gabacha to screw, but a mujer ready to meet the familia. Better make sure you incorporate chorizo into your hotdish—and I’m not talking about your hoo-hah.

CONFIDENTIAL TO: To the East Los Angeles College familia. Ustedes graciously invited me to be your commencement speaker earlier this year—and I stood ustedes up last week through a calendar error all my own. I profusely apologize to everyone at East Los Angeles College for insulting you in this way—you deserve so much better. Perdóname, Profe Godinez, my fellow Chapman University alum, who recommended me as the commencement speaker in the first place. A big ol’ to the ELAC student on Twitter who asked a very simple question: “Dónde estás, buey?” I will apologize for this for the rest of my life, I will never be able to live this mistake down, and I will do everything possible to try and make this up to ustedes. For starters, gentle readers: ELAC is an amazing institution that has long hosted a book festival (where they’ve graciously invited me in the past) and has many amazing teachers and students. Also? I’m the biggest pendejo in the world—but ustedes knew that already!

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

By Gustavo Arellano

MUY CALIENTE SUMMER EDITION

Dear Readers: U.K.’s spectacular Guardian newspaper has asked if I could field some questions for their readers as part of the paper’s summer travel package—turns out Brits want to know more about Mexican food! Let’s be benevolent toward those buggerers: their idea of what our comida constitutes comes solely from their gabacho cousins, and not from any actual Mexicans. Gracias to the Guardian for the opportunity, and mark my words: we Mexicans are going to avenge the Armada, with the Irish as our wingmen. So, without further ado…

Dear Mexican: I’m a Brit who’s traveling to New Mexico and Texas during the summer. We love our Tex-Mex in England—all that chili and yellow cheese! So where can I get the good stuff?

The Boy with the Nachos in His Side

Dear Limey: For starters, you’re NOT going to find much chili and yellow cheese in New Mexico, or even in all parts of Texas—the two states have about as much in common as Doctor Who and Star Wars. New Mexico is most famous for its Hatch chiles, fulsome, fleshy peppers from the southern part of the Land of Enchantment that the state’s residents either eat whole, grill and place inside cheeseburgers (the Blake’s Lotaburger chain is famous for their version) or turn into a stew. That state’s Mexican food is unique because it dates back to the days of the Spanish conquistadors, back when you Brits were still eating each other at Jamestown. You should think of Texas, meanwhile, as the Indian subcontinent: a large, unwieldy, country of countries with edible brimstone (curry for the Asians, salsa for the Mexis) the sole unifier. Since you want to visit New Mexico as well, you’ll probably only be able to travel to El Paso—make sure to stop by Chico’s Tacos and order the rolled tacos, what us Yanks call taquitos. Just in case you travel elsewhere in Texas, here’s a brief primer on Tex-Mex faves: in San Antonio, the natives eat puffy tacos, which look like Cornish pastys inflated to its golden, crispy extreme. South Texas is famous for barbacoa (a slow-roasted cow’s head) and cabrito (slow-roasted kid—have the Pakis taught y’all to eat goat yet?). Texas is also the land of nachos, so do me a favor, Boy: remind them that they stole the idea of vile yellow goop poured over crunchy trash from your Welsh rarebit.

Do we have authentic Mexican food in the United Kingdom?

Black Legend Bloke

Dear Limey: Yes, and no. My friends who have traveled across the pond always return with horror stories about the Mexican food there, and they all agree with the Top Gear pendejos—Mexican food in Britain IS refried sick. But it’s still Mexican food. See, all tacos are created equal, but some tacos are more equal than others. When people ask about “authentic” food, they mean regional Mexican specialties that haven’t achieved widespread popularity ala tacos and tequila. A good place to try such dishes in the U.K. is London’s Wahaca—their mescal comes from Mexico’s rural regions, tinga is a meat preparation from Mexico City, and pibil is the pride and joy of the Yucatan. I’ll only fault Wahaca for its silly name, a transliteration of the Mexican state of Oaxaca—you tea sippers too stupid to learn how to pronounce Nahuatl?

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: Like many Americans, I’ve heard about the “Fast and Furious” scandal in which our own ATF was shown to be guilty and corrupt of supplying guns that ended up in the hands of the drug cartels. Now, if I say any more, I might be talking about facts that I don’t know, and I would probably only be spouting off about what I heard on the news. I also recently saw a report about the violence in Mexico, and it mentioned something that I was unaware of. The report stated that there is only one place in all of Mexico for a citizen to purchase a firearm. However, we know that the cartels in Ciudad Juarez (and other parts of Mexico) are heavily armed. Of course, there is always the larger world market the cartels could use to find their firepower. But just across the border in the U.S., there are hundreds of gun stores, in addition to an ATF that is apparently willing to supply guns to them.

Now, I’m not much of a gun proponent or opponent. I don’t think firearms (in and of themselves) are the cause of or solution to most of our societal problems. However, I do know that firepower makes cartels powerful, and the drug violence coming out of Mexico is hard to ignore. In light of the fact that Mexicans can only legally obtain one gun, purchased from one location (if they meet all the requirements), what are the statistics for gun-ownership in Mexico? How does the Mexican culture differ when it comes to the average citizen and their view of safety and their right to protect themselves? There are obviously differing opinions in the U.S.A. about gun ownership, gun rights, and gun control. Similarly, I would expect that Mexicans have different views and opinions among each other regarding firearms.
But really, my main question is: One gun store? In all of Mexico? One gun store? Meanwhile, Juarez is awash with guns and blood. . .

Curious Jorge

Dear Pocho: Before I get to your pregunta, a quick comment on Fast and Furious: while I’m no fan of the Obama administration, isn’t it so gabacho for Obama critics to only care about the smuggling of guns into Mexico, which causes untold misery to so many, when they can embarrass him with it? Refry this, gabachos: Mexicans have been buying guns in the States and sneaking them into Mexico since the days of the Magón brothers (my favorite smuggling story: a man I knew once wrapped yarn around a ball of bullets, and had his wife take it onto a plane; she ended up knitting a sweater with it. This was in the days antes de 9/11, of course). And Ronald Reagan sold arms to the Contras—or was that okay, because he was fighting supposed commies?

Back to the question: Mexicans love their guns as much as they love salsa, and while the Mexican government highly regulates sales of guns (although nowhere near as stringent as the one-shop rule you hard), gun violence is still high. A July 2012 post by The Guardian cited stats that showed Mexico’s gun ownership rate was 15 per 100 people (42nd highest country in the world), which paled en comparación to the U.S.’s astounding número uno rate of 88.8 per 100. The homicide by firearm rate per 100,000 goes to the Mexicans: whereas in the U.S., the figure was 2.97, the Mexico cifra was 9.97. As for the percentage of homicides due to firearms? 54.9 percent for Mexis, Americans clock in at 60 percent—not much difference. One huge caveat, though: the report was compiled based on stats from 2007, far before the narcowars engulfed most of the country. With a police force as ineffectual as the GOP’s Latino outreach program, the right to bear arms for Mexicans isn’t just some high-falutin’ constitutional ideal—it’s usually the only way to ensure you stay alive.

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

Dear Mexican: Where did the notion of adding an -o to the end of an English word and assuming it makes it a Spanish word come from?

Juanito

Dear Wab: “Anglos have long held power in making Spanish and Spanish-speaking culture invisible,” writes University of South Florida assistant professor of foreign language education Adam Schwartz in his excellent essay, “Mockery and Appropriation of Spanish in White Spaces: Perceptions of Latinos in the United States,” published in the 2011 publication The Handbook of Hispanic Sociolinguistics. “But Spanish can be made selectively visible for the purposes of Mock Spanish,” a term popularized by legendary University of Arizona anthropologist Jane H. Hill to refer to what gabachos have deemed acceptable Spanglish—think terms like “vaya con Dios,” “cojones,” “mañana, mañana,” and “chinga tu pinche madre, pinche puto pendejo baboso.” As Schartz points out in his work, the addition of the masculine –o suffix to Mexicanize English arose both from its widespread use in popular culture (think “No comprendo” or “Drinko de Mayo”) and by gabachos taking Spanish classes in high school and college and only remembering one part of the language’s grammatical structure to bend for their racist needs. “This reclamation by Anglo monolinguals of the Spanish language itself is indeed a fashionable act—there is something oddly chic and cool about embracing the stereotype of ignorant gringo,” Schartz writes. And full disclosure—he was kind enough to cite this columna in the piece, which we find awesome-o!

Being one of two gabachos in my neighborhood on Federal in Denver, I’m wondering exactly how many Mexicans can fit in one car? This is a broad question, so assume that in a two-parent family there are six kids, three of which have three kids. The age range will be from around 50 to five months. We’ll also assume that it’s Sunday, and as many family members as possible need to get out on Federal. The car would most likely be a two-door Chevy truck, or a Saturn sedan on 20-inch rims.

Craving Some Chubbys!

Dear Gabacho: Depends on the situation—a Mexican car expands and contracts according to need like the Mexican mail panza. Car goes to church? Only women can fit in—and since they’re prim and proper, the max is 10. Going to a party? 25. To school? Just one adult, and all the neighborhood chamacos that can fit themselves in the footrest part of the carro. And if a car is going to a Republican function? It magically doesn’t fit anyone other than the vendido cousin driving it.

Like my Mexican co-workers, I’m a migrant to the City of Angels. In my home state of Louisiana, there is an integral distinction to be made among folks whether one is Protestant or Catholic. But ask a Mexican what a non-Catholic Christian is and they will tell you “Christian.” But, a Catholic is a Christian. I’ve inquired, and Mexicans don’t seem to have a word for Protestant. In fact, there are many words that are basic to my vocabulary that don ‘t seem to translate into Spanish, i.e., “self-esteem” and “desk drawers.” Why is this?

Dear Gabacho: Of course a Catholic is a Christian—can you tell that to evangelicals? As for your translation queries: a Protestant is a protestante, desk drawers are cajones del escritorio, and “self-esteem” is tequila.

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: Why is it that people from Chihuahua and Monterrey are such jackasses? They come from pinches ranchitos and talk about their haciendas, They cross the border and act as if their cagada does not stink. Why do pinches chihuahuenses act as if they are better than us American citizens? They eat at all-you-can-eat $6.99 buffets and still want to take a plate to go for their abuela and primos and try to feed the whole familia. They stay at our hotels and treat the maids like rats, as if they were conquistadores. They speak loud as if every one wanted to hear what they have to say—they are not E.F. Hutton. They think that their putos pesos can buy anything, When you ask them where do they come from, they start by telling you that their abuelos are Spaniards and most of their familia are Spaniards as if they are ashamed to be called mexicanos. The women wear their pantalones so tight that when they walk, they go up their puto culo, with their fake blond hair. Please tell those cabrones chihuahuenses and putos monterreyes que cool down, they are just as Mexicans as the rest of us, that they still smell like frijoles and are not Spaniards.

Hernan Cortez

Dear Gachupín: Nothing like some intra-Mexican hatred to prove that the idea of a Mexican nation united for Reconquista is as realistic as a Mexican government free of narco money! Your specific insults toward people from the Mexican state of Chihuahua (or, as they’re known in El Paso, fronchis) and city of Monterrey (their nickname is regio-montanos) marks you as someone from Texas, as that’s where the majority of immigrants from northern Mexico have landed. And the reason they act so uppity isn’t so much because of where they’re from but what they are: ricos who have fled the chaos of their home states for the safety of Texas, where pompous, ostentatious pendejos are not only welcomed, they become governors and presidents.

I’m a gabacha…kind of. I was born here but my padres are mexicanos. So I’m a gabachacana. Anyway my question is in regards to fixing my authentic mexicano’s papeles. He’s 23, and I heard that once you’re past 18, it’s harder to do it. He’s never been in trouble with the law, he pays taxes and he’s a hard worker. But I heard that even all that would do him no good and if I go through trying to fix his papers, he would need to spend like 10 years in Mexico. Now, I’m a patient person, but que chingado man? I’m not gonna risk him meeting some paisana hoochie over there and having me wait 10 years for him. So, what steps can I take to prevent such an atrocity? What would you suggest be the best way to go about in fixing his papers without the risk of having him meet some skeezer down south?

Gabachacana

Dear Wabette: While I’m all for people making up ethnic labels to describe themselves, gabachacana makes you sound like an apricot. The easy answer is marrying the chavo —you’re still going to face a long process, but it’s faster than waiting for the Obama administration to make Dios-knows-how-many deals with labor, the Mexican government, and Republicans to offer a “comprehensive immigration reform” that’s as comprehensive as a tortilla chip covering a bowl of birria. Better yet, why not just move to Mexico with him? As I’ve said before, Mexico is the true land of liberty now, a libertarian paradise that becomes more and more appealing as technocrats up here try to game the system for themselves and make los Estados Unidos into just another Mexico–oh, wait…

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: Although I’m familiar with your column, I don’t read it regularly. But today, I was struck by something you said in a recent column about how Mexicans can make Americans like Mexicans. So I quote: “We called ourselves Spanish, we considered ourselves white.” I’m Mexican, and I consider myself “White” because I’m not black or red or Asian. I understand what I’m made of. People from Spain are Caucasian. But in the U.S., educators don’t teach you anything about Spain. They downplay Spain’s impact on this country. Test questions in school always emphasized that the Spanish came here for “glory and gold,” not to settle this land. So I took 15 trips to Spain over a period of 20 years to explore Spain. I’ve written and researched for years to learn who the Spanish really are. And I am here to tell you that I am proud to have a drop of Spanish blood! Do you know where to find the towns of Laredo, Reynosa and Durango? Not only in Mexico, but in the Basque Region of Spain! Yes. The conquistadores named New Spain areas after towns in Spain! So even if we are one-quarter Spanish, we are members of the white race.

The Anglo-Americans have succeeded in many ways of shaming Mexicans about their heritage and their ancestry. But I am very proud of being Mexican. I know who we are and I know who I am. The blood in my veins is Indian and Spanish; we are Caucasian as well. If we can’t call ourselves white, why can others? Why is it that my friends from Iran, Egypt and Albania check off “white” when faced with a U.S. application or legal form? How do these groups end up being “white” and Mexicans don’t? Why is it that even a mulatto calls himself “white” now? So please don’t be so eager to dismiss us as non-white!

Dear Brownie: You don’t regularly read my column? ¡No manches! I have no problem with Mexicans being proud of their Spanish ancestry as long as they don’t ignore their nopal en la frente, just like I don’t mind Mexicans to be proud of their indigenous blood as long as they don’t try to pass themselves off as the pure-blooded heir of Cuauhtémoc. But news flash, chula: Mexicans no son white. Nor are Spaniards. “White” is a construct, not a race. And the only legitimate Caucasians come from the Caucasus, ancestral home of the Boston Marathon bombers (quick aside for Mexicans: don’t the Tsarnaev brothers look like at least one of your cousins, just like Saddam Hussein looks like everyone’s tío?). Finally, do better research—Laredo and Reinosa are in Cantabria, which is about as Basque as you are white.

As a student of history, I believe that Mexicans should be more attuned to speaking English. The Spanish did nothing but enslave and subjugate everybody on this continent. Speaking their language only gives them credit they don’t deserve. For all the faults of the U.SA (and there are many, as you know), at least speaking and writing English can open some doors for you here and give you a chance in life. Every immigrant group that ever came over on a boat or crossed the border has had it tough in this country. The ones who couldn’t speak fluent English naturally had it tougher. So, as a certified advice columnist, whether or not you’re really an hombre or not, you should be advising everyone to at least sign up for the program here. If they don’t like what’s happening, they can always swear at their boss in Spanish and he or she will never know the difference. But ask for a big fat raise in English.

Dear Gabacho: I’m not certified by any organization I’m aware of besides the National Organization for DESMADRE, but I won’t pass along your advice to my readers. Repeating your consejo to them is like me telling Mexicans they should use salsa to spice up their food—they’d laugh me back to Cantabria.

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: I have always liked ranchera music. As of late, I have wanted to get deeper into it as far as the history, the culture and especially the songs and lyrics. The older I get, the more rancheras seem like poetry to me…sounds cursi, I know. So what I was wondering is if you know a good book or two or website that I can read or check out? I went to my local library and they didn’t have a very good selection. And Borders or Barnes and Noble? Forget it…so por favor and gracias, if you could.

Houston Honey

Dear Wabette: Of course Borders doesn’t stock any books on rancheras—Borders doesn’t exist anymore (and borders don’t existed, period, but that’s neither ni aquí no allá). Most research on Mexican music concentrates on corridos, our ballad form that celebrates bad men, events, and horses, but actual scholarly treatises on ranchera? Few and far between, alas—and non-existent in English. Your best bet is Jose Alfredo Jiménez: Cancionero Completo, a songbook that contains all the compositions of the ranchera titan, whose hit parade makes the collected works of Gershwin, Porter, Leiber-Stoller, the Brill Building AND Woody Guthrie seem as voluminous as the output of Paper Lace. The libro also contains a great introductory essay by Mexican intellectual Carlos Monsivais that puts Jiménez in his proper context. As great as Cancionero Completo is, however, don’t bother buying it: a used copy of it is currently priced at $54 on Amazon.com, and while the book showcases the Robert Burns-esque bravado and orgullo that was the Jiménez style, it ain’t worth that price in this day and age where you can just gather all the lyrics online. Then again, if you’re willing to buy the book, I’m more than happy to sell my copy to you: I do need to finish off the down payment on my burro…

Upon first seeing me, as a two-week old baby, my aunt Estrella screamed “¡Ay, que gringo!” But, if you gotta call me a gabacho, so be it. I do have Mexican family (through marriage), and my brother (white like me) is currently down in Mexico City courting a beautiful Mexi nugget he met while attending college in Malaga, Spain. I get along well with many Mexicans, legal and illegal, but I hate that they aren’t paying “the man” like I have to. Sure, I’m a little jealous, but I’d be all for Mexicans being awarded citizenship simply for walking over the border… as long as they paid their dues. I pay taxes that fund shit like keeping white trash from getting jobs, jobs they could get if I wasn’t already paying for them to survive on junk food, and some undocumented border-jumping beaner wasn’t there working for cheaper (and not helping me pay the dumb taxes to keep the trailer trash alive). I say assimilate, document, pay taxes and welcome. I’m writing an essay on wetbacks (fuck PC terms) and their effect on our country for better AND worse. I’ve never heard of you until I read about 30 of your emails and responses on the net today. I’d like to know what’s your opinion on the crossing over and its effect economically rather than socially?

White Sox Winner!

Dear Gabacho: The only opinion I have is on your language. “Beaner”? “Border-jumping”? “Wetback?” All these insults are SO 1950s. Don’t you know the current verboten insult toward Mexicans is “illegal” or “illegal immigrant”? And as for your concern about the undocumented paying their way, dontcha worry about that: the recent proposed amnesty bill crafted by a bunch of political pendejos is more punitive than habanero salsa marching through your alimentary canal toward your culo.

Ask the Mexican at themexican@askamexican.net, be his fan on Facebook, follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano or ask him a video question at youtube.com/askamexicano!

By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: What do we need to do to make the güeros understand we come in peace As Mexicans, we are from this great American continent as well, but in the average close-minded English-speaking folks’ definition of “American,” it’s amusing to see they don’t understand what it really means, as in: unless you are from one of the few nature-communing groups of people now dubbed “Native Americans,” then you cannot say you are American; being that either yourself, your parents, grandparents or great-grandparents (you get the point) came from the Old World and hence have been in this land “illegally” for much much longer than us bean lovers. So I repeat my question: how can we make these green-gos understand we come in peace? That we are here to live a good life in peace and to take it or leave it: we are here TO STAY! Help me make these McDonalders understand already so we can all learn from each other and live in peace!

El Frijolero

Dear Beaner: Gracias for showing American that Mexis can be as meandering as gabachos. As to your question: shit, we’ve tried everything to Hispander to gabachos over the years. We gave them half of Mexico, we called ourselves “Spanish,” we considered ourselves white, we made amazing dishes that other gabachos turned into multi-million-dollar empires—and, still, they hate us. What to do? Not a single pinche thing: Mexicans in this country are no longer at a place where we have to grovel to anyone. If gabachos don’t want to accept that aquí estamos and we ain’t vamos, then they deserve the beautiful brown grandkids that are coming their way.

I noticed that my favorite candies are primarily made out of chile and tamarindo. I understand that chile is indigenous to the Americas, but tamarindo is not. I found that tamarindo originates from the Middle East and Africa. And through the slave trade and the dreadful European expansion, tamarindo found its delicious way to the Americas. What I don’t get is how and why tamarindo became so popular amongst nuestra gente? We consume mega-tons of it! We drink it, we make candy out it, I sometimes have dreams about it…¿que onda?

Pocho De Ocho

Dear Pocho: Actually, tamarind came to Mexico through the Manila galleons and has no Middle Eastern connection whatsoever—the Levantine’s contribution to Mexico’s fruit culture is granada (pomegranates) via the Spaniards via the Moors. But it was only by a brain pedo of God that tamarind isn’t native to Mexico, as no other culture save certain Hindoos loves it the way we do. It’s not much of a mystery: Mexicans love sweets with tropical verve and fleshiness, whether it’s mamey, mangoes, papayas, guanábana, tunas (the prickly pear) or boring-ass pineapple. But tamarind is the king of the jungle, because—as you pointed out—we can turn it into so many things: ice cream, fruit leather, salads, salsas, on chocolate, paletas, and so much more. And when we pare it with chile (which we always do), it’s the greatest product of foreign-yet-similar cultures since the leprecano.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: We’re in state testing this week at the high school I teach at. After the students finish a section, they can only sit and read or just sit. I did an experiment: I chose the cholo-est, tatted, pierced, non-reader and dropped your book on their desk. Students that never read, read for 45 minutes straight. They were seeing words that they use every day in print for the first time. They had as much fun with the glossary as with the questions. They were sharing, laughing, discussing what they read. Then I set the hook: “We’ll be using that book in my Chicano Studies class.” Best recruiting tool ever. That’s my personal copy, and it’s getting beat up. I’ll be ordering more for the classroom. Thanks again: you have made my job much easier.

Maestro Man

Dear Gabacho: It’s stories like yours that make writing this column worth all the hate mail. The próxima question, on the other hand…

I’m a 23-year-old Mexican girl on my second year at a Cal State University and also work part-time at a hospital. I’m dating a white boy who is 25 and works a minimum wage job and graduated with a GED. We have been dating for over a year now, but when we were about six months into the relationship we decided to move out. Due to our financial difficulties, we had to move back in with our parents. Now, my traditional father is almost forcing us to get married since we have lived together, or dump him a find someone else who is doing better for himself. It’s so bad that now my white boyfriend does not feel comfortable coming over. How do I confront my Mexican father about us not living in Mexico and times have changed, and what do I tell my white boyfriend?

A Confused and Sad Mexican Girl

Dear Wabette: While I’m all for new traditions and the exiling of rancho mores to the rancho, don’t discount your father’s partial common sense. Primeramente, you’re WAY too young to be settling down with one guy right now—Dios mío, you haven’t even finished college! And while I’m not going to hate on folks who earned only a GED, a gabacho who wasn’t able to graduate high school when he was supposed to is like a Mexican man who was only able to eat 10 tacos at the last family carne asada Sunday—a disgrace to the raza, and not much of an hombre. Not only that, if you’re dad really was old escuela, he wouldn’t have accepted the two of you moving out in the first place AND he’d have problems with you going to college, period! So pay attention to your papi saying to look for someone else, but do tell him that the days of a woman having to marry the first man that bedded him went the way of the tequila bottle at my friend Gaby’s wedding. Finally, refry your humble Mexican’s advice, chula: there are many flavors of chorizo in the market, so why buy the first one you see instead of tasting all of them? And finish your education and find yourself a career before getting a novio—the future you’re saving is your own.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: Please explain to me why so many mexicanas seem to think it more important to stay home and baby-sit than to attend school (so that they may become more in life than producers of offspring). As an educator (lately of students identified as “at risk” for failure in high school), I have faced “absent on account of child care” as the leading excuse for non-attendance and truancy among my mexicana students. Please note, too, that these are not the young women’s children; often, they are not even the children of the nuclear family. Consider as well that this is a rare-to-nonexistent excuse among any other student group (in other words, this does not come up among diverse Latina or other populations).

Teach Her

Dear Gabacho: I’m not really sure what’s the point of your question. Are you trying to imply that Mexican families don’t want their daughters to go to school? I’m hearing nowadays in my education circles concern about how Mexican teenage boys are falling behind their hermanas in educational attainment. Do you know for a fact that those girls are taking care of kids at home, or did you fall for their excuse by assuming that Mexican girls are about as far away from babies to take care of as a Bedouin is from a camel? I’m not trying to deny or excuse the disturbing rates of truancy among Mexicans, among the highest of any ethnic group in the United States, but instead of harping on one particular, imagined cause, how about about attacking the whole enchilada? In “Preventing Truancy and Dropout Among Urban Middle School Youth,” a paper in the January 2009 issue of Education and Urban Society by Louie F. Rodríguez of Florida International University and Gilberto Q. Conchas at the University of California, Irvine, the profes identified high truancy rates as a leading indicator of an at-risk student (DUH!) and did what you seemingly don’t: ask the students why they’re truant. They also studied a Boston-area community group that succeeded in reducing truancy among Latinos and African-Americans. The trick? Giving a damn about kids, demanding they and their parents care, and making sure it takes a rancho to get the chamacos to succeed. “Educational research, policy, and practice have much to learn from grassroots community-based organizations that directly battle with the social struggles in urban communities,” Rodríguez and Conchas concluded. “Educators must assess the factors and influences within community-based organizations that motivate truant young people as a means to build stronger bonds across institutions.”

Why do Chicanos criticize gabachos while they are in the USA, and when they come back to México, they despise their compatriotas mexicanos by showing of their dolares? Seems that they don’t belong in neither USA nor México.

Chale con el Chilango Chafa

Dear To Hell With Chilango Riffraff: The gabacho part is easy—Mexicans of all colores criticize gabachos, because the Virgin of Guadalupe told us to. As for the criticizing Mexicans in Mexico: they’re just learning from the natives, who never miss a moment to trash Mexicans who live in el Norte and their children as somehow lesser than Mexicans who live in Mexico. All we ever did? Save Mexico’s ass from the Third World over the past 30 years with our billions of dollars in remittances.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: About six years ago, my wife and I adopted a little baby boy. He is “pure” mestizo and we are complete wabs. I’m a little dark because of my mixed Arab heritage, but my wife is a major league blanca. He is a sweet little gabacho growing up in wab world. I don’t mind getting the looks when we go to the taqueria in the barrio or even major league stares when we take him on our trips to Mexico. And I can handle the questions from dumbass wabsters. But I worry about the little guy growing up confused, angry and lost because he is the odd boy out. I tell him that the blood of the Aztec warriors and the conquistadors runs through his veins and, of course, he kicks whitey’s ass on the soccer field. But all that seems rather inadequate. How can I help him keep in touch with his gabacho roots while living the relatively privileged wab life? Help me Mexican: this little guy is the light of my life and I want to do right by him.

Wabdaddy in Texas

Dear Wabpapi: You sound like a wonderful man, but tienes your ethnic terms wrong. A wab is a nickname Mexican-Americans in Orange County use to deride unassimilated Mexicans—think “hillbilly” in the gabacho context. A gabacho is a gabacho—in other words, someone of the gabacho race, the race that wants to deport wabs, not love them. I use wab and gabacho in my column for satirical purposes, and to teach gabachos new words, so you must’ve misread their meaning. You want to teach your niño to keep in touch with his wab roots, and live the privileged gabacho life (at least the nice parts, not all the nasty racist crap). Etymological concerns aside, I’m sure there are a lot of Tejanos who are more than happy to direct you to art, music, books (buy libros from Cinco Puntos Press in El Paso, porfas), and cultural programs that’ll teach your son about his proud heritage. Just don’t get them talking about the Alamo, and all will be fine!

I’m a judeo (notice I don’t call myself a gabacho) en Norte California, and after driving 1,800 miles to visit mi padre en Texas, I was surprised at the outrage over Mexican drivers in los estados unidos who don’t have a Texas (or wherever else north of the border) driver’s license. Does the U.S.A. not recognize foreign drivers licenses? If they do, isn’t it simply an insurance issue, and, if so, couldn’t this whole silly problem be fixed by having car insurance companies offer cross border policies? I know that the idea of getting into an accident with an uninsured driver is frightening, but couldn’t this be fixed if Geico (or whomever) sold norteamericano policies? Is there a law preventing this that I’m unaware of?

Confuzzled Judeo en San Francisco

Dear Judeo: That’s a novel concept—distinguish yourself from gabachos because your tribe definitely ain’t them! Even more novel is your idea of having American authorities recognize foreign driver’s licenses in lieu of American ones. While wonderful and commonsense, the only problem is a matter of bureaucracy and jurisdiction. The United States doesn’t recognize foreign driver’s licenses per se but rather something called an International Driving Permit, which must be acquired in a person’s home country before coming to the United States. Since figuring out how to drive legally is usually the last thing on an illegal immigrant’s mind, most Mexicans are caca out of luck on that one. Furthermore, you have to apply for a driver’s license in American states once you establish residency there even if you were previously registered someone else, whether in el Norte or abroad. In the case of Mexicans, their Mexican driver’s license would only work for so long—and even if they’re here illegally, la licencia de manejar from Mexico won’t stop la migra from deporting your ass. Best bet? The burro.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: I’m living in Mexico part of the year. I’m learning Spanish but can’t say I understand or speak well. I read several books about the history of Mexico and think I’m reasonably well-informed. I’m curious about a phrase on a T-shirt in an expensive shop in Puerto Vallarta. It had interesting artwork on it and the phrase “Soy Como la Chingada. Loteria la Tiznada.” I asked the storekeeper, a Mexican lady who spoke a little English, what it meant and she said, “Oh it’s just a joke.” Then a customer who also appeared to be Mexican said it means, “I am like the fucked one. It’s a joke.” I Googled the meaning and gather it means “motherfucker” but I don’t get the lottery part. Does it mean, “I am fucked because I lost the lottery of life”? Anyone who could afford to shop in that store is obviously not poor. Another site said the phrase goes back to the Revolution and refers to sons of raped mothers. I’m guessing this is some kind of ironic hipster statement but I don’t get the joke?

Retiree Rhonda

Dear Gabacha: Since you didn’t describe the artwork other than say it’s “interesting,” I’m assuming that the T-shirt was a pun involving Lotería de los 100 Apodos de la Muerte (“The Lotería of the 100 Nicknames of Death), a novelty take on the bingo-ish lotería game. One of the cards is titled “La Tiznada,” which in the version I have is a calavera mockup of Frida Kahlo. But what exactly is a tiznada, and how does it relate to chingada and raped mothers? Tiznada translate literally as “to be covered in soot,” but is usually used to describe a woman whose reputation is besmirched. Tiznada is also a polite synonym for chingada—”fucked,” in the feminine form. “Vete a la tiznada” means the same as “Vete a la chingada,” which means “Fuck off” or—more accurately—”Go to hell.”

Now the raped mother part. As the Mexican has explained before, chingar is derived from cingarár— “to fight” in Caló, the language of Spanish Gypsies that had a profound influence on Mexican-American slang—and has multiple meanings across Latin America: the Royal Academy of Spanish lists nine separate entries for the verbo, from “to fuck” to “annoy” to “unevenly hang” in Argentina and Uruguay to “cut the tail of an animal” for Central Americans. But chingar is most associated with Mexico, specifically in its incarnations as “to beat up” (Te voy a chingar—”I’m going to fuck you up”) and especially with hijo de la chingada—”son of the fucked one,” here specifically referring to Malintzin, Cortés’ Indian mistress who brought doom and gloom to the Aztecs. Nobel Prize laureate Octavio Paz devoted a section of his magisterial The Labyrinth of Solitude to Mexico’s peculiar obsession with chingar and its many conjugations, so I’ll direct you to el maestro: “What is the Chingada?’ The Chingada is the Mother forcibly opened, violated or deceived. The hijo de la Chingada is the offspring of violation, abduction or deceit. If we compare this expression with the Spanish hijo de puta (son of a whore), the difference is immediately obvious. To the Spaniard, dishonor consists in being the son of a woman who voluntarily surrenders herself: a prostitute. To the Mexican, it consists in being the fruit of a violation.”
And people wonder why Mexicans are chingados…

I need to know why Mexicans wipe their boogers on restroom walls.

The White Jesus

Dear Gabacho: Same reason we throw our used toilet paper in the trash—to remind them that even while taking a shit, gabachos can never escape the Reconquista.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: I would be most interested in hearing your point of view regarding our raza always voting for someone with a Latino last name, without even considering if the vato/vata is qualified for a particular office. Often I hear comments like, “If he is Latino it makes up for all the years of injustice.” But don’t you think that our Mexican forefathers and recent immigrant friends left our native countries because Latino politicians have been unable to govern without corruption? Lately, we have seen what happens when we vote for Latinos without engaging in the issues or their backgrounds—just look at the California cities of Bell, Cudahy and Pico Rivera, where I live.

There was recently a race for one of the most important positions that will actually affect L.A. Latino students: a L.A. Community College District trustee position. In District 6, we have an incumbent güera that everyone agrees has to go. Then we have a Latino vato politician who is looking for his next big political gig. The Los Angeles Times endorsed an old white guy, but he is a firme vato who has 30 years in the community college system, from profe to presidente. Unfortunately, the old vato lost, and the güera and vendido moved on to a runoff. I’m afraid that our raza voted for the Latino dude without realizing that he will not know how to fix the problems at L.A.C.C.D., and our students will get the short end of the stick—just like the residents in Bell, Cudahy and Pico Rivera. What can we do to help our people do the right thing?

Tony Villar is a Vendido

Dear Wab: Mira, Latinos are not somehow more predisposed to corruption in politics—look at most of Europe, or any big city in the United States—so your theory that Latinos immigrated to the United States for its less-corrupt politics is like saying Mexicans like pinto beans because they produce fabulous pedos. That said, I do join you in railing against Mexis voting for the Mexi on the ballot just because they’re Mexi—but again, idiocy in the American electorate is nothing new. How else do you explain two terms of Dubya? The only way around this is education, education, educación—but we live in the United States, where questions like the following are far more pressing to our raza…

My camaradas and I always discuss famous celebrity women and how we would like to court them and make sweet love to them! It turns out we wind up always talking about Raquel Welch, Moncia Belluci, Paquita la del Barrio, and Lindsay Lohan (Lindsay is la reyna of them all). And we ask ourselves why is it that she is our hot topic of conversation every time we talk about women and sex? Do you think she might possibly be Mexican? She is always going to court because of legal and financial problems. Is it that somehow deep down inside, we want to be her father figure like that one puto sings about? Es porque está tiernita, fresquesita, chiquitita, y güerita that we find ourselves lusting for this nice piece of chamorro! Can you please help us out why we lust for Lindsay? And before you ask: If you are wondering why the French name, I’m sick and tired of gabachos and wabs always claiming 1/16 something else, o I claim 1/16 French nobleman with a chingonazo of chile colorado!

Le Chorizo del douleur

Dear Frenchy: Mexicans like Lindsay Lohan? Sure, she appeared naked in Machete, but I would peg Kate Upton before LiLo as the current gabacha Mexican man crush. Then again, they both are an hombre’s ultimate combo plate of desire: gabachas, young, and chichonas.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Readers: The Mexican is currently dealing with deportation issues but will return next week once he builds his 15-foot escalera to climb over that pesky 14-foot wall. In the meanwhile, here’s some oldies-but-goodies to tide you by like yesterday’s menudo. Enjoy!

Dear Mexican: It seems that whenever Chicano professors want to show off their mexicanidad, they wear a guayabera. In fact, I saw a picture of you in the Los Angeles Times donning the shirt, along with Dickies pants and Converse All Stars. How trite and bourgeois! You go to a café or bar in any university town in Mexico, and the students will think you’re totally naco. I stopped wearing the guayabera when a friend said I looked like a waiter in a Mexican restaurant. Do certain clothes determine your Mexicanness?

Sexy Mexy

Dear Wab: Abso-pinche-lutely. “The bigger the sombrero, the wabbier the man,” is a commandment all Mexicans learn from the Virgin of Guadalupe. But seriously, Mexican clothes correspond to social and economic status—sweaty T-shirt indicates laborer, calf-length skirt means a proper Mexican woman, and if a cobbler used the hide of an endangered reptile to fashion your cowboy boots, you’re probably a drug dealer or a Texan. The guayabera (a loose-fitting, pleated shirt common in the Mexican coastal state of Veracruz and other tropical regions of Latin America) also announces something about its owner: the güey is feeling hot and wants to look sharp. Why the hate, Sexy? Remember what Andy Warhol said: “Nothing is more bourgeois than to be afraid to look bourgeois.” Who cares if people mistake you for a waiter if you sport a guayabera? Just spit in their soup. And who cares if Mexican university students call me, you or any guayabera wearer a naco (Mexico City slang for bumpkin)? They can’t be that smart if they’re still in Mexico.

Why do Mexicans call people with curly hair chinos? Most chinos I know have very straight, hard-to-curl hair.

China Confundida

Dear Confused Chinita: The Mexican has discussed the word chino before, as in why Mexicans call all Asians chinos (same reason gabachos call all Latinos “Mexican”). Chino is one of the more fascinating homographs (words with the same spelling but different meanings) in Spanish. Its Old World meaning specifically refers to a person of Chinese descent, but in his Dictionary of Latin American Racial and Ethnic Terminology, Rutgers linguist Thomas M. Stephens documents how chino assumed different connotations once the conquistadors pillaged the Americas—and none of those connotations was positive. Stephens’ book devotes an incredible seven pages to chino; some of its more peculiar Latin American definitions include “female servant,” “slave from Mozambique,” “concubine,” “young Indian female who served in a convent,” and, yes, “curly-haired.” Chino also was the category in the Spanish Empire’s Byzantine castas (caste) system designated for the offspring of parents with varying degrees of African and Amerindian blood. Stephens’ only sin is that he doesn’t explain why chino took on so many non-Chinese connotations, though he did write that china in Quechua signifies “female servant or animal,” while Nahuatl speakers used chinoa (“toasted”) to describe dark-skinned people. And he offers no insight into the chino-curly connection.

But it doesn’t take a Ph-pinche-D to identify the common threads in chino’s various meanings: African blood and servitude. Many blacks, of course, have naturally kinky hair, so at some point over the centuries, chino became an ethnicon (a term meant to comment on an ethnic group’s prominent cultural characteristic that become popular shorthand for said characteristic) for both “black person” and “curly.” Mexicans then went on to drop the black denotation and kept the curly connection. Such linguistic amnesia isn’t unprecedented in Mexican Spanish: marrano, which many Mexicans use to call someone a “pig” or “filthy,” comes from the Inquisition-era slur used against Jews who converted to Christianity. All this wordplay is further proof that Mexico is a country with a racial problem that makes America seem like Sesame Street. The proper Spanish word for “curly,” by the way, is rizado.

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Dear Mexican: You mentioned in the past that your Dad is against illegal immigration, but that’s a voice you never hear. Why aren’t the legal immigrants and legal aliens “vocally outraged” about the illegals who drive down wages, drive up housing prices, use government services, give all immigrants a bad name, and are on the verge of getting amnesty for cutting in line? The illegal immigrant has very little effect on my life, but seems to have a huge impact on the legal immigrant.

My Best Friend is Half-Mexican

Dear Gabacho: You don’t hear the voices of legal immigrants in the illegal-immigration debate? Republicans trot those tokens out all the time—look at Marco Rubio. Plus? I can disprove every single point of yours—just buy my book for details! Finally? You say illegals “has very little effect” on your life, yet you took the time to rant, and used legal immigrants as your cover to do so. That’s like saying you’re concerned for the Mexican janitor when complaining to management about how smelly your coworker’s caca stinks.

I’m an American girl who works at a diner with a lot of very attractive young Mexican men. Most are from the countryside, and only two claim to have been to a large city before moving here. I was constantly cat-called, whistled, and winked at by everyone (including the boy whose attention I’ve been trying to get) until one of our cooks (and his friend) told everyone to stay off and that “Ella es MI novia.” He showers me with unwanted gifts and continuously tries to walk me home from work even though he lives in the other direction. I’ve been firm but he still won’t back down. He tells me that he’s the only man from Mexico that I’ll meet that won’t ever cheat on me or try to control me (I am very independent), that any other man from Mexico would not see a problem with sleeping around, and that it is romantic to continue to court and wait for a young woman even if she says no so I should stop trying to stop him. He also sees no problem with our 11-year age gap.

My Spanish is quite good but my understanding of the culture is minimal at best. I understand that the culture is still very macho, especially in the countryside, so I’ve tried to learn more about it. Everything I look up or hear is about how all Mexican men cheat even though I know this is not true. Could you please explain this gap between our culture? Is it truly acceptable to cheat on one’s special other? Why is it romantic to drive a woman crazy?

Lost in the Gap

Dear Gabacha: What your describing is the culture of pretender, the Mexican courtship ritual where the man is supposed to suffer at the cold shoulder (connected to the heaving bosoms) of his beloved, as best exemplified in the song “Tu Enamorado” or the Maria Félix-Pedro Armendariz classic Enamorada. Just roll with it! And be glad he hasn’t brought back another Mexican courtship ritual—kidnapping.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: In the past, you have defended illegal immigrants by arguing that they (paraphrasing one of your previous columns) will do the jobs gabachos won’t do for the same wages. I agree. I have a white-collar job, so I’m totally content to benefit from the low prices brought about by an uneducated underclass unprotected by American labor laws, content in the knowledge that no Mexican will ever take mi trabajo. But now this DREAM Act comes along, encouraging them to go to college, and my job’s up for grabs, too? I already have enough competition from the Chinese and the Indians! What possible benefit could this legislation have for a guy like me? (And you know they’re just going to spend 95 percent of their time in school chanting “Sí, se puede” anyway.)

NIGHTMARE Act Is More Like It

Dear Gabacho: I’d rather have college kids chant Sí se puede than joining a pointless fraternity/sorority or getting blotto at said pointless fraternity/sorority parties. All that said, though, you don’t have to worry about DREAMers taking your job you’ll continue to have your middle-class lifestyle as these DREAMers catapult over you and become your boss, because they all possess the drive, ambition, and talent that gabachos used to exhibit in college before it became finishing schools for high schoolers. Better learn how to grovel to el jefe in English and Español, chulo!

I have noticed that Mexican women will put up with being called a ruca, heina, vieja, “my old lady,” and even sometimes go culinary like, “My little pupusa,” or chimichanga. BUT when you call her a “torta”, you are in one major fight. Why? What is so bad about tortas?

Don One-liners

Dear Gabacho: You’re calling her “fat,” because tortas are fat Mexican sandwiches made on French rolls. Want to culinarily woo her? Go old-school and call her a “hot tamale,” or go postmodern and deem her your memela, TRUST ME.

Sometimes when I’m eating a burrito, the bottom end becomes saturated with moisture and the tortilla breaks and stuff falls out. Is this the result of a lack of burrito-eating skill, an improperly-made burrito, or just the way it’s supposed to be?

Chipotle Chingón

Dear Neighbor of Mexicans: Don’t be a Mexican and accept the world the way it’s supposed to be, ESPECIALLY the art of burrito. Gabachos are so clueless that they think burritos are supposed to vomit out their contents like a coed in pre-narco Acapulco¡que pendejos! A true burrito is an immaculate cylindrical god, wrapped up as tight as bacon around a hot dog, its structure so sound that you can throw it through the air like a spiral and it won’t explode. This isn’t even a question of size, of beans and rice erupting out of the flour tortilla because there’s simply nowhere else to go: the largest burritos on Earth are those made in the Mission District in San Francisco (where Chipotle’s founder found his inspiration for the chain’s burritos), where the Mission burrito is a way of life, larger than bricks, wrapped tight in foil, and never exploding (and a shout-out to my favorite taqueríathat’s what burrito emporiums are called in San Franciscoin the Mission, El Castillito!). If a burrito gets so soggy at the bottom that it disintegrates, then the maker either put too much salsa/guacamole/sour cream in it, or the meat’s so damn greasy it’s not worth eating. If your burrito disintegrates, demand a refundor, better yet, sue the business owner for defaming the burrito’s good nombre.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: I’m 39. My stepdad—who raised me—just died. This freed my mother to tell me (stepdad always forbade it) that the man I thought was my biological father all this time was not. The man who IS my biological father is Mexican…totally, (e.g. both of his parents were Mexican). He was married twice, and had seven kids (five with the first wife, two with the second) other than me. It appears I was conceived during his first marriage, as he remained married until death from leukemia in 2008. He was a Hispanic leader in my metro area and even ran once for mayor.

What does finding out that I am half-Mexican mean for me? I don’t have a meaningful relationship with the man I thought was my biological father. In fact, this news is quite a blessing to me. But I’m kind of paralyzed by it all. Any suggestions?

Brand-New Bewildered Beaner

Dear Half-Wab: Man, where’s Cristina Saralegui when I need her? The most important thing for you right now is to not blame the Mexican ethnicity of your dad for him having abandoned your mother and yourself—I hope and trust that you know pendejos exist in all cultures. I would also talk to your mother about why she held that information from you all your life, as I’m sure it’s upsetting. Was she ashamed she once shacked up with a Mexican, or was it an abusive relationship? Once you’re able to work out the personal part of your discovery—seriously: get at peace with yourself and your mami—then you can move on to the ethnic question.

The pregunta to then ponder is this: how does finding out your part-Mexi feel? Are you ashamed? If so, make sure to tell others that your dad was “Spanish” and make sure to hide the truth from your children, just like your parents did from you. Are you proud of your newfound nopal en la frente? Then ease into your mexicanidad. If you have an English-language name with a Mexican equivalent, Hispanicize it—become a Juan instead of John, or a Rogelio instead of Roger. Wear a cinto piteado, but cover it up by not tucking in your shirt. Say “Latino” instead of “Hispanic,” as you currently do. Finally, if you don’t care either way that you’re Mexican? Do what all other crypto-Mexicans do: only become Mexican to get the secret house salsa at your local taqueria, or when the United States faces off against Mexico in soccer.

Why do Mexicans use the streets as a playground, their driveway as a futon and the ditch as a trashcan? I live across the street from 100% pure Mexicans who do all their entertaining on the street, making the vehicles drive around them. Is this something taught to them at birth, or is there a class given to them at the prepa (what they call high school). I just have the need to know.

Vecino de Mexicanos

Dear Neighbor of Mexicans: Crap labor and crappier living conditions for immigrants in America waltz together like Astaire and Rogers—remember slaves and their shacks, Okie farm workers in California’s Central Valley during the Great Depression, and the Jewish and Italian peons that stare balefully into Jacob Riis’ camera in his monumental 1890 exposé of New York’s tenement slums, How the Other Half Lives. The immigrant high-density blues continues with Mexicans: according to The State of Housing for Hispanics in the United States, a 2005 study prepared by Dr. Carlos Vargas-Ramos of New York’s Hunter College, 12 per cent of Latinos live in overcrowded housing (defined as more than one person living in a room), compared to 2.4 per cent of the general population. Add to that the fact that Latinos usually live in neighborhoods bereft of parks, and be lucky your Mexican vecinos play in the street and not on your lawn. Better yet, be a good neighbor and join the pachanga!

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Dear Mexican: The pinche Republicans are making a gigante ruido about their “Hispanic” senators in Congress. Wachale! Lets call a pendejo a pendejo. Please discuss with tu audienca what Mexicans really think about Cubans in these Estados Unidos.

El Güero Tejano (no Cubano)

As a recent transplant from Miami to Albuquerque, I was wondering what is the Mexican’s take on the privileged status of our preferred border-crossers, the Cubans. If a Cuban manages to get his little toe on dry land in the U.S. he is immediately given a new Toyota, an American Express card and the keys to the city of Hialeah.

Aturdido Floridian

Are Cubans Mexicans with connections??

Quiero Ron

Dear Readers: Next to Puerto Ricans and negritos, no other ethnic group gets pegged as the eternal enemy of Mexicans Cubans. If you believe coños like Rush Limbaugh, Mexicans despise Cubans because it’s “a race thing. [Cubans are] just not quite dark—as dark [as Mexicans], and they’re oriented toward work.” (Rush obviously never met a beauty from Los Altos de Jalisco, or a paisa from Sinaloa). But Mexicans for the most part actually like Cubans, and definitely more so that Puerto Ricans. We enjoy Cuban rum and cigars, they believe in curanderos like us, their Spanish is as garbled as ours, we both love guayaberas, and Cuban music legends Beny Moré and Perez Prado spent so much time in Mexico that their tunes are part of the Mexican songbook (multiple bandas have covered Moré’s “La Culebra,” while “Parece Que Va Llover” was memorably sung by Pedro Infante and Luis Aguilar in their 1951 film ¡A Toda Maquina!).

What does drive Mexicans crazy about Cubans, however, isn’t so much what they do or who they are but how gabachos treat them: as gods. One niggling fact: Cuban music inspires excessive mainstream media coverage in relation to its actual popularity in the United States, especially when compared to the ubiquity of Mexican regional music en el Norte.

Another one: gabachos’ insistance that mariachis play “Guantanamera.” Even more infuriating for Mexicans is the immigration narrative gabachos have constructed of Cubans and Mexican. While Americans opened the gates to Cuban refugees as a Cold War ploy and continue to let said refugees come illegally into the U.S. as long as they land via sea, gabachos have never extended the same courtesy to Mexicans or our Central American brothers during our civil wars. You can’t hate the Cubans for their special status, but you can hate gabachos for this preposterous double standard. As if Mexicans needed another reason to hate gabas…

I’m so annoyed with you printing the letters from idiots. The vast majority of white people don’t hate Mexicans. We don’t sit around bitching about Mexicans taking our jobs. Most of us don’t hate anyone. A lot of us love the fact that America is a melting pot of cultures where we share ideas, music, art, and we just plain love each other. When you print the letters from idiots, it implies that we all feel that way. We don’t. There are idiots of all races, creeds, and colors, and the idiots that write ignorant letters to you are not typical of us. They don’t represent the majority. There are different colors and cultures because God is an artist and she needed colors to decorate the world. Most of us celebrate our differences.

Giving these idiots a forum is like putting a booger on a Picasso. It just don’t belong.

No Hate

Dear Gabacho: Gracias for your heartfelt letter—now, can you please indoctrinate Congress and other idiot gabachos with your wisdom? Because, as you can see with the current amnesty battle, they need it.

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By Gustavo Arellano

Dear Mexican: Grammar question/rant. If Spanglish is a legitimate dialect/language, why do you feel the need to italicize every instance of code switching? I seriously doubt that when you speak you emphasize every puta palabra (emphasis intended here), but that’s what your article reads like. We all know that you are speaking Spanglish—not a foreign language—so tell the gabacho (no emphasis intended here) editors to back off and let you use italics for what they are intended for: emphasis.

Strunk & Brown

Dear Wab: Gracias for thinking that Spanglish is a legitimate form of communication—you just made the custodians of Cervantes and shepherds of Shakespeare get angrier than Joe Arpayaso surrounded by a group of Mexicans! But we’re talking two separate cosas here. My linguistic goal with this columna isn’t for America to accept Spanglish, but for American English and its speakers to pick up more Spanish words so that one day, I won’t have to use italics on said words to differentiate their otherness. It’s happened over the decades: at one point, editors italicized Spanish words like amigo, tequila, fiesta, and siesta because they were foreign concept to gabacho audiences, but the words were used enough so that we no longer italicize them. Think of it as a linguistic Reconquista, of Latin slowly beating down English’s Germanic influences! The only way to teach an audience a new palabra, then, is to signify a code switch via the italics, but I make sure to use simple Spanish words that can possibly gain wider currency—gabacho, pendejo, desmadre—and eventually assimilate into the American lingua franca and cultura. And I don’t have to worry about any gabacho editors telling me when to use italics and when I can’t—I’m the pinche Mexican, for crying out loud. But even this cabrón cannot persuade the unforgiving pen of his copy editor, who can make the most grizzled reporter tremble with just a flash of the red pluma.

Do you have any idea why Univisión and Telemundo look so much sharper and better than any other HD programming on any other channel? They looked better even before HD was en vogue. My guess is that they don’t use filters that everyone else uses.

Techie Gabacho

Dear Gabacho: Same reason porn is always at the forefront of technology: gotta make those chichis shine!

I just learned that Nueva Vizcaya was “settled” by Basques and it got me to thinking: are there any noticeable regional differences in Mexico based on the regions in Spain where the original Spaniards came from? If so, where can I read more about it?

Euskadi Enthusiast

Dear Gabacho: Nueva Vizcaya, of course, refers to the province of New Spain that nowadays roughly encompasses Chihuahua and Durango, and parts of Sonora, Sinaloa, and other northern Mexico states, and was named by the Basque explorer Francisco de Ibarra after Biscay. Other Spanish explorers also named provinces in New Spain after their home regions—Nuevo Galicia, Nuevo León (which the modern-day Mexican state is named after), and the awesomely titled Nuevo Santander, after the city in the kingdom of Cantabria. But in terms of large-scale regional Spanish migration to particular areas of Mexico during the era of the Conquistadors, the Mexican is going to have to plead partial mestizaje on this one. The most famous mass settling of particular groups happened in what’s now the United States—Canary Islanders in San Antonio, and marranos (crytpo-Jews) in New Mexico—while outside of northern Mexico and its concentration of Garzas, most of the other Spaniards just melted into the pozole. All the early Spanish immigrants ultimately left as a legacy in Mexico was Spanish, surnames, and a taste for ultra-violence.

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Dear Mexican: In 1983 or 1984, I was walking home from work down Haight Street in San Francisco one evening and stopped into Watusi Records to look through the dollar cutout bin. I flipped through it for a bit and then stopped dead when I saw the Jonny Chingas Pachuco LP. I looked closer, saw what was written in small print on the license plate of the car on the cover (“se me paro”), and went, “Holy shit! I’ve gotta have this!”

The record (especially the title cut and “El Corrido del Bato Loco”) was funnier than shit (and musically not too bad). A dozen years later, just after the Internet came in, I ran a search on AltaVista and got a single result, for a little indie record company in East L.A. I wrote to ask them if they had any more Jonny Chingas recordings and received a single-sentence reply: “Hey man, I think the vato’s dead.” Running a Google search now, there seems to be no info whatsoever on who the dude was, other than his name, Raúl Garcia, which matches the credits on the original Billionaire LP: “R. Garcia.” In 200 words or less (to match your column length), who was this incredibly funny, talented guy and what in hell happened to him?

Ye Olde Gabacho

Dear Gabacho: “Se Me Paro”! Literally translating as “It Stood Up,” but Mexican Spanish for “I Got Hard”—as in, “My Chorizo is Ready to Get Into Your Pink Taco” hard! By the legendary Jonny Chingas, the Blowfly of Chicano rap! Man, I hadn’t heard that song—a raunchy doo-wop Spanglish retelling of a homeboy getting it on with his heina, complete with moans and mecos—in years. And I urge everyone to give it a spin, as it was a rite of passage for all Mexican men who came of age during the 1990s to listen to this rola off their cholo cousin’s Lowrider Magazine Volume 1 CD. Chingas’ other songs are similarly hilarious—”El Corrido del Bato Loco” (“Ballad of a Crazy Vato”), “Yo Quiero Tirar Chingasos” (“I Want to Fuck Someone Up”) and “La Dolencia” (“The Longing”), the most romantic song about blue balls EVER. But who was he? Real name Raul Garza, recorded mainstream Chicano tracks with a bunch of East L.A. Chicano rock bands during the 1960s and 1970s under the names Raul Garcia and Ruly Garcia, but achieving immortality with the Jonny Chingas persona. J-Vibe of Dragon Mob Records produced some of Chingas’ last recordings—and, yep, Chingas is now cruising alongside Jesus in that dropped ’64 Chevy Impala in the sky. Finally, sorry for crossing your 200-word border, but you know how we Mexicans are with imaginary boundaries…

In what state and city are the cintos piteados made?

Una Metiche que Quiere Saber si Sabes Tú Información del Piteado

Dear Nosy Wabette Who Wants to Know If I Know Information About the Piteado Technique: You’re referring, of course, to the belts featuring arabesque designs that are a staple of hombres from central Mexico. The most famous city for production is Colotlán, Jalisco, but the best ones come from Jerez, Zacatecas—not that I’m biased or anything.

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