Friday, December 25, 2009

Happy Birthday Jesus!

I was planning on writing about how Christmas is pretty much a Christian cover up of the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia, which of course it is, and on how traditions we do not even know of still affect us everyday.  Case in point, there are tons of crypto-jews in the hispanic world that still follow jewish traditions even though they converted to Christianity centuries ago.  For example I have friends that cover all the mirrors in their house when someone dies, know of families where eating pork is still considered a "sin," grandparents that freak out if the boys are not circumcised, etc...

However, I decided to write instead about the creation of yet another Christmas tradition in our house.  Last year we were going to my mother's house for Christmas dinner and decided to go to get an ice cream cake for desert.  Once we had picked out the cake my son decided that since it was the kind of cake that was used in birthday parties we had to use it for a birthday.  We, my wife and I, tried to explain to him that the cake wasn't for anyone's party but rather it was for the Christmas dinner.

Soon we realized, prodded by a recalcitrant child, that in a way, the cake was for someone's birthday, namely Jesus. So we had the completely baffled store clerk write "Happy Birthday Jesus" on the cake.  That in itself is, I think quirky enough, however nothing is ever that simple during family celebrations.  When we got to my mom's house she wasn't there and we did not have keys to get into the house.  So there we are waiting for her outside the house with a soon to be melting ice cream cake when her next door neighbors come out.  We had to ask them to put the cake in their refrigerator since we had no idea when my mother would come back.  This they did, but when my mother arrived and it was time to get the cake back they came out and returned the cake but not before looking at what was written on it.  Our neighbors, much like the store clerk, were baffled by our cake.  See everyone pretty much knows that my family is composed of relatively irreligious agnostic people and this cake on the surface screamed something like evangelical christian on it.  The neighbors look at it, read the felicitation out loud, looked at us, mumbled something, and left.

Afterward we had dinner and had some cake.  Having the ice cream cake was a great success.  Which is why this year while we are in california with my mother-in-law her husband, and my sister-in-law we decided to reprise the Jesus cake.  My sister-in-law and I went to the supermarket earlier and asked for an ice cream cake with the same inscription, "Happy birthday Jesus."  The girl behind the counter acted like our request was a completely normal request and went to the back.  As soon as she was out of sight we heard the entire back of the store laughing out loud.  Jesus cake is a success.  I think Jesus, be him god, an enlightened human being, or just a cool dude, would approve of our using his name in silliness that makes people happy.  So Jesus this shout out goes out to you.  Happy birthday dude.

By the way, do you readers out there have any silly Christmas celebrations?  Please share them bellow and make my Christmas more fun.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Dame un plato de xenofobia con mofongo al lado.

  Llevaba tiempo pensando escribir esta entrada, pero no me animaba a hacerlo.  Finalmente como Al Carbon y Rob Rex escribieron más o menos sobre el tema esta semana decidí que era ya hora de hacerlo.  Así que esta entrada culmina lo que denomino la semana de la xenofobia en La Acera.
   Interesantemente parte del ímpetu de escribir esta entrada ahora origina en un evento ocurrido en una acera en Santurce.  Estábamos reunidos, en Café Hacienda San Pedro, con nuestro súper programador, un Drupal gurú/freak, Al Carbon y yo discutiendo detalles del upgrade inminente del website de La Acera.  (Viene por ahí gente en uno o dos meses.)  Como era una conversación bastante técnica y el 99.9% de los términos de computadora surgen del ingles la conversación se dio en ingles.  No me vengan o joder los hispanófilos con ordenadores y redes y zanganadas.  Entonces como hablábamos en ingles adentro de el café cuando salimos seguimos hablando en ingles.  En eso cruzamos la calle y al llegar al otro lado escucho a un idiota gritarme desde su carro “estamos en Puerto Rico”.
Al asno que conducía el carro le molestó que yo me atreviese a cruzar la calle y lo hiciera esperar tres segundos, claro rápido que me pasó tuvo que frenar porque el carro al frente del suyo estaba parado.  Sin entrar en esta discusión mucho, ¿cual es el problema existencial de la gente en Puerto Rico que les impide entender que cuando entran a una zona urbana están en calles y no en autopistas? ¿Por qué no les entra en la cabeza que los peatones tienen el derecho de paso en la ciudad?  Volviendo al tema central, miremos lo que el animal me dijo como regaño: “estamos en Puerto Rico”.  ¿Que carajo significa eso?  ¿Que se supone que yo como el extranjero que el percibió piense sobre lo que el me dijo?
Si tomamos la oración como un simple recordatorio de que estamos en Puerto Rico esta es realmente una gran perogrullada.  Entonces, es bastante obvio que el significado de la proposición no es lo que denota sino lo que connota.  El contexto de la oración es lo que tiene que conducir la búsqueda de su sentido.  El que la expresó, en forma de regaño, a alguien que cruzaba la calle.  Entonces, ¿por qué no decir: “¡Cabrón mira cuando cruzas la calle!”, en vez de recordarme que estamos en Puerto Rico?  El comentario fue diseñado para incomodar a una persona no por lo que hizo (cruzar la calle en todo su derecho de cruzar la calle), sino por quien el pensaba que la persona era.  El conductor xenófobo pensó que mejor que criticar lo que hice era criticar de donde era.  Claro él, incorrectamente, decidió que yo no era puertorriqueño.  No estoy completamente seguro de si este juicio fue solamente el resultado de que no hablara “cristiano” o eso y de la combinación algunos otros factores.
El utilizar la frase como amonestación intenta tirar una linea entre él, la persona que pertenece aquí, y yo, el que no pertenece aquí.  Esto es una forma de implicar que el tiene la autoridad de decirme como se van a hacer las cosas aquí y de decirme que aquí él es superior a mí.  Es un lenguaje nativista y exclusivista donde el origen nacional es altamente determinativo del valor de una persona.  Claro siempre es posible que me hubiese dicho que estamos en Puerto Rico porque pensó que yo era británico y me quería recordar que aquí se conduce en el lado derecho y no el izquierdo, pero lo dudo, lo dudo mucho.
El uso de este lenguaje xenófobo y etnocentrista permite transformar a los seres humanos en otros, en objetos, a los que se le puede negar su humanidad y por ende su valor intrínseco.  Ahora se preguntan o exclaman algunos: “¿No estas exagerando #3?”  No, no exagero en lo más mínimo, bueno quizá un poco.  El lenguaje nacionalista puertorriqueño por mucho tiempo a sido un lenguaje esencialista que tira lineas arbitrarias sobre que se permite dentro de la puertorriqueñidad y que se excluye.  Por ejemplo, si alguien nace y se cría en PR de padres chinos pues entonces esta persona no es considerada realmente puertorriqueña por la ortodoxia puertorriqueñista.  El mismo destino le espera al hijo de puertorriqueños que nazca en el exterior.  En ambos casos la puertorriqueñidad del individuo será una incompleta y a medias.  Será una puertorriqueñidad falsificada.
De aquí, el único paso necesario para pasar a ser un racista retrógrada, es pensar que ser puertorriqueño es inherentemente mejor que ser otra cosa dentro del esquema en el cual se puede ser algo distinto a ser puertorriqueño.  Así que si ser puertorriqueño es mejor que, por ejemplo, ser dominicano, el camino a la injusticia esta pavimentado y listo para transitar.  La única diferencia entre este esquema y el que permite el apartheid es una cuantitativa y no cualitativa.
Algo iluminativo del comentario dirigido a mi sobre nuestra localización es que el conductor lo hizo en español.  A menos de que no supiese ingles, algo muy posible, hacer el comentario en español lo convierte en algo mas de consumo propio que en algo dicho para mi beneficio.  Es más aun cuando no supiese ingles es fácil decir algo como “fuck you” o “yankee go home” esas son frases en ingles que prácticamente cualquier persona en Puerto Rico conoce.  ¿Cual es el objetivo del insulto y el regaño si lo dice en un idioma que presuntamente yo, siendo un gringo, no entiendo?  Como dije anteriormente esta oración es en gran parte algo dicho para consumo propio.  El decirlo en español demuestra que el interés del emisor es también recordarse así mismo que estamos en Puerto Rico, que esta es su tierra, que el que manda aquí es el y no yo el invasor el extranjero.  Es una forma de auto calmar su inseguridad vis a vis su posición de subordinado.  La xenofobia a raíz del sentirse como menos que otro.  Por eso es que campañas como “¡Puerto Rico lo hace mejor!” se usan a cada rato.  Es la necesidad de lavarnos el cerebro colectivamente para sentir que somos algo, que no somos una mierda.  Sobre este fenómeno pienso escribir en el futuro como continuación de lo que he dicho hasta a ahora en esta entrada.  Así que “to be continued.”

Monday, December 14, 2009

Burst: 9




I went to the movies with my son and wife.  It was a spur of the moment kind of thing so we didn't know what was showing.  That is usually a difficult proposition, since we then have to find a movie that is sufficiently entertaining for everyone on the spot or risk civil war.  Most of the time there are movies that are entertaining for adults or movies that are entertaining for kids, but every once in a while a movie comes along that is entertaining for both.  9 is one of them.

It is clear that this movie, dark and somber, in the vein of The Nightmare Before Christmas, was a labor of love and as such it makes finding fault with it difficult for me.  It is so much harder to make something than it is to tear it apart, and honestly I do not find much fault in this movie.  While it is not perfect, it is well crafted and the story moves along nicely.  The animation, especially the scorched-earth battlefield shots reminiscent of the trenches of WWI, is seamless and beautiful.

It is incredibly sad that this movie released on September 9, 2009 made its way here only a couple of weeks ago.  If only there had been some space in the the miniscule movie theaters operated by Caribbean Cinemas to have the movie open when it was originally released.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Christmas Trees and Eudaimonia

I was completely unprepared for the task of being a father when I became one close to my twenty-sixth birthday. However, having fatherhood thrust upon me, as opposed to obsessively planning it for years, has had many benefits. One of them was that I did not go into it with all the preprogrammed and sappy notions about what it means to be a parent that many people have when they become parents. For example, this led me to not buy all the ridiculously expensive and totally useless contraptions that baby stores sell to new parents. I have been to houses where they buy every single one of those gadgets and honestly it is pathetic to look at the ridiculous display of overcompensation, ignorance, and conspicuous consumption. (No, I don’t mean your house.) I think this is the same attitude that leads to the whole “must be the parent of an exceptional child” mindset. Everything has to be the best-est-est and greatest for the baby leads to the child has to be the best-est-est-est him or herself. It all becomes a tyranny that threatens to take away any real chance of developing a relationship with your offspring since they cease being individuals and become objects to be manipulated in your life.

This is not my problem. I have been very careful not to pin my life dreams on my children and I know that having the most gadgets and making the kid go to the most Kindermusik classes only means that you spent the most money. However, my blasé attitude, like every plus, has its minuses and any position can be taken to an unhealthy extreme. My effort to not become a brainless dolt who professes total platitudes about the joys of being a father has kept me from expressing some of the real joy that comes from it. The truth is that I love my kids, but/and they drive me crazy. It is not easy to deal with two incredibly strong-willed people on a 24-7 basis, and it is even harder to do so when their well-being rests squarely on your shoulders. This has been particularly difficult for me because I have a very strong anti-authoritarian streak and yet now I am the authority. Talk about cognitive dissonance.

Part of the reason I don’t go crazy pushing some kind of exceptionalism on my kids is that I simply do not think that is what makes one a good parent. Unlike many who think that if their kid becomes a rich investment banker, a famous actor, a superstar baseball player, a lawyer, a doctor, etc... it means they succeeded in their job as parents I don’t. Those things are great, really they are. And I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be proud and happy if my kids are very successful people. But I have always thought that the real metric for measuring how well I am doing at being a parent is how happy they are in a deep Aristotelian kind of way. This kind of happiness can only be reached by those who are exceptional at being ethical people. That is what I care about, namely that my kids be excellent or virtuous. I think that the true measure of being a good parent is whether your kids develop into good, excellent, virtuous human beings. By the way none of these qualities are meant in any way to be the absurd moralistic and hollow precepts that organized religion foists upon people.

Being a virtuous person is not about rote adherence to the rules that religio-political “leaders” throw at you. Those rules exist to control you, not to help you lead a happy and good life. Being good is not that simple. The demands of ethics are constant and cannot be memorized and performed mindlessly. To be virtuous means to be present, mindful and aware of the implications of your actions. For that, dogma simply will not do. This is what I take brother Socrates meant when he said that the unexamined life is not worth living. It is also what Bill and Ted meant when they advised people to be excellent to one another.

Why am I talking about all of this? It will serve me well to explain why on a recent trip to Costco my son did something that has had me beaming with pride ever since (and also lets me toot my own horn). My son is not exactly the easiest person in the world to deal with. He is extremely sensitive, temperamental, and stubborn as hell. These traits when unchecked get him into all sorts of trouble. At those times it is easy to feel that I am failing him as father, which is not a great feeling.

Last Christmas, because of financial difficulties that have not altogether subsided, my wife and I decided not to get a Christmas tree. This is a decision we have both regretted ever since because our son really wanted one and was deeply hurt about not having one. He has thus been talking about getting a Christmas tree for an entire year, and even though our finances are even worse now than last year we decided that this year we would make the sacrifices necessary and get a tree.
So on a recent trip to Costco my son was very aware that we would be looking at Christmas trees to buy and so he was scoping every plant he saw as a potential Christmas tree. Then he saw a strange looking tree that had been cut so that it had two spherical areas made out of branches. It sorta looks like a stick with two balls stuck in it. He was smitten; that was the Christmas tree he wanted. In my grownup uptightness I had to explain to him that the tree he liked was not a real Christmas tree. So he let go of that tree and began to look around for real Christmas trees. He was asking me all sorts of questions about them. Interspersed among the barrage of questions about trees he would make some statements about the tree we were getting. One of which was that he wanted to keep the tree in the house after Christmas. Sensing the potential minefield I began to explain:

– Christmas trees are only kept during Christmas.
– Why?
– The trees die because they have to be cut down to take them home.
– But what if we put it back in the ground when Christmas is done?
– No. That wont work because Christmas trees can’t grow in Puerto Rico. It's too warm.
And the trees that get cut don’t have roots anymore.
– Oh...

He paused for a second stared me right in the eye and asked:

– So we kill the Christmas trees?

Not sure of what to say I went with honesty is the best policy.

– Yes.
– Papa, that is messed up. I don’t want to kill a Christmas tree. Let’s get a tree that we can keep and use it as our Christmas tree forever.

And that is how we ended up with this tree:


as our Christmas tree, forever. It is also how I realized that I’m not doing such a shitty job as a dad. Maybe.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Friday, December 4, 2009

Burst: Brüno

This is just a quick reaction to what I just saw.

Having finished watching Sacha Baron Cohen's movie Brüno, I get the usual feeling I get with his work where it is hard to know who precisely was being mocked. On the one hand it is clear that Baron Cohen was making fun of the completely overt and unabashed hatred that homosexuals face in the mainstream of american culture. On the other hand he seemed to be critiquing the many excesses of gay culture. In the end I think the genius of his work is that no one escapes unharmed, not even him. He holds a mirror to all of us, and to himself. Clearly his mockery of Brüno's desire for fame, and above everything else celebrity, is self-referential, and our constant and willing participation in the comeuppance through humiliation of the many persons he meets says much about our lack of charity and ability to really enjoy the suffering of others.

It is clear that one of the basic conclusions of the film is that gay-bashing goes hand in hand with misogyny. There were various times the movie made this point, but none so clear as when Brüno met with the older evangelical Christian gay-to-hetero converter. In this scene the gay-to-hetero converter strangely attempts to turn Brüno onto women by talking to him non-stop about how annoying and boring women are but that "we" men need them. It was simply beyond bizarre.

This conclusion though seems relatively true to me. Perhaps gay-acceptance does not lead to the eradication of misogyny, there are plenty of examples of gay-friendly groups that are nonetheless anti-woman, but I cannot think of any gay-bashing groups that truly are pro-women's rights.