Here's a fragment of a review I just wrote of Sut Jhally's documentary Dreamworlds 3: Desire, Sex & Power in Music Video (2007). I'm sure a lot of folks will find this documentary insightful and useful... so I won't wait until the review is out in print to give you the scoop.
By the way, Sut Jhally is the Executive Director of the Media Education Foundation, the institution responsible for producing this documentary and many others—including Byron Hurt's groundbreaking piece on hip-hop and masculinity titled Hip-Hop: Beyond Beats & Rhymes.
Here's the trailer:
Here's my review:
Dreamworlds 3 is focused on analyzing how music videos both inform and are informed by our culture’s dominant attitudes regarding femininity, masculinity, sexuality and race. One of this documentary’s strongest points is its close attention to music video’s “storytelling techniques,” not only in terms of its lyrics and images, but also in terms of filmic techniques (camera angles and movement, for example) and the stories that these tecniques tell. Other strengths include its discussion of how the “pornographic imagination” and the porn industry inform music videos, as well as its portrayal of music videos as a constructed “fantasy” and “dreamworld” that is not the “real world” but is still in constant dialogue with it.
Another of Dreamworld 3’s crucial contributions to making more productive the often sterile dialogue surrounding gender and popular culture, is its framing of the question of sexism, not by asking if an image is “good or bad,” but through an analysis of whose stories are being told and how. According to the documentary, the problem is not that there is too much sex in music videos, but that there is no diversity in the stories being told since they are monopolized by the “heterosexual male imagination.” Furthermore, the documentary makes it very clear that female objectification itself is not the problem; the problem is that females are only being portrayed as objects. Once again, the key issue for Jhally is the lack of diversity in how gender is represented.
Though the aims and strategies of hyper-sexualizing women in music videos are thoroughly covered, one is left wondering how (and if) sexualization and objectification works in terms of images of men. The question of how women viewers receive and respond to all this imagery is also left somewhat unclear. Surely, it is the male heterosexist pornographic imagination constructing the dreamworlds of music videos “to draw in male viewers.” But what about women? What are the details of their attraction, repulsion and/or indifference to hyper-sexualized images (of women, of men)? How are their responses different from those of (most) men? But frankly, faulting the documentary for failing to hone in on these questions seems like nitpicking, given all that it does do.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Reggaeton: Allegedly Puerto Rican
The article "Ritmo boricua que mueve al mundo entero" (Boricua Rhythm that Moves the Whole World) published yesterday February 27 in the newspaper Primera Hora in Puerto Rico seems to assume that the sun rises and sets right above the island.
(This is the photo that accompanies the article, bearing the caption: "Don Omar is one of the most popular reggaeton artists in and outside of Puerto Rico.")
According to the article, reggaeton is a "provocative rhythm that was born in the minds and hands of a group of Boricua youngsters a bit over two decades ago." It also states that "initially, reggaeton became one of the most favored genres thanks to pioneers like Vico C, who distinguishes himself through his clean lyrics and social critiques."
There seems to be a huge confusion here. First, Vico initially did rap/hip-hop, not reggaeton. Second, Vico made his initial fame on the street thanks to the dirtiest, wittiest lyrics. Third, the "rhythm" that has characterized reggaeton arrived in Puerto Rico via Panama's reggae in Spanish and Jamaica's dancehall reggae.
It's true that in Puerto Rico it was given a new name, new life, unique characteristics and that from there it jumped to international stardom. But to attribute reggaeton's "birth" to Puerto Rican youth without taking into account the wider Caribbean context perpetuates the isolation and "insularism" of Puerto Ricans. That's not cool. Puerto Rico is wonderful, a "chulería," but it's not the world's bellybutton!
As I told one of my readers in the Spanish version of this post, the problem is not saying that reggaeton is Boricua. The problem is saying that it is ONLY Boricua. Or that its origins are SOLELY Boricua.
Reggaeton is Boricua. But we have to share the credit for its creation and birth.
I like to think of cultural practices in their multiple dimensions. And I also like it when we can share the credit (or the blame) with all of those that deserve it. I find it useful, empowering, inspiring.
(This is the photo that accompanies the article, bearing the caption: "Don Omar is one of the most popular reggaeton artists in and outside of Puerto Rico.")According to the article, reggaeton is a "provocative rhythm that was born in the minds and hands of a group of Boricua youngsters a bit over two decades ago." It also states that "initially, reggaeton became one of the most favored genres thanks to pioneers like Vico C, who distinguishes himself through his clean lyrics and social critiques."
There seems to be a huge confusion here. First, Vico initially did rap/hip-hop, not reggaeton. Second, Vico made his initial fame on the street thanks to the dirtiest, wittiest lyrics. Third, the "rhythm" that has characterized reggaeton arrived in Puerto Rico via Panama's reggae in Spanish and Jamaica's dancehall reggae.
It's true that in Puerto Rico it was given a new name, new life, unique characteristics and that from there it jumped to international stardom. But to attribute reggaeton's "birth" to Puerto Rican youth without taking into account the wider Caribbean context perpetuates the isolation and "insularism" of Puerto Ricans. That's not cool. Puerto Rico is wonderful, a "chulería," but it's not the world's bellybutton!
As I told one of my readers in the Spanish version of this post, the problem is not saying that reggaeton is Boricua. The problem is saying that it is ONLY Boricua. Or that its origins are SOLELY Boricua.
Reggaeton is Boricua. But we have to share the credit for its creation and birth.
I like to think of cultural practices in their multiple dimensions. And I also like it when we can share the credit (or the blame) with all of those that deserve it. I find it useful, empowering, inspiring.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Reguetón: ritmo dizque boricua
El artículo "Ritmo boricua que mueve al mundo entero" que fue publicado hoy 27 de febrero en el periódico Primera Hora de Puerto Rico como que peca de asumir que el sol sale y se pone justo encima de la isla.
(Esta es la foto que acompaña el artículo con el calce: "Don Omar es uno de los exponentes de reguetón más populares dentro y fuera de Puerto Rico.")
Según el artículo, el reguetón es un "ritmo provocador que nació de las mentes y manos de un grupo de jóvenes boricuas hace poco más de dos décadas." Además afirma que "inicialmente, el reguetón logró colocarse entre los favoritos gracias al trabajo de pioneros como Vico C, quien se destaca por sus letras limpias y denuncia social."
Aquí hay como que hay una gran confusión. Primero, que lo que hacía Vico inicialmente era rap/hip-hop y no reguetón. Segundo, que Vico primero se popularizó en la calle a mitad de los 80 con las letras más sucias (e ingeniosas) que ha parido madre. Tercero, que el "ritmo" que caracteriza el reguetón llegó a Puerto Rico via el "reggae en español" de Panamá y el "dancehall reggae" de Jamaica.
Cierto es que en Puerto Rico se le dió nuevo nombre, nueva vida, características particulares y de ahí saltó a la fama mundial. Pero eso de atribuirle el "nacimiento" del reguetón a jóvenes boricuas sin tomar en cuenta el contexto caribeño más amplio perpetúa el aislamiento y el insularismo boricua. Eso como que no brega. Puerto Rico será una chulería, pero ¡no es el ombligo del mundo!
(Esta es la foto que acompaña el artículo con el calce: "Don Omar es uno de los exponentes de reguetón más populares dentro y fuera de Puerto Rico.")Según el artículo, el reguetón es un "ritmo provocador que nació de las mentes y manos de un grupo de jóvenes boricuas hace poco más de dos décadas." Además afirma que "inicialmente, el reguetón logró colocarse entre los favoritos gracias al trabajo de pioneros como Vico C, quien se destaca por sus letras limpias y denuncia social."
Aquí hay como que hay una gran confusión. Primero, que lo que hacía Vico inicialmente era rap/hip-hop y no reguetón. Segundo, que Vico primero se popularizó en la calle a mitad de los 80 con las letras más sucias (e ingeniosas) que ha parido madre. Tercero, que el "ritmo" que caracteriza el reguetón llegó a Puerto Rico via el "reggae en español" de Panamá y el "dancehall reggae" de Jamaica.
Cierto es que en Puerto Rico se le dió nuevo nombre, nueva vida, características particulares y de ahí saltó a la fama mundial. Pero eso de atribuirle el "nacimiento" del reguetón a jóvenes boricuas sin tomar en cuenta el contexto caribeño más amplio perpetúa el aislamiento y el insularismo boricua. Eso como que no brega. Puerto Rico será una chulería, pero ¡no es el ombligo del mundo!
Friday, February 01, 2008
Y vuelven las Nikes macheteras
Con motivo de la primera vez que se exhibe en Puerto Rico la obra Filiberto Ojeda Uptowns / Machetero Air Force Ones del artista Miguel Luciano, decidí someterle al periódico Claridad un artículo sobre las tenis. No sólo lo publicaron inmediatamente, sino que usaron las imágenes de la obra para la portada de la revista cultural En Rojo y también para la portada del periódico. 
Haz click aquí para leer el artículo de Claridad.
Como el sitio web de Claridad no tiene la opción para que los lectores dejen comentarios, ofrezco este blog como alternativa, si alguien se inspira.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Vote or shut up?
(This is the English version of the blog I posted yesterday in Spanish.)
If the 2004 P. Diddy-driven “Vote or Die” campaign can be criticized for a sloppy slogan and design, the just-launched campaign for the youth vote in Puerto Rico, “Vota o quédate calla’o,” is equally (if not more) sloppy.
A bit over two weeks ago, this TV commercial aired in Puerto Rico, featuring Daddy Yankee, baseball player Carlos Delgado, singer Janina, volleyball player Karina Ocasio, basketball player José Juan Barea and Rocky “The Kid.”
Here is a hasty transcription/translation of what the commercial says:
There are more than 700,000 Puerto Ricans between the ages of 18 and 35. In 1980, elections were decided by 3,000 votes. In 2004, by 3,500 votes in 8,000 poll sites. Less than one vote per poll site made the difference. One vote per poll site! That means that your vote is worth a lot. So much so that, with it, our country's history is written. You have until January 19 to register. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Or stay silent.
I didn’t know about the commercial until I read an excellent article by Rafah Acevedo in this week’s Claridad titled “Voto cuando las gallinas meen...”. The title is a play on the popular saying about children being allowed to speak only when hens pee… in other words, never. In the article, Acevedo says that, though the campaign claims to be stimulating youth to use their right to voice their opinions through the vote, in the end, the campaign actually silences young people.
I love the peeing chicken illustration and the author’s critical perspectives. Click here to read the entire article.
I’ll give the campaign the benefit of the doubt and assume that there are good intentions behind it. Of course it sounds great, that whole business about getting young folks motivated to be involved in their country’s affairs, to exercise their right to vote. But what happens when the candidates are a bunch of liars, thieves and clowns? What happens when our only option is to choose among candidates that are (to quote my currently favorite Tego song) “ni fú ni fá”? What are we asking young people to do? To be thankful for the opportunity to choose among two or three weak candidates since that is their only chance to intervene in their country’s affairs?
But that’s not true! Voting is not the only (or, often times, even the best) way to voice our concerns or participate in positive social change.
That phrase they picked as the campaign’s slogan is horrible, but an excellent example of how the campaign is misleading: “Vota o quédate calla'o.” Do they mean that not voting is like not speaking, something like “Vote or be silent”? Or do they actually mean “Vote or shut up”? (As if, if you don’t vote, you have no right to an opinion about what goes down.)
Since this campaign seems to take its cues from its “Vote or Die” U.S.-based predecessor, here are some critical approaches to the older campaign: Radio commentary by Davey D and a video featuring artists M-1, David Banner, Juvenile and others:
I confess that, if things keep going the way they are here in the States, this year (for the second time in my life) I’ll grit my teeth and vote for the president for the same reason I voted in 2004: I don’t like Democrats, but I fear Republicans.
But that is simply my (somewhat tragic) decision based on strategy to vote for the lesser of two evils.
I won’t hold it against anybody if they don’t vote, as long as they do it because they care and not because they don’t. And, most importantly, I hope that if they don’t vote, they make sure they DON’T SHUT UP.
If the 2004 P. Diddy-driven “Vote or Die” campaign can be criticized for a sloppy slogan and design, the just-launched campaign for the youth vote in Puerto Rico, “Vota o quédate calla’o,” is equally (if not more) sloppy.
A bit over two weeks ago, this TV commercial aired in Puerto Rico, featuring Daddy Yankee, baseball player Carlos Delgado, singer Janina, volleyball player Karina Ocasio, basketball player José Juan Barea and Rocky “The Kid.”
Here is a hasty transcription/translation of what the commercial says:
There are more than 700,000 Puerto Ricans between the ages of 18 and 35. In 1980, elections were decided by 3,000 votes. In 2004, by 3,500 votes in 8,000 poll sites. Less than one vote per poll site made the difference. One vote per poll site! That means that your vote is worth a lot. So much so that, with it, our country's history is written. You have until January 19 to register. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote. Or stay silent.
I didn’t know about the commercial until I read an excellent article by Rafah Acevedo in this week’s Claridad titled “Voto cuando las gallinas meen...”. The title is a play on the popular saying about children being allowed to speak only when hens pee… in other words, never. In the article, Acevedo says that, though the campaign claims to be stimulating youth to use their right to voice their opinions through the vote, in the end, the campaign actually silences young people.
I love the peeing chicken illustration and the author’s critical perspectives. Click here to read the entire article.
I’ll give the campaign the benefit of the doubt and assume that there are good intentions behind it. Of course it sounds great, that whole business about getting young folks motivated to be involved in their country’s affairs, to exercise their right to vote. But what happens when the candidates are a bunch of liars, thieves and clowns? What happens when our only option is to choose among candidates that are (to quote my currently favorite Tego song) “ni fú ni fá”? What are we asking young people to do? To be thankful for the opportunity to choose among two or three weak candidates since that is their only chance to intervene in their country’s affairs?
But that’s not true! Voting is not the only (or, often times, even the best) way to voice our concerns or participate in positive social change.
That phrase they picked as the campaign’s slogan is horrible, but an excellent example of how the campaign is misleading: “Vota o quédate calla'o.” Do they mean that not voting is like not speaking, something like “Vote or be silent”? Or do they actually mean “Vote or shut up”? (As if, if you don’t vote, you have no right to an opinion about what goes down.)
Since this campaign seems to take its cues from its “Vote or Die” U.S.-based predecessor, here are some critical approaches to the older campaign: Radio commentary by Davey D and a video featuring artists M-1, David Banner, Juvenile and others:
I confess that, if things keep going the way they are here in the States, this year (for the second time in my life) I’ll grit my teeth and vote for the president for the same reason I voted in 2004: I don’t like Democrats, but I fear Republicans.
But that is simply my (somewhat tragic) decision based on strategy to vote for the lesser of two evils.
I won’t hold it against anybody if they don’t vote, as long as they do it because they care and not because they don’t. And, most importantly, I hope that if they don’t vote, they make sure they DON’T SHUT UP.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
¿Vota o quédate callao?
Hace varias semanas, se estrenó este anuncio en Puerto Rico, featuring Daddy Yankee, el pelotero Carlos Delgado, la cantante Janina, la volibolista Karina Ocasio, el baloncelista José Juan Barea y el locutor Rocky “The Kid.”
No me había enterado del dichoso anuncio hasta que vi un ingenioso artículo de Rafah Acevedo en Claridad titulado “Voto cuando las gallinas meen...”.
Me reí muchísimo con la ilustración y me pareció un acercamiento crítico muy bueno. Haga click aquí para leer el artículo completo.
Concuerdo con Acevedo que esta es una campaña publicitaria que urge a los jóvenes a poner en práctica “esa libertad flaquita que les han regalado.”
Voy a darle el beneficio de la duda a la campaña y decir que quizás hasta cierto punto es bien intencionada. ¡Claro que suena muy bonito eso de animar a los jovenes a preocuparse por los asuntos de su país, a ejercer su derecho al voto! ¿Pero y qué pasa cuando los candidatos son casi igualmente paqueteros, raqueteros, velagüiras? ¿Qué pasa cuando ninguno de los candidatos vale la pena? ¿Qué pasa cuando la única opción es escoger entre candidatos que (para citar mi actualmente favorita canción de Tego) “ni fú ni fá”? ¿Entonces qué les estamos pidiendo a los jóvenes que hagan? ¿Que se conformen con uno de dos o tres candidatos flojos porque hasta ahí llega su derecho de intervenir en los asuntos del país?
Nacarile del oriente. Ni fú ni fá.
Esa frasesita que escogieron como el tema de campaña me parece bastante terrorífica, por cierto: “Vota o quédate calla'o.” ¿Querrán decir que no votar es como quedarse callao? ¿O será que si no votas, entonces no tienes derecho de opinar sobre lo que pasa? ¡Uy! Cual de las dos opciones más engañosa.
¿Votar por uno de los candidatos que perpetuará el miserable estatus quo? ¿O será mejor organizarnos como grupo de presión más allá de las urnas electorales para realizar cambios fundamentales en la manera en que se dirige el país? No es que estas opciones sean mutuamente exclusivas, pero si me dan a escoger una de las dos, voto por la segunda. Acevedo también:
“Sería más práctico que 700 mil jóvenes actuaran democráticamente para defenestrar la clase política puertorriqueña y convertirse en un extraordinario grupo de presión. Así, en vez de votar cada cuatro años para que las cosas permanezcan igual, organizarse para evitar que la religión fundamentalista y el político taimado decidan hasta la legitimidad del modo en el que uno decide unirse a otra persona o el modo en el que uno se coloca en la cama en el ejercicio de la gozosa desnudez, 700,000 jóvenes en la calle evitarían que el contubernio entre desarrollistas y gobierno permita que les den permiso a los cementeros de cerrar playas, fincas, islas, con el propósito de hacer privado lo que es público. Impedirían la argumentación carifresca de que el expendio de permisos ilegales incentiva la economía.”
Esta campaña publicitaria pro-voto de la juventud me recuerda a la quizás también bien intencionada pero plagada de inconsistencias campaña que liderara P. Diddy en 2004 con aquello de “VOTE OR DIE.” Para un acercamiento crítico a esta campaña, oiga un comentario radial del periodista y DJ Davey D y/o vea el siguiente video con comentarios de los raperos M-1, David Banner, Juvenile y otros:
Confieso que, si las cosas acá en Estados Unidos siguen como van, este año (por segunda vez en mi vida) ejerceré a regañadientes mi derecho al voto presidencial por la misma razón que voté en 2004: aunque no me gustan los demócratas, los republicanos dan más miedo.
Pero eso es simplemente una decisión estratégica (y francamente trágica) de votar por el menos peor de dos males.
Al que no vote no lo culpo. Pero, eso sí: SI NO VOTAS NO TE QUEDES CALLAO.
¿Qué es esa ridiculez de “Vota o quédate callao”?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Panel: Caribbean Popular Culture Through Music
Click here to access the podcast of the panel discussion "Exploring Caribbean Popular Culture through Music" held last November 17, 2007 at the Brooklyn Museum and moderated by curator Tumelo Mosaka. I was one of the panelists, along with artist Miguel Luciano and Prof. Sujatha Fernandes. We discussed the cultural impact of different popular Caribbean musical styles, including soca, salsa, calypso, reggae, reggaetón, hip-hop, mambo, and merengue.
The art exhibit that inspired the panel, Infinite Island: Contemporary Caribbean Art, will be up at the Brooklyn Museum until January 27.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
The Titi Chronicles: Santa, The Holy Child and the Three Kings
Christmas Day, Republic of Hialeah (land of excellent food and horrible politics) --- According to my lil' nieces, today is Santa Claus' Day ("el dia de Santa Clo").
Every parent is entitled to cultivate in their kids the holiday myths of their choice, so this Titi (auntie, in Boricua Spanish) is careful not to step on any parental toes. I'm no fan of religious dogma, but just letting Santa steal the limelight completely away from Baby Jesus just doesn't sit right with me.
I decided that asking (not telling) the girls about Baby Jesus would not violate my Code of Titi Ethics. So I asked them if they knew what else people celebrated on December 25th. But I only got back little cute shoulders shrugging. I pressed on and asked if they knew that people also celebrated the birth of "el niñito Jesus" that day.
Their reply?: "De quien?" (Who?)
I thought maybe they didn't hear me. So I repeated: "Del niñito Jesus."
Their wide-eyed reply: "Y que niñito es ese?" (What little boy is that?)
It took me a few seconds to get my bearings straight and decide if I should continue with the interview that I didn't want turning into an indoctrination session.
So I showed them the plastic "nacimiento" (nativity scene) that Mami has been putting under the tree ever since I can remember.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked.
"No," said the eldest, shaking her head.
"That's a cow, that's a donkey, that's a baby..." the youngest said, pointing to each of the little figures.
O.k., enough meddling, Titi, I thought. Hopefully, at some point in the midst of today's present-opening frenzy, I'll get to ask their parents (my cousins that I adore and that have become "my Cuban brother and sister") about what they've told (or not told) the girls. And, if my cousins give me the green light, maybe some other day I'll tell the girls about that other myth that I find so inspiring.
I have no idea how to spin it, though. How to instill both critical thought and a love of myth in a four year-old and a six year-old?
I know it is possible, since my Dad infused Christmas with his nationalist views, managing to convince me early on that Santa was o.k. but the Three Kings were even better, because Santa was a gringo tradition while the Three Kings were "ours."
In fact, maybe next Three Kings Day, January 6th, is the day to start with my nieces. Maybe like the little girl their Titi used to be, they'll get a kick out of cutting grass and putting it in a shoebox under the bed as food for the 3 Wise Men's camels. But, frankly, Titi's hesitant. The last thing I want is for the beautiful story of the Three Kings visiting Baby Jesus turning into another excuse for accumulating an even bigger mountain of toys.
Maybe Titi's Three Kings will bring them cash on the condition that it go straight into their college fund.
These thoughts are inspired by Titi's Little Angels and the Christmas bundles of joy of Titi Sandy, Titi Michelle Alamo and the proud titis and tios of the Torres Saez clan.
Every parent is entitled to cultivate in their kids the holiday myths of their choice, so this Titi (auntie, in Boricua Spanish) is careful not to step on any parental toes. I'm no fan of religious dogma, but just letting Santa steal the limelight completely away from Baby Jesus just doesn't sit right with me.
I decided that asking (not telling) the girls about Baby Jesus would not violate my Code of Titi Ethics. So I asked them if they knew what else people celebrated on December 25th. But I only got back little cute shoulders shrugging. I pressed on and asked if they knew that people also celebrated the birth of "el niñito Jesus" that day.
Their reply?: "De quien?" (Who?)
I thought maybe they didn't hear me. So I repeated: "Del niñito Jesus."
Their wide-eyed reply: "Y que niñito es ese?" (What little boy is that?)
It took me a few seconds to get my bearings straight and decide if I should continue with the interview that I didn't want turning into an indoctrination session.
So I showed them the plastic "nacimiento" (nativity scene) that Mami has been putting under the tree ever since I can remember.
"Do you know what this is?" I asked.
"No," said the eldest, shaking her head.
"That's a cow, that's a donkey, that's a baby..." the youngest said, pointing to each of the little figures.
O.k., enough meddling, Titi, I thought. Hopefully, at some point in the midst of today's present-opening frenzy, I'll get to ask their parents (my cousins that I adore and that have become "my Cuban brother and sister") about what they've told (or not told) the girls. And, if my cousins give me the green light, maybe some other day I'll tell the girls about that other myth that I find so inspiring.
I have no idea how to spin it, though. How to instill both critical thought and a love of myth in a four year-old and a six year-old?
I know it is possible, since my Dad infused Christmas with his nationalist views, managing to convince me early on that Santa was o.k. but the Three Kings were even better, because Santa was a gringo tradition while the Three Kings were "ours."
In fact, maybe next Three Kings Day, January 6th, is the day to start with my nieces. Maybe like the little girl their Titi used to be, they'll get a kick out of cutting grass and putting it in a shoebox under the bed as food for the 3 Wise Men's camels. But, frankly, Titi's hesitant. The last thing I want is for the beautiful story of the Three Kings visiting Baby Jesus turning into another excuse for accumulating an even bigger mountain of toys.
Maybe Titi's Three Kings will bring them cash on the condition that it go straight into their college fund.
These thoughts are inspired by Titi's Little Angels and the Christmas bundles of joy of Titi Sandy, Titi Michelle Alamo and the proud titis and tios of the Torres Saez clan.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Mochila and Go
Dear compis, friends and fams:
I'm unplugging from the matrix for a few weeks, so my apologies for
not being able to post, check comments, or reply for a while. I've gone with my mochila and my brother a "buscar en el río el camino hacia el mar".
paz,
RZ
I'm unplugging from the matrix for a few weeks, so my apologies for
not being able to post, check comments, or reply for a while. I've gone with my mochila and my brother a "buscar en el río el camino hacia el mar".
paz,
RZ
Monday, December 03, 2007
The Treacherous Crossroads of Race and Ethnicity
November 28 I did a lecture at University of Connecticut Storrs titled "From Hip Hop to Reggaeton" and subtitled "The Treacherous Crossroads of Race and Ethnicity," sponsored by the Puerto Rican and Latino Studies Institute and the Puerto Rican and Latin American Cultural Center. I'm pleased that The Daily Campus published an article about it and, even more, that the writer highlighted my concerns regarding the traps of the racial and ethnic categories we use. Click here to read the article. I'm still trying to fine-tune the best strategies to debunk the myths surrounding race and ethnicity, so suggestions are especially appreciated.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Reggaeton Nation
What follows is an excerpt of the article I co-wrote with Frances Negrón-Muntaner and published in the most recent issue of the journal NACLA Report on the Americas. To read the full article click here.
Reggaeton Nation
by Frances Negrón-Muntaner and Raquel Z. Rivera
It was a stunning sight, circa 2003. Onstage at San Juan’s recently renovated Hiram Bithorn Stadium, five-time senator Velda González—former actress, grandmother of 11, and beloved public figure—was doing the unthinkable. Flanked by reggaeton stars Hector and Tito (aka the Bambinos), the senator, sporting tasteful makeup and a sweet, matronly smile, was lightly swinging her hips and tilting her head from side to side to a raucous reggaeton beat.
Only a year before, the same senator had led public hearings aimed at regulating reggaeton’s lyrics and the dance moves that accompany it, known as el perreo, or “doggy-style dance,” in which dancers grind against each other to the Jamaican-derived dembow rhythm that serves as reggaeton’s backbone. Using her reputation as a champion of women’s rights, González chastised reggaeton for its “dirty lyrics and videos full of erotic movements where girls dance virtually naked,” and for promoting perreo, which she called a “triggering factor of criminal acts.” Her efforts as reggaeton’s “horsewoman of the apocalypse” touched off such a media frenzy around perreo that Puerto Rican writer Ana Lydia Vega humorously noted the irony of transforming a mere dance into a national obsession. “To perrear or not to perrear,” Vega wrote with characteristic flair. “Finally we have an important dilemma to fill the huge emotional vacuum that we are left with, every four years, by electoral victories and plebiscitary failures.”
Originally dubbed “underground,” among other names, reggaeton is a stew of rap en español and reggae en español, cooked to perfection in the barrios and caseríos of Puerto Rico. Drawing on U.S. hip-hop and Jamaican reggae, Spanish-language rap and reggae developed parallel to each other throughout the 1980s in both Puerto Rico and Panama. Although it was initially produced by and for the island’s urban poor, by the mid-1990s, reggaeton’s explicit sexual lyrics and commentary on the violence of everyday life had caught the ears of a wary middle class that responded to the new sound with its own brand of hostility. “Many people tried to stop us,” recalled Daddy Yankee, reggaeton’s biggest star. “As a pioneer, I think I can talk about that, about how the government tried to stop us, about how people from other social extractions . . . looked down on young people from the barrios, underestimating and seeing us as outcasts.”
Running contrary to middle-class values, reggaeton has been attacked as immoral, as well as artistically deficient, a threat to the social order, apolitical, misogynist, a watered-down version of hip-hop and reggae, the death sentence of salsa, and a music foreign to Puerto Rico. In the exemplary words of the late poet Edwin Reyes, the genre is a “primitive form of musical expression” that transmits “the most elementary forms of emotion” through its “brutalizing and aggressive monotony.”
Faced with an unprecedented and seemingly uncontrollable crime wave, the state also paid close attention to reggaeton. Associated with Puerto Rico’s poorest and blackest citizens, and their presumed disposition toward indiscriminate sexual depravity and violence, reggaeton was targeted by the island government as a dangerous criminal. In 1995, the Vice Control Division of the Puerto Rican police, assisted by the National Guard, took the unprecedented action of confiscating tapes and CDs from music stores, maintaining that the music’s lyrics were obscene and promoted drug use and violence.9 The island’s Department of Education joined in and banned underground music and baggy clothes in an effort to remove the scourge of hip-hop culture from the schools.
But slowly throughout 2003, a campaign year, the body politic began to swing the other way. It became common to see politicians besides Senator González on the campaign trail stiffly dancing reggaeton to show off their hipness and appeal to younger voters. By early 2007, when no one complained after Mexican pop singer Paulina Rubio told the media that her reggaeton single was a tribute to Puerto Rico, since “it is clear that reggaeton belongs to you,” writer Juan Antonio Ramos declared the war against reggaeton officially over.
“Five or seven years ago, such a statement would have been interpreted not only as an unfortunate mistake, but as a monumental insult to the dignity of the Puerto Rican people,” Ramos wrote. “Reggaeton’s success has been such that it no longer has any enemies. . . . It would not be an exaggeration to say that condemning reggaeton has become a sacrilege. It's almost equivalent to being a bad Puerto Rican.”
Though Ramos is overstating the point that reggaeton has no enemies—as recently as August, a local TV personality promised to explore how reggaeton is “fueling the country’s current wave of criminality”—he calls attention to the genre’s trajectory from a feared and marginalized genre rising out of Puerto Rico’s poorest neighborhoods to the island’s primary musical export.11 How could such a dramatic change happen so quickly? How did reggaeton become the dominant sound of the “national” soundtrack? How did a Spanish-language musical phenomenon originating in a poor colonial possession of the United States make it so big that even its former enemies must now pretend to like it?
In a nutshell: commercial success—achieved, however, in the most unexpected of ways.
(To read the full article, click here.)
Nación reggaetón
(Esta fue mi columna de ayer miércoles 28 de noviembre publicada en El Diario / La Prensa)
Nación reggaetón
San Juan, Puerto Rico, 2002: Velda González, entonces miembro del Senado, protagonizaba una campaña en los medios de comunicación y la legislatura para controlar la visibilidad del baile conocido como “perreo” y la música que lo acompañaba. En ese entonces, González fustigó al reggaetón por sus letras y videos violentos y sexualmente explícitos, y también por promover un baile que, según ella y muchos otros, constituía un factor que incitaba a la criminalidad.
2003, San Juan, Puerto Rico: Un reportero de Telemundo de Puerto Rico le informaba con cara de asombro a su teleaudiencia que estaban a punto de ver en vivo “nada más ni nada menos” que a Velda González bailando reggaetón en un tarima donde cantaban Los Bambinos. Las imágenes eran comidilla para los medios noticiosos ya que entonces aún no era común ni ver a una persona mayor, y menos todavía a un oficial del gobierno, bailando este género ante las cámaras. Pero todo cambió durante ese año de campañas políticas, cuando no sólo González sino muchísimos otros políticos se lanzaron a bailar reggaetón con entusiasmo, tiesas caderas, y la esperanza de cautivar las miradas y los votos de los más jóvenes.
2007, San Juan, Puerto Rico: El reconocido escritor puertorriqueño, Juan Antonio Ramos, declara (y no precisamente complacido) que de un género perseguido, el reggaetón se ha convertido en “el” género puertorriqueño de nuestros tiempos: “No sería exagerado decir que hablar mal del reguetón es casi un sacrilegio. Es casi ser un mal puertorriqueño.”
¿Cómo es posible que tanto haya cambiado en Puerto Rico en tan poco tiempo? ¿Y qué nos dicen estos cambios sobre la sociedad puertorriqueña de principios de Siglo XXI? ¿Cómo logró este fenómeno musical ser lo suficientemente exitoso para que sus antiguos enemigos sean ahora algunos de sus más prominentes lambeojos?
En un artículo titulado “Reggaeton Nation,” publicado en el más reciente número de la revista NACLA Report on the Americas, Frances Negrón-Muntaner y esta servidora intentamos esclarecer el asunto. Para aquellos interesados en ver el texto completo, haga click aquí.
Nación reggaetón
San Juan, Puerto Rico, 2002: Velda González, entonces miembro del Senado, protagonizaba una campaña en los medios de comunicación y la legislatura para controlar la visibilidad del baile conocido como “perreo” y la música que lo acompañaba. En ese entonces, González fustigó al reggaetón por sus letras y videos violentos y sexualmente explícitos, y también por promover un baile que, según ella y muchos otros, constituía un factor que incitaba a la criminalidad.
2003, San Juan, Puerto Rico: Un reportero de Telemundo de Puerto Rico le informaba con cara de asombro a su teleaudiencia que estaban a punto de ver en vivo “nada más ni nada menos” que a Velda González bailando reggaetón en un tarima donde cantaban Los Bambinos. Las imágenes eran comidilla para los medios noticiosos ya que entonces aún no era común ni ver a una persona mayor, y menos todavía a un oficial del gobierno, bailando este género ante las cámaras. Pero todo cambió durante ese año de campañas políticas, cuando no sólo González sino muchísimos otros políticos se lanzaron a bailar reggaetón con entusiasmo, tiesas caderas, y la esperanza de cautivar las miradas y los votos de los más jóvenes.
2007, San Juan, Puerto Rico: El reconocido escritor puertorriqueño, Juan Antonio Ramos, declara (y no precisamente complacido) que de un género perseguido, el reggaetón se ha convertido en “el” género puertorriqueño de nuestros tiempos: “No sería exagerado decir que hablar mal del reguetón es casi un sacrilegio. Es casi ser un mal puertorriqueño.”
¿Cómo es posible que tanto haya cambiado en Puerto Rico en tan poco tiempo? ¿Y qué nos dicen estos cambios sobre la sociedad puertorriqueña de principios de Siglo XXI? ¿Cómo logró este fenómeno musical ser lo suficientemente exitoso para que sus antiguos enemigos sean ahora algunos de sus más prominentes lambeojos?
En un artículo titulado “Reggaeton Nation,” publicado en el más reciente número de la revista NACLA Report on the Americas, Frances Negrón-Muntaner y esta servidora intentamos esclarecer el asunto. Para aquellos interesados en ver el texto completo, haga click aquí.
Monday, November 26, 2007
La isla infinita y la cultura popular
(Este artículo fue publicado como mi columna del miércoles 21 de noviembre de 2007 en El Diario / La Prensa)
Usando el concepto de la isla infinita para pensar y re-pensar las similitudes, diferencias y posibilidades de las islas del Caribe, el Museo de Brooklyn tiene en exhibición hasta fines de enero una muestra de arte contemporáneo titulada Infinite Island. La exhibición incluye a artistas de diversos países, entre éstos, República Dominicana, Puerto Rico y Cuba.
El sábado 17 de noviembre tuve el placer de participar en una charla pública en el Museo junto a la profesora Sujatha Fernandes de Queens College y el artista puertorriqueño Miguel Luciano cuyo trabajo es parte de Infinite Island. Nos ubicaron a un extremo de la galería, justo al lado de la sección dedicada a la cultura popular, ya que esa tarde teníamos como encomienda hablar sobre las conexiones entre la música y la cultura popular en el Caribe. La conversación que se dio entre panelistas y público tocó importantes temas como: la relación de las islas hispanohablantes con el resto del Caribe, el rol de la industria musical en el desarrollo de la cultura popular, las identidades nacionales, la producción musical de las mujeres, y la cultura juvenil, entre muchos otros temas.
Las obras localizadas en esa sección de cultura popular se prestan para discutir variados temas, particularmente con niños y jóvenes. La serie Pure Plantainum de Miguel Luciano, por ejemplo, toca el tema del consumerismo y la estética blin-blinera del hip-hop y el reggaetón a través del símbolo cultural e histórico que es el plátano. Jorge Pineda explora la inocencia infantil y su opuesto en su serie de dibujos titulado Niñas locas. Por su parte, Quisqueya Henríquez contrapone estereotipos culturales y realidad en su serie Paraíso de la verdura.
Imagenes de la serie Paraíso de la verdura de Quisqueya Henríquez:
Imagen de la serie Pure Plantainum de Miguel Luciano:
Mientras recorría la galería, me fijé en una pareja que junto a sus niñas dibujaba plátanos frente a los plátanos platinados de Miguel Luciano. Mentalmente felicité a estos padres por proveerle a sus niñas esa tremenda oportunidad creativa y educativa. Miré a mi alrededor y vi escenas parecidas que se repetían a través de la galería. Y me alegré mucho.
Usando el concepto de la isla infinita para pensar y re-pensar las similitudes, diferencias y posibilidades de las islas del Caribe, el Museo de Brooklyn tiene en exhibición hasta fines de enero una muestra de arte contemporáneo titulada Infinite Island. La exhibición incluye a artistas de diversos países, entre éstos, República Dominicana, Puerto Rico y Cuba.
El sábado 17 de noviembre tuve el placer de participar en una charla pública en el Museo junto a la profesora Sujatha Fernandes de Queens College y el artista puertorriqueño Miguel Luciano cuyo trabajo es parte de Infinite Island. Nos ubicaron a un extremo de la galería, justo al lado de la sección dedicada a la cultura popular, ya que esa tarde teníamos como encomienda hablar sobre las conexiones entre la música y la cultura popular en el Caribe. La conversación que se dio entre panelistas y público tocó importantes temas como: la relación de las islas hispanohablantes con el resto del Caribe, el rol de la industria musical en el desarrollo de la cultura popular, las identidades nacionales, la producción musical de las mujeres, y la cultura juvenil, entre muchos otros temas.
Las obras localizadas en esa sección de cultura popular se prestan para discutir variados temas, particularmente con niños y jóvenes. La serie Pure Plantainum de Miguel Luciano, por ejemplo, toca el tema del consumerismo y la estética blin-blinera del hip-hop y el reggaetón a través del símbolo cultural e histórico que es el plátano. Jorge Pineda explora la inocencia infantil y su opuesto en su serie de dibujos titulado Niñas locas. Por su parte, Quisqueya Henríquez contrapone estereotipos culturales y realidad en su serie Paraíso de la verdura.
Imagenes de la serie Paraíso de la verdura de Quisqueya Henríquez:
Imagen de la serie Pure Plantainum de Miguel Luciano:
Mientras recorría la galería, me fijé en una pareja que junto a sus niñas dibujaba plátanos frente a los plátanos platinados de Miguel Luciano. Mentalmente felicité a estos padres por proveerle a sus niñas esa tremenda oportunidad creativa y educativa. Miré a mi alrededor y vi escenas parecidas que se repetían a través de la galería. Y me alegré mucho.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Youth, sex and sexism
Many parents, educators, legislators and academics—among many others—worry over the influence that popular music has on youth sexual activity.
A New York Times article earlier this month addressed the issue by citing the most recent academic research undertaken by public health experts. Though only hip-hop is referenced, the issues that it touches on apply just as much to reggaeton.
Dr. Miguel A. Muñoz-Laboy, assistant professor in the department of sociomedical sciences at Columbia University, spent three years conducting research in the hip-hop club scene, observing youth in dance action and interviewing dozens of them. The study, published this month in the journal Culture, Health and Sexuality, concluded that the main factors that have bearing on youth sexual activity are peer pressure and drug and alcohol use, not the sexual explicitness of lyrics and dancemoves.
The journal Pediatrics had already published last year research findings suggesting that hip-hop’s sexually explicit lyrics are not the main factor influencing young people’s decisions to be sexually active. The key, according to the study, are “degrading lyrics,” not sexually explicit lyrics. (The researchers defined “degrading lyrics” as “those that portrayed women as sexual objects, men as insatiable and sex as inconsequential.”)
I'm particularly interested in thinking through that distinction between “sexual explicitness” and “sexism.”
I celebrate the efforts of researchers who are trying to address these issues by taking into account their complexity. I appreciate their attempt not to go to the extreme of censoring or mindlessly celebrating. I think it’s worth our while to go case-by-case, song-by-song, artist-by-artist, thinking through these issues and taking the opportunity to talk to the young people in our lives about them.
Hip-hop and reggaeton provide a great communication opportunity between adults and young folks. I worry that so many adults make the same error as our parents by simply sentencing: “it’s all the same crap.” Case closed.
If we keep doing that, we keep closing off the path toward dialogue and possibilities for change.
What you’ve read above was my column in El Diario / La Prensa last Wednesday. In response, a reader wrote in the paper’s web version: “Hahahaha!, of course that music is crap. And case closed! Just because you made all your limited ‘career’ as a sociologist based on that trash called reggaeton you think us parents have to analyze one by one all the aspects of that music? Be honest, reggaeton and hip-hop only produce delinquents and people who are resentful. Trash-music for young folks that later will be trash-adults.”
My answer: I’m not saying everybody has to like the music. I’m just saying that, for the sake of connecting with young folks, it’s worth learning and talking about it—and making at least an effort to understand and respect their musical taste. Not all artists are the same. Not all fans are the same.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Juventud, sexo y sexismo
Haga click aquí para acceder a mi columna del pasado miércoles 14 de noviembre de 2007 en El Diario / La Prensa titulada "Juventud, sexo y sexismo."
Friday, November 09, 2007
La 'música urbana' y el Grammy Latino
Post editado 4/28/17: Como El Diario / La Prensa quitó su link, abajo pongo el artículo completo.
Post original 11/9/2007: Aquí mi columna del miércoles pasado en El Diario / La Prensa.
Hoy ya es viernes y confirmado está que en el Grammy Latino de nuevo no les fue bien a los reggaetoneros "tradicionales."
Post original 11/9/2007: Aquí mi columna del miércoles pasado en El Diario / La Prensa.
Hoy ya es viernes y confirmado está que en el Grammy Latino de nuevo no les fue bien a los reggaetoneros "tradicionales."
Columna
semanal: Reggaetónica
Bio line: Raquel Z. Rivera, Ph.D., es investigadora en el Centro de
Estudios Puertorriqueños, Hunter College. raquelzrivera@gmail.com
La “música urbana” y el Grammy Latino
“Música
urbana.” Jummm… Interesante etiqueta.
Para
empezar, es un término fascinante porque (técnicamente) igual de “urbanos” son
otros géneros como la salsa y la plena. Pero estos últimos, según la jerga de
la industria musical, son géneros “tropicales” y no “urbanos.”
Por su parte,
“música urbana” es la categoría donde se agrupan géneros particularmente
populares entre la juventud como el hip-hop, el reggaetón y el R&B (y sus
múltiples variaciones). En la música urbana se encasilla también la cumbia
fusionada de los Kumbia Kings y los Kumbia All Starz, así como la bachata
fusionada de Aventura y Toby Love. En resumidas cuentas, dentro del saco de la
“música urbana” co-existen estilos musicales bastante dispares—estilos que
hasta compiten fieramente unos con otros, como es el caso del hip-hop y el
reggaetón.
Cierto es que las fronteras
entre el hip-hop y el reggaetón son difusas (particularmente porque el
reggaetón toma mucho del hip-hop, aunque no viceversa). Sin embargo, son muchos
los fanáticos y artistas de hip-hop (en español y en inglés) que han por años
resentido la supremacía comercial del reggaetón.
Lo irónico es que
fue precisamente la ebullición internacional del reggaetón en el 2004 lo que le
abrió las puertas a otros géneros “urbanos” latinos que antes pasaban
desapercibidos en la industria musical. Más irónico todavía me parece que
aunque fueron los reggaetoneros “tradicionales” como Daddy Yankee, Don Omar, y
Wisín y Yandel los que pusieron a la música urbana latina en el mapa de la
industria musical, el año pasado fueron los nada-“tradicionales” Calle 13 los
que arrasaron con los Grammys Latinos.
Mañana
jueves nos enteraremos de los ganadores de este año. Pero las nominaciones me
hacen sospechar que el Latin Recording Academy le está mandando una clara señal
a los reggaetoneros de que ya no son los querendones de la categoría urbana.
En la esquina
hip-hopera y ecléctica: La Mala, Orishas, Calle 13, y Tres Coronas con Michael
Stuart. En la esquina reggaetonera: Daddy Yankee, Ivy Queen, Don Omar, Wisín y
Yandel.
No se ustedes,
pero yo la veo difícil para estos últimos.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Reggaeton in the Time of Zune
(Click aquí for the Spanish version in El Diario / La Prensa.)
Wisin and Yandel—the self-proclaimed “Duo of History”—for real made history in 2006 when they became the first artists to get four of their songs into Billboard’s top ten in the Hot Latin Songs chart.
This month they again made history, according to Machete Music President, Gustavo Lopez, as the first reggaeton artists to simultaneously be at the top of three Billboard charts less than a month after a song’s release—in this case, “Sexy Movimiento.” Last week, this first single from their newest album was #1 in the Rhythm Airplay chart, #2 in the Tropical charts and #3 in the Latin Pop charts.
Wisin and Yandel also made history this week when Microsoft made them the first artists to collaborate with the corporation in the design and marketing of a Zune digital media player.
The customized Wisin and Yandel Zune is pre-loaded with their new album and exclusive music, videos and photos. This limited edition Zune is yet another corporate effort to captivate the Latino music market and, particularly, the youth sector that represents a huge portion of digital and mobile music sales. It’s of great significance that among so many musical genres in the English and Spanish markets and so many artists to choose from, Microsoft opted to market the Zune via Latinos via reggaeton via Wisin and Yandel. (Hhhhhmmm... And yet some folks still insist that reggaeton, as a commercial product, is dead.)
I imagine Wisin and Yandel are happier than a dog with two tails since their new album is dropping next week, when they will also find out if they won that Latin Grammy they’re nominated for.
Oh, and last week their new music video for “Sexy Movimiento” premiered—a Jessy Terrero production I’ll sum up as plenty more of the visual, musical and lyrical formulas reggaeton has accustomed us to. In other words: fancy house meets bling meets fancy cars meets helicopter and adrenaline-inducing scenes and fantasies of power and bikinied women—one of them with a Zune in hand. It’s probably thanks to those same formulas that reggaeton still resists its prematurely announced death.
Congratulations?
Wisin and Yandel—the self-proclaimed “Duo of History”—for real made history in 2006 when they became the first artists to get four of their songs into Billboard’s top ten in the Hot Latin Songs chart.
This month they again made history, according to Machete Music President, Gustavo Lopez, as the first reggaeton artists to simultaneously be at the top of three Billboard charts less than a month after a song’s release—in this case, “Sexy Movimiento.” Last week, this first single from their newest album was #1 in the Rhythm Airplay chart, #2 in the Tropical charts and #3 in the Latin Pop charts.
Wisin and Yandel also made history this week when Microsoft made them the first artists to collaborate with the corporation in the design and marketing of a Zune digital media player.
The customized Wisin and Yandel Zune is pre-loaded with their new album and exclusive music, videos and photos. This limited edition Zune is yet another corporate effort to captivate the Latino music market and, particularly, the youth sector that represents a huge portion of digital and mobile music sales. It’s of great significance that among so many musical genres in the English and Spanish markets and so many artists to choose from, Microsoft opted to market the Zune via Latinos via reggaeton via Wisin and Yandel. (Hhhhhmmm... And yet some folks still insist that reggaeton, as a commercial product, is dead.)
I imagine Wisin and Yandel are happier than a dog with two tails since their new album is dropping next week, when they will also find out if they won that Latin Grammy they’re nominated for.
Oh, and last week their new music video for “Sexy Movimiento” premiered—a Jessy Terrero production I’ll sum up as plenty more of the visual, musical and lyrical formulas reggaeton has accustomed us to. In other words: fancy house meets bling meets fancy cars meets helicopter and adrenaline-inducing scenes and fantasies of power and bikinied women—one of them with a Zune in hand. It’s probably thanks to those same formulas that reggaeton still resists its prematurely announced death.
Congratulations?
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Latinos vs. Blacks, Fruit vs. Oranges
(Click aquí para la versión en español en El Diario / La Prensa de hoy.)
Latinos are to blacks, as fruit are to oranges. Let me explain.
The deceptively simple but compelling analogy is the product of the agile intellect of novelist Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, named by Time magazine as one of the “25 most influential Hispanics in America.”
(Above: Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez)
A week ago, the author wrote to EURweb.com regarding her frustration with the harsh criticism showered upon film producer Debra Martin Chase for working on a project with Valdes-Rodriguez.
(Above: Deborah Martin Chase)
A bit of background: EURweb.com is a website dedicated to “black entertainment”. Martin Chase is an award-winning African American producer who has worked on popular movies such as The Princess Diaries and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The collaboration between Chase and Valdes-Rodriguez is focused on the film adaptation of Valdes-Rodriguez’s best-selling novel The Dirty Girls Social Club.
Valdes-Rodriguez was dismayed at all the criticism directed toward Chase from African Americans who “seem to think she ought to stick to telling only those stories they believe are ‘theirs’." The novelist explains why she is so disturbed by the arguments being made against Chase: “The hostility against Latinos among some blacks who assume Latinos have nothing in common with them is startling, but not altogether surprising, given the way the U.S. media neglects to mention our shared African roots, with nonsensical headlines like ‘Hispanics Outnumber Blacks,’ which is as absurd as ‘Fruit Outnumbers Oranges’.”
I love the ingenious and succinct way in which Valdes-Rodriguez reminds readers that most African descendants in the Americas do not live in the United States and that a huge number of Latinos are black or have African ancestry. The strict separation that many imagine exists between both groups is pure myth, lack of information and even self-denial. (Emphasis on self-denial. A lot of African American misinformation about Latinos stems from Latinos ourselves who refuse to engage honestly with our blackness.)
I’m so glad we have a high-profile writer like Valdes-Rodriguez shedding some light on the subject and giving more of a mainstream voice to what for years have been saying other writers, musicians, educators and activists. Props on the clarity and the wit. And thanks to Black Artemis for forwarding the link.
Latinos are to blacks, as fruit are to oranges. Let me explain.
The deceptively simple but compelling analogy is the product of the agile intellect of novelist Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez, named by Time magazine as one of the “25 most influential Hispanics in America.”
(Above: Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez)A week ago, the author wrote to EURweb.com regarding her frustration with the harsh criticism showered upon film producer Debra Martin Chase for working on a project with Valdes-Rodriguez.
(Above: Deborah Martin Chase)A bit of background: EURweb.com is a website dedicated to “black entertainment”. Martin Chase is an award-winning African American producer who has worked on popular movies such as The Princess Diaries and Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. The collaboration between Chase and Valdes-Rodriguez is focused on the film adaptation of Valdes-Rodriguez’s best-selling novel The Dirty Girls Social Club.
Valdes-Rodriguez was dismayed at all the criticism directed toward Chase from African Americans who “seem to think she ought to stick to telling only those stories they believe are ‘theirs’." The novelist explains why she is so disturbed by the arguments being made against Chase: “The hostility against Latinos among some blacks who assume Latinos have nothing in common with them is startling, but not altogether surprising, given the way the U.S. media neglects to mention our shared African roots, with nonsensical headlines like ‘Hispanics Outnumber Blacks,’ which is as absurd as ‘Fruit Outnumbers Oranges’.”
I love the ingenious and succinct way in which Valdes-Rodriguez reminds readers that most African descendants in the Americas do not live in the United States and that a huge number of Latinos are black or have African ancestry. The strict separation that many imagine exists between both groups is pure myth, lack of information and even self-denial. (Emphasis on self-denial. A lot of African American misinformation about Latinos stems from Latinos ourselves who refuse to engage honestly with our blackness.)
I’m so glad we have a high-profile writer like Valdes-Rodriguez shedding some light on the subject and giving more of a mainstream voice to what for years have been saying other writers, musicians, educators and activists. Props on the clarity and the wit. And thanks to Black Artemis for forwarding the link.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
From the Roots Up: Thoughts on Boricua Music and Reggaeton
(Clickea aquí para la versión en español en El Diario / La Prensa.)
Reggaeton is a mix of rap, reggae and parranda, among other things. Something to that effect said one of the characters in the J-Lo co-produced movie Feel the Noise (starring Omarion) that opened last week.
I sat there, stunned: “Parranda? Huh? What the hell do they mean?”
“Parranda” is not a musical genre. People in Puerto Rico sometimes talk about “parranda music” to refer to the aguinaldos and plenas that folks associate with Boricua-style Christmas. But reggaeton draws next to nothing from aguinaldos and plenas: just a little hook here and there.
The truth is, thanks to Tego, Abrante and La Sista, reggaeton draws a lot more from bomba than from those other genres of Boricua roots music like plena and aguinaldo. In fact, reggaeton has more bachata, merengue, salsa and cumbia, than bomba, plena or aguinaldo.
So why does the movie identify “parranda” as one of the main musical sources of reggaeton?
I think it’s a bit of misinformation mixed with another bit of good intentions.
It’s very common that Boricuas stuff our proud mouths talking about “real” Puerto Rican music like bomba, plena and música jíbara (seises, aguinaldos, etc.) but we have no idea what those genres actually sound like, or even what they’re called. We often talk about “bombayplena,” like its all one genre (which makes as much sense as always talking about “salsaybachata” like they’re always the same thing).
This lack of knowledge about our roots music is not specific to Boricuas. Dominicans do the same. Plenty of other folks do the same.
But we don’t have to.
I propose we educate ourselves a bit. If we’re going to be waving the flag of national pride and (in the case of Puerto Ricans) arguing that reggaeton is a Boricua genre... the least we can do is treat Boricua roots music with enthusiasm and respect NOT just pay it lip service.
Just last Monday, I was at the press event for the concert and workshop series led by world-renowned Puerto Rican musician, composer and arranger William Cepeda.
The project, titled Puerto Rican Music Roots & Beyond, is dedicated to celebrating Puerto Rican roots music and its contemporary re-interpretations. The first concert focuses on jíbaro music and will take place at the Hostos Center for the Arts and Culture in The Bronx on October 25, 2007. For more information visit www.puertoricanmusic.org.
If anyone wants to get a taste before October 25th, I suggest you check out Tato Torres & Yerbabuena, one of the best-known and delicious-to-dance-to Boricua roots music bands in New York—made up of plenty of talented, funky, beautiful young folks, to boot.
Tato will be one of the singers of Cepeda’s Afro-Rican Jazz band that will headline the Hostos concert on October 25th, along with guests from Puerto Rico Grupo Mapeyé and Victoria Sanabria. I’m hoping we all give this musical project the support it deserves.
Oh, and, if anyone has access to the writers and producers of Feel the Noise, please tell them to check it out too.
Reggaeton is a mix of rap, reggae and parranda, among other things. Something to that effect said one of the characters in the J-Lo co-produced movie Feel the Noise (starring Omarion) that opened last week.
I sat there, stunned: “Parranda? Huh? What the hell do they mean?”
“Parranda” is not a musical genre. People in Puerto Rico sometimes talk about “parranda music” to refer to the aguinaldos and plenas that folks associate with Boricua-style Christmas. But reggaeton draws next to nothing from aguinaldos and plenas: just a little hook here and there.
The truth is, thanks to Tego, Abrante and La Sista, reggaeton draws a lot more from bomba than from those other genres of Boricua roots music like plena and aguinaldo. In fact, reggaeton has more bachata, merengue, salsa and cumbia, than bomba, plena or aguinaldo.
So why does the movie identify “parranda” as one of the main musical sources of reggaeton?
I think it’s a bit of misinformation mixed with another bit of good intentions.
It’s very common that Boricuas stuff our proud mouths talking about “real” Puerto Rican music like bomba, plena and música jíbara (seises, aguinaldos, etc.) but we have no idea what those genres actually sound like, or even what they’re called. We often talk about “bombayplena,” like its all one genre (which makes as much sense as always talking about “salsaybachata” like they’re always the same thing).
This lack of knowledge about our roots music is not specific to Boricuas. Dominicans do the same. Plenty of other folks do the same.
But we don’t have to.
I propose we educate ourselves a bit. If we’re going to be waving the flag of national pride and (in the case of Puerto Ricans) arguing that reggaeton is a Boricua genre... the least we can do is treat Boricua roots music with enthusiasm and respect NOT just pay it lip service.
Just last Monday, I was at the press event for the concert and workshop series led by world-renowned Puerto Rican musician, composer and arranger William Cepeda.
The project, titled Puerto Rican Music Roots & Beyond, is dedicated to celebrating Puerto Rican roots music and its contemporary re-interpretations. The first concert focuses on jíbaro music and will take place at the Hostos Center for the Arts and Culture in The Bronx on October 25, 2007. For more information visit www.puertoricanmusic.org.
If anyone wants to get a taste before October 25th, I suggest you check out Tato Torres & Yerbabuena, one of the best-known and delicious-to-dance-to Boricua roots music bands in New York—made up of plenty of talented, funky, beautiful young folks, to boot.
Tato will be one of the singers of Cepeda’s Afro-Rican Jazz band that will headline the Hostos concert on October 25th, along with guests from Puerto Rico Grupo Mapeyé and Victoria Sanabria. I’m hoping we all give this musical project the support it deserves.
Oh, and, if anyone has access to the writers and producers of Feel the Noise, please tell them to check it out too.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Hip-hop vs. Reggaeton: Feel the Noise
(For Spanish: Haga click aquí para acceder a la versión en español de este post en mi columna de hoy de El Diario / La Prensa)
Hip-hop is not reggaetón. And the other way around.
That seems to be one of the main points of the J-Lo co-produced movie Feel the Noise that opened last Friday, starring Omarion.
The story: a Harlem rapper gets in trouble with a local thug and his mom sends him to live in Puerto Rico with the father he never met before; there he falls in love with a cute dancer and with reggaeton.
The critics have not been enthused with the film, but moviegoers seem to have reacted a bit better, judging by the fact that it made it to #8 in the list of box office hits this weekend.
According to the New York Times, the plot is weak (I agree), but one of its pluses is that it promotes “minority kinship.” The New York Daily News says something similar: “[...]it rejects the lazy standard of onscreen enmity between black and Latin characters, instead promoting a sharing of cultures and styles. While this could be a cynical attempt to draw two segments of the audience, everyone involved genuinely seems to believe in the movie's message. Of course, none of that would matter without the music, which is packed in from end to end. Some viewers will go for Omarion; others for Voltio. Either way, they'll wind up staying for both.”
So how does this theme of “minority kinship” get manifested in the story?
Rob, the protagonist, was raised in Harlem by his African American mother, completely disconnected from his Puerto Rican father, from Spanish and from Puerto Rico. Javi, his stepbrother, is the child of Puerto Ricans, raised in Puerto Rico and has never visited New York. While Rob loves hip-hop, Javi feels the same for reggaeton (which Javi describes as a mix of rap, reggae and “parranda”. huh? parranda?)
The song that Rob and Javi do together is the symbol of the kinship between hip-hop and reggaeton, and between African Americans and Puerto Ricans.
Looking beyond the story and into the actors chosen, casting Omarion as the “half-Boricua” Rob and Malik Yoba as the bichote in Javi’s neighborhood reinforces the “minority kinship” idea, making the lovely (and necessary) point that African Americans and Puerto Ricans are often much closer (in terms of looks, in this case) than we admit.
On a few occasions, the characters explain that reggaeton is partially derived from hip-hop, but stress that they are different music genres.
The above is exactly the same thing that Latino hip-hop artists who don’t do reggaeton have been saying for years.
But rather than carving out a space for Latino hip-hop artists, this movie just perpetuates the notion that hip-hop is not a Latino space.
I appreciate that the movie highlights the kinship between African Americans and Puerto Ricans. Excellent point. But I’m not feeling the invisibility of the over three-decade history of Puerto Ricans and other Latinos doing hip-hop and not just reggaeton.
Hip-hop is not reggaetón. And the other way around.
That seems to be one of the main points of the J-Lo co-produced movie Feel the Noise that opened last Friday, starring Omarion.
The story: a Harlem rapper gets in trouble with a local thug and his mom sends him to live in Puerto Rico with the father he never met before; there he falls in love with a cute dancer and with reggaeton.
The critics have not been enthused with the film, but moviegoers seem to have reacted a bit better, judging by the fact that it made it to #8 in the list of box office hits this weekend.
According to the New York Times, the plot is weak (I agree), but one of its pluses is that it promotes “minority kinship.” The New York Daily News says something similar: “[...]it rejects the lazy standard of onscreen enmity between black and Latin characters, instead promoting a sharing of cultures and styles. While this could be a cynical attempt to draw two segments of the audience, everyone involved genuinely seems to believe in the movie's message. Of course, none of that would matter without the music, which is packed in from end to end. Some viewers will go for Omarion; others for Voltio. Either way, they'll wind up staying for both.”
So how does this theme of “minority kinship” get manifested in the story?
Rob, the protagonist, was raised in Harlem by his African American mother, completely disconnected from his Puerto Rican father, from Spanish and from Puerto Rico. Javi, his stepbrother, is the child of Puerto Ricans, raised in Puerto Rico and has never visited New York. While Rob loves hip-hop, Javi feels the same for reggaeton (which Javi describes as a mix of rap, reggae and “parranda”. huh? parranda?)
The song that Rob and Javi do together is the symbol of the kinship between hip-hop and reggaeton, and between African Americans and Puerto Ricans.
Looking beyond the story and into the actors chosen, casting Omarion as the “half-Boricua” Rob and Malik Yoba as the bichote in Javi’s neighborhood reinforces the “minority kinship” idea, making the lovely (and necessary) point that African Americans and Puerto Ricans are often much closer (in terms of looks, in this case) than we admit.
On a few occasions, the characters explain that reggaeton is partially derived from hip-hop, but stress that they are different music genres.
The above is exactly the same thing that Latino hip-hop artists who don’t do reggaeton have been saying for years.
But rather than carving out a space for Latino hip-hop artists, this movie just perpetuates the notion that hip-hop is not a Latino space.
I appreciate that the movie highlights the kinship between African Americans and Puerto Ricans. Excellent point. But I’m not feeling the invisibility of the over three-decade history of Puerto Ricans and other Latinos doing hip-hop and not just reggaeton.
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