| Roxane Gay and young fan, Gabby |
| Roxane Gay and Maurice Ruffin |
| Alexandra Reisner and SRO crowd |
| A patient Roxane Gay signs 400 copies of her memoir in New Orleans. |
The world's longest-established Chicana Chicano, Latina Latino literary blog.
| Roxane Gay and young fan, Gabby |
| Roxane Gay and Maurice Ruffin |
| Alexandra Reisner and SRO crowd |
| A patient Roxane Gay signs 400 copies of her memoir in New Orleans. |


What drew you to the pachuca or the woman in the suit zoot?The Woman in the Zoot Suit is a response to previous stories about the Mexican-American zoot subculture, many of which have focused on men and masculinity and have privileged race as a category of analysis over those of gender and sexuality. While I do not dismiss the roles of race, ethnicity, or class in our understandings of this subculture or the events associated with it, such as the Sleepy Lagoon incident of 1942 and the Zoot Suit Riots of 1943, I believe that there’s more to learn from other social identities and relationships. In short, the story and its meanings change when gender and sexuality are brought to the fore.
What initial challenges did you face in researching la pachuca?
When one of the professors with whom I worked as a graduate student warned me that there was insufficient material for a dissertation on pachucas, he didn’t discourage me from pursuing this project. Rather, he motivated me (although this was probably not his intention). My initial reaction to his comment was, Whatever, dude. I will prove you wrong. Then I asked myself, Why the denial? Why the dearth of material? What counts as “material” anyway? Those questions ended up driving my project.
How did you proceed with your project after that initial interaction with your professor?
Because of my professor’s warning, I believed that I needed to create material, so I launched into my research by interviewing Mexican-American women who came of age in Los Angeles during the 1930s and ‘40s, the peak of the zoot suit’s popularity. In other words, my dissertation started off as an ethnography. I began by interviewing family members, mostly aunts. Then I posted flyers in and around East L.A. at places that attracted elderly Mexican Americans, like senior citizen centers. If I recall correctly, the flyer read, “Do you remember the zoot suit? Did you wear one or did you know anyone who did? Were you living in L.A. in the 1930s and 1940s? Do you remember the Sleepy Lagoon incident or Zoot Suit Riots?” Dee Chávez, one of my most interesting interviewees, contacted me after she saw a flyer at a recreation center in Monterey Park. At first, she claimed that she didn’t remember much and she was concerned that she wouldn’t be very helpful to me. She turned out to be a trove of information.
What were you expecting to discover about the women you interviewed and what did you find?
I wasn’t sure what I would learn from the women I interviewed, but I can say that I was hoping they’d simply shed light on the zoot subculture in L.A. in the 1930s and ‘40s. I wanted to know what they did for fun when they were young, where they hung out, how they wore their clothes, hair, and makeup, how and where they acquired their zoot suits, and why they wore them in the first place.
I wasn’t expecting so many of my interviewees to reject the label pachuca, or to show discomfort or disapproval when I used it. When this happened, I feared that I might have to abandon this project. However, rather than ignore their resistance or give up altogether, I decided to explore it. Why was the pachuca so scary to some of my interviewees? What did this figure signify to them and to a later generation of Chicana and Chicano cultural workers?
So, why was la pachuca so scary to some of these women you interviewed?
I believe many of my interviewees had a vexed relationship to the pachuca because she embodies a dissident, highly racialized femininity. While my interviewees wore or borrowed from the zoot look and considered themselves respectable, they told me stories about pachucas who continued to speak Spanish in school even when they were forbidden to do so, who talked back to teachers (and were disciplined as a consequence), who smoked cigarettes in public, who showed more leg and cleavage and wore more makeup than any of their peers, who cut up the dance floor, who refused to step aside when someone attempted to walk past them on a sidewalk, and who weren’t afraid to throw down.
In regards to Chicano history and cultural production, why has the pachuca been so threatening and so greatly ignored?
I found that the pachuca was threatening precisely because she was simultaneously too feminine and not feminine enough—too masculine, in other words. She frightened her contemporaries (e.g., many of my interviewees) and a later generation of Chicano cultural workers, particularly those with an investment in patriarchy and heteronormativity. For this reason, many writers, artists, scholars, and activists have ignored her. However, movement-era Chicana feminist writers and artists, such as Judith Baca, Inés Hernández, Carmen Lomas Garza, and Cherríe Moraga, recognized the pachuca’s dissident femininity and ran with it. Indeed, Moraga’s character, La Pachuca, in her 1984 play Giving Up the Ghost is a butch lesbian.
You use a variety of sources in your book. Can you comment on this?
The Woman in the Zoot Suit is a recovery project. That is, it seeks to bring to light that which has been buried or ignored. Based on its methods (e.g., oral history, textual analysis) and questions, it’s a combination of history and literary criticism. I drew on an eclectic array of sources out of necessity. Narrating a story about la pachuca is a bit like doing a puzzle: each source—for example, an interview, a photograph, a poem, or a newspaper story—represents a piece of that puzzle. I don’t think this puzzle can ever be completed, but scholars who are resourceful and flexible can help to clarify the picture.
Was there resistance within academia to the diverse types of sources you used?
In many ways, sources define academic disciplines. Literary critics often study “texts,” which are generally understood as poems, stories, or novels—fiction, in other words. Historians, in contrast, are supposed to work with non-fiction “documents,” like letters or court records. Irrespective of discipline, these sources are supposed to reveal something about truth and knowledge. To scholars with very conservative ideas about disciplinary boundaries, sources from multiple disciplines should not be mixed. However, I wanted and needed to see what sort of story they would tell when put together.
What have the responses to your book been thus far?
By and large, the responses to The Woman in the Zoot Suit both within and beyond academia have been very positive so far. My parents and old friends have told me that they’re very proud of me. Likewise, colleagues at universities and colleges across the U.S. have let me know that they like the book. Now all I need is for some of them to publish their praise in a book review or two.
What current or future projects are you working on?
My new project, on democracy and difference in the United States and Western Europe, was inspired by the late political scientist Samuel Huntington’s 1996 assertion that Muslims and Mexicans pose a “problem” to Europe and the United States respectively. Huntington argues that both groups are unassimilable and that, ultimately, we threaten the democratic societies we inhabit. I’ve been studying immigration and assimilation in the U.S., France, and Spain. I’ve also been brushing up on my French for the past couple of years. Although I’m still unsure how this project will develop, I’m interested in learning more about Europe and am excited to move into new disciplines and fields of inquiry, like sociology and political theory.


READING IS FUNDAMENTAL
Focus on Your Community
Support the fledgling Chicago Public Schools Literacy Program, Padres a Padres, which in turn supports the Latino community. The program serves 3 and 4 year old children who do not have other available preschool options. The program is unique in that the parents are in the classroom learning how to read books to their children to instill a love for reading and learning in their children. Twice a week, along with other activities, the teacher reads a book to the class and the children get to take a new hardcover copy of the same book home with them. The class is taught in Spanish and all books are Spanish language.
The program also includes an outing to the local library and home visits by CPS staff. This program has a wonderful parenting component and focuses on closing the book gap ('well-off' kids have hundred of children's books in their homes; 'poor' kids have only a handful). Your book donations have helped to support this program. Luz Maria Solis, the program administrator at CPS, (CHICAGO PUBLIC SCHOOLS) just reported to that nearly 25% of this year's Padres a Padres class have been accepted to the Orozco Regional Gifted Center for English-Language Learners.
If you would like to continue to support this Chicago Public Schools collaborative initiative (CPS partners with the Chicago Park District and Chicago 's museums for Padres a Padres), please consider purchasing one or more new Spanish language hardcover books.
Book Donations:
Oso Pardo and Oso Panda books - available at Amazon.com
Buenas Noches Luna - available at Amazon.com
If you are ordering the books online, please have them shipped directly to:
Luz Maria Solis
Chicago Public Schools
125 S. Clark St., 9th floor
Chicago, IL 60603
Phone: (773) 553-2019
... and put "Donation for the Padres a Padres Program from [your name]" in the gift message.
Feel free to call Luz Maria Solis if you prefer to make a cash donation or are interested in selecting a different book title from the Padres a Padres curriculum.
AND FROM MI NIETO, RICH VILLAR y ACENTOS
Greetings all.
Acentos is pleased to announce the inaugural issue of the ACENTOS REVIEW, a new journal of writing by Latino and Latina authors. It is online right now at http://www.acentosreview.com.
Seven poets and one visual artist grace the June 2008 issue:
Ray Gonzalez
Rachel McKibbens
Sheila Maldonado
Christina Olivares
Jose Olivarez
Mundo Rivera
Griselda Suarez
Visual: "Man With A Guitar," by Alexandra Cespedes
The poets represented here comprise a remarkable mosaic of emerging and established Latino and Latina writers from different areas of the country. The work sprawls, breathes, bites, and turns. It demands. It is not easy. These are the poems we love, and these poets make beautiful conversation. They honor us with their presence and set a high bar for subsequent projects. Acentos sends its sincerest gratitude to each of them. Deepest thanks also to our co-editors Raina Leon and Eliel Lucero, who insisted that this project was doable and then willed it into reality.
Now then, a word about subsequent projects.
We are right now accepting submissions of poetry, fiction, nonfiction, reviews, interviews, and translation for the Latino Heritage Month issue (September 2008). See the submission guidelines for further details. We look forward to reading your work!
Log onto www.acentosreview.com and check out the fuss. We are extremely excited about this project, and we welcome your comments and queries: acentosreview@gmail.com. See you soon!
Vaya,
Rich Villar
for the Acentos crew.
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Teatro Luna receives two Non-Equity Jeff Awards!
Teatro Luna wins two Jeffs for Machos: Best New Work and Outstanding Ensemble! These awards are extra exciting for us because they recognize what we value most about our work: creating original ensemble based shows. Machos was a huge community effort and so this award goes out to a lot of people: the 100 men who contributed stories for the show, the 20 women who collaborated on writing the show, the 45 people who transcribed hours of interviews, and of course... to the uber-talented cast of Machos, a bunch of ladies who worked hard to learn how to be men. Felicidades to our big Luna Family!
Lisa Alvarado
Creatively and personally, I needed to engage the Goddess in a Latin context. In doing so, I found freedom from restrictive ideas of female identity that have been Catholicism's and colonialism's legacy. It is precisely the idea of sin, of the inherent pollution of women’s bodies, that had to be broken through for me to fully claim my creative energy and direct it.
As I continue to try to make new work, I have to reach out for connection in an ever-deepening way. My personal spirituality is being plumbed for imagery, for language, for a way to connect with something larger than myself.
Ironically, and in a way I can only begin to comprehend, this spiritual connection is plumbing me as well. What I mean here is that I can't forget that writing is my tether to something divine. Personal success, critical or audience acceptance needs to remain a secondary consideration, as much as care about those things. ‘What is being worked though me?’ is the question that I have to ask myself, the question that demands an answer at the end of the day.
In 'brothers, part 6,' Lucille Clifton cries out to a silent God who turns a deaf ear to suffering. She asks:
tell me why
in the confusion of a mountain
of babies stacked like cordwood...
tell me why You neither raised your hand
nor turned away...why You said nothing. (p.28)
Attend me, hold me in you muscular arms, protect me
from throwing any part of myself away. (p.67)
