Año 2/Vol. 2 LA TOLTECA Spring Solstice 2012 Issue by Ana Castillo

LA TOLTECA Año Dos/ Volumen Tres SPRING SOLSTICE 2012

Interview with

Oscar Zeta Acosta’s kid sister

“He reached over and

gave me a hug wet kiss on the lips.”

New Writing by Irene Lara-Trejo Paul McLennan Carmen Tafolla Elena Trujillo Also, Reviews, Tucson Book Ban and La Casita Residence Competition 2012

EDITOR AND PUBLISHER Ana Castillo Digital Operations: Samuel S. Dubois Contributors this issue: Marcelo Castillo, Irene Lara Photography: Yoly Mora Copy Editor: JC Hernandez

3 CONTENTS Departments pg. 4 Ana Castillo’s Page pg. 47 Announcements casita/awards/worksh/posters ESSAYS, ESSAYS, MEMOIRS, & TRUE STORIES pg 6 Dreams facing Irene Lara-Trejo pg 8 Trying to Make A Difference Paul McLennan pg 12 The Mask of Arizona: The Recent Book Ban of Chicano and Native Native Literature I the Tuscon Unified School District Carmen Tafolla pg 16 The Golf Widow Elaine Trujillo INTERVIEW Acosta on Acosta pg 28 Anita Aurora Acosta on Being Oscar Zeta Acosta’s kid sister (QUOTES) Marcelo Castillo

REVIEWS REVIEWS pg 20 The Real Zeta: Zeta: A New Generation’s View of the Works of Oscar Zeta Acosta Marcelo Castillo pg 37 Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D: Blessed Mothers Immaculate Love For the Wild Soul Unite the Strong Woman Irene Lara Ph.D S.D.S.U DOGDOG-EARED PAGES pg 42

Curandera Carmen Tafolla

4 LA TOLTECA welcomes writing from anyone who has participated in a workshop or class with Ana Castillo. Submissions may be in any genre or artistic medium. We also welcome new books to review: Castillo/P.O.B./Anthony, NM 88021/U.S.A. If you would like to send a donation to be attributed toward payment to new writing contributors—how miniscule it may be—please send check to Ana Castillo at the same address. Indicate what it is for or go to your Paypal account and do the same at: sales@anacastillo.com. 4 times a year!

www.anacastillo.com

Dear La Tolteca Readers: We are very happy to present La Tolteca in its new format. This project is a labor of love owed to the efforts of the volunteer staff and contributors. As we learn and grow we look forward to making the zine also available for print-on-demand. La Tolteca was started last year to encourage participants in my writing workshops to continue working, developing the craft and to offer a venue in which to showcase their writing and visual art. We are excited about a new feature. We have begun to showcase master artists and writers. It is our hope that by including living masters it will inspire both the new writers and artists who appear alongside them as well as our readers. In this issue we are showcasing the late Oscar Zeta Acosta, among the first and remains to be, stellar writers to come out of the Chicano Movement in the 1970s. The summer issue “Al Diablo with Editors and Critics” will showcase the master poet Martín Espada with an interview with La Tolteca and a look at his work. In the same issue we will have contributions from a New York editor and an academic bilingual critic who will share with our readers what they do. In the fall issue we will be discussing the political climate in the United States during a presidential election year, in particular the growing antagonism toward Latinos. We will be showcasing Rudolfo Anaya with an interview and look at his work. We also plan an issue on writers on stage. Please subscribe. It’s virtually free! Let us know what you like. From our rustic ranchito headquarters in the desert Southwest (and with staff this year also in Chicago and Los Angeles) we would like to wish you and yours a blessed and rejuvenating Spring 2012!

Enjoy!

Soul traveling, pregnant with my second daughter Xóchitl... Salty sea air on my lips mix with tiny bubbles of perspiration standing still and steady on each pore as I walk with calm and certainty up a wooden ladder, facing west, facing west to the sea, mother sea, climbing up to the life guard’s lookout house, built with now-weathered wood, strong, steady, climbing the ladder, facing west, to the sea, my mother, bearing witness to me, me steady through the surges of the sea, me steady squatting, standing, certain, salty sea air, mix with sweet sweat droplets forming as I stand, squat, stand, squat fully in my body on the body of my mother, one final surge and I steadily, powerfully, calmly deliver my baby, her salty sea now on me, on us, facing west. Mother sea rises, rises, continues to rise. Baby and I bear witness as you, Mother sea, spray us with your waves. Cooling us. With your grandiose waves, welcoming waves, healing waves. Tide keeps rising. Warning waves? Tide keeps rising. Drowning waves? Tide keeps rising. Tsunami waves? My newborn daughter is calm, bearing witness. But I am no longer sure and can no longer stay. With some trepidation, with the water rising higher and higher, I walk down the ladder, one hand on the rail, one hand wrapped around the baby. Steady? Certain? Heart beating walk to my room heart beating on the beachfront heart beating what to do? Heart beating, enter my room, with walls of brick, to find two teen girls, my daughters in the future. They are waiting for me, in our room, made of brick. Sure, steady, certain, they listen. Heart beating, I say, “The water is rising, mother sea is getting closer, the surges keep coming. We must decide: do we hunker down or do we head upland, try to escape the sea. She keeps coming, the water is rising.” At a crossroads, in our room, made of brick, we must decide. But I do not want to Fight or Flee. I want to Be, in our room, facing west, at the crossroads, letting go, with the sea, with my daughters. My newborn and my newborn fifteen years from now: Xóchitl and her nineteen-year old sister Belén. My daughters now and in the future, sure and steady, filled with certainty, an ancient certainty, a knowing from the future, showing me all is fine, all will be well. The water will subside. We are here. We survive.

Dream Facing East from the Fire, the Sun Sun Sunrise, Xóchitl’s birthday, months later.. I cannot stop looking. Spreading like warm red corn oil over the porcelain white tub. I cannot stop looking. Blood. Still flowing out from me. I cannot stop looking. The blood that is me, there, on the birthing tub. I cannot stop looking. The crimson current grows. I do not want to stop looking. I am not afraid of the brush fire of blood forming at the site of my birthing. Roberta the midwife is helping me birth my placenta and I am bleeding, profusely. Iridescent blood, marbled with sea, 3-D on this birthing altar-tub. I am not afraid. And I am aware that I am not afraid. I am in awe. In awe with myself, with the unfolding of myself who is body, a birthing, bleeding body, generating heat. “Don’t look at the blood,” Roberta firmly urges. She speaks from the wisdom of midwifing a thousand women before me. But I cannot stop looking. I have been preparing for the blood ever since I met Fear at my first baby’s birth. When I looked Fear in the face, wrestled with her, took her in and bled her out. I cannot stop looking. Look with me. Do you see her? Not Fear. Me, the dreaming birthing healing mother on fire. “Don’t worry, we survive” I reassure her. This is our new beginning. Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

Irene Lara, San Diego Workshops 2009-2010

Trying to Make a Difference Difference By Paul McLennan

My journey began in 1970 when I was 17 and I discovered that I wanted to dedicate mylife to activism and the struggle against injustice. It was not a hard decision to make at that point in this country’s history. The civil rights movement had just defeated the Southern apartheid system of segregation. Students were driving an anti-war movement that fiercely challenged the foreign policy of this government and the horrific violence of the war in Vietnam. A women’s movement, inspired by the civil rights freedom struggle, was rising up, casting off traditional roles for women, and liberating them to become equal and more fully empowered. Lesbians and gays were also in motion, challenging the traditionally

enforced

norm

All around the world, independence movements in Third World countries were bringing down colonial rule and achieving freedom for their people. I was inspired by these struggles and stood in solidarity with them. So, it was not a difficult choice for me to want to become part of this world-wide envisioning of new societies based on radically democratic power relations. We wanted to bring that type of change to this country and, at the time, it felt doable and within reach. Rather than pursue my major in early childhood education, I decided the place for me was the labor movement which I have been a part of for 38 years. Historically, the working class has been a motive force for change, challenging the oppressive and exploitative effects of capitalism. Ending child labor, fighting for the 8 hour day, health and safety, jobs with dignity and a decent standard of living – all these and more have been won by unions and the labor movement over generations of struggle. This movement has also been a powerful place of intersection for other

9 movements fighting race and gender oppression. I’m proud to be a rank and file member of this important social movement. Becoming a political activist has also, for me, involved study. Study of how capitalism and the economy work – domestically and globally. The invasive involvement of our government and military in the affairs of other countries going back generations. How racism, sexism, and homophobia are not just bad personal ideas or attitudes but manifestations of institutional systems of oppression. Most importantly, I’ve studied the histories of oppressed people and the movements for liberation they have forged. It is in their stories of individual and collective resistance that I find lessons, inspiration, and hope. These stories, for the most part, are not taught in school. In our culture, the emphasis is placed on the role of the leader, the one individual, usually male, who is responsible for making history. I have looked deeper at the role the voiceless, the marginalized, and the forgotten have played in creating change from below. Not dependent on a charismatic one to free them but taking charge and responsibility for their own destiny. Through grassroots movements led by those most affected, they have challenged power. They understood the truth of ex-slave and abolitionist Frederick Douglass who said, “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never has and it never will.” Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

There is an important dimension that was missing in my earlier years of activism and that is the role of personal development and empowerment. By learning about other people and their struggles, I’ve been given the gift of exposure to other cultures and the richness of the human experience. Seeing the world through the lens of someone different from me has broadened my thinking and deepened my understanding of the world. Also, I believe that fighting injustice is a way for activists “to preserve our own humanity,” as Nelson Mandela says. Political activists bring with us messages that we have internalized from our families, the church, schools, and the media. No one is immune from these influences. To our credit, there was a great deal of emphasis in the movement on countering the ideologies of white and male supremacy. I was aware of the responsibility I had as a white male to be sure my thoughts and

10 actions were consistent with my principles. This meant consciously working on not being racist or sexist and supporting the demands of people of color and women for full equality. Ironically, while we struggled with issues of power on the world and domestic stage, we focused none at all on the impact the abuse of power may have had on us personally. Issues of child abuse, domestic violence, and traumatic family histories were not topics for discussion. It wasn’t until my middle 30’s and my first divorce that I stopped to take a look at my own issues and history. For the last 23 years, I have tried to combine a radical political worldview with a commitment to “getting to the root of” obstacles to claiming my own personal power. (change sign) My family dynamics were full of abuse and neglect. I am a child abuse survivor. I was molested by a Catholic priest when I was 16. As a result, I have suffered from feelings of shame, low self-worth, and depression for most of my life. While I have dedicated my life to the empowerment of others, I still struggle to fully claim my own place in the world. Besides my family and the church, I think my Irish Catholic cultural heritage also has a role to play in this. Irish feminist Nuala O’Faolain said that what she learned growing up was that “The individual was a nobody, in a world of more powerful beings. Power was always out there, in the hands of the wielder of punishments. The notion of personal authority, of rightly having your own place in power relations, couldn't develop in the climate of fear." It this climate of anxiety and fear I try to do an inventory of my life and the contributions I have made. Negative, internalized messages scream at me that I haven’t done enough. The survivor spirit in me motivates me to continue to struggle. The obvious truth is that there are severe limitations to the ability of individuals to affect social change. Organizing in a collective way has been the route oppressed people have always had to take. At the core, building a movement is about the relationships individuals develop with one another. Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

I have moved from issue to issue and organization to organization, depending on the needs of the time and where I thought I could do the most good. In the recent years, I have embraced a

11 human rights approach to organizing. I believe the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, adopted in 1948, provides an international framework for those of us who seek justice, equality, and dignity for everyone. The Declaration outlines basic rights we all have to health care, education, housing, and necessary social services. It is comprehensive, holistic, and gives everyone in the world a common reference point to judge how their particular country lives up to these universal standards for economic, social, cultural, political, and civil rights. My views of the meaning of liberation have changed and expanded over the years. I now firmly believe that the work of personal healing and growth have to be integrated into any social movement. One reason to do this is to avoid the problem of formerly oppressed people acting in abusive ways towards others once they themselves are in positions of power. This cycle can be broken if conscious work is done to heal the personal wounds that are responsible for these behaviors. Committing to work on the self in conjunction with political activism is hard work. It has taken courage, persistence, and many years in therapy for me to face my own personal, traumatizing experiences with power. These experiences shaped me and led to my dedicating my life to building movements to fight injustice. Examining my life has also meant looking at patterns that have led to mistakes I have made and losses I have suffered both personally and politically. A more horizontal, feminist approach to power is so vital to developing those of us who are reluctant to claim our power. Traditional, top-down leadership practices can be very disempowering and discouraging to those of us who are more used to remaining on the margins. More empowered individuals benefit both the individual and the movement. As Margaret Randall says, â&#x20AC;&#x153;personal wholeness and political health, too often considered antagonistic, must be rewoven into a single fabric. They cannot be separated.â&#x20AC;?

By Paul McLennan Chicago Workshop 2010

The Mask of Arizona: The Recent Book Ban of Chicano and Native Native Literature in the the Tuson Unified School District By Carmen Tafolla

On my mother’s side, los Salinas we’ve been in Tejas since el Reino de Nueva España, pero se casaron con indios that were from here already. So the newcomers in the family are sixth generation and native. Tafollas were in New Mexico since the 1690s and also married native peoples. In short, we precede the United States here. My OTHER grandmother, the ‘immigrant,’ who was from Monterrey, México went to live in Tejas in 1897, where she married my Tafolla grandpa. I was born into the Texas racism of the 1950s. The 1950s were bountiful with ignorance and prejudice was realized through corporeal punishment and the stripping of dignity of children for ‘innocently’ speaking their home language in school. Significant in those times was the noble struggle of young Mexican American lawyers who fought Hernandez vs. Texas in the hopes that Americans of Mexican background be judged by a jury of their peers, and while preparing eloquent speeches for the court were denied usage of it restroom. This was the case for all Americans of Mexican background then who could not use the same water fountains as Whites at the grocery stores that nevertheless took their money. Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

With the 1960s came the Civil Rights Movement, United Farm Workers, and assassinations of Civil Rights leaders, protests on behalf of Civil Rights, and the beginnings of a public awareness of “Chicano Literature.” I remember the deep joy and

13 affirmation of FINALLY being able to read works written in OUR Tex-Mex language about OUR culture and OUR history. In the 1970s, now an adult, I was part of the flowering of books, culture and general recognition of our existence. We trained and empowered ourselves to publishing books out of tiny presses in basements, garages, and barrio kitchens. This was the Flor y Canto of our souls, the blooming of flower and song, the Aztec description of poetry and the voice of a people. It was in that reclaiming of power, dignity, history, and identity that we were able to reclaim ourselves and teach our children pride in our heritage. The flourishing of paintings, murals, poems, sculptures, novels, plays, films, songs, and new artistic genres and styles documents the power of that rebirth. Yes, racism was still there all around us but, it would not defeat us; it would not define us. The big publishing houses, the art museums, the theaters, the record industries, the literary critics and venues may not have been open to us, but we were chipping away at the Monster. There was far to go, but the joy of expressing our own reality At LAST, speaking our own inter-language and living our own bicultural art intoxicated us. By 1982, when Curandera was submitted for publication (M&A Publications, San Antonio), many Chicano magazines, and presses had already been churning out artistic publications: Quinto Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

Sol, Magazín, Caracol, M&A, Mango, Arte Público and Tía Chucha, among others, mostly throughout the Southwest of the United States. Among these the then ahead-of-their time classrooms of the border city Tucson’s Unified School District. Mexican American educators created an unprecedented Mexican American Studies curriculum to meet the needs of students hungry to see their world reflected in the classroom. Fast-forward thirty years...

14 TUSD had an exemplary Mexican American Studies curriculum with a proven track record and a 95% graduation rate (unheard of in most other urban districts). Major publishers, movie studios and recording companies had now realized there was a “market” for Latino artists, actors, writers and our themes. Yet, in this environment, the State of Arizona banned the teaching of Ethnic Studies, and ordered the TUSD to comply by boxing up all materials related to the M.A.S. curriculum. Shockingly, among many others, the books include Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Paolo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Tomas Rivera’s And the Earth Did Not Devour Him, Sandra Cisneros’ House on Mango Street, and Arturo Rosales’ Chicano! The History of the Mexican Civil Rights Movement, Sherman Alexie’s The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven, Ana Castillo’s LoverBoys, and my own Curandera. Furthermore, the schools are forbidden from using ANY of related materials such as posters, pictures, or readings used in the M.A.S. curriculum (including the Aztec Calendar) or any mention or analysis of racism, ethnicity or oppression. As far as I can figure it, I trace the trend in Arizona to the late 80s. I lived there then with my family and saw the split in the state between a ‘healthy’ faction of progressive thinkers clustered primarily in Tucson and Phoenix, and an what I considered, an extremely reactionary, farright population spread throughout the state. Back then I presented workshops, readings and performances for both groups, as well as on the ‘rez.’ This latest move of immigrant bashing, and anti-Latino xenophobia has been simply, about scapegoating brown people and started Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

when President G.W. Bush. He blamed his inability to stop terrorism and pointed a finger at the U.S./Mexican border to get the attention off of his office. It snowballed into a hate-frothing, fear-mongering Crusade against the underpaid, unskilled workers

15 who are there without papers. With economic and ‘homeland security’ woes Latinos became the targets of fear, hate and frustration which resulted in racial profiling and witch-hunts. Inclusive has been the recent attack on the institutionalized study of Mexican-American culture. It was the State of Arizona who forced TUSD to box their books or lose all state funding and backing for their teachers and students. In my opinion, it was the study of indigenous populations of Arizona, Chicano and Indian, the study of peoples who t have claim to being there, that the State of Arizona fears most. Because the State of Arizona is non-categorically critical of M.A.S. and unfamiliar with the curriculum (or had the books read), they ordered teachers to box ALL books in the curriculum, suspicious of ANYTHING that might provide students a chance to discuss oppression. Even Shakespeare. Time is the enemy of Racism. Eventually, such actions are known by their true name, the masks are removed, and the face of Racism is unmasked. In the meantime, the children suffer, not just in Arizona but also because of similar recent actions in Alabama, Georgia and Connecticut. Literature is being banned, voices silenced, professionals harassed, education and opportunities lost, and in other words, racial profiling continues. What do we do? Continue to battle the face of racism in the face of it, as we have. Mahatma Gandhi said “There is only one sin more evil than violence, and that is cowardice in the face of oppression.” Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

Carmen Tafolla San Antonio Ana Castillo workshop 2010

The Golf Widow By Elaine Trujillo A famous golfer once said, “Golf has probably kept more people sane than psychiatrists have.” Elena would give anything to be the Golf Widow again. She remembers all the ways Roberto gushed about golf, just a year ago; from “I shot a hole in one!” and “I enjoyed the new golf course, it was challenging.” to “One of the guys hit a woman with a golf ball.” Elena longs for only being a metaphorical widow, longs for the boyishness of her husband’s obsession, but mostly longs for her late husband. Staring out of the back window at the golf course near her home in Arroyo Seco, she gives a deep sigh. Feeling anxious about her isolation from her husband, Roberto, she waits for his weekend proclamation: “The guys and I are going golfing.” Elena experiences a profound sense of loss. Hher husband’s first love is now GOLF. “Our three children are all grown-up, successful, and on their own!” she cries out. Elena feels fear; the finite nature of her time with Roberto hits her like a slap across the face. “Life is too short!” Elena says out loud. “Golf has snuck into my life like a snake in the dark!” I can’t let the ‘mistress’ take my husband away yet again, she thinks. Elena interrupts him, quick as a race car driver. “Roberto, you have not spent time with your mom in several weeks. How about we go visit her? We can also fulfill a promise I made to our daughter.” “¿Cuál promesa?” he asks, impatiently.

“Now that Marina is away in school in the Midwest, she misses the autumn in northern New Mexico and wants pictures. Besides, it would be nice for us to spend time together.” Roberto blows a fuse. “We are together all week! What more do you want?” “It is not the same,” she replies. “I would like one day a week when we could do fun stuff together. FUN THINGS! I can learn how to golf.” “Not to golf with me.” he retorts.

17 “Bueno, Roberto, ¿puedes dejar el golf por un día?” “Okay! Hurry up, woman!” Elena wins (once again)! She feels the throb of her heart as she closes shades, turns off lights, and locks the doors and races to the truck. “Why are you honking?” Elena yells out. “You want to bond, spend time together, you should be ready, girl!” says Roberto. “Roberto, don’t be so impatient!” she remarks, “I am only suggesting you slow down because life has a tendency to come back and bite you if you’re not careful about what you do. Now, please, don’t lose your temper,” she adds cautiously, “but I have to buy a disposable camera at the Walgreen’s.” “You never change, mujer, everything at the last minute,” says Roberto. He grudgingly drives up to the Walgreen’s. Elena assures him that she’ll be out in five minutes, maybe less. Roberto sees Elena walk out of the store with her little bag in hand. “I have such high admiration and affection for her and my children,” Roberto says to himself, as he looks away in deep thought. “She knows I usually give into her whims. I wish I wasn’t so free-spirited. My relationship to the living carries various meanings of belonging. My life’s essences have been only proven and forwarded by her love and loyalty. Elena returns and gets into the truck. “Let’s take the high road up to Peñasco and drive into Taos from there, okay?” Roberto starts up la Vieja and pulls out in a cloud of smoke. As they drive through Chimayó and Peñasco, they engage in conversation and laughter. Elena spots a grove of trees that entrance her, and before long, most of the film is used up. Roberto is happy to see that his brother Armando and wife Marisol are visiting his mother, too. “Hello, Mom, aquí traje ésta tomando fotos para la Marina.” “¿Por qué? ¿Dénde está ?” pregunta Rafela, la suegra. “En Nebraska donde el otoño no es iqual que aqui.” dice Roberto. Armando interrupts, “Why don’t we all go for a ride to my cabin in Valle Escondido and you can take more pictures there? We all enthusiastically agree. As we turn into the narrow road leading to the cabin, Roberto spots the Valle Escondido Golf Course. “The guys and I need to try out this course,” he blurts out. What’s a wife to do? Elena asks herself.

18 Along the way, Armando says, “Let’s stop here and stretch out, but don’t go far. You can get lost quickly.” Fifteen minutes later, Armando becomes agitated: “We should leave. It is starting to snow... if it builds up too quickly, we might get stuck up here.” They all get in the truck, except Roberto. “Where did he go?” grumbles Armando. The intensity in Armando’s voice causes Elena to feel a sense of trepidation for Roberto. What if he did wander too far e? Armando and Elena walk up and down the road yelling out Roberto’s name. Roberto! Roberto! No answer! “We should head back and get help,” Armando shouts, “We must find him before dark.” Elena knows Roberto is smart, but when a former Marine is worried, her faith turns to dread. They drive down the mountain slowly and with heavy hearts. Armando catches sight of a figure hunched over on the side of the road. “¡Mírenlo! ¡Mírenlo! ¡Allí está el Palo Santo!” Rolling down the window, Armando yells, “What the hell were you thinking, RobertoYou scared us half to death!” Elena rushes out of the truck. “Why did you do that? We thought you were really lost!” “Hey, you should know that I’m smarter than that!” answers Roberto with no expression. “I just felt like walking and I knew I wouldn’t get lost if I stayed on the road.” Roberto turns to Elena and hands her a feather. The Golf Widow feels her heart beat fast again. A mere smoky gray feather might as well have been a red rose! It is a symbol of love, an apology of sorts. They resume their journey down the mountain, leaving the bad feelings buried in the snow. Roberto mentions that his golfing day is actually on the coming Sunday. Elena sighs. Reflecting on the past, vague thoughts streaming through her mind like sad vapors through the twilight sky, Elena remembers that dark Friday morning in 2003 when Roberto experienced the onset of a heart attack. As Roberto walked down the stairs, Elena looked up and said, “Oh, my God! You look so pale!” “The guys and I are going golfing.” “Why don’t I take you to the emergency room? If it isn’t anything, well, I guess you’ll enjoy your golf game.” “You always want your way, Elena,” insisted Roberto.

19 “Bear with me, cabezudo, I can tell something is very wrong!” With some persuasion, Elena convinced Roberto to go to the hospital. The stay at the Heart Hospital lasted four days, two stents, pills and advice from the doctor all made it possible for Roberto to return to work and his weekend golfing. Roberto and Elena retired in 2007. Elena devotedly took care of her bed-ridden mother, while working part-time basis help out with expenses. Meanwhile, she observed that something was wrong with Roberto, urging him to go for a physical. “Stop being a nag, woman! It always has to be your way!” He’d respond. Finally, she scheduled an appointment for him with his doctor who prescribed pills for muscle spasms and neck pain. Roberto continued to play golf. Elena then an appointment for Roberto with a cardiologist. A diagnostic surgical procedure was performed revealed poor circulation in his legs. It was a turning point in his life and the results of the procedure profoundly changed his personality. “The ‘golfing Roberto is now doing is probably prolonging his life,” the cardiologist said, and Elena found herself thankful for his stubbornness. He recommended that Roberto play golf as often as he could to keep moving. Elena felt like crying. After forty years of marriage, she and Roberto couldn’t understand how to cope with the chaos the illness brought. The medication and the pain caused personality changes, memory loss, and irritability that impacted their lives but they managed. Roberto’s illness replaced golf as the unwelcome snake in Elena’s life. Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

In August, 2011, an oncologist informed Roberto and his family that he had stage four cancer. There was nothing left to do to help him except to try to control the pain. They were all in disbelief, including Roberto. Elena, devastated. The snake that took Elena’s husband away on golf days was perhaps only a garden snake.

Cancer, the snake that stole him away like a monstrous anaconda and swallowed him whole. Elaine Trujillo/Española workshop, 2011

20 The Real Zeta: A New Generation’s View of the Works of Oscar Zeta Acosta By Marcelo Castillo

Oscar ZetaAcosta’s two autobiographical novels, The Biography of A Brown Buffalo and its sequel The Revolt of The Cockroach People were two of my favorite reads of 2011. Written 1972 and 1973 respectively, it surprised me that a person in his twenties like myself, would related to them as I did. And did I! In Zeta’s first novel, The Autobiography of A Brown

Buffalo, we find ourselves encountering a man who becomes a lawyer just to prove that he could do it (and be better paid than the alternative, as an office clerk). He comes from very humble origins, a father named Manuel Mercado Acosta, an indio horse trader from the mountains of Durango, Mexico, who joins the Navy in 1943 and a mother named Juana Fierro Acosta, who could have been a singer in Juarez, Mexico, if it were not for his slick mustached father who promised her a better life. Zeta (the middle name he gave himself as part of finding his personal identity) was born in El Paso, Texas but was raised "a hick from the sticks" in Riverbank, California, population at the time 3,969 people. Midway, we have gotten a sense of certain political and racial incidents surrounding his life that at the time were considered normal, but ended playing a large role in shaping his Chicano identity. He describes one where at ten-years-old he gets beat up by seven Mexican boys for spitting on a pamphlet with a picture of the American flag. It is an exciting scene because Zeta admits his radical political stances and attributes them to these particular childhood fights. “The seven whipped my ass that day that I spit on the picture of my father’s flag. I have never, to this day, had any respect for that flag or that country. You can blame in on my childhood experience. Politics has nothing to do with it. I have no ideology. I’ve been an outlaw out of practical necessity ever since. And I have never backed off from a fight.”

21 It should be noted that Zeta Costa held a genuine grudge, not only against the Japanese, but also FDR for drafting his father into the war and cutting out entire sentences of Manuel’s letters home with a razor blade. Yung Zeta also shoots Bee Bees at a passing P-38 airplane and at the town’s water tower as confused acts of a child’s rebellion. These types of fights, the fact that Manuel gained his citizenship by fighting in WWII, and the author’s Mexican upbringing as an outsider in Riverside, CA all contribute to his tough, kick ass take-names style of practicing law in his second novel. Zeta goes on to say that his hometown of Riverbank was clearly divided into three kinds of people, Mexicans, Okies and Americans, in other words Catholics, Holy Rollers and Protestants, or, “peach pickers, cannery workers and clerks.” He described how growing up, he and his brother, Bob, shared feelings of being outsiders and would constantly defend themselves from the Pochos (California Mexicans), who ironically, considered Zeta and his brother to not be real Mexicans, even though the Pochos were the ones who spoke mostly English. This Mexican-American on Mexican-American dynamic is interesting because while the Riverside Mexicans would fight amongst themselves, there was an unwritten rule that they would never do so in front of the white “Okies.” In an electrical moment of revelation for the reader, Zeta breaks down the racial divides that define who he was and who he becomes: "We had to fight the Okies because we were Mexicans! It didn't matter to them that my brother and I were outcasts on our own turf. They’d have laughed if we'd told them that we were easterners. To them we were greasers, spics and niggers. If you lived on the West Side, across from the tracks, and had brown skin, you were a Mexican." Zeta’s protagonist recalled an incident where when he was walking a classmate, Senaida Sanchez, home after one Halloween night he was jumped by local “Okies.” Defending Senaida he takes a beating and as he lays on his back in the dirt, the Okies pull down his pants to expose the fact that he has no pubic hair. His tormentors go so far as to call him a “Nigger” and a “Jiggaboo”

22 and spit on his hairless crotch. In a later passage, he tells of his older Bo Scout partner playfully calling him “jiggaboo.” To the local Whites, Mexicans were Blacks (as non-Whites) and the character absorbs the racial slurs as part of his rebellious identity. Another pivotal moment in the character’s youth that seemed to form the boy’s development is when his father has told him at the age of 14 he has become a man. He walks into his parent’s house smoking a pipe full of tobacco and his mother slaps the pipe out of his mouth. He then reminds her that his father made him the promise that when he turned 14 he didn't have to listen to them anymore. She smacks him again and after the third time, he informs his mother that her slaps no longer hurt and she runs out of the kitchen in tears. He soon begins experimenting with beer, weed, and prostitutes. On the racial front, Zeta had a first love named Alice, a white girl, whose stepfather was a Baptist deacon. In the story the girl has accused the stepfather trying to rape her at the age of twelve and says of him that "hated Mexicans more than life itself." However, the young romance continues until Alice's parents obtain a restraining order against him. Alice broke up with him so that her stepfather wouldn’t divorce her mother. All the while, the young narrator’s father has been proud of him. Zeta set on a quest of self-discovery and he later joined the U.S. Air Force. After confessing his sins to a priest for ‘coveting’ Alice the way he did to a priest, Zeta, enthralled by the Word became a missionary in Panama. His search for identity continued and after a few years of being a missionary he set upon his own comparative study of "the Synoptic Gospels and became disenchanted with Jesus and the bible. Feeling hypocritical, he nevertheless continued his missionary work until the Air Force flew him back to The United States and honorably discharged him. It already seems that Zeta is thirsting for his true identity, his real purpose but does not find it in any of the western concepts of self-discovery. So he goes on his own journeys of the soul. "The Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo" runs the gamut in terms of Zeta struggling to find his true Chicano identity, the one he is most fulfilled being, him experimenting with drugs such as downers, weed, LSD and mescaline and dating white women. The descriptions of his drug trips and of the women he admires are beautifully written and at first read, these are the moments that

23 might attract new readers to his novels the most. His views on women before his involvement with The Chicano Rights Movement are very Bukowskiesque as he runs from his responsibilities as a non-profit lawyer and goes on numerous drug induced tirades. Here in the story, we begin to see hints of his appreciation for his Aztec ancestry. It is then that we realize that his experimentation with drugs and sex are just extensions of his deep desire to find out who he really is, where he truly belongs. Towards the end of his first novel, Zeta made his way back to the town of his birthplace, El Paso, Texas. It was there that the new references to his Chicano Pride began. He described the people as if seeing Mexicans for the first time: "all the faces are brown, tinged with brown, lightly brown, the feeling of brown." He says there are "old women with ancient faces carved from the mountains of their very own skin." It was across the border in Juárez that he is confronted with his previous legal expertise after he is arrested and fined for soliciting prostitutes who don’t speak English. Ironically, the judge is a woman and he is forced to speak Spanish to defend himself. After returning to the States with no proof of his U.S. citizenship except his American accent, he visited his brother Bob who lived there. It was there that Zeta told his brother that he never wanted to be a lawyer and expressed his true desire, which, was to be a published writer. As they brainstormed for what would be his first great story, Bob introduced him to "the Chicanos down in East L.A." through a paper called La Raza. It is in the last two paragraphs of this amazing book that we get the chance to read Zeta' Acosta’s true feelings about his place in the world. He says, "Spanish is the language of our conquerors. English is the language of our conquerors." He goes on to say that the colonizers stole our land and made us half slaves, "now what we need is, first to give ourselves a new name. We need a new identity. A name and language all our own...I propose we call ourselves the Brown Buffalo people." As he plans to meet his destined people in Los Angeles, he ends with, "I am Chicano by ancestry and a Brown Buffalo by choice.”

The Revolt of The Cockroach People opens beautifully with our Chicano heroes protesting the richest church in Los Angeles. In Oscar Zeta's second semi-autobiographical novel

The Revolt of The Cockroach People we see a more refined writing style that includes more emphasis on Aztecan and Mexican imagery as our anti-hero also becomes more purposeful politically speaking. His being a BAR-approved Chicano lawyer has gotten him credibility in the eyes of The Chicano Liberation Movement in East Los Angeles. Upon his arrival to Los Angeles in January of 1968, Zeta checks into a transient hotel named The Belmont that serves as his home and office. The following day he puts on the blue suit his father bought him for his law school graduation and is set to meet his sister Teresa whom he hasn't seen since he joined the army. As a sign of Zeta's maturity as a Chicano writer he notes in a feminist way that Teresa "is so seriously beautiful beside me in her car...I can tell she doesn't bow down to anything or anyone." He spends the afternoon drinking martinis with her in her white washed suburban home and Teresa is the one who engages Zeta to consider the Civil Rights Movement and The Chicano Militants. She relates them to The Black Panthers and describes them as “some local greasers making things happen in East L.A.” It is interesting because in his previous novel Zeta tends to view women he encounters as sexual objects, but his sister is viewed in the highest regard. Upon meeting her white, blue-eyed, blonde haired husband he goes so far as to say, "from the first second I see him, I know he is no match for my tough sister." As they eat breakfast and Teresa's husband, Dave Hurley, explains the types of projects he is working on to benefit the U.S. during the Vietnam War, Zeta’s character has to refrain from punching him in the mouth. This mental side note offers the reader an insight into the politically confrontational Chicano lawyer Zeta will become in the courtroom as he represents The East L.A. 13, The St. Basils 21 AND The Tooner Flats 7. Zeta’s new respect for his brown and black woman can also be seen in his interaction with Angela Davis and his vivid descriptions of woman of color. They are after all facets to him establishing his Chicano identity as well as him speaking Spanish and incorporating Spanish into his writing. In much of the political action in his second novel, Zeta doesn’t reveal exactly why his Chicano Militants are protesting. It becomes apparent to the reader, however, that unlike their political Godfather, César Chávez who believes in the power of nonviolent forms of protest, Zeta's protesters often end in violent struggle with the LAPD and the arrests of the top Chicano

25 organizers. In many instances, we are left with the feeling that the plight of The Chicano in East L.A. is in some ways a symbolic one. For instance, Zeta says of the protest of St. Basil’s Roman Catholic Church that "never before have the sons of the conquered Aztecas worshipped their dead gods on the doorstep of the living Christ." This scene is interesting because a Chicano, Sergeant Armas, for the LAPD tries to calm Zeta and his militants by reminding them that they are being televised but as a lawyer, Zeta has already made the decision as to what he is willing to allow to happen. "We were at the home base of the holy man who encouraged presidents to drop fire on poor cockroaches in far off villages in Vietnam." Later on we learn that the protest was their way of asking the richest church in Los Angeles to consider them, fund more programs that benefit the local poor Chicano community and only after Zeta's cockroaches are refused entrance to participate in the worship service do things turn violent. Those arrested during the St. Basil’s protest were to become The St. Basil’s 21. We also get to see Zeta's Chicano militants get out of hand when Zeta is invited to a blowout demonstration at a local school the day he first meets the Chicano Militants in their basement office of a local church. The local students and the CM's this time are demanding more attention to bilingual education and the incorporation of Mexican history into their classrooms. Once again, the situation turns violent as those Chicano protesters who are sitting in the middle of a major street throw eggs and bottles at approaching police. It isn’t until two months after the so-called riots at the schools when those arrested were charged and they piece together a conspiracy being initiated by the powers-that-be. The Chicano Movement, they counter-charge, is being placed in a very bad light in front of the media along with those politicians who support them, Robert Kennedy and Eugene McCarthy. RFK is assassinated soon after, along with their chances of having a sympathetic politician in local office. The Revolt

of the Cockroach People then becomes a perfect underdog story, a story where Zeta will do anything to fight the government that he feels are oppressing his brown and black people. In Zeta's second novel we read of a man who embraces his newfound Chicano identity and does everything in his power to take on those institutions that hold his people down. He is intelligent

26 and his only character flaws may be his excessive indulgences in drugs and women. This novel is exciting because the author’s semi-fictional character tries various legal tactics, which, have never been tried before, and he is thrown in jail numerous times for contempt of court during The St. Basil’s 21 trial, as well as The Tooner Flats 7 trial. This gives him more credibility in the eyes of his fellow Chicano Militants and he does not stop there! By the end of this wonderful Chicano novel, Zeta not only clears The East L.A. 13, The St. Basils 21 AND The Tooner Flats 7 of their most critical charges but Zeta also runs for Sheriff of Los Angeles. Along the way, Zeta gives a kick-ass speech to the students of UCLA where he questions every flower child’s dedication to the struggle, is the getaway driver for a Molotov cocktail retaliation on the part of The CM associated members, is personally encouraged by César Chávez to continue his political work, hosts his own three-day-fast, tries his best to expose the murders of a young Chicano who was killed while in jail, as well as the calculated murder of the Chicano Movement's greatest media spokesman Roland Zanzibar, and even goes so far as to get various Hollywood stars of Mexican descent to acknowledge that they are indeed Chicanos as well. I recommend this novel to anyone who is interested in learning more about the history of their Chicano origins and the difficulties of organizing. These two novels can also help any aspiring Chicano writer find his voice in his writing. Oscar Zeta was a legend in his own time. Long live the Brown Buffalo and his Cockroach People! The recent editions include an introduction by his friend Hunter S. Thompson (Fear and

Loathing in Las Vegas) and one by Oscar Zeta’s son, Marco Acosta. As a new fan of el General Zeta it is exciting to read their insights. Finally, there is much speculation as to the disappearance of Zeta. (See interview with his sister in this issue.) He existed and participated during an exciting time in this country’s Civil Rights history and fought for Chicano rights. As thoroughly as I enjoyed reading Zeta’s two autobiographical novels, decades after their publication, I was left with a kind of black hole in my heart. (Actually, a mixed sense of self.) After decades, his writing remains exhilarating. His books testify about other major civil rights leaders in context with the L.A. Chicano Movement--Corky Gonzalez, César Chávez and Angela Davis. However, unless you are already involved in your local community and colleges, you’re left stranded, alone, thinking: how does El Movimiento relate to me now? Am I included? Regarding the St. Basil’s 21 case, when it was expected that Chicanos came from Catholic backgrounds, in 2012, U.S.A. where do other religions that Latinos practice stand, such as, Protestant and Muslim?

27 On second reading of the two definitively Chicano novels I began to compare the plight of The

Chicano then to that of the modern day Xicano. Within some factions what it means to be a Chicano includes now our brothers and sisters from Latin and Central America, Mexico, Koreans, Cubans, Puerto Ricans, Natives, Filipinos’, Spanish and other Mestizo mixtures. Obama (our first Black president) has broken his promise of passing fair immigration legislation. His administration has deported more Latinos than Bush did. Also, we read about an anti-hero, while an activist and an attorney, was unable to reach his maximum potential as de facto leader of the East L.A. Chicano Militants. I couldn’t help but wonder what might have been possible for the Brown Buffalo had he been able to get his drug addictions and insecurities with women under control. One reason we turn to literature is to look for ourselves. In his character I saw mirrored my own recent past of excesses with drugs, drinking and using women, behavior stemming from what I’ve come to terms with as being insecurities and which, only lead to a downward spiral. In my twenties, I saw drugs as an escape and ‘love’ and sex as games. Now, I’m coming to see that there are better possibilities if one can get his/her drug addictions under control and seek the highest levels of love, especially with and for the sake of our deserving brown women. Simultaneously, while they also showed the difficulties of organizing and being a leader. I came away from these readings (and this, may be why Zeta’s books continue to thrive and even take on new meaning with time) as illustrating brown pride writing at its finest. I have been energized. Marcelo Castillo 2012 U.S.A.©

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BROWN BUFFALO (Random House; paper, $14.95) THE REVOLT OF THE COCKROACH PEOPLE (Random House; paper, $14.95)

Acosta on Acosta Anita Aurora Acosta on Being Oscar Zeta Acosta’s Kid Sister La Tolteca contributor Marcelo Castillo had the opportunity to conduct the following interview via email with Anita Aurora Acosta, sister of novelist Oscar Zeta Acosta. Ms. Acosta lives and writes in Los Angeles. The following is their exchange:

LA TOLTECA: Oscar mentions his brothers Bob, Jesús and sister Teresa. How was it growing up with them in Riverbank, CA?

AAA: AAA Brother Bob was Roberto Joseph, Teresa [in the novel] is me (‘Annie,’ or Anita Aurora Acosta). Jesús might be the old indio from Durango, our father Manuel Mercado Acosta de Jesús whom Oscar was totally in love with, as was I. Our father was a philosopher (no formal education) and believed in fairness, the truth and many other ideas that he instilled in Oscar and myself. Oscar and Roberto (Bob) were close. Oscar always looked out for him (Roberto was older and Juana's “baby” or “husband.” Who knows?) Oscar loved my daughter Stefanie. He was so

big and tall he would take her for a walk holding hands and just visualize 6ft Samoanish man with a 3ft mestiza (Mexican, Irish and German). When I was around 10-yrs-old I went to San Francisco, actually Sausalito North of the City to visit with Oscar and his partner, Betty. They were partying and Oscar gave me a big glass of red wine. I blacked out, was silly and then, apparently, passed out. Oscar thought it was funny. To this day, do I not drink “el sangre de Christo!” LA TOLTECA: Any other favorite anecdotes you care to share?

AAA: Oscar (over twelve years my senior) and I became very close after he returned from the

"Incest is the worst of all evils."

Air Force. He once gave me a poster advertising something and on the back he scribbled, "Incest is the worst of all evils." Then, when I got married Oscar came into the room where all the girls were changing and took pictures of us in our underwear! He gave me a beautiful black and onyx silver ring. Then, when he met a girl in San Francisco and I when was visiting he asked if he could ‘borrow’ the ring. I never got it back. He gave it to the girl. That same visit he returned with his girlfriend, I was asleep on the couch “he reached over and gave me a huge wet kiss on the lips.” I slapped his ass and he went into the bedroom with his girlfriend.”

LA TOLTECA:

(?!)

LA TOLTECA: Did you experience a lot of racism in California or in El Paso, TX? AAA: I was never in El Paso. Oscar was born there. The racism experienced by Oscar and myself was horrendous in Riverbank, California and ‘til death do us part! (For example, Zeta not being allowed in the Riverbank swimming pool.) Juana (our mother who called herself Jenny) a wannabe Anglo pressured Bob and Oscar (and the rest of the familia) to "act white," achieve, have no accent, etc. Oscar loved a girl named Anita (not me) who had a leg disability, was beautiful and was as white as they come. Her family was big ranchers in Riverbank. Anita's family stopped her from seeing Oscar; they talked to my parents and to Oscar. No reason was ever given! Oscar never let that go. The reason was obvious and for sure it was obvious and painful to my brother! LA TOLTECA: Did your father Manuel really make his sons memorize The Navy

Seabee's Manual? AAA: I only heard about that from my bro as I was a kid. Seriously, my Dad (since receiving citizenship for fighting for "some country," I assume he wanted ‘his boys’ to be ‘good Americans.’ Mostly, however, he was like that less than my mother who wanted the status in society that other gringos had,while never realizing IT WAS NOT EVER GOING TO WORK. Yoly Mora ©2012 USA

LA TOLTECA: Are you in contact with Oscar's son, Marco? AAA: AAA Always in contact with my nephew Marco. Because is dad and I were really close I took over as his surrogate father. LA TOLTECA: Have you read Marco’s work? AAA: As a hobby, Marco writes screenplays. A far as I know he has no ambition of being a "writer" in the traditional sense (whatever the hell that means). Like his father, however, he practices law. LA TOLTECA: What about Oscar’s novels? AAA: ABSOLUTELY! Oscar lived with me while writing The Revolt of The

Cockroach People. He followed me around reading passages and using me as his sounding board. LA TOLTECA: Oscar was a good friend to writer Hunter S. Thompson. Do you have any good stories about seeing them together? If so, will you share one or two with us here? AAA: AAA I only have one incredible story about Hunter and it includes me. I only met him a couple of times and mostly I

“Hunter would not give Oscar credit for any of the book . . .”

heard he and Oscar on the phone ranting and raving. There were problems with the book Fear and Loathing, which Oscar helped Hunter write as they had taken the trip to Las Vegas. together. Hunter was very sick in Mexico and Oscar went there to do the book with him. Hunter would not give Oscar credit for any of the book because as he [Hunter Thompson] put it, "Hey you are a lawyer, you could get disbarred as

an attorney!". Oscar laughed in his face, Hunter offered him money and on and on it went between them. To make a long story short I flew to Aspen with Marco (Oscar's son, my nephew, who was then in his twenties) solely for the purpose of getting Hunter to admit what I knew was true about Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas., i.e, Oscar & he wrote it together! Hunter sat on his living room couch after snorting half a bowl of cocaine and [consuming] a bottle of Wild Turkey Whiskey. He said to me, "Yes, it is true." Then he got snotty and said "Did you get why you came here for? " Of course I said yes. Then he asked if I wanted to go into the hot tub with him. [AAA laughs] Of course I did not. LA TOLTECA: The 64,000 question: How do you think Oscar met his end? AAA: AAA My brother Oscar met his end as was

â&#x20AC;&#x153;No one will ever convince me that the FBI/CIA et. al. finally caught up with him.â&#x20AC;?

inevitable, he was way before his time as a Mexican male, FBI was after him and Los Angeles Police were after him. Our phone was tapped and the helicopters flew over our home at night while Oscar was in the backyard with his bodyguards, Mangas, Benny and others sitting in a circle passing the pipe (Cannibis with a bit of Native American Indian ritual attached. Something Zeta had read about! Oscar always wanted to be an actor, he practiced Shakespeare in front of the mirror, as methodically as he practiced his clarinet.) Oscar fled to Mexico as we all know and never returned. No one will ever convince me that the FBI/CIA et. al. finally caught up with him.

LA TOLTECA: You just said your brother was “before his time as a Mexican male.” Please explain. AAA: My brother was way ahead of his time. Mexican men were supposed to be picking peaches and taking care of their 10 kids (stereotype). Oscar was brilliant, very introspective a mathematician and musician but people could not see past the Big Brown Buffalo. He had his wild sides but knew better than to do "them" in front of me. LA TOLTECA: Have you ever discussed this with his son, Marco? AAA: Marco and I have different viewpoints about his Dad's disappearance, Yes, we discuss, argue and I usually win. This is too painful to comment on. I don’t believe Marco has ever gotten over it. (I believe that is called denial, ¿qué no?) LA TOLTECA: TOLTECA You also write. What themes inspire you? AAA: Death, social inequality, racism, misogyny, family dynamics (mostly, I

He was NOT a misogynist. He

approach this with humor), and tragedy. All

just didn't think women were at

the horrific cultural inequalities put upon us

the top of his list of priorities.

by White society. Of interest in the Acosta familia Juana, Mother Acosta was on a mission to make sure her kids "fit in" yet Oscar and I (of 6 kids) were the brown sheep of the family and questioned her values. We got beat physically for daring to go against what she wanted and what she insisted was best for us. Yet, Viva la Raza. As Zapata said "Mejor morir de pie que vivir de rodillas. (It is better to die on one’s feet...than to

continue living on oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s knees.) Oscar's beliefs were as mine! An old song comes to mind, "Only The Strong Survive.â&#x20AC;? For 30 years I have replayed that verse in my mind. As my brother would say hechale ganas, and he did that for sure. The old indio horse trader from Durango Mexico, Manuel, our father taught us both that! LA TOLTECA: You mentioned earlier that Oscar was ahead of his time as a Mexican male, taking your own views against misogyny and Mexican family dysfunction, what do you know of his attitudes towards 'broads,' (quoting from his inscription to you)? AAA: I misspoke. Oscar had an Oedipus Complex with Juana, our mother. He always adored me, treated me (except for the S.F. kiss) like an equal and hated any and all my boyfriends. He did love Marco's mother Betty and, treated her like a "lady"-- at first. After Marco was born Oscar was off into his own thing--searching for the truth! Angry at the system for all the inequalities. He was NOT a misogynist. He just didn't think women were at the top of his list of priorities. He did not "hate" women, although they were mostly irrelevant to his mission of destroying/eliminating the hatred and inequality in society. He was like an educated gangsta who knew he was fighting an uphill battle. For example, when there was the Safeway strike way back when, Oscar came into the house one day with his bodyguards Mangas and Benny the poet. Zeta opened his very large, long, black and Navy trench coat with meat, cheese, a couple of filet mignons and other edibles from Safeway stuffed inside pockets.

LA TOLTECA: TOLTECA Did you and Oscar ever share your your writings with each other? AAA: AAA He shared his with me but I was not writing at the time (didn't know I had it in me)! He gave me his books and one inscription reads, "To the best broad in history." Go figure. LA TOLTECA: TOLTECA This zine is geared to feature and publish new writers (from the Ana Castillo workshops. How did Oscar get a mainstream publisher back when Latinos as a rule weren't published? AAA: Oscar and Hunter were friends. Just imagine, an Oki (Hunter & Zeta a 6 ft tall

â&#x20AC;&#x153;He was like an

Mexican Indigenous indio (go onto Oscar's FB

educated gangsta who

page and you will see a picture of them) and Fear

& Loathing In Las Vegas which they submitted to Straight Arrow Books. When Hunter decided

knew he was fighting an uphill battle.â&#x20AC;?

Oscar's name as co-editor or partner shouldn't be used because he might get disbarred from the California Attorney Association, Hunter and he made a last minute deal (lots of fighting before this happened) that Straight Arrow Books would publish The Brown Buffalo. The second book got signed again with Straight Arrow because he was a damn good writer. Actually Hunter offered my brother a few thousand to keep his name off the book. Oscar was not interested in dinero. He was (by then) interested in JUSTICE.

LA TOLTECA: Thank you for being part of the AC workshops and thank you for sharing about one of our favorite novelists. AAA: De nada. I love writing about Oscar. I only have wonderful memories of him. As far as my writing, I love doing it. I have an entire manuscript that I have played with for 15 years. I am not particularly interested in

“Oscar was not

going through the bureaucracy of a publishers just to get

interested in dinero.

my ‘writ’ out there is not worth it to me. I share my stuff in person and by the way I live. Frankly, I am ready to go

He was (by then)

underground, given the State of the Union. I realize that I

interested in

now spend time being paranoid, not in a pathological

JUSTICE.”

way, just a protective cover. I mean, would you go to Arizona? (Smile.)

--aaa Anita Aurora Acosta Los Angeles Workshops 20092012

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.: Blessed Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Love for for the Wild Soul: United the Strong Woman By Irene Lara, Ph.D., S.D.S.U. Harmonizing our Heartbeats: Review of Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ Untie the Strong Woman:

Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Love for the Wild Soul (MAKE SMALLER/PRICE/PUBLISHER (Boulder, CO.: Sounds True, Inc., 2011) Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ Untie the Strong Woman: Blessed Mother’s Immaculate Love for

the Wild Soul is the type of book that you never want to come to an end, so I have purposefully kept a few morsels unread, ready for those moments already on the horizon when I will particularly need to nourish my soul and inspire my will with heartfelt stories and images of “Nuestra Madre.” In any case, like other beloved texts on my bookshelf that respectfully and playfully engage the topic of “Our Mother” in all of her complexity and power as a human-divine figure, I know that I will return to it over and over again. Twenty-four chapters interweave testimonio, poetry, prayer, and thirty-six photographs of ex-votos and other artworks dedicated to “Our Ancestral Great Mother.” Estés grants her readers with a substantial collection of meditations on the ever-present archetype of the “Holy Woman.” Internationally known for her gifts as a storyteller, and perhaps most famous for her bestselling

Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories about the Wild Woman Archetype, Estés compellingly traverses personal and global history and space to engage this “feminine force of… compassion and understanding about the oddities and lovability of the wild and wondrous variations to be found in human beings” (2). Grounded in her own cultural genealogies as a Mexican mestiza and the tribal Hungarian and German heritages of her Magyar and Swabian ancestors, a first-generation American Estés draws on her memories, the old people’s stories, and her work as a scholar and Jungian psychoanalyst to portray an array of encuentros with the “Seat of Wisdom.” A chapter of quotes, “Beautiful Words about the Mother,” a bibliographical notes section, notes to the reader about the

38 artwork and words used, the author’s “unconventional biography,” a list of Estés’ publications and audio recordings, and a helpful index, round out Estes´ newest work. Untie the Strong Woman offers a multitude of possibilities for bringing readers who also love our “Holy Mother,” who are drawn to Her, or are simply curious about Her being closer to their selves in hopes of wholeness, while simultaneously expanding them beyond into the realm of knowing that indeed “we are all related to all that lives.”i Estés invites readers to engage the “Blessed Mother,” an intense force of love and compassion, with whatever face or name she appears to them: “So that your memory of her is renewed, or so that the knowledge of her miraculous, fierce, enduring ways is drawn into your heart for the very first time.” As when Clarissa Pinkola Estés writes of the uncanny power of “La Mujer Grande” to show up when most needed, this book came to me at exactly the right time. My ecstatically busy life as a Chicana feminist professor has me immersed in mentoring/femtoring, organizing healing circles, and raising my two daughters. While my research, teaching, and interrelated activist work for the past fifteen years has largely focused on spirituality from Xicanista perspectives (specifically about Guadalupe-Tonantzin), I miss having more time to reflect and write. These are processes that help me untie my own strong woman in community and with “La Mera Mera Madre.” I am confident that this book will do the same for other readers.It will reminding them to pay attention to and act on what they need and, moreover, reminding them that when they feel isolated, afraid, hopeless, unlovable, grief, exhausted, disconnected, off rhythm, cut up Our Lady is always present. By engaging this uncontainable text through inviting plática, to honor “La Morenita,” and thus, myself and all life, my own intention is to engage other in such pláticas. Estés describes plática as “a conversation in which both persons’ hearts might begin to beat with the same rhythm, together” (360). This heart-to-heart dialogue is a methodology of the bodymindspirit that values the knowledge-creating and healing power of bringing your whole self to all you think, feel, and do. What this means to me is a refusal to fragment my intellect from my emotions from my spirituality; I insist on bridging the professorwriter with who I am as a mother, prima, amiga, lover, activist, and healer. As I read Estés’ narratives, I found myself engaged in plática with the author, with myself, with “Mi Guadalupe”

and yearning to be in plática with many others about its evocative conocimientos and provocative queries.

THROUGHOUT, ESTÉS ASKS US OURSELVES WHAT OUR RELATIONSHIP IS TO “OUR MOTHER.” I found myself writing imaginary letters to people: Querida Linda You chose life. You are not a killer. I am so sorry that an unjust society has failed you by creating a context where “choice” is hardly a choice at all. Know that, as Estés writes, you deserve all of the time and compassion you may need to restore your soul and body after getting an abortion. With you and the Compassionate Mother, I “remember the children you got that you did not get…” (217).ii I honor you and all “those who made the hardest choices” (211). Querida Alma, I am so excited to tell you that Estés has a chapter about Guadalupe being “a girl gang leader in heaven.” Your awesome teatro performance of La Virgen as a sin pelos en la lengua Zoot-suiter Pachuca offering tough love guidance to her undocumented Chola child immediately came to mind. Creating an image of Love and Compassion through the much-misunderstood Chola is socially transformative. Estes joins you and so many others in rewriting our image of la Madre as the “strongest woman [we] know” (44), and, by reasserting that “she is serene, yes, like a great ocean is serene” (280). Querida Alex, Masculine of center womyn, transgender warrior friend, I was pleased to see that Estés book shares some encounters with a gender-bending Mother. Not in a sustained enough way, but there are promising sprinkles in, for example, the chapter “Carrying the Name of the Mother: A Man Named Mary.” We are reminded that the “feminine divine” resides in all of us across “sex”

and the “maternal” quality of care-giving is potentially personified by all. Although we know that those invested in heterosexist patriarchy have used religion to justify fear and hatred against all “sexual outlaws,” we are also reminded that the Strong Woman is on the side of social justice and loves everyone unconditionally. Querida Janessa One of the early chapters narrates the story of someone who, like you, is struggling with alcoholism. With tears in my eyes as I read “The Drunkard and the Lady,” I felt the despair of not knowing how to reach you and help you prima. I was reminded to pray to La Guadalupe, she who “is the inspiratus for souls who suffer.” She can still be there for you in spite of the sexual molestation you endured prima, in spite of all of the big and small ways your faith in a benevolent god, in the beauty of humanity, in your own lovability has been squashed: “in the midst of all our bandages and broken spirit-bones, she calls us to stop mis-thinking that we stand alone in our challenges, when in fact, she ever stands with us” (34). Querida Irene, There is something for you and all “spiritual activist”iii professors here as well. A pathway for relishing your relationship with “La Madre” through luscious words, heartbreaking/heartopening stories, and images that speak an undocumented/undocumentable language to your whole bodymindspirit. Narratives so heart-wrenching beautiful and achingly bursting with truth that it makes it easy to give ourselves permission to storm out of the spiritual closet, in front of our students and colleagues even! Narratives that embolden our decolonization from the fetters of the academy that schools us away from our intuitions, our spiritual facultades. Critical thinker yes, faithless skeptic no. So happy to be reaffirmed that yes, of course, you should teach that “ritual and the sacred” class, and yes, of course, you should infuse more of your classes with feminist spirituality–in content and pedagogy. Y, por supuesto, the spiritual is erotic and the erotic is spiritual. Needing this last reminder most of all, Untie the Strong Woman helps me to remember Irene la madre, la amante, la maestra, helps me to remember to allow my “Tonantzin” light to shine bright and embrace the power of the sacred erotic within and all around me.iv If you find this conocimiento slipping away, just take a quick look at the book’s dust jacket: George

Yepes’ cover painting of a stunning “Virgen de Guadalupe” in illumined ecstasy will bring it, bring you all back. Querida Autora, Thank you for all of your work, your lifelong dedication to embodying your purpose as a devotee to the “Blessed Mother” and modeling it for us. GRACIAS. Querid@ Reader, My mini missives are probaditas of what is to come when you turn to Estes’ book and receive the ofrendas meant for you. They are an invitation to enter into plática, between us, between you and the book, between you and the “Strong Woman.” What will be possible when more people’s hearts “beat with the same rhythm” of Love and Compassion? In Her name, Irene Lara

Sounds True Hardcover Books:$27.95

______________________________________ 1

See Inés Hernández-Avila’s “An Open Letter to Chicanas: On the Power and Politics of Origin.”

Reinventing the Enemy’s Language: Contemporary Native Women’s Writing of North America. Ed. Joy Harjo and Gloria Bird. New York: W.W. Norton, 1997. 237-46. 1

Estés is citing Gwendolyn Brook’s poem, “The Mother.”

On “spiritual activism,” see Gloria Anzaldúa’s “now let us shift… the path of conocimiento… inner

work, public acts.” This bridge we call home: radical visions for transformation. Ed. Gloria Anzaldúa and AnaLouise Keating. New York: Routledge, 2002. 540-78. 1

See Ana Castillo’s “La Macha: Toward an Erotic Whole Self” and “Brujas and Curanderas: A Lived

Spirituality.” Massacre of the Dreamers: Essays on Xicanisma. Albuquerque: New Mexico Press, 1994.

Celilio Garcia-Carmen, Carmen, Reyes Cardenas, taken by Cesar Martinez 1975 (Courtesy of Wing Press)

• 27 • Quality Literature By Carmen Tafolla -Dr. Dumont?- said a quiet voice from the back row of the World Lit class, as the bell rang and the distinguished professor collected his papers to dash from the room. -Yes?- said Dumont in his crisp pseudo-British accent, as a hazy face with a name he didn’t remember approached him. -You said the other day, that, uh, we could write our critique-thing on any author, just to get it approved by you first, and I, well, I was in the library the other day, and they got this real good book by Elena Martínez called La Tierra Grita, and I wanna do mine on that. -Elena Martínez? I don’t recall the name—is she the

43 poetess from Chile? -No, sir. She’s a Chicana, and it’s about a campesino family in— -It’s Chicano Literature? No, I’m afraid I just can’t approve that. Read it if you wish, but for your report we need quality literature, and Chicano literature simply isn’t quality. -But this stuff’s good! I mean, it’s the first stuff I ever seen that really talks about real things. There’s writers like Toribio Salinas, and—have you read Juan Rivera, sir? -No but why don’t you look into Samuel Beckett’s En Attendant Godot? The French existentialist theatre is really superb in its handling of the alienation of the individual in society. The profundity and subtlety in its absurd context magnify the impact of its universal reality. It speaks to the commonest of situations, and yet elevates to the philosophically sublime the lowest of human positions. I would think it would be an excellent topic for you. -But have you read Inéz de León, sir? -No, but I really think Beckett’s French existentialist theatre would provide an almost unlimited opportunity for development and commentary. There are some books that might interest you on it—now there’s one by Fontaine on the peculiar juxtaposition of characters in Godot, and there’s quite a few references available on the manneristic existentialism evident in Beckett’s theatre. I’m certain our library would have quite a good bit on it and— -Well how about Frank Sanchez? Have you read him? -No, but there simply hasn’t been any quality Chicano literature. If you must have something in Spanish, try Darío or Bor-hays or Cervantes. Darío has been highly acclaimed

44 in Madrid, and even Paris- said the professor, examining with slight curiosity the face of the student who he now faintly recalled as having made very poor marks on the last exam. “Of course,” he thought. -Soledad Cantú has been published in Spain. Could I write on her? Sir? Dumont continued to shake his head, gathered his papers under his arm, leaned into the face of the student, and stated emphatically, “But it hasn’t even been critiqued in the PMLA! And until it’s critiqued in the PMLA, I can’t say it’s quality literature!” And the professor walked off into a semi-colon…as the face of the student became an epic poem.

Carmen Tafolla (left) at a predominantly male Chicano Studies conference in 1975. (Courtesy of Wings Press)

45 Point and Shoot: Digital Photography By Yoly Mora The first digital camera I used was a 50th birthday gift from my brother. Point and shoot is all one does with a digital camera. It is lightweight and portable. The photos I started taking weren’t just of family and friends.

“I began to feel a pull as though my camera was a magnet and what I saw through the lens was the steel attracting it.” it.”

My enthusiasm grew. Eventually, I decided to upgrade to a DSLR digital camera (and this time, to read the manual). Initially, I didn’t share my photos because I felt too self-conscious. My first experience looking beyond the photograph was when I first saw photographer Laura Aguilar’s bold black and white photograph, ‘Three Eagles Flying.’ I was struck with the message of her own experience, which I understood as my own. Laura’s photo depicted herself bound with rope and in between the American and Mexican flags. It reminded me of the difficulties of being a bicultural person in a society that values White culture most. I was reminded me of my feeling of being invisible in my own skin. Photos are visible. I haven’t staged my photos. I look at my surroundings and become attracted to a story, feeling, colors, absence of color, textures, expressions, beauty, horror, and the mundane.

46 With a leap of courage, I showed my photos to friends, among them, an artist who invited me to a group show in her Los Angeles studio. To my surprise, strangers bought my photographs. A semi-retired elementary school teacher, at that stage of my life I was newly inspired. I began to take a photography beginner’s course and also writing workshops led by Ana Castillo (to help further the narrative in my head). Hopefully, my images will inspire others to take a camera, a paintbrush, a pen, a hammer, a garden spade, a skillet, a lump of clay or fabric and find the ‘steel’ that works with your ‘magnet.’ Yoly Mora ©2012 USA (Los Angeles workshops 2009 and 2010)

LA CASITAAt El Cielito con Nopales One bedroom cottage in southern New Mexico, located between Las Cruces andEl Paso, TX. Furnished and private retreat with spectacular desert and mountain view.

To continue to support struggling writers, especially those who have come to me in the Writing Workshops I am making La Casita available this July

ELIGIBILITY: OPEN TO THOSE WHO HAVE TAKEN THREE WRITING WORKWORKSHOPS WITH ANA CASTILLO TO APPLY: Submit a letter explaining why you need this retreat to write. Two letters of Submit 15 - 30 of your memoir or a combination with other genres. Double-spaced, 12 point, Times Roman to Ana Castillo at: anacastilloworkshops@gmail.com. anacastilloworkshops@gmail.com.

Deadline: May 15th 2012

La Casita Residency Competition

One Month Summer Residence Ranchito Rule You will be staying on a private ranchito therefore some rules apply: 1. No pets 2. No houseguests 3. Spouses/Partners or friends allowed. He/she will be required to pay $100.00 a week rent. Stays less than a week will be required to pay one hundred dollars. Rent paid in adv. 4. Transportation is not provided. (Except upon arrival and departure from El Paso Intâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;l Airport, if needed.) 5. While there is no rent required of the winning writer, s/he will be responsible for her/his propane use. (hot water/gas stove.) Writer will also be expected to leave premises in the same condition as when s/he arrived.

La casita is part of a quiet, rustic, eco-friendly, smoke-free environment. Guests are expected to be mindful of this

Congratulations to workshopista Vickie Vertiz, who was just accepted in the M.F.A. creative writing program at U.C. Riverside with full tuition.

LA MUERTE poster $200. (this issue only sale 25% off) 60 lb. weight, glossy. 20″ x 28″