ORIGINS OF MY XICANO/BORDERCROSSER SUBJECTIVITY
BY AGUSTIN PALACIOS
Pint pointing my origins is a constant dilemma for a young Xicano who is still in the process of learning about himself and 'his people.' I come from my mother, my father, and each of their families; from then on I don't know for sure. As a Xicano, is important for me to figure out my origins, both for spiritual and political reasons.
I'm brown like my grandmother and all my great-great-grandmothers before that. I have indigenous blood in me. My story, which is part of the story of my people, is intertwined with other people's stories. The word multiplicity fits me perfectly. The story of my identity does not began with the founding of the Mexico or the United States. Much less with my mother crossing the border to give birth to me in this side of the line. Borders, and for that matter countries, are political legal fictions. They exist because people believe they do.
I know for a fact that one of my creation stories originates in this continent; before European invasion. Probably in seven celestial caves, which is how the Nahuas came into existence. We are descendents from celestial beings. I also come from Aztlán, which was where the Mexica, also known as Aztecs, used to live before migrating south. But I don't know for sure, and so is my duty to find out as soon as possible.
I lived in Mexicali, Baja California most of my childhood. I inhabited and inhabit what is known to Xican@s as the Borderlands. I'm familiar with the big and long metal blade that wounds the land. As a child, when it was a wire fence and not a metal wall, I would jump the fence to go bathe in the canal next to it, which was used to water the beet fields. We sometimes would still sweet beets from the fields. Sometimes the border patrol, also known as migra, would find us bathing, but he would not say anything to us. He knew that we were just little children not interested in 'stealing jobs from Americans.'
Now I live in Berkeley Ca., and I still live in the Borderlands. My worldview/culture is not accepted in mainstream U.S.A. I'm not talking about the University, where most people don't care, but about the real world. I cannot watch T.V. without getting angry at the way people are portrayed. We are either made into cartoons, or are deprived of our culture and act like 'any American.'
But we/I resist and survive. I live in the Borderlands because it's a place of conflict, and where many streams of culture and forces converge. The Borderland is the mouth of a big rive, the end of the channel, where different streams connect and feed the ocean. But I am not the sum of my parts, Mexicano plus U.S. inhabitant plus various Indígena bloods plus Spanish, do not equal Agustín Palacios. I am a subject, not an object. I negotiate the different streams (like a trout), and create my own identity. This is why I choose to ride the streams of Mexicano and Indígena and Xicano; I find more dignity in them. I don't need no one's permission to think this way.
A few stanzas of a beautiful poem come to mind,
my feet
recognize
no border
no rule
no code
no lord
for this
wanderer's
heart
Francisco X. Alarcón
No government owns me, or has authority to rule over me. Military-police force does not equal a righteous authority, like the one of an elder or a parent. Government force equals violence, imposition; it is taking me hostage.
I will not leave this land, doing so would be giving up. As I said before, this land belongs to no one; specially not to the government. To me is a stupid idea to climb a mountain, put a flag, and then claim that the mountain has been conquered. Is also the same with a people. Conquest is an European concept to justify and make sense for the invader the stealing of land and the murdering of people. So no, I will not leave.
The Borderland is the place where I make myself.
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correle!