Down and Delirious in Mexico City (33 page)

Emo, despite what its detractors say, emerged in Mexico as a
defined subculture with defined characteristics. It might not ever have an ideological or “tribal” foundation but it does imply a specific sound in rock, a specific look, and adherents who are transient, of a specific age, and self-define as “hard-core.” Most of the emo teens I interviewed for this chapter have since moved on from emo, adopting even less defined markers of any specific group, but still making rock. For insight into this, and insight into how emo is relentlessly marketed at teens, I looked at a couple of issues of
Mundo Emo
magazine, a sort of generic cultural fanzine published by a company called Mina Editores.

6
| The Lake of Fire

There is no greater influence on my conception of the cosmic violence of the Valley of Mexico than the major archaeological sites that stand as living historical emblems amid the urban density: the Templo Mayor, Teotihuacán, Tlatelolco, and Cuicuilco. The sites' related museums offer illuminating examples of how native groups lived, helping me understand the centrality of ritual human sacrifice in cosmologies and sociopolitical orders in Mesoamerica, which can make the imagination run wild. I was also inspired in this chapter by Rodrigo Betancourt and conversations with Mariana Botey, whose knowledge of, first, the cultures of violence in Mesoamerica and, second, Georges Bataille, gave me unmatched insights into intersections over distant philosophies. Then I read
Queer
by William S. Burroughs, and it rattled those pathways even more.

Historical review of the Conquest crucial to my understanding:
Mongrels, Bastards, Orphans, and Vagabonds,
by Gregory Rodriguez (where I drew the “die like brutes” reference); a standard textbook history
The Course of Mexican History,
by Michael C. Meyer and William L. Sherman (Oxford University Press, 1979; fifth edition);
and
Death and the Idea of Mexico,
by Claudio Lomnitz (Zone Books, 2005), a thought-provoking guide to understanding the ways in which death and structures of violence have helped shape Mexico's identity since the point of contact between Mesoamerica and Europe. The quote “foundational holocaust” is from
Death and the Idea of Mexico
(Chapter 1).

Thanks to the D.F. natives who shared with me personal stories about the 1985 earthquake.

It's important to note that air quality has improved steadily in Mexico City since the 1990s and start of the 2000s. It has probably improved even more since this chapter was written. The chapter's narrative basis is two higher-than-normal smoggy periods I experienced early after moving here. The
Washington Post
and Agence France Presse reported in 2010 that Mexico City no longer belongs to the list of the ten most polluted cities on the planet, thanks in large part to systematic efforts to reduce pollutants in vehicle emissions, manufacturing, and by building more public transit, which includes shared public bike programs (“Mexico City drastically reduced air pollutants since 1990s,” by Anne-Marie O'Connor, Thursday, April 1, 2010, and “Clean-up efforts pay off in Mexico City,” by Sofia Miselem, March 17, 2010).

Other sources guided and inspired me here. First, the photography of newspaperman Enrique Metinides, whom I interviewed in Mexico City in October 2006 and October 2010. His work basically functions as a decades-long catalog of the most gory and grisly crime and accident scenes in Mexico City. The interview appears in edited form in Los Angeles–based
Journal of Aesthetics & Protest,
No. 5.

Mexico compares favorably to other countries in homicide rates per 100,000 inhabitants, according to a 2009 study by the Centro de Investigación para el Desarollo (CIDAC) entitled “Índice de Incidencia Delictiva y Violencia.” El Salvador tops that list, followed
by fourteen other countries including Venezuela, Colombia, Belize, Jamaica, Ecuador, Brazil, the Dominican Republic, and Paraguay before reaching Mexico at number sixteen.

The painting that is mentioned at the end of the chapter is
Erupción del Volcán Xitle, Destrucción de Cuicuilco,
by Jorge González Camarena, 1962.

7
| Kidnapped

This chapter was based almost entirely on media reports that I clipped and consulted daily on the Silvia Vargas and Fernando Martí kidnappings in the following sources:
La Jornada, Excelsior, La Prensa, Reforma, Crónica, Milenio,
and
El Universal
.

Data differs on kidnapping statistics in Mexico because a uniform definition of what constitutes kidnapping does not exist and because a vast majority of such cases are said to go unreported. Additionally, according to a 2010 study by the Instituto Ciudadano de Estudios Sobre la Inseguridad (ICESI), states report different kidnapping data than the federal government. Another degree of ambiguity is added with the question of whether the kidnappings of migrants traveling through Mexico should be counted as opposed to merely those of Mexican citizens. In a 2008 study by the Netherlands-based organization IKV Pax Christi (“Kidnapping Is Booming Business”), in 2006 Mexico was the worldwide leader in the “estimate of the absolute number of kidnappings,” followed by Iraq. Citing ICESI, the report estimates that only 29 percent of kidnappings in Mexico are not reported to authorities.

ICESI also says that among express kidnappings alone, which usually occur in taxi cabs, corrupt police participate in about 12 percent of such cases. The group provided no such figure on more sophisticated ransom kidnappings such as those of Silvia Vargas and
Fernando Martí. At the height of the kidnapping hysteria, the
L.A. Times
reported (“Fear of kidnapping grips Mexico,” by Ken Ellingwood, September 1, 2008): “A report by the daily
Milenio
newspaper said a review of federal statistics showed that only 1 in 8 kidnapping victims was a business executive. About half were in the middle class or below, the newspaper reported.” This piece is also where I gathered the figure of approximately seventy kidnappings a month being more realistically a figure of five hundred.

The march against
“inseguridad”
in 2008 was the second such march in Mexico City since 2000; the first occurred in 2004 during the administration of Mayor Andrés Manuel López Obrador, who claimed the demonstration was a political plot against him cooked up by the right.

8
| The Delinquent Is Us

Numerous sources informed my understanding of corruption in Mexico, first among them news accounts of lynchings or attempted lynchings of both police officers and suspected “delinquents,” in addition to archival articles and John Ross, in his comprehensive descriptions of illicit political acts in each post-Revolutionary presidency, in
El Monstruo
.

I looked at several issues of
Proceso,
though the magazine has a somewhat shoddy reputation of making factual errors on small points of information. But
Proceso
remains an influential running screenplay of the drama that is Mexican graft, extortion, money laundering, illicit and unethical political activities, violence, and the drug-trafficking organizations' operations and conflicts. People read it. Two particular issues were crucial here: The
Proceso
of November 16, 2008, published an excerpt of
Los cómplices del presidente;
and the November 1, 2009, issue, which revisited the federal government's questionable
investigation into the Learjet crash that killed Juan Camilo Mouriño.

The CIA World Factbook sets Mexico's poverty rate this way: “18.2% using food-based definition of poverty; asset-based poverty amounted to more than 47% (2008).” It's been getting worse. Reuters says (“Rising poverty weakens Mexico conservatives,” by Jason Lange, April 14, 2009): “A slowing economy has probably pushed 4 million or 5 million Mexicans into poverty in the two years through August 2008.”

Regarding the reach of the cartels into non-drug-trafficking enterprises, I source the
L.A. Times
(“Mexico drug cartels thrive despite Calderón's offensive,” by Tracy Wilkinson and Ken Ellingwood, August 8, 2010): “The groups also are expanding their ambitions far beyond the drug trade, transforming themselves into broad criminal empires deeply involved in migrant smuggling, extortion, kidnapping and trafficking in contraband such as pirated DVDs.”

9
| A Feathered Serpent in Burberry Shades

Sexuality in Mexico is a complex issue that demands further research. I would like to acknowledge some sources that have helped me understand it to this point. First, the photography book
Flesh Life: Sex in Mexico City,
by Joseph Rodriguez (PowerHouse Books, 2006), with an introduction by Ruben Martinez, who writes of his time in here: “I was swept up by what I experienced, initially, as the incredible eroticism of having all that's hidden and forbidden suddenly laid out before you . . .”; Lida's chapter on sexuality in
First Stop in the New World,
“Sex Capital”; the July-August 2010 edition of
Arqueologίa Mexicana,
a special issue on sexuality in Mesoamerica; the unforgettable novel
El Vampiro de la Colonia Roma,
by Luis Zapata (Grijalbo, 1979); and one book by Salvador Novo, Mexico's earliest modern gay writer,
Las locas, el sexo y los burdeles
(Diana, 1979).

For my understanding of gender and sexual identity, including transgender identity, a strong influence is the work of June Singer in
Androgyny: Toward a New Theory of Sexuality
(Anchor Books, 1976).

10
| Negotiating Saints

The story of Jonathan Legaria was reported extensively in the newspapers in Mexico City, and I contributed my own reporting in several visits to the Santa Muerte altar in Tultitlán, partly for a video report for Current TV, produced by Grillo (“Mexican Death Saint,” November 25, 2008).
Death and the Idea of Mexico
by Lomnitz informed the writing here as well. The destruction of Santa Muerte altars in Tijuana occurred in March 2009 and prompted protests in Mexico City (see Intersections, “Messing with the Santa Muerte . . . ,” April 14, 2009).

Regarding Tepito, it's important to note that its myths are often more powerful than its realities, and acquiring real data on how Tepito operates is a difficult task that few foreign or national researchers have undertaken. Most news reports related to Tepito usually cover police operations and arrests of pirate vendors. In November 2007, the magazine
Letras Libres
published a reporter's exploration of Tepito (“
Bienvenidos a Tepito,
” by Cynthia Ramírez) that gave a population figure of 38,000 residents and at least 10,000 “floating” residents, or vendors. The story says Tepito's official languages are Spanish and Korean “if you want to establish commercial relationships in the zone,” but makes no reference on whether any native to the barrio actually speaks it. Seven of ten pirated items sold and consumed in Mexico pass through Tepito,
Letras Libres
said. The Monsiváis quote—“a cemetery of ambitions, a congregation of thieves”—is from the chapter on Tepito in
Dίas de guardar
(Era, 1970).

Regarding the cult of San Judas Tadeo, it is relatively new, so
research or journalism is scarce. In June 2010, the
New York Times
produced a video report on the subculture (“Streetwise Saint Joins Mexico Drug War,” by Greg Brosnan and Jennifer Szymaszek) that focuses mostly on the crime and addiction connection between the cult and its adherents. The
sonidero
culture is closely tied to the San Judas and Santa Muerte cults, but my understanding is limited compared to the work of others, including Mariana Delgado and the team behind the Proyecto Sonidero, ethnomusicologist Cathy Ragland (see “Under the Musical Spell of the Sonidero; Mexican D.J.'s Relay Messages, on Dance Floor and to the Homeland,”
New York Times,
November 22, 2003), and the work of
tepiteño
cultural producers and local historians.

11
| Originals of Punk

There is plenty of documentary and historical work on Mexican punk. The work of Mexico City filmmaker Sarah Minter was vital to my understanding of the general geography of punk in Mexico City. Minter produced a documentary/drama chronicling the lives of punks in Ciudad Nezahualcóyotl called
Nadie es inocente
(1987), then returned two decades later to seek out her original subjects for another film called
Nadie es inocente 20 años después
(2010), which she kindly allowed me to view before its release. For an understanding of contemporary punk, I just spent a lot of time at Chopo, again, and attended punk shows and events. The photographs of New York–based William Dunleavy and D.F.'s Federico Gama are a strong window into the geography of punks and related subcultures in recent years.

I found research or journalism on the history of the razing and development of Santa Fe lacking, but did look in newspaper archives and niche articles to get a general sense of how Santa Fe became what it is today. Lida's take on Santa Fe in
First Stop in the New World
is also
very illuminating. He sums it up this way: “There are no parks, no gardens, and there is nowhere to walk.”

I also consulted a few academic sources to get a sense on how punk is read by researchers, including “Punk and globalization: Spain and Mexico,” by Alan O'Connor at Trent University in Canada (International Journal of Cultural Studies, 2004).

12
| Attack of the Sweat Lodge

The temazcal is part of a curious resurgence or reclamation of pre-Hispanic cultural practices that operates awkwardly in the context of the social stratification, urbanization, and globalization that defines everyday life for many Mexicans, and certainly most of those who live in the capital. It's also increasingly used as an “immersion” or “relaxation” spectacle for foreign tourists who congregate in Mexico's coastal resorts and officially tagged “
pueblos mágicos
” such as Tepoztlán. Nonetheless, its practice is taken seriously by a segment of educated modern Mexicans and Mesoamerican descendants. What's not clear to me still is how prevalent the temazcal remains among indigenous communities in Mexico, and whether its use has changed in any measurable way since pre-Hispanic times. For now, the question is another future area of inquiry.