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La identidad es la capacidad para reconocernos a nosotros mismos. También, la identidad es el conjunto de los rasgos propios de un individuo o de una comunidad. Estos rasgos caracterizan al sujeto o a la colectividad frente a los demás. La identidad también es la conciencia que una persona tiene respecto a sí misma y que la convierte en alguien distinta a los demás. Aunque muchos de los rasgos que forman la identidad son hereditarios o innatos, el entorno ejerce influencia en la conformación de la especificidad de cada sujeto. Por eso puede decirse que una persona "busca su identidad" o expresiones similares.

La socialización y la construcción de la identidad personal no se dan sólo a partir de la familia sino también de la comunidad en que viven. Es crucial reconocer que cada hablante en una comunidad dispone de varios grupos con quienes puede identificarse en un momento dado. Se refiere a este concepto como el repertorio de las identidades que tiene una persona.

Los seres humanos utilizamos el lenguaje para crear y reflejar la identidad social. Lo usamos para mostrar la inclusión o la exclusión en un grupo y para crear y mantener los roles en las relaciones. Debido a que no se puede separar el uso del lenguaje de la cultura y de la sociedad, una persona inmigrante o de primera generación del país destinado vive entre las dos culturas.

La identidad, en ocasión, se construye a partir de modelos humanos. En este sentido, los modelos son personas admirables, que impresionan y atraen la atención de la persona y le provee una idea de cómo quieren llegar a ser. De la misma manera, el desarrollo de la identidad personal o pública tiende a ser un proceso complicado. La identidad no es algo estático, sino que la vamos definiendo a lo largo de nuestra vida, a través de nuestras conductas y de las capacidades que desarrollamos.
Las siguientes actividades están diseñadas como suplemento para la unidad didáctica. El propósito de las actividades es para guiar la discusión sobre el concepto de identidad que se relaciona no sólo con aspectos personales sino también políticos, sociales, culturales, históricos, y antropológicos de un individuo y la comunidad en que vive.

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The Influence of Language and Culture on Identity

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Preguntas Esenciales ¿Cómo se desarrolla nuestra identidad a lo largo del tiempo?¿Cómo moldea la lengua nuestra identidad cultural?¿Cómo influye la tecnología en el desarrollo de la identidad pública y personal?¿Cómo refleja el arte de una comunidad su identidad pública? La identidad es la capacidad para reconocernos a nosotros mismos.

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1- Las Identidades Personales y Públicas - AP Spanish Language and Culture

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hispanic or latino? why their identity is so complicated  - cnn

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Hispanic or Latino? Why their identity is so complicated - CNN

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If there's one thing everyone should know about Hispanics in the United States, it's that this growing minority is in the middle of a stressful identity crisis.

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Presentation de los gauchos conversacion tema 6

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Tensiones entre Haití y República Dominicana

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La crisis migratoria en República Dominicana

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Celebración Mes de la Herencia Hispana en Miami

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Reflejos de lo que es ser latino en Estados Unidos

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¿Cómo ser un latino exitoso en EEUU? William Levy nos dice

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Yalitza Aparicio para BRUT: de la fama, el racismo y su amada Oaxaca | Brut.

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@YalitzaAparicio conversó con Brut sobre la realidad de los indígenas en México y el mundo: "Realmente comprendí el por qué ellos no compartían su lengua".

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Carlos Vives - El Orgullo de Mi Patria (Official Video)

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Jorge Celedón, Jimmy Zambrano - La Invitación (Video)

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Te invito - Herencia de Timbiquí (video oficial)

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ChocQuibTown - Somos los Prietos (Official Video) ft. Alexis Play

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Peter Pan & The Lottery: How Pitbull's Familia Came To America

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Carmelo Gets In Touch With His Puerto Rican Roots

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Hispanic Heritage Month | Be Inspired | Disney Channel

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Raza De Mil Colores - Ricky Martin - (Lyrics)

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Jóvenes e identidad: Otavalo, una cultura en transformación

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When Yale professor Cydney Dupree and her colleague analyzed more than two decades worth of political speeches and conducted experiments searching for bias when communicating with racial minorities, they were surprised by what they discovered. According to their report, published this year in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, conservatives generally addressed whites and minorities similarly, but liberals were likelier to modify their speech and " patronize minorities stereotyped as lower status and less competent."

Dupree cautioned that although liberals might be "well-intentioned" and "see themselves as allies," they could be unwittingly contributing to racial division by dumbing down their language. In light of minorities understandably feeling marginalized, journalists, corporations and politicians would be wise to heed the professor's warning. Instead, they are ignoring it.

One of the most notable examples of corporate America and politicians changing how they speak to ingratiate themselves with minorities is the growing use of "Latinx" as a descriptor for Latinos. What began in the 2000s among activists has now gained currency among marketers, media personalities and progressives. The intentions behind "Latinx" may be benign, but as the son of immigrants who grew up in a community with "English-only" ordinances, I am among the many Americans who consider it an absurd Anglicization of a language that generations struggled to conserve.

Spanish doesn't need to be changed

Progressives argue that Latinx fixes the gendered nature of Spanish, which they maintain is unfair to women and excludes individuals who do not identify as male or female. It is true that nouns are gendered in Spanish, but it is unclear what, if any, problem this poses to Americans.

English is not grammatically gendered; "Latinos" is inclusive in both languages, and substitutes like "Latin" and "Hispanic" can adequately describe the population that is Latino and nonbinary. Taken to its logical conclusion, a push for gender-neutral Spanish nouns requires dismantling a language spoken by 572 million people across the world.
In my new country, an old debate: My family escaped socialism, now my fellow Democrats think we should move the party in its direction
Yet some maintain that Spanish is insufficiently "woke." Marketers are now targeting Latinx consumers, and Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., marked Hispanic Heritage Month by promising in English and Spanish to champion " Latinx families."

Thanks, but marketing executives and politicians should understand that many of our families do not want to be called Latinx. The term has some supporters among Latinos, but the fact that the word is controversial makes its usage especially strange, since modern social norms discourage applying loaded terms to minority groups.

As deputy editor of Latino Rebels, Hector Luis Alamo described Latinx as " the bulldozing of Spanish."

In a column for the Los Angeles Times, a Hispanic writer noted that millennial media outlets who used it found their pages "flooded with negative reactions, with some calling the term 'ridiculous,' 'stupid' and 'offensive.' "

Alejandrina Gonzalez, a Mexican-American Stanford University student, told me that millennials who view Latinx as liberating have it backwards. "Changing our language is the opposite of empowering," she said.

Not only is Latinx "laughably incomprehensible to any Spanish speaker without some fluency in English," as two Latino Swarthmore College students argued in 2015, its use has been formally rejected by the Real Academia Española, the official body of linguists that preserves the language's integrity. Who knew it was progressive to abrogate foreign grammar standards?

What happened to multiculturalism?

Rather than making Latinos feel included, progressives are implying the way our families speak is fundamentally inadequate for the United States and progressive American culture. This is offensive to the 85% of Hispanics who, like my parents, speak Spanish to their children and whose most treasured heirlooms are often family traditions and memories in Spanish. Mine include the mellifluous sound of thebaritone voice of my "abuelo," mom's favorite boleros and dad's military stories.

Has their language joined the ranks of comedian Dave Chapelle, the Betsy Ross flag, and the interminable list of people and things that perturb our politically correct sensibilities?

Ultimately, what Hispanic Americans who take pride in our heritage see in "Latinx" is progressive preening attempting to solve a nonexistent problem at the expense of a beautiful language that Chicanos and other Latinos endured corporal punishment and bigotry to defend. Liberals should also realize it is impossible to reconcile their professed values - like multiculturalism, education and pronoun autonomy - with the peculiar strain of 2019 progressivism that seeks to radically change our language, disregards linguistic practices, and disavows our right to determine how we are described.
Giancarlo Sopo is a public relations strategist and a 2019 National Review Institute regional fellow in Dallas. Follow him on Twitter: @GiancarloSopo
Gender-nonconforming Americans should be treated with compassion and respect. If someone wants to be called Latinx, that is fine, but the label should not be forced upon all Latinos. Hispanic Americans face plenty of challenges. The last thing we need are progressives "wokesplaining" how to speak Spanish.

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Progressives, Hispanics are not 'Latinx.' Stop trying to Anglicize our Spanish language.

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Hispanic Americans face plenty of challenges as it is. The last thing we need are English-speaking progressives 'wokesplaining' how to speak Spanish.

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CITIZENS OF NOWHERE [2017 Dominican Film Festival]

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Renata Flores, de 19 años, es parte de una generación de músicos peruanos que combinan los ritmos del trap, el rap y el reguetón con los sonidos y el lenguaje del campo andino.

Renata Flores es parte de una nueva generación de artistas que producen música contemporánea en quechua, la lengua de sus antepasados. Credit... Celia D. Luna

Regístrate para recibir nuestro boletín con lo mejor de The New York Times.

El video musical comienza con paisajes panorámicos de las montañas nevadas de los Andes y el silbido de los instrumentos de viento tradicionales de la región.

"Si ellos están dando críticas es bueno, ¿no? Se nota que está llegando", continuó.

Flores y Kani, junto con músicos como Kayfex, quien hace poco firmó contrato con Warner Music en Estados Unidos, están combinando los ritmos palpitantes del trap, rap y reguetón latinos popularizados por artistas como Bad Bunny con los sonidos del campo peruano.

Su nuevo álbum, Isqun, o Nueve, cuyo lanzamiento está programado para este año, sigue "todo el proceso que ha tenido que pasar la mujer andina desde antes incluso de que vinieran los españoles a Perú", a lo largo de nueve canciones, explicó.

"Somos fusión", canta de los descendientes de Pizarro. "Rosalía, dame la razón".

El quechua ha sobrevivido no solo a la Conquista, sino a la fundación de las repúblicas independientes de la región, cuyos líderes a menudo desalentaron el uso del idioma en un intento para eliminar la disidencia indígena.

Ella captó la atención de Perú hace cinco años. A la edad de 14 años, luego de perder en una competencia estilo American Idol llamada La Voz Kids, ella y su madre decidieron publicar en internet la que habría sido su canción de victoria, la versión en quechua que hizo Uchpa de la canción " House of the Rising Sun", interpretada por The Animals.

Al poco tiempo, su video se volvió tendencia en Facebook en Perú. Luego hizo más versiones de canciones en quechua: " The Way You Make Me Feel" de Michael Jackson ("Chaynatam Ruwanki Kuyanayta") y " Fallin '" de Alicia Keys ("Wichichkamuni").

Su abuela paterna, que creció en el campo, jamás aprendió a hablar español con fluidez.

Flores empezó a preguntarse por qué a veces se sentía avergonzada cuando escuchaba a sus abuelas hablar quechua en público, y por qué a tantos de sus compañeros les apenaba hablar el idioma en clase.

Empezó a preguntarse por qué nadie le había enseñado el idioma formalmente.

Con el tiempo, empezó a componer sus propias canciones, primero las escribía en español y luego las traducía a quechua con ayuda de sus abuelas.

Su objetivo, dijo, era "rescatar nuestra cultura".

"Tijeras", su primer sencillo con orientación política, fue un grito de guerra de la era del #MeToo (#YoTambién). "Tal vez mi grito lo cante lindo", rapea, "y así escuche la gente".

"Munani musquyta", corean. "Quiero soñar. Quiero estudiar. Quiero hablar".

Al ver el video, la abuela materna de Flores, Adalberta Canchanya Alvarado, de 78 años, se declaró "increíblemente orgullosa".

"Ella es libre y puede cantar, no como nosotros", dijo Canchanya. "Lo dice tal como es."

Julie Turkewitz es la jefa de la corresponsalía de los Andes, que cubre Colombia, Venezuela, Bolivia, Ecuador, Perú, Surinam y Guyana. Antes de mudarse a Sudamérica era corresponsal nacional y escribía del Oeste estadounidense. @julieturkewitz

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Transgresora y tradicional: así es la reina del rap en quechua de Perú

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Renata Flores, de 19 años, es parte de una generación de músicos peruanos que combinan los ritmos del trap, el rap y el reguetón con los sonidos y el lenguaje del campo andino. Regístrate para recibir nuestro boletín con lo mejor de The New York Times.

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Lila Downs. La lucha a través del arte.-

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Easily create beautiful interactive video lessons for your students you can integrate right into your LMS. Track students' progress with hassle-free analytics as you flip your classroom!

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rap andino - apuntes comparación cultural

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Tras el proceso inicial de conquista, el gobierno de la Nueva España instauró un marcado sistema de castas. Dicho aparato político reguló la interacción racial y la movilidad socioeconómica. En la parte superior del sistema de derechos la comunidad europea se situó a sí misma; en la parte más baja fue colocada la migración africana traída como esclava al Nuevo Mundo.

La historia de la llegada de los esclavos con origen africano a México nace bajo tres premisas:

Una etnia en el olvido

El proceso de inserción de los africanos en México siempre tuvo una tendencia a la invisibilización. En el imaginario colectivo de México el negro ha sido pensado como una especie de antihéroe. Ejemplo de ello son dos figuras históricas que funcionan como arquetipos de la visión del negro en México.

El primero es el Estebanico, un esclavo de grandes proporciones físicas que viajó a lado de los conquistadores. El segundo es Francisco Eguía, colonizador que insertó el virus de la viruela en la población indígena. En ambos casos se exalta la visión del negro como un humano torpe, aliado inconsciente de la Conquista.

Pese al sistema de castas, el mestizaje cultural y biológico no logró ser detenido por los españoles. Sin embargo, el mestizaje de la población negra no solo disolvió sus características físicas, también desdibujó su identidad cultural.

A diferencia del indígena, el negro no logró reinterpretar su cultura en un molde occidental que le permitiera seguir conservándola. Por el contrario, los afromexicanos fueron diluidos en la identidad mestiza. Pese a ello, los afrodescendientes conservaron condiciones de opresión y aislamiento semejantes a la esclavitud.

Otra situación por la cual ha pasado el afromexicano es la tendencia a la extranjerización. Los afrodescendientes con rasgos físicos más notables suelen no ser reconocidos como mexicanos, lo cual ha limitado la formación de su identidad, para incluirse en las que poseen mayor aceptación.

Los afromexicanos hoy

Aunque la población negra fue minoría durante la Colonia, en ningún caso puede ser considerada irrelevante para la gesta de la población mexicana actual. Los negros no mestizos estuvieron cerca de los españoles en número, mientras que la población afromestiza rápidamente superó a la población europea. Por ello, la influencia africana es considerada por muchos una tercera raíz cultural de México.

Lamentablemente, el reconocimiento de la población negra en México es tardío. La producción intelectual en la que se menciona la población afromexicana es escasa.

A lo anterior, podemos agregar que la reconstrucción de la identidad poscolonial tuvo como protagonistas los estudios indigenistas, para luego ceder el escaño a la construcción de una identidad nacional mexicana durante los siglos XIX y XX.

Según el INEGI, el 1.16% de la población nacional se identifica como afromexicana o afrodescendiente. Gran parte de esta población reconoce actitudes discriminatorias en su contra, entre las que se cuenta la negación de su identidad. Los estados con mayor número de afromexicanos son Oaxaca, Veracruz y Guerrero, entidades que conservan vestigios de tradiciones africanas.

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Rodrigo Osegueda Filósofo por formación. Contempla el alma e imaginación de México.

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Los afromexicanos, una etnia en el olvido | México Desconocido

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Tras el proceso inicial de conquista, el gobierno de la Nueva España instauró un marcado sistema de castas. Dicho aparato político reguló la interacción racial y la movilidad socioeconómica. En la parte superior del sistema de derechos la comunidad europea se situó a sí misma; en la parte más baja fue colocada la migración africana traída como esclava al Nuevo Mundo.

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Brasil: protestas antirracismo en Río de Janeiro y Sao Paulo

(CNN Español) - En el mundo entero protestan por la muerte de George Floyd bajo custodia policial en Estados Unidos, que reavivó el debate sobre las desigualdades estructurales entre personas blancas y negras en el país. Las cifras indican que América Latina no está libre de la discriminación que se vuelve tan visible en el vecino del norte. Todo lo contrario.

En América Latina aproximadamente el 24% de la población era negra en 2015, lo que equivale a unos 133 millones de personas de acuerdo a los datos de censos de 16 países compilados por el Banco Mundial en 2018. En otras palabras, una de cada cuatro personas se identificaba como afrodescendiente, según las categorías que define el informe "Afrodescendientes en Latinoamérica Hacia un marco de inclusión".

La distribución de esta población es muy desigual entre los diferentes países. En Brasil y Venezuela están más del 91% de las personas afrodescendientes de la región, con 105 millones y 17 millones de afrodescendientes respectivamente. En tercer lugar está Colombia con 5 millones y le siguen México con 1,5 millones y Ecuador con 1,2 millones.

LEE: La desigualdad entre blancos y negros en Estados Unidos en 6 gráficos contundentes

Ciudadanos negros muertos a manos de la policía en EE.UU.

Pobreza

Uno de los factores comunes de los afrodescendientes en la región es la pobreza. El Banco Mundial afirma en su informe de 2018 que las personas negras son "la minoría excluida más grande de la región". Y esto, destaca el organismo, atraviesa países con características muy distintas: en Brasil, por ejemplo, tienen dos veces más probabilidades de ser pobres que los blancos. En el vecino Uruguay, que tiene uno de los menores porcentajes de población afrodescendiente de la región y es reconocido por sus índices de igualdad, tienen tres veces más de probabilidad.

La obtención de datos sobre los afrodescendientes es uno de los grandes desafíos a la hora de estudiar qué está sucediendo en la región. Durante décadas en los censos de muchos países no se distinguió a los afrodescendientes, pero en los últimos años la situación cambió. Ahora existen más datos estadísticos que demuestran la sobrerrepresentación de los negros entre los pobres de la región. De hecho, según la Comisión Económica para América Latina y el Caribe, "a pesar de un significativo proceso de reducción de la pobreza y de la extrema pobreza en América Latina entre 2002 y 2014, así como de la desigualdad de ingresos medida por el coeficiente de Gini (índice que mide la desigualdad en la distribución del ingreso entre los habitantes de un país), persisten importantes desigualdades raciales en esos indicadores".

Coronavirus, el plan de la CEPAL contra la pobreza

Según el Banco Mundial, en Brasil, Colombia, Ecuador, Panamá, Perú y Uruguay combinados -los países que tienen los datos desagregados por raza-, los afrodescendientes son el 38% de la población, pero representan el 47% de los pobres y el 49% de las personas en extrema pobreza.

Barrios pobres, más homicidios

Otro dato que refleja la desigualdad entre negros y blancos en la región es el acceso a viviendas adecuadas. De acuerdo a los datos del Banco Mundial, en 10 países de América Latina hay más personas afrodescendientes que no afrodescendientes en los barrios pobres o favelas.

Además de tener un menor acceso a los servicios básicos y ser víctimas de una estigmatización que puede reducir sus oportunidades, vivir en barrios pobres o favelas también puede hacer que las personas negras estén más expuestas a la violencia. Sobre este tema los datos en Brasil son muy significativos.

El Atlas de la Violencia 2019 muestra que el 75,5% de las víctimas de homicidio en 2017 en Brasil eran negras, de un total de 65.602 casos.

Ese mismo informe advierte que los homicidios de personas negras crecieron un 33,1% entre 2007 y 2017, mientras que los homicidios entre personas no negras aumentaron en ese período un 3,3%.
LEE: La policía en Estados Unidos les dispara, mata y encarcela a más personas que en otros países desarrollados. Estos son los datos
Educación

Las mejoras en el acceso a la educación en la región impactaron positivamente en la población negra, pero no lograron igualar su situación con las blancas.

De acuerdo a los datos del Banco Mundial, cerca del 64% de los integrantes de hogares afrodescendientes completaron la educación primaria contra un 83% de la población no afrodescendiente. La brecha no hace más que crecer en los siguientes niveles educativos: un 30% de afrodescendientes completó secundaria contra un 46% de no afrodescendientes y un 5% completó la educación terciaria contra el 14% de sus pares no afrodescendientes.

Menos y peor empleo

El Banco Mundial afirma que los niveles de desempleo de los afrodescendientes son más altos en todos los países de la región. Además existen diferencias claras en el tipo de empleos que tienen las personas afrodescendientes y sus pares blancos. En Latinoamérica el desempleo afecta más a las personas negras e indígenas, y dentro de estas etnias especialmente a las mujeres y jóvenes, según consigna un informe presentado en el marco de la II Reunión de la Conferencia Regional sobre Desarrollo Social de América Latina y el Caribe.

Por otra parte, al comparar a trabajadores de distintas razas que comparten otras variables como nivel educativo, edad, experiencia y tipo de empleo, en varios países las personas blancas ganan más. Este es el caso de Brasil, donde en iguales condiciones los afrodescendientes ganan un 16% menos, y de Perú, con un 6,5% menos de ganancia.

El problema de la invisibilización

La historia de los negros en América Latina es la historia de la esclavitud. Se estima que entre 5 y 10 millones de negros fueron traídos de África como esclavos entre los siglos XVI y XIX. El último país en abolir completamente la esclavitud en la región fue Brasil, en el año 1888.

Según el Banco Mundial, durante la segunda mitad del siglo XIX en la región comenzó el "blanqueamiento", una serie de "políticas, discursos y prácticas basados en la idea de que los elementos blancos y europeos eran superiores a los africanos o indígenas" que hicieron que la marginación de la población negra continuara incluso cuando la esclavitud había terminado.

Este tipo de teorías empezaron a caer en desuso sobre 1930, cuando surgió el mito de la democracia racial. "Encabezadas por el México posrevolucionario, las élites nacionales comenzaron a abandonar las ideologías de blanqueamiento en favor de narrativas que enfatizaban la existencia de relaciones raciales armoniosas, evidenciadas en la celebración de la composición mestiza de la nación. La identidad mestiza se adoptó como una estrategia para cortar con el pasado colonial y los antagonismos raciales del periodo republicano temprano", afirma el Banco Mundial. En el marco de este nuevo paradigma, hacer visibles las diferencias entre las diferentes razas no tenía lugar, y muchos países dejaron de considerarlas incluso en sus censos estadísticos.

Décadas de lucha de las organizaciones de la sociedad civil y nuevos cambios en los paradigmas han hecho que, en los últimos años, se distinguieran las particularidades de la población afrodescendiente. En varios países de la región se definieron políticas de promoción de los derechos de las personas negras y se comenzó a tomar en cuenta la raza en los censos. No obstante, los datos muestras que las acciones aún no son suficientes para revertir la desigualdad con respecto a la población blanca.

Y también, por supuesto, el coronavirus

El Fondo de Población de las Naciones Unidas (UNFPA, por sus siglas en inglés) alertó a los gobiernos de la región sobre el impacto de la pandemia de coronavirus en la población afrodescendiente.
LEE: América Latina está perdiendo la batalla contra el coronavirus
En el informe "Implicaciones del COVID-19 en la población afrodescendiente de América Latina y el Caribe", UNFPA menciona múltiples riesgos que deben tener en cuenta los países de la región ya que, si bien el virus afecta a personas de todas las razas, se deben "extremar medidas" para atender a las poblaciones más afectadas por la desigualdad, entre ellas los afrodescendientes.

Los inmigrantes indígenas en EE.UU. y los riesgos por covid-19

En términos de salud, la agencia de la ONU menciona la desigualdad en el acceso a la atención y los suministros, las problemas en el acceso al agua y al saneamiento en algunas comunidades que hacen que no puedan cumplir con los requerimientos de higiene para prevenir la transmisión del virus y la restricción de servicios de salud esenciales que haría que personas afrodescendientes no puedan acceder a controles necesarios, por ejemplo en casos de embarazos. También señalan las dificultades en el acceso a la información de calidad sobre el covid-19.
MIRA: Análisis en Nueva York demuestra mayor impacto del covid-19 en hispanos y negros
A nivel educativo destacan las dificultades en el acceso a internet y al equipamiento necesario para poder seguir la educación a distancia, así como la pérdida de programas de alimentación en los centros educativos que son fundamentales para las personas afrodescendientes en situación de pobreza.

En cuanto al empleo, UNFPA sostiene que las medidas de los gobiernos en general están orientadas a los sectores formales, por lo que quedan de lado "los sectores informales en donde existe una mayor concentración de afrodescendientes".

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Esta es la situación de las personas negras en América Latina

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Brasil: protestas antirracismo en Río de Janeiro y Sao Paulo (CNN Español) - En el mundo entero protestan por la muerte de George Floyd bajo custodia policial en Estados Unidos, que reavivó el debate sobre las desigualdades estructurales entre personas blancas y negras en el país.

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¿Cuántos colores hay en el arco iris humano? Según la artista Angélica Dass, el rango de color de piel humana es, por ahora, no menos de 4 mil, gracias a un proyecto de retratos.

Desde 2012, la artista brasileña ha estado, a través de la fotografía, capturando la esencia de las personas, en retratos en los que se percibe una gama inmensa en cuanto al color de la piel nos referimos. Combinando el tono de piel de cada sujeto con los tonos de la tabla de colores de impresión Pantone la artista codificó un inventario cromático único.

El proyecto, titulado " Humanæ ", ha viajado por el mundo y a aparecido en distintas revistas, centrando la idea de la raza como un constructo social, en lugar de uno biológico.

Dass también dio una 2016 sobre el tema: "Han pasado 128 años desde que el último país del mundo abolió la esclavitud", expresó en la ponencia.

"Pero aún vivimos en un mundo donde el color de nuestra piel no solo da una primera impresión, sino una duradera que permanece".

La exploración de Dass, se basa en una muestra de 11 por 11 píxeles tomada de la nariz de cada sujeto. Luego lo combina con una tarjeta de color de Pantone, que usa como telón de fondo para el retrato de la persona. Debajo de cada imagen, Dass imprime el número oficial de Pantone: el suyo es " 7522 C ", un marrón cálido.

"Usando esta escala, estoy segura de que nadie es 'negro' y absolutamente nadie es 'blanco' ... este tipo de conceptos que utilizamos en el pasado son completamente absurdos", dijo Dass al sitio Newsweek , señalando cómo las personas de etnias muy diferentes los fondos a veces terminan con exactamente el mismo color Pantone.

"Al crecer en una familia con todos estos sabores y colores, nunca entendí por qué tenemos esta pequeña clasificación de personas como negro, blanco, rojo o amarillo que son los colores asociados con la raza", dijo Dass a la

La familia multiétnica de los artistas fueron sus primeras fotos. Desde entonces, ha tomado 4 mil retratos en 18 países, y no hay un final a la vista. ,"Humanæ 'es un trabajo en progreso", dijo Dass a CNN " ... infinito e inacabado ".

Puedes ver las fotos de la serie a continuación. Solo da clic.

Finalmente, mientras que la biblioteca de Pantone con varias actualizaciones ya suma más de dos mil colores, las sombras en el espectro del color de la piel humana no tienen fin.

También lee:

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Artista toma 4 mil retratos para mostrar el rango de color de la piel

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Desde 2012, la artista brasileña ha estado, a través de la fotografía, capturando la esencia de las personas, en retratos en los que se percibe una gama inmensa en cuanto al color de la piel nos referimos. Combinando el tono de piel de cada sujeto con los tonos de la tabla de colores de impresión Pantone la artista codificó un inventario cromático único.

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Victoria Santa Cruz | Me Gritaron Negra (Afro Perú) | Music MGP

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The Nu LatAm Sound Ecuador - Episode 2 - The Rhythm of the Coast

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Niña ecuatoriana, declama poema Me gritaron negra de Victoria Santa Cruz

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In 2020, phrases like 'hay que mejorar la raza' (we have to better the race) and 'pelo malo' (bad hair) are still prevalent in many Latino homes. Meanwhile, issues that affect Black Latinx communities (e.g., lack of quality in infrastructure, economic inequality and discrimination) are still a major focus in the fight for equality. Although terms like "Afro-Latinx" have garnered a lot of attention in the last few years, the marginalized group continues to face anti-Blackness at work and educational spaces.

That being said, non-Black Latinx have had to work towards unlearning many of the anti-Black ideologies that have been generationally reinforced through media and politics. In addition to unlearning, Afro-descendants of different backgrounds and occupations often find themselves educating others on White and Brown privilege and how non-Black Latinxs have historically perpetuated anti-Blackness in the Latinx community.

We spoke to women who are raising Black consciousness on their platforms and initiatives about the ways in which they're working to decolonize and unlearn anti-Blackness.

The Workshop that Deconstructs Anti-Blackness

The workshop spawns from their Caña Negra platform created by the Central-American activists. They were well aware that the U.S. was late to the Afro-Latinx conversation and wanted to create a space that challenged the "awakening" narrative.

"What I am seeing is that those who are indeed newly awakened, centered-once again pushing to the margins, lifelong Black Latin Americans who have been in the trenches about these topics but were not being listened to," says co-founder and director of AfroLatinx Travel Dash Harris Machado. The reality inspired the name of the series Caña Negra.

"[We] wanted to make a strong and clear statement that we are lifelong Black women. There was no 'realizing' or an 'epiphany' into Blackness. We had no choice or an 'opt-out' in the matter as many new U.S. AfroLatinos seemed to have."

Non-Black individuals who attend the training are expected to make the effort and conscious decision to deprogram and decolonize their minds.

"First thing is to pay Black people fairly for their contributions in this labor. Economic justice is racial justice. And at the same time, Black people do not owe you this labor. I challenge non-Black Latin Americans to do this work themselves, without calling in their 'Black friend' for assistance," says Harris Machado.

The training provides resources that assist in the learning process, time for group and individual reflection, and to the labor of re-educating and de-conditioning themselves and offering that same space for their family, friend and colleague circles.

It Takes Time and Letting Go

Janvieve Williams-Comrie, Evelyn Alvarez, and Dash Harris Machado created their Anti-Blackness in the Latinx Community Training in 2019 to critically address anti-Blackness in the Latinx community.

Being that the anti-Black mindset is shaped over time, it is impossible to unlearn anti-Blackness from one day to another.

"Held beliefs have kept people safe, and there is a way to honor that and introduce new ideologies and beliefs. Be okay with walking away from some people and fights," says social entrepreneur and founder of Black Magic Doulas -an NYC-based doula team that offers resources for expecting families-Evelyn Alvarez.

Co-founder and director of AfroResistance -an organization that works to educate the diaspora throughout the Americas on racial justice-Janvieve Williams-Comrie, explains that it's also okay to let go.

"You may not change your abuela overnight, but she is listening to you. Letting go and outgrowing relationships is part of this process no matter what stage one is at. It's just a part and it is hard and can be challenging but at the same time freeing."

"There is also a level of forgiveness and grace. We have to remember to extend to our elders, specifically our Black elders who have been victimized in this white supremacist complex," adds Harris. "Many of their anti-Black attitudes, behaviors, and norms were survival."

Redefining What "Beauty" Means in the Latinx Community

The natural hair movement has grown in numbers in Latin America over the past few years. In the Dominican Republic and it's diaspora, Black women are redefining what beauty means to them, but despite this rise, the discrimination against afro-textured hair is still vastly common.

Thanks to spaces like Miss Rizos, the first all-natural hair salon on the island, women are rejecting European beauty standards.

"I feel like every single part of the black woman has been picked apart and deemed not beautiful for so many years," says Sofia Reyes, owner of the natural hair store Sofia Styles Me.

In 2017, before launching her business, Reyes was the Operations Manager and Social Impact Coordinator at Miss Rizos.

"I'd see how some of our clients would be so excited to finally get their big chop and how liberated they would feel at the moment... just to come back crying at their next appointment because they were fired, suspended from school, or dumped by their significant others," says Reyes.

"It's so powerful to see a woman own their natural beauty in a society that consistently tells you, explicitly and implicitly, that you are not meeting the beauty standard-the eurocentric beauty standard," she says. Her store's "Don't Touch My Crown" long-sleeve tee is not only an ode to Solange's "Don't Touch My Hair" but an appreciation to The CROWN Act, which prohibits discrimination based on hairstyle and hair texture.

For many, terms like 'pelo malo' have become the conversation starter that deconstructs anti-blackness in family homes.

"The first time my family began having conversations about race and anti-blackness was when I chose to transition into natural hair in 2012. Cutting my hair over 12 inches and resisting salon culture triggered older family members to begrudgingly acknowledge my negritud," says Danyeli Rodriguez Del Orbe, writer of Periodicos de Ayer. The spoken word artist told her family she would no longer apply heat on her hair a few weeks later.

"My aunt grabbed onto my edges and said, "Mirate ahora. Vas a parecer una maldita negra" (Look at yourself now, looking like a fucking Black girl). Almost bursting to tears, Danyeli replied "Tia, I am a negra. Look at Papi."

"Ironically enough, after years of unpacking anti-blackness and where those comments and many more come from, that same aunt calls me for hair advice for her own curls," says Rodriguez Del Orbe.

The unpacking, de-colonizing and de-programming process takes time, but it also requires patience. The process is best summarized by Rodriguez Del Orbe: "I used to become very impatient with my family and other Dominicans who did not understand anti-Blackness, but doing liberation work requires offering the same patience towards others that you once offered yourself."

Correction, March 2 at 12:30 p.m. ET: This post has been updated. Co-founder of AfroResistance's name has been edited from Janieve Williams Comrie to Janvieve Williams-Comrie.

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On Deconstructing & Unlearning Anti-Blackness in the Latinx Community

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In 2020, phrases like 'hay que mejorar la raza' (we have to better the race) and 'pelo malo' (bad hair) are still prevalent in many Latino homes. Meanwhile, issues that affect Black Latinx communities (e.g., lack of quality in infrastructure, economic inequality and discrimination) are still a major focus in the fight for equality.

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By Dr. Victoria González-Rivera, Associate Professor of Chicana and Chicano Studies at San Diego State University

Born in 1942 in the small town of Matagalpa, in central Nicaragua, my father died right before Hurricane Mitch devastated Nicaragua in 1998. Like all of us, his life was shaped by structural inequalities that he had no control over as well as by the choices he made. One aspect of his life that he had very little control over was his appearance, specifically his Afro-mestizo appearance.

When pressed, my father would acknowledge that he had African ancestry. He was constantly reminded of it by the people around him. The racialized nickname "negro" was one that he heard often until his untimely death at age 56. More often than not, it was said lovingly by other Afro-mestizo Nicaraguans and people he cherished. But sometimes the racialized teasing was vicious and cruel, as it was on the day of his first Communion, when at the age of 6 or 7 he was mocked for wearing an all-white outfit and called "una mosca en leche" (a fly in milk).

When I was a child, I witnessed him being racially profiled and discriminated against by other Nicaraguans who were lighter-skinned, ones who looked like me. I never got a chance to ask him about the emotional toll that must have had on him.

What I do know is that my father believed racism against Black and Indigenous people in the U.S. was worse than and different from racism in Latin America and that he was fundamentally different from all "gringos". My father did not speak English and he only visited the U.S. twice. The first time was to marry my white mother in 1967. The second time was after their divorce, in 1985, to visit my siblings and me in inner-city Detroit.

My father was a very bright man. He was one of the first pediatricians in our small town. What he lacked was the vocabulary and the knowledge to speak about his Blackness. He was purposely denied the opportunity to learn about his history. This was done by a racist Nicaraguan education system that was mired in 450 years of white supremacy and by myriad other structures that perpetuated the myth that Nicaraguans on the Pacific and central regions of the country, i.e. western Nicaragua, were all/only mestizos. This was the same system that centered the experiences of those of us in western Nicaragua and turned the Caribbean regions of Nicaragua into a racialized and exoticized Other.

I do not know much about our African ancestors due to the silences in the historical record with regards to working-class and enslaved people of color. But as a historian I am able to understand why my father did not "see" his Blackness, why so many Latin Americans and Latinx people think we are not racist, and why so many of us actually are.

If I had not moved to the U.S. as a teenager I might have never "seen" race. As the Nicaraguan political scientist Dr. Juliet Hooker, a Professor at Brown University and a leading Creole scholar, notes, light-skinned Nicaraguans (like me) who live in the U.S. tend to encounter racism for the first time when we arrive as immigrants in the U.S. ( La Prensa. Interview with Juliet Hooker by Amalia del Cid, June 7, 2020). People like me do not experience racism in Nicaragua, unlike Creole Nicaraguans, other Black/Afro-Nicaraguans, Indigenous Nicaraguans, dark-skinned mestizos, and Afro-mestizos like my father. It is easy to ignore "race" when you do not experience racism and you are not perceived as racialized but rather as the norm. Once light-skinned Nicaraguans arrive in the U.S., racism is often unavoidable because of the anti-immigrant bias in U.S. society, the prejudice against those of us who have accents and are Spanish-surnamed, and the long-standing discrimination against those we are assumed to be: Mexican Americans/Chicano/a/xs, Puerto Ricans, Indigenous peoples, and mixed-raced individuals in the U.S.

But why is it that someone like my father would not have called the taunting and the discrimination he experienced racism? And why did he not appear to object to being called "negro"? And finally, why did he think that anti-Black racism was really only a problem in the U.S.?

Although western Nicaragua is the product of a racist colonial system that lasted for 300 years, until independence in 1821, that system was different from the racist colonial system that shaped the U.S. It was not necessarily better or worse, just different. By examining those differences we can find answers to the questions I ask about my father. Those differences also help explain why so many of us who are light-skinned mestizo and Afro-mestizo Latinx individuals don't "see" our own anti-Black racism and/or remain silent when we witness it.

Here I will focus on three major differences in the racial histories of western Nicaragua and the United States. These are ones which I think are most useful to comprehending the clash between U.S. understandings of blackness and racism and the understandings of blackness and racism among Latin Americans who were colonized by the Spanish.

Racial mixing

In western Nicaragua, the region colonized by the Spanish, as in the rest of the Americas colonized by the Spanish, there were no legal prohibitions against interracial marriages. In the U.S., on the other hand, laws against so-called "miscegenation" existed into the second half of the twentieth century. This resulted in large mixed-race populations developing as early as the 1600s in places like western Nicaragua (some of which were free early on), in contrast to the United States, which was not colonized until the 1620s and where what is usually referred to as "racial mixing" was not as widespread.

While in the U.S. many adopted the "one drop rule," which held that having an African ancestor made a person Black, this was not the case in so-called "Spanish America". The Spanish colonizers developed a different racial hierarchy, one where mixed-race peoples acquired a different racial identity/label from that of their parents. This meant that in places like western Nicaragua (where Indigenous slavery legally ended in the 1540s but African slavery did not end until the 1820s), after the 1540s not all enslaved peoples were considered Black but all enslaved peoples had African ancestry. By the time independence came about, relatively few people in western Nicaragua identified as Black, even though many if not most western Nicaraguans had African ancestry. They did not consider themselves Black because they tended to be Afro-mestizos, like my father.

African slavery

With regards to African slavery, the U.S. and western Nicaragua had a lot in common despite some important differences. In both places enslaved Africans were bought and sold by colonizing Europeans. Approximately 600,000 enslaved Africans were brought to the U.S. through the Atlantic Slave trade, and in the case of western Nicaragua, the numbers were in the thousands, and possibly in the tens of thousands. In both places the fate of children was determined by the legal status of their mother, thus ensuring that white women would never give birth to slaves. And in both places there were communities of free Blacks and free mixed-race people of African ancestry in the period before slavery ended.

One major difference, however, between the U.S. and western Nicaragua is that in western Nicaragua African slavery ended in 1824, almost half a century before it ended in the United States. Another difference is that when slavery ended in western Nicaragua there were relatively few slaves there, especially when compared to the approximately 4 million people who were still enslaved in the U.S. in the 1860s.
These two factors helped create a western Nicaraguan imaginary in which the U.S. was racist against Blacks, and Nicaragua was not only not racist against Blacks, but did not have any Black Nicaraguans in western Nicaragua. Once African slavery stopped existing in western Nicaragua it was easier for non-Black Nicaraguans to believe there were no Nicaraguans of African ancestry at all in western Nicaragua.
Racial labels and racialized nicknames

After independence in 1821, racial labels stopped being used for legal purposes in western Nicaragua, as was the case elsewhere in Latin America. This was not the case in the United States, where the census continues even today to use racial labels to classify the population. It is important to point out that while the lack of labels is often portrayed as an anti-racist development in Latin America, it highly benefited the elites of Spanish ancestry who were born in the Americas, since they could now claim to be simply from the "American" continent (in contrast to the European continent) or simply "Nicaraguan" (and later on implicitly mestizo Nicaraguans). In other words, after fighting a war of independence against the Spanish, it benefited elites of Spanish ancestry in Latin America (elites formally known as Criollos to differentiate them from the Peninsulares, or Spaniards born in Spain) to no longer be considered Spanish at all. The colonial system that privileged whiteness and being Spanish remained untouched but now there were no Spanish/white people who were legally constituted as such. This dynamic helps explain why the "myth of Nicaragua mestiza" ( Gould 1998) has been so powerful and seductive.

Once there was no official system of racial classification in western Nicaragua, there remained a system of white supremacy and the reality of a new nation made up mostly of Indigenous peoples, mestizos, and Afro-mestizos with a small, mostly white/light-skinned ruling elite. Given the high degree of racial mixing that had occurred over the course of 300 years of colonialism, most western Nicaraguans were related to people who looked different (sometimes vastly different) from themselves.

Not surprisingly perhaps, racialized identities -albeit permeable and porous ones - prevailed even in the absence of legal categorizations and even in the context of such vast racial mixing. And racialized nicknames continue to be the norm in most of Latin America despite public service advertising campaigns against them. While most western Nicaraguans see no harm in these nicknames, including ones like "chele" or "chela" that are applied to light-skinned Nicaraguans or white foreigners, Dr. Juliet Hooker reminds us that in a context that stigmatizes Blackness, not whiteness, racialized nicknames can be highly problematic (La Prensa. Interview with Juliet Hooker by Amalia del Cid, June 7, 2020).

African American sociologist Dr. Elizabeth Hordge-Freeman, a Professor at the University of Florida, has written extensively about the ways in which Black Brazilians, particularly mothers, "negotiate, challenge, and reproduce racism in their families" in her book The Color of Love (2015). She "examines the relationship between racialization and the emotional life of family...[and] sheds light on how families simultaneously resist and reproduce racial hierarchies." Dr. Hordge-Freeman's work points to the kind of research that could be done in western Nicaragua on families like mine. Moreover, her work made me realize that my father's racial life might have been different and possibly better if his mother, who was visibly Afro-mestiza and is remembered as being "negrita y murruca," had not died when he was only five years old.

Families are indeed where we first learn about self-love and self-hate. I did not fully realize this until a few years ago when I was back in Nicaragua with my three children and I had an encounter with my father's 90-year-old cousin, one of the women who raised him after his mother died. I was very fond of my late aunt, but I had heard her make disparaging remarks against dark skin, even though she was not light skinned herself. During that particular trip she kept referring to one of my daughters as "la negrita" - as in "¿Y la negrita donde está?" ("Where is la negrita?) and "¿Y la negrita que quiere comer?" ("What does la negrita want to eat?). She must have noticed I was starting to get upset about this because she said something to me that I will never forget: "Yo le digo 'la negrita' porque es la única que se parece a nosotros" ("I call her 'la negrita' because she is the only one who looks like us"). These are the kinds of contradictions that led my father to not embrace his Blackness yet not complain when he was called "negro" either.

I witnessed the stigmatization of Blackness before I came to live in the U.S. I have been silent in the face of anti-Black racism in western Nicaragua and have benefited from the privileges afforded to those who are not Black or dark skinned. And yet my relationship to Blackness, like the relationship of so many other light-skinned Afro-mestizos to Blackness, is complicated and fraught with contradictions. Like my father before me, I also did not have the words to fight back against anti-Black racism.

The problem of anti-Black racism is one that plagues the world. It certainly plagues western Nicaragua. Light-skinned mestizo and Afro-mestizo Latinxs in the U.S. and light-skinned mestizo and Afro-mestizo Latin Americans wherever we are: we do not necessarily have to accept the imperialist logic of U.S. racialization (the emphasis on racial labels, the almost complete invisibility of Indigenous peoples, and the long-standing disdain for mixed-race peoples, for instance) to admit that our Latin American cultures privilege whiteness and our proximity to whiteness at the expense of Black lives. For those of us who live in the U.S., surely we have learned by now that our silence and complicity with anti-Black racism will not protect us from racism. Historically nothing has, except for our collective resistance. Shedding our anti-Black racism and denouncing anti-Black racism in our midst is long overdue. Only then can we begin to repair the damage racism has done. Black lives matter. Let's listen. Let's learn. Let's heal.

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Why My Nicaraguan Father Did Not "See" His Blackness And How Latinx Anti-Black Racism Feeds On...

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By Dr. Victoria González-Rivera, Associate Professor of Chicana and Chicano Studies at San Diego State University Born in 1942 in the small town of Matagalpa, in central Nicaragua, my father died right before Hurricane Mitch devastated Nicaragua in 1998.

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Growing up in a Peruvian and Colombian household, I was used to being around family members who had indigenous features like myself. With tan skin, thick black hair and dark features, I never felt a need to look differently, and have always been comfortable in my own skin . It wasn't until I was exposed to that I learned that some had complexes about their skin color. I remember having a friend, who was a fair skinned or other Latinos in everyday life "white-presenting" Latina who would make remarks about my tan complexion from time to time. Normally I'd shrug off her comments because they didn't have any effect on me. However, I remember one summer we were at a party taking photos, and upon looking at them she half jokingly and insultingly said, "Look at you in this pic, looking like an Aztec Indian." I was insulted by her ignorant statement, but I couldn't understand why it was a big deal that I was naturally tan. In retrospect, I realized she was projecting her own complexes onto me in order to make herself feel superior.

Unfortunately this is what is known as colorism, and it's a problem that continues to exists within Latino communities. Colorism is the preferential treatment of those who are lighter skinned than those who are darker within a group of people. City College Professor of Latin American and Latino studies, Iris Lopez explains, "Latinos are very color conscious and use a color classification system which includes categories such as blanco, negro, trigueno, Indio, Jabao, Moreno, Mulatta, etc," she says.

Because Latinos don't identify with a race, Lopez says they tend to use labels tied to their hair type, skin color, and facial features instead. The labels have different meanings depending on what island or country you're in, because they can vary regionally. Lopez adds that the concept of what category you fall under depends on the percentage of black blood an individual has.

"The Latin American and Spanish Caribbean racial classification system is similar to the old racial classification system used by blacks in the U.S. and the West Indies," She elaborates.

As Lopez mentioned, race is a social construct invented by Europeans intended to divide people and holds no scientific merit . Through the illusion of race, Europeans were able to manipulate blacks and other natives into believing that whites were superior in order to justify their conquests. Lopez points out if it weren't for race, colorism wouldn't exist.

"T he phrase colorism may have developed because it is incorrect to say that people of color are racist because they are part of an oppressed group," she explains. "If racism did not exist in the Latino community, they would not be so color conscious, and colorism would not exist," Lopez concludes. Whether we want to admit it or not, colorism affects ALL Latinos. It's no surprise that if you ask most Latinos about their experiences with colorism, has a story.

Stephanie Bennett, a Latina of Honduran descent told Hiplatina that her mother grew up in a household where she was told that having a lighter skin tone was favored over being dark. "My mother [who is lighter than me] grew up in Honduras and was taught that light skin was beautiful and darker skin was less preferred," she says. However, Bennett's mother didn't want her daughter to ever question her skin color and instead encouraged her to embrace her beauty. As a result, Bennett didn't grow up with an unhealthy outlook based on her complexion.

Darleny Suriel, a Dominican woman who also identifies as Afro-Latina, experienced a similar form of colorism in her household. "Colorism has always felt to me like an elephant in the room that would not be directly addressed or acknowledged, but its presence was strongly felt," she explains, adding, "Especially in family settings like mine where the skin tones of family members represent all colors of a broad racial spectrum."

Suriel says this came to light when she was being compared to her closest cousin who she describes as having the complexion of Snow White, and the naturally golden hair of Cinderella. "Since my cousin & I were born in the same city less than 2 years apart, and were raised together by the same people sharing the same culture, religion, & beliefs, I never considered that we would be viewed differently by our society because of something as irrelevant as skin color," she tells HipLatina, "However, I couldn't help but notice that when speaking about her beauty, relatives would always praise the whiteness of her skin, her noticeably rosy cheeks & her natural blond hair; meanwhile I was constantly warned in a fearful tone to stay out of the sun so I do not get darker, as if receiving melanin from the sun was a tragic form of disfigurement," she recalls.
While some first experience colorism at home, others experience it through different social settings. Actress and comedian Laneya Wiles, a half Puerto Rican and Black Latina, explains that she first experienced colorism through the entertainment industry as a child. "True colorism, I experienced through auditioning for and watching the channels like Univision and Telemundo," she says. Wiles would audition for Spanish commercials, but knew she wasn't going to be booked because she was the "wrong shade." She says, "This was back in the 90's and I never saw females who looked like me on the TV screen. So, I was convinced I didn't "look Latina". She also noticed similar atmospheres when she went to English-speaking auditions. "I remember going to other auditions where they had the white kids go first, then the "black" kids and the white kids were usually cast for the role," she adds.
And as one would imagine, if you are of a darker complexion and you grow up being told that being lighter skin is better, you may start to develop some resentment. For some this comes in the form of denial, rejecting their roots, or some may start identifying as white (even when its clear they aren't). Suriel recalls hearing comments made in her household about darker skin being unattractive.

"My father [who is black] & his sister who is only a bit lighter would tell me that I could not date nor marry a black man, because they were not considered good looking," she explains. Her father had even convinced himself that he was repulsive because of his skin tone. "I have many times heard my father call himself ugly because he was dark-skinned, & since we share the same complexion I would sometimes feel as though he was calling me ugly as well," she says.

Suriel elaborates that she's met many people who are ashamed of their roots and refuse to accept that they're black. She says, "From my father, to my ex-boyfriend, to random Afro-Latinos I engage in conversation with, they seem to identify primarily with their culture, than their race.

"Wiles recalls knowing a woman with the same complex who took it a step further. She says, "I knew this beautiful Dominican lady growing up who revealed to my family that she files her legal documents as a white woman, but she was very, very dark-skinned." In fact, research has found that some Latinos are beginning to identify as white when they fill out census forms. The theory behind this is that because there has been an increase in intermarriages and a decline in immigration from Latin American countries, that some Hispanic Americans are losing touch with their roots, reducing the likelihood they call themselves Hispanic or Latino.

As sensitive as the topic of colorism may be, it's important to have conversations with other Latinos about it . Even though we are all part of the same community, there's also no denying that white or "white-presenting" Latinos reap the benefits of white privilege. White privilege is a societal set of unearned benefits given to those who are white, but people of color have to work harder to achieve (ie. education, better jobs, etc.).

In order for us to end colorism-and racism for that matter-it's important to admit that it's a real problem that exists. In fact, a study conducted by the National Institute of Statistics and Geography looked at Mexico to see if skin color still mattered and influenced the level of education and employment opportunities available to their citizens. Based off the surveys completed by Mexicans, it was found that skin color still determined how far people get ahead in Mexico and how they're perceived overall. And Mexico isn't the only place affected by this mentality. Bennett explained that Honduras is experiencing the same problem.

"In some towns, white people are coming in and investing to build businesses to only hire Spaniards that are also moving in from other countries to look for work in Honduras," she says. Meanwhile these towns have black Latino natives who are perfectly capable of doing the work, but because of their skin color, investors prefer to hire Spaniards instead. Lopez says in order for Latinos to break through this problem, we have to learn our history.

" We have to start by educating ourselves about our colonial heritage, and how it has contributed to colorism/racism, and the various ways it is hurting our community," she explains. She also encourages white Latinos to contribute on their part to end colorism. "Those who are phenotypically white have the responsibility to speak out against racism and to be aware of their advantage within a racist society." However, white Latinos face their own racism as well. "It's important to keep in mind that phenotypically white Latinos are also subjected to racism and their own unique form of micro-aggressions," she adds.

Lopez believes another effective way to put an end to colorism is by supporting Latin American & Latino Studies Programs in our colleges. "These departments arose from the struggle of our communities to improve education for Latinos in the USA," she says. She elaborates that the purpose of the classes are also to educate Latino students and others about the history of Latinos in Latin America, the Caribbean, and the United States, to thoroughly understand why colorism continues to exist. This can also give more insight as to why many Latinos are still at a disadvantage through education, income, and housing. Lopez insists," We need to continue strengthening our communities and working with allies to build coalitions."

Not to mention, by educating ourselves, we can pass that knowledge on to our families and future generations. While there have been Latino celebrities who have spoken out about colorism , it's important for us to practice stopping it on a regular basis. Suriel says she does her part by standing up to those who make racist comments and educating them about the racial history of the Dominican Republic and Latin America.

"If I encounter any young Afro-Latinos that are experiencing the same battle against self-hate as I once did, I tell them what I wish someone would have told me: That a dark complexion is beautiful, and the magic which our blackness contains makes us special," she says. Wiles has a similar method and makes sure to correct people when they make racist remarks. She says, " I generally shut it down fast and try to educate people in a way that's as short and to-the-point as possible, and don't let their opinions get to me."

It's evident that Latinos have a long way to go, but we can do our part in small ways daily to improve the situation . Whether it's by educating others on our culture, proudly representing our heritage, or correcting those who have it wrong, it's all bound to pay off. And perhaps it's wishful thinking, but maybe one day all of those little gestures can create a positive impact on our community and banish colorism along with racism all together.

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Why Understanding Colorism Within the Latino Community Is So important

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Growing up in a Peruvian and Colombian household, I was used to being around family members who had indigenous features like myself. With tan skin, thick black hair and dark features, I never felt a need to look differently, and have always been comfortable in my own skin .

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Malin Falu has long been among New York's most beloved Spanish-language radio personalities. The region's huge Latino community has showered her with awards and has compared her to Barbara Walters and Oprah Winfrey because of the renowned figures she has interviewed and her intimate on-air style.

Falu, 54, studied theater in London, pursued modeling in New York and has hosted a version of the "Soul Train" music show in her native Puerto Rico. But whenever she has tried to capitalize on her experience by landing work on Spanish-language television in the United States, she has been stopped dead in her tracks.

A seemingly sure-fire endorsement deal fell apart after she met face-to-face with its sponsors. A television station lost her audition tape after she tried out for a news anchor's job. Also, two segments she had shot for a national morning show were killed.

Falu says those rejections are evidence of the rigid racial hierarchy that holds sway on Spanish-language television in the United States. Quite simply, she says, the whiter you are, the better your chances to be a star.

"I think this is all about race," said the brown-skinned Falu. "Professionally, there is no other reason for me not to be hired."

Falu's view is shared by an increasingly vocal corps of activists, actors and broadcast personalities who are critical of what they call a kind of racial caste system that gives Spanish-language television an almost exclusively Caucasian face.

Not only are few Afro-Latinos or indigenous people cast in Spanish-language television shows, they say, but the few that are most often play demeaning roles.

Latinos span the racial spectrum, with some being blond and blue-eyed and others having African features. A majority of those in the United States are of mixed race, indigenous or African stock. But that reality is not reflected in the offerings on the two networks that dominate Spanish-language television in this country, Univision and Telemundo.

Few darker-skinned personalities deliver the networks' domestically produced news shows. On the wildly popular telenovelas, the soap operas that are a programming staple of both networks, the starring roles are almost always filled by white Latino actors who typically play members of the upper class. Darker-skinned people, meanwhile, most often portray maids, gardeners, chauffeurs or dabblers in witchcraft.

"These shows stereotype the hell out of people," said Juan A. Figueroa, president and general counsel of the Puerto Rican Legal Defense and Education Fund. "If you looked at the soap operas without knowing better, you would think they came from Scandinavia or somewhere like that with all the blond, blue-eyed people you see. Meanwhile, the few people of color are relegated to the subclasses."

The racial images offered on Spanish-language television have been a source of dissatisfaction among Latino leaders for years, but the issue rarely has surfaced in public as activists have chosen to focus on increasing opportunities for Latinos on the major U.S. television networks and on film.

But that is beginning to change with the explosive growth of Spanish-language television. The four major television networks have seen their audience share shrink in recent years, but the Spanish-language audience has grown. In several major cities, including Miami, Houston and Los Angeles, Spanish channels are now the most watched among key demographic groups.

"There is a reluctance, more than a reluctance, in our community around this issue," Figueroa said. "It is considered taboo to even bring it up. But that is part of the challenge we face now in breaking that barrier."

Last year, Latino activists led a brief boycott of the four major U.S. networks for what they called a "brownout" of Latino characters from prime-time programming. The protest prompted ABC, NBC, CBS and Fox to add Latino characters to their shows.

But even as they took on the big four networks, many activists quietly seethed at the offerings available on Spanish-language television as well as the lack of racial diversity on the networks. Just as some African Americans have taken on BET, the nation's only major black-oriented cable television network, for a programming lineup they call lowbrow and stereotypical, some Latinos say Spanish-language television offers too many sexist portrayals of women, a mind-numbing array of formulaic telenovelas and, most of all, a lack of racial diversity.

"When we challenged the networks on the lack of diversity, it raised the question of what was going on with Spanish television," said Marta Garcia, co-chair of the National Hispanic Media Coalition. "And we have been very clear on the fact that both Univision and Telemundo need also to clean up their acts when it comes to diversity and how they portray dark-complected people."

Garcia met recently with Henry G. Cisneros, the president of Univision, to complain about the images on the network, which dominates Spanish-language television in the United States and has grown to be the nation's fifth-largest television network. Coalition officials have also raised similar concerns with Telemundo executives.

Meanwhile, activists are pushing the Puerto Rican Legal Defense and Education Fund to consider a lawsuit against the two major Spanish-language networks challenging their depiction of darker-skinned people.

A Telemundo spokesman acknowledged that black and indigenous people may be underrepresented in the network's shows. But, he added, Telemundo is working to improve the diversity of its offerings but is limited because it purchases much of its programming from Latin American producers. Likewise, Univision buys the bulk of its programming from the Venezuelan television company Venevision and Mexico's Grupo Televisa. And in both Mexico and Venezuela, darker skinned people are rarely seen on television.

"People who are really militant about this might exaggerate the situation," said Ted Guefen, the Telemundo spokesman. "But they say those images are underrepresented; they do have a point."

Guefen pointed out that one of the hottest new shows on Telemundo is "Xica," a novela based on the life of historical figure Xica Da Silva, a 19th-century slave who won her freedom with her lovemaking prowess. The Brazilian-made show is noted for its steamy scenes featuring young actress Tais Araujo, who is called the first black woman to be cast in the leading role of a Latin American telenovela.

Univision officials did not respond to repeated requests for comment. Several phone calls to the network's public relations officials resulted in promises to contact programming executives. But no Univision executive offered comment. Similarly, e-mails sent to both Cisneros and his administrative assistant brought no response.

Activists who have met with Cisneros say they have been promised improvements, particularly as Univision moves toward producing more of its own shows.

"Latino programming in all of its genres has a hard time accepting as a critical part of its identity [our] mestizo, mulatto origins," said Felix R. Sanchez, president of the National Hispanic Foundation for the Arts. "We have to reach a point where we say mestizo, mulatto is beautiful, much like the turning point for African Americans in the 1960s, when they said black is beautiful."

Roland E. Roebuck, a D.C. government employee and self-styled Afro-Latino activist, has written to Cisneros and several Latino civil rights groups to complain about the racial images on Univision and Telemundo.

"Much of the programming is filled with these Clairol ladies trying to accentuate their European tendencies," Roebuck said. "It seems that everyone uses Clairol to tint their hair and become instantly blond" even though they are Latino.

A survey of 4,000 Latino members of the Screen Actors Guild by the Tomas Rivera Policy Institute recently found that Latino actors preferred the opportunities offered by English-language productions to those offered in Spanish television. A majority of the respondents felt that Spanish-language productions provided greater opportunities for fair-skinned Latino actors, with the opposite being true for darker-skinned Latinos.

"It's true. There are many actresses who could not get work in [Latin America] because of their skin tone," said Tony Plana, star of the new Showtime series "Resurrection Boulevard," which has broken new ground with its all-Latino cast and won kudos for its depiction of a Latino family in Los Angeles. "They tend to want to have a blond, blue-eyed, upper-class character."

Analysts say the lack of racial diversity on Spanish-language television is rooted not as much in the attitudes of the programming executives here as it is in the racial attitudes that prevail in Latin America. That attitude, they say, is particularly evident in the telenovelas, which are a global phenomenon and air in more than 100 countries. The melodramas, which typically run for several months, often feature a love story in which a woman is trying to make the leap to the upper classes by getting a rich man to fall in love with her.

"There is a class phenomenon in Latin America where you think of upper class and upper-middle class being more European, and the black and indigenous population being more in poverty," said Harry P. Pachon, president of the Rivera Institute, a Latino research organization in Claremont, Calif. "And it seems that Spanish-language television has taken this to heart."

Elpidia Carrillo, a Mexican-born actress who through the years has played in American films alongside mega-stars, including Jack Nicholson, Richard Gere and Arnold Schwarzenegger, said that in Mexico, her stunning but decidedly nonwhite look was a barrier to getting many acting roles.

"It seems that I was always being cast as a campesina [farm worker], or a prostitute," said Carrillo, who lives in Los Angeles. "It has only been a little better here. It was very difficult for me to try to get a job in Mexico. There are not many stories written for Latin-looking actresses. . . . [The Latin American film industry] is very racist that way."

Jerry G. Velasco spent eight years as an actor in Mexican telenovelas. He has been a taxi driver, a chauffeur and an organized crime hoodlum. Only once did he land what he considers a classier role, when he played a historical character who was the vice president of Mexico.

Velasco, now a film industry activist in Los Angeles, said the parts he got during his Mexican television career had nothing to do with his limitations as an actor. Instead, he said, they were the result of his olive-colored skin, something he and many other Latinos in the television and movie business say defines their opportunities.

"I'll tell you this," he said. "I would never be the one who gets to take the leading blond girl home."

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Malin Falu has long been among New York's most beloved Spanish-language radio personalities. The region's huge Latino community has showered her with awards and has compared her to Barbara Walters and Oprah Winfrey because of the renowned figures she has interviewed and her intimate on-air style.

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What is your race?
It's a question the federal government asks us every 10 years at census time. But in the year 2000, that was a new question for the residents of Puerto Rico. For half a century before then, the U.S. territory's government had used its own, local census questionnaire - which did not ask about race.

And so this new question took a lot of people on the island by surprise. The way they answered it shocked many Puerto Ricans, and revealed a lot about Puerto Rico's relationship with race, colonialism and the United States.

In this episode of the Code Switch podcast, we'll dive in to try to understand why, on an island shaped by its African heritage and a long history of racial mixture, a vast majority of people tell the Census Bureau that they are white alone. We'll also hear what being largely invisible in the data has meant for black Puerto Ricans, and why some of them are mobilizing around the 2020 Census to try to change that.

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Puerto Rico, Island Of Racial Harmony? : Code Switch

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Many Puerto Ricans grow up being taught that they're a mixture of three races: black, white and indigenous. But on the U.S. census, a majority of Puerto Ricans choose "white" as their only race. On this episode, we're looking into why that is, and the group of people trying to change it.

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Lisa María: ¿Que es ser una chica afro en Argentina? (Parte II)

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Afro-Latinos Have A Conversation On Blackness With Their Parents

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La identidad de la (San Sebastián, 1976), la forman varias capas que la llevan a la Nigeria de su madre, en la Guinea de su padre, en la capital guipuzcoana que la vio crecer y en la Barcelona del aquí y el ahora. "Nací y crecí en un país donde no se me reconoce la nacionalidad por mi tono de piel", dice. Este sentimiento fue lo que la llevó a explorar desde el teatro su negritud y su historia con obras como 'No es país para negras' y 'Blakface'. Sopale mezcla su faceta artística con el activismo ligado al feminismo antirracista y transinclusiu. Es cofundadora de Tinta Negra, colectivo de actrices, actores y artistas de la diáspora negra en Cataluña; de Hibiscus, Asociación de Afroespanyoles y de Afrodescendientes, que organizan el proyecto Black Barcelona, ​​y socia de tictac Quién es Silvia Albert Sopale?

Una mujer afrodescendiente, hija de una madre de Guinea Ecuatorial y de un padre de Nigeria. Para mí es muy importante que se me reconozca con el segundo apellido, Sopale. Primero, porque Silvia Albert es un nombre que podría ser el de cualquier catalana o española y es mi segundo apellido que determina que mi identidad va más allá, me exotiza. Yo soy afrocatalana.

Sí, soy actriz por vocación y dramaturga y directora por necesidad y compromiso. A 'Blackface', mi primera obra, hablaba de las raíces, de la memoria histórica y de la diáspora. Cuando hice 'No es país para negras', tuve la necesidad de hablar de mi experiencia como mujer negra en España. Desde mi yo. Me sentía con el compromiso de explicar quién era. Yo nunca había hecho de dramaturga ni de directora: no tengo formación, pero fue una necesidad, relatarlo a mi manera.

Foto: IVAN GIMÉNEZ

"Necesitamos que los medios, los teatros, la televisión, las librerías, se llenen de cuerpos negros y de apellidos diversos"

Cuando en 2016 presentaste 'No es país para negras', decías que el pulso creativo era la incomodidad. España no es un país para negros?

En España hay racismo y microracismo en todas partes. A diferencia de Estados Unidos, uno de los problemas que hay aquí es que no se conoce la historia del esclavismo de las antiguas colonias. La gente lo ignora, y, por tanto, la negritud parece recién llegada cuando hace siglos que España y África están conectadas. La puerta de entrada de la esclavitud del pueblo africano era España, y eso no se explica. Cuando se habla de colonias, se relata el viaje de Cristóbal Colón en 1492 y ya está.

Depende del origen de tus padres, de donde has nacido, de donde has crecido ... De si vienes de una antigua colonia. De si eres una mujer negra 'trans', de tu formación ...; es muy complejo porque cada una de nosotros se identifica con cosas diferentes. A los colectivos donde milito hay personas que se sienten muy conectadas con África y no han ido nunca; otros que, por ejemplo, son de Brasil o de Costa Rica, que son lugares de mezcla entre indígenas, esclavos africanos ... Gente que se siente muy ligada a Cataluña y en España. Yo siento que mi identidad tiene más de una capa. Antes me hacía llamar afrodescendiente y afroespanyola. Ahora me siento afrocatalana.

Hay que buscar los referentes en algunos ámbitos porque hasta ahora nos hemos reflejado en nuestros familiares: nuestras madres, abuelas ... Los referentes ya están, pero no se visibilizan. Esta es una de las tareas que hacemos en Afroféminas, Black Barcelona o Tinta Negra, donde denunciamos una situación de infrarepresentación de mujeres y de hombres racializados. Estamos, pero no se nos ve. Necesitamos que los medios, los teatros, la televisión, las librerías, se llenen de cuerpos negros y de apellidos diversos. Basta de Puig, Bosch y Alsina!

Foto: IVAN GIMÉNEZ

"Somos 'racializadas' porque no somos blancas? Me parece un eufemismo que desvirtúa y destruye toda la heterogeneidad "

Black Barcelona es un espacio de encuentro, de reivindicación y de fiesta que lo que quiere es mostrar que estos cuerpos negros que aparecen en los medios golpeados y menospreciados forman parte de nuestra comunidad. Lo que queremos es poner fin al estigma. Tenemos espacios no mixtos y espacios donde cualquier persona puede participar.
Reivindicas el uso del concepto 'negritud'. Sin embargo, algunos medios y colectivos empleamos el concepto 'personas racializadas'. ¿Qué piensas?
Me parece un eufemismo que desvirtúa y destruye toda la heterogeneidad. ¿ Somos racializadas porque no somos blancas? Que tiene que ver una persona con rasgos físicos asiáticos, de una gitana, de una africana o de alguien, por ejemplo, de Bangladesh? Con este concepto nos ponen a todos en el mismo saco. Yo hice una obra utilizando la palabra "negra" para que nunca más vuelva a ser un insulto, porque no me lastime. Debemos trascender el concepto para construir nuevas identidades.
¿Cuál debe ser el rol de las personas blancas en los espacios de reivindicación negra como el actual #BlackLivesMatter? ¿Cómo podemos ser buenos aliados sin ocupar su espacio?

Lo que hace falta es que se pregunten ustedes qué podrían hacer para no ocupar este espacio. [Ríe.] No hay una receta; depende del momento y del espacio. En las manifestaciones de Atlanta, por ejemplo, apareció una imagen de un cuerpo negro rodeado por cuerpos blancos que lo protegían de la policía. Se trata de eso, de poner el cuerpo cuando es necesario y de ceder el espacio y la palabra. Sólo es un poco de sentido común. Piensa que vosotros tenéis muchas más posibilidades y lugares para expresaros: así que, si estás en una asamblea, en un encuentro, en un coloquio y tienes mucha necesidad de decir tu ... aguanta y escucha.

Foto: IVAN GIMÉNEZ

"La violencia racista no entiende de clases, aunque se agudiza más contra las personas de clases sociales más bajas"

Os hacía falta a vosotros; nosotros ya lo sabíamos. Hace años que los cuerpos negros somos reprimidos. En España están los centros de internamiento de extranjeros (CIE), Tarajal ... Esto no lo hemos olvidado.

Hemos tenido otras imágenes. Hemos tenido otros George Floyd y otros momentos de "I can not breath". Lo que pasa es que venimos de una pandemia, de estar encerrados en casa y, de repente, nos damos cuenta que en el mundo pasan cosas, algunas de las cuales vulneran nuestros derechos.

La violencia racista no entiende de clases sociales, aunque se agudiza contra las personas de clases sociales más bajas. Quizás las de clase alta sufrirán menos racismo porque tienen más poder adquisitivo, pero esto no les ahorrará situaciones racistas. Hay una anécdota de la gran presentadora estadounidenseWinfrey es negra, sí, y una de las personas más influyentes y ricas de Estados Unidos. , Oprah Winfrey que lo ilustra muy bien: un día entró en una tienda en Suiza y la dependienta se negó a enseñarle una bolsa porque consideraba que no podía pagar y la tomaron por ladrón.
El racismo está en todas partes, también en nuestro país, como hemos visto esta semana con el caso de Iliass Tahiri .

Me sorprende esta actitud de "reivindicar" que aquí también tenemos racismo. Esta cosa de compararnos con los Estados Unidos y dijo: "Mirad, aquí también tenemos nuestra propia policía racista". Esto ya lo sabíamos antes del asesinato de George Floyd.

Foto: IVAN GIMÉNEZ

"Quiero hablar de mujeres negras con un discurso vital, de empoderamiento no sólo desde el racismo y la denuncia"

Cada día me pregunto cómo les podemos dejar belleza. Yo me levanto de buen humor y a lo largo del día me enfado cuando escucho las noticias, miro las redes ... Todavía no tengo la respuesta; así y todo, a raíz de los incidentes de los Estados Unidos nos hemos encontrado con la comunidad afrodescendiente de Barcelona para darnos apoyo y para hacernos visibles y ha habido momentos muy bonitos de compartir el dolor y la rabia.
Tú eres activista. La lucha política antirracista y transfeminista también puede ser bella.

Me alegro, que lo veas así. Quizás sí. Ahora tengo un proyecto entre manos a través del cual quiero hablar de mujeres negras con un discurso vital, de empoderamiento no sólo desde el racismo y la denuncia. Un proyecto de belleza, espero.

Texto Nieves Molina. Fotos Iván Gimenez. Publicado en Critic con Creative Commons (BY NC SA)

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España no conoce su historia de esclavismo en las colonias

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La identidad de la (San Sebastián, 1976), la forman varias capas que la llevan a la Nigeria de su madre, en la Guinea de su padre, en la capital guipuzcoana que la vio crecer y en la Barcelona del aquí y el ahora.

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People of African Descent in Latin America

Activities and resources for Spanish class

Cancionero: Lion Sitté - El mensaje

Entrevista: Los Rakas - Hablemos del amor

Mónica Carrillo: Decenio Internacional para los Afrodescendientes

Clozeline: Alea - Inspírame Madre

Cancionero: Checo Acosta - El rey del Carnaval

Systema Solar: La danza, el arte y los carnavales, experiencias colectivas

Clozeline: Yasser Tejeda & Palotré - Nuestras raíces

Clozeline: Ricky Martin, Residente, Bad Bunny - Cántalo

Clozeline: iLe - Tu rumba

Cancionero: Betty Akna - Mujer

Clozeline: Marger - Al fin (At Last)

Systema Solar: La cultura del picó

Sulma-Arzu Brown: 'Tenemos que ayudarnos unas a las otras'

Melvis Santa: 'Es importante que se escuche la opinión de la mujer'

Bulla en el barrio: El bullerengue y la mujer

Trending Tropics: Vertientes culturales afrocaribeñas

Pictograma: Herencia de Timbiquí - Fin de semana

Entrevista: Gabriel Garzón-Montano - Bombo Fabrika

Clozeline: Ana Tijoux - Luchín

¿Cómo eres? Javier Wallace

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Javier Wallace

¿Cómo eres? Calma Carmona

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Calma Carmona

¿Cómo eres? Audry Funk

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Audry Funk

Cancionero: Audry Funk - No me representas

Clozeline: Vicente García - Espuma y arrecife

Cancionero: Flor de Toloache - Las caras lindas

Magín Díaz: ¿Por qué pasó tantos años en el anonimato?

¿Cómo eres? Carolina Camacho

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Carolina Camacho

Carolina Camacho: Un vestuario lleno de significado

Carolina Camacho: 'Aceptación de esa herencia que siempre ha estado ahí'

Carolina Camacho: Festival Afrolatino NYC: 'Tiene una misión hermosa'

¿Cómo eres? Melvis Santa

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Melvis Santa

Melvis Santa: Cantos afrocubanos y una manera de interpretar el mundo

Cancionero: Melvis Santa - Inmensidad

Melvis Santa: 'Por eso la música cubana es tan rica'

Cancionero: Elastic Bond - Cimarrón

¿Cómo eres? Sulma Arzu-Brown

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Sulma Arzu-Brown

Sulma Arzu-Brown: ¡Pelo malo no existe!

Cancionero: El Chojin - Soy y no soy

Bulla en el barrio: El bullerengue en Nueva York

Bulla en el barrio: El vestuario y la danza del bullerengue

Bulla en el barrio: Las cantadoras del bullerengue

Clozeline: Herencia de Timbiquí - Sabrás

Pictograma: Adriana Lucía - Pa' afuera los dolores

Cancionero: Ismael Miranda y SieteNueve - Un verano en Nueva York

Pictograma: La Tribu de Abrante - Mi María Luisa

Kombilesa Mí: Ma kuagro: 'Mantenemos la identidad de Palenque'

Moisés Medrano: Las lenguas criollas, expresión de resistencia

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Polyto Stanley

Cancionero: El Caribefunk - El Playaman

El Caribefunk: 'Bailemos champeta, esa es nuestra receta'

El Caribefunk: Sabiduría popular: Dichos

Andy Ordoñez: Instrumentos y ritmos de la música garífuna

Andy Ordoñez: 'Cada vez que viajamos, estamos aprendiendo'

Los Rakas: Raka Party: Carnaval en Panamá

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Chaco

Mónica Carrillo: 'Mezclando la política con el arte'

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Mónica Carrillo

Clozeline: Guillermina y Candelario - El jardinero

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Adrián Gutiérrez

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Tito Puente Jr.

Janio Lora: El merengue, mi patrimonio favorito

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Aurelio Martínez

Básico pero Nítido: Una prenda que genera conciencia

Miroslava Morales: Representación afrodescendiente en los medios

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Bulla en el barrio

Cancionero: Petrona Martínez & Palenke Soultribe - Las penas alegres

Chaco: Aprender a tocar bullerengue con Bullerengue Universal

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Yurby

Cancionero: Aurelio Martínez - África

Polyto Stanley: Decenio Internacional para los Afrodescendientes

¿Qué le gusta hacer? DJ Jigüe

Moisés Medrano: Decenio Internacional para los Afrodescendientes

Cristian Sebastián: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Andy Ordoñez: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Andy Ordoñez

Los Rakas: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Tito Puente Jr.: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Yurby: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Chaco: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Mecánik Informal: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Cancionero: MecániK InformaL - Afro-Latino Fest of New York Jingle

Aurelio Martínez: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Bulla en el barrio: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

DJ Jigüe: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

Moisés Medrano: Afirmar, educar, celebrar: Festival Afrolatino NYC

¿Qué le gusta hacer? Los Rakas

Cancionero: Los Chigualeros - Añoranzas

GPD Rural: 'Contrapunto entre lo rural y lo urbano'

Poesía electrónica dominicana: Mediopicky

Clozeline: Jimmy Saa - Canto a Mamá

Vecinos: J.Nation feat. CYN - Hard Work

Carolina Camacho: 'Esta herencia mía es fusión afro-taína'

Augusto Bracho: Sensemayá, un canto para mantenerse alerta

DDM809 & Bershla: 'No negaré quién soy'

Poesía: Grace Nichols - Wha Me Mudder Do

Vecinos: Pablo G - Sweet Guyana

Clozeline: Fredy Guzmán - Cecilia

Video: Hache ST - Mientras... (México DF)

Carnaval de Oruro: Doble Vía - Morenita linda

Cancionero: Peter Manjarrés - Carnaval de amor

Andy Ordoñez: ¡Nunca olvidemos nuestra cultura garífuna!

Afrodescendientes, compañeros en el reino de la cultura

Cancionero: Grupo afroboliviano - Honor y gloria

Homenaje afroboliviano a Martin Luther King, Jr.

Cancionero: Cocoa Roots - Somos

Cancionero: ChocQuibTown con Alexis Play - Ritmo violento

Cancionero: Irka Mateo - Vamo' a gozá

Irka Mateo: Sanación a través de la alegría

Hache ST: Júbilo: 'Hablaré cara a cara con mi historia'

Designing Afro-Latino Curriculum for Self-Determination

Evoca1: Through the perils of our youth, Shine St. Petersburg

Bazurto All Stars, 'más ligado a los inicios de la champeta'

Paso corto: Picó: La máquina musical del Caribe

Cancionero: Kafu Banton - Cuando se viene de abajo

Vecinos: La música de Surinam con Graziëlla Hunsel

Mai-Elka Prado: Sentido de unión, la lección más importante

E.A. Flow: 'Existe un denominador común cultural'

Mofongo NY: 'Estamos haciendo un impacto en la sociedad'

Batala NYC: All-women, Afro Brazilian Drumline

Que Bajo?!: La identidad es más grande que las definiciones

Soulville Census: Learning about the Nuances of Blackness

El Caribefunk: 'Cuando se comparte también se educa'

Danay Suárez: 'Tengo un respeto por el ser humano'

Los Hacheros: 'En la escuela no te enseñan toda la verdad'

Lalaboy PR: Divertirnos no significa que no estemos educando

Kafu Banton: 'Deberían enseñar más sobre la cultura negra'

Los Gaiteros de San Jacinto: 'Una música triétnica'

Carl Hendrick Louis: Caliban, Symbol of Strength & Self-Worth

Mario Carrión: 'La gente consume las noticias visualmente'

Proclamation: Intl. Decade for People of African Descent

Randy Archibold: Enfocarnos no en términos sino en el tema

Polyto Stanley: 'Educación debe partir de la no discriminación'

Diana Pereira: Te hablo a ti, álbum lleno de herencia africana

Fabian Villegas: Descolonización, más allá de la estética

Herencia africana: Zalama Crew - Río abajo

Cancionero: Pa'lo Monte - Siglo XXI

Vecinos: Pressure - Virgin Islands Nice

Herencia africana: Grupo Bahía - Te vengo a cantar

Cancionero: Herencia de Timbiquí - A tu manera

Disco: Mefe - Tierra: 'Mi reeducación'

La cultura y la lengua palenquera con Herencia de Timbiquí

Paso corto: Ibeyi - Havana Cultura

Cancionero: Tano Mojica - Rompiendo la ola

Vecinos: Nesbit Chhangur - A Guyanese Lament

Entrevista: Elkin Robinson - Creole Vibration

Paso corto: La Historia del Bon de Bastimentos

Entrevista: Elkin Robinson - Come 'Round

Vecinos: Wilson Simonal - Tributo a Martin Luther King

Paso corto: Las huellas de Martin Luther King, Jr. en Colombia

Vecinos: Maqflah & Dominik Coco - Mové dirèksyon

Vecinos: Duo Amazone - Nos richesses

Vecinos: Boulpik - Nèg Dafrik

Herencia africana: Zully Murillo - La banda

Video: Irka Mateo & Yasser Tejeda - Maboba

Herencia africana: Alexis Play - Mi tumbao

¡Zambombazo! Mix - Juan G: Digging4gold

Entrevista & Canción: Los Rakas - Africana

Entrevista & Cancionero: Bohemia Urbana - Neike Mita'i

Paso corto: Mujeres en el hip hop colombiano

Cancionero: Cynthia Montaño - Puro Pacífico

Cancionero: Apa y Can - Agradezco

Cancionero: Karla Kanora - Invernal

Cancionero: Fidel - Hoy te vine a buscar

Entrevista: Ensamble Transatlántico de Folk Chileno - Oro negro

Paso corto: Welli & Candombe

Entrevista: Zoom Soon Bao - Dejar salir es entrar más rápido

Entrevista & Cancionero: Shel Dixon - Madre tierra

Entrevista & Canción: Hache ST - Sebastián Lemba

Entrevista: ¡Feliz Día Internacional del Borojó!

Entrevista & Paso corto: La Gran Mawon - Fusión afrocaribeña

Paso corto: Hondo Mojave

Cancionero: Los Pericos - Salmo a Bob Marley

Cancionero: Novalima - Libertá

Cancionero: ChocQuibTown - Condoto

Entrevista: La Vida Bohème - Angelitos negros

Entrevista & Video: Jarina De Marco - Main Dish

Cancionero: Los Rakas - Mi país

Entrevista & Canción: Making Movies - Hasta el día de mi muerte

Entrevista: Fabrikante - Chanteoma

Entrevista: Pa'lo Monte - Enigma (con Chuck D)

Entrevista & Video: Voodoo SoulJah's - Hija de Zion

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People of African Descent in Latin America

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Activities and resources for Spanish class Cancionero: Lion Sitté - El mensaje Entrevista: Los Rakas - Hablemos del amor Mónica Carrillo: Decenio Internacional para los Afrodescendientes Clozeline: Alea - Inspírame Madre Cancionero: Checo Acosta - El rey del Carnaval Systema Solar: La danza, el arte y los carnavales, experiencias colectivas

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El doble relato de la historia de México y España

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Cruz, who passed away 17 years ago today, made history with studio recordings of ceremonial "santero" music.

In the late 1940s, Havana's Panart Records released an elaborate set of three 78 RPM records under the title Toques de Santo. The recordings feature Alfredo Zayas' vocal group Coro Yoruba, and Trinidad Torregrosa, Jesus Perez and Virgilio Ramírez, members of the brotherhood of musicians who played the sacred two-headed batá drums.

The lead vocalists on the album are Mercedes Valdés (best known as Merceditas Valdés) and Celia Cruz, two artists, as the liner notes explain, "whose renown as singers at toques [religious rituals] is known in Cuba, in Haiti, in Jamaica and beyond, wherever there is an Afro-creole group dedicated to ancestral ceremonies."

These recordings -- calls to the saints in the Afro-Cuban Lucumí language -- are the first known studio recordings by Celia Cruz, the world-renowned "Queen of Salsa" and one of Latin music's most revered female artists of all time. Cruz passed away 17 years ago Thursday (July 16) in her New Jersey home.

"These recordings marked a milestone for both the career of Celia Cruz and for Cuban music," says Cuban music writer and researcher Rosa Marquetti, a curator at Gladys Palmera Collection. The collection is located near Madrid, and possesses a rare copy of the set, recorded in 1947, several years before Cruz joined La Sonora Matancera. Cruz's performances of the salutes to the orishas (Afro-Cuban deities) Changó and Babalú Ayé were first released as a single.

"They are the first recordings by Celia Cruz, and also, as far as we know, this was the first time ever that Afro-Cuban liturgical music was recorded," Marquetti adds. "These drums were for religious ceremonies -- remember that this is just about the second generation after slavery."

The description of Cruz in the liner notes for the set as a singer in high demand at the ceremonies known as bembés could have been exaggerated by the author for "exotic" effect. But at this early stage of her career, Cruz, already a familiar voice on Cuban radio, was certainly known as a performer of popular Afro-Cuban music.

In 1946, she appeared in "Sinfonía en Blanco y Negro" an Afro-Cuban themed show that Rodney, who would become the celebrated choreographer of the Tropicana's groundbreaking shows, staged at a Havana theater. As documented by Cuban musicologist Helio Orovio, in the late '40s, Cruz appeared on a ground-breaking Afro-Cuban music program on Radio Cadena Suaritos, which featured the folkloric group led by Obdulio Morales.

"When I heard those chants and drums for the first time as a young girl I went running to hide," Cruz had told her biographer Ana Cristina Reymundo, recalling her introduction to Afro-Cuban ritual music as a young girl. "Nevertheless, for me, that music soon became much more than a religion -- it became a beautiful way to express my African roots. I learned the Lucumí lyrics to the songs, but I never knew what they meant, although I did learn to pronounce them very well. Years later I realized that those evenings were an important source of inspiration for my music."

The three 78s in the Toques de Santo set also include recordings of Valdés singing "Ochún" and "Yemayá," "Obatalá" and "Elegguá."

"We didn't play down anything or permit alterations [to the music] of any kind," Valdés said in an interview quoted by Marquetti on her blog, Desmemoriados, talking about the Suaritos' Afro-Cuban radio hour. The same is true of the groundbreaking recordings, which feature the sacred chants in their entirety, and for which the Panart studio had to be sanctified before the musicians could perform.

In the late '30s, anthropologist and ethnomusicologist Fernando Ortiz had begun to unveil the mystery of the rhythms of the Afro-Cuban saints in talks he gave at the University of Havana and other venues that included live batá demonstrations. But in the '40s, most of the players entrusted with the sacred rites would have refused to play them for the general public because of their holy nature, and also possibly for fear of repercussions that exposing the practices Afro-Cuban culture could incite.

According to Merceditas Valdés, "the enemies of folklore" pressured Radio Suaritos into canceling its program after a year-and-a-half on air, despite its widespread popularity.

"At that time among Afro-Cubans who had managed to have a position in society, there was a lot of silence about the religion because there was a lot of prejudice," Marquetti says.

It's possible that Ramón Sabat, the founder of Panart, Cuba's first full-scale domestic record company, had approached the marketing of the history-making project with some trepidation. Neither Panart catalogues nor advertisements from the period make mention of the Toques de Santo records.

"I think from a commercial point of view, these records had a very limited appeal," Marquetti explains.

But Panart's foresight in making the pioneering recordings would later pay off in critical acclaim and commercial returns. In 1957, the label released the tracks together on an LP, titled Santero, that included those previously issued on 78s, as well as new recordings with vocals by Caridad Suarez.

By that time, the sound of Afro-Cuban percussion had deeply penetrated popular Cuban and other Latin music and jazz. Celia Cruz discographies that list her 1950s albums on Seeco, her famous Fania recordings and later global hits make no mention of the existence of "Changó" and "Babalú Ayé."

Cruz herself didn't talk about them when she referred to her early years. "It could be that she did not realize how important it was," says Marquetti. "None of them knew that they were doing something so transcendent for Cuban's musical culture."

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Discover the Sacred Afro-Cuban Chants That Are Celia Cruz's First-Known Recordings

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In the late 1940s, Havana's Panart Records released an elaborate set of three 78 RPM records under the title Toques de Santo.

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desde nivel B2 / costumbres / reportaje / Gaspar Cano

LOS AFRODESCENDIENTES LATINOAMERICANOS

Uno de los episodios más asombros y dolorosos de la historia es la llegada forzosa de la raza negra al continente americano desde África. Se calcula que más de doce millones de seres humanos fueron transportados a través del océano Atlántico para ser vendidos como esclavos ¹ en el Nuevo Mundo N

NUEVO MUNDO Sinónimo de América. Nombre histórico del continente americano desde el siglo XV. Los continentes del Viejo Mundo son Europa, Asia y África.

Primero me robaron de África, después robaron África de mí.
Un músico y poeta brasileño.

La memoria de América ha sido mutilada por el racismo y nuestra sociedad actúa como si fuéramos tan solo hijos de Europa. Eduardo Galeano, escritor uruguayo.

En 1538 llegó al puerto de Buenos Aires un navegante² genovés3 que se dirigía⁴ a Lima. En su nave⁵ traía dos esclavos negros. Las autoridades reales lo acusaron de introducir esclavos sin licencia (permiso otorgado⁶ por el rey a un traficante⁷), por lo que el navegante los entregó y dos días después fueron puestos a la venta. Esa fue la primera venta pública de esclavos en el Río de la Plata.

Desde que en 1501 los Reyes Católicos autorizaron la entrada en América de esclavos africanos, y hasta mediados del siglo XIX, se calcula que más de doce millones de seres humanos fueron transportados a través del Atlántico y vendidos como trabajadores forzosos. Solo durante la travesía⁸ murieron alrededor de dos millones de personas.

El enorme esfuerzo de investigación ⁹ elaborado por la Transatlantic Slave Trade Database, accesible en la red, ofrece la información más detallada reunida hasta la fecha sobre la forma más importante de migración intercontinental forzosa de la historia.

EL GRAN NEGOCIO DE LA VENTA DE ESCLAVOS
Las principales potencias 10 comerciales de entonces: España, Portugal, Francia, Holanda e Inglaterra, poseían la motivación comercial y los recursos¹¹ financieros necesarios para llevar adelante¹² el gran negocio negrero. Dinamarca, y en mucha menor medida Suecia y Prusia participaron también de él.

Pero ¿por qué fueron trasladados a América los africanos? La razón es tan cruel como sencillamente comercial. El número de indígenas¹³ americanos disminuía¹⁴ por las condiciones de trabajo y por las enfermedades que les contagiaban los europeos, como la gripe¹⁵ y la viruela¹⁶. Además, aunque a los indígenas se los seguía explotando, no se hacía a través de relaciones laborales tan beneficiosas¹⁷ como las que proporcionaba¹⁸ la esclavitud. Recordemos que la esclavitud es una relación entre seres humanos basada en la idea de que hay seres humanos superiores e inferiores. La condición de "serinferior" hace que la persona pueda ser comprada y vendida, y a través de la violencia, se le puede obligar a trabajar para que el "amo ¹⁹ " obtenga beneficios.

En 1791, la Corona española declara a Montevideo único puerto para la introducción de esclavos para el Río de la Plata, Chile y Perú. Es entonces cuando los más destacados²⁰ comerciantes²¹ de Montevideo, integrantes de una sociedad fina²² y culta²³ , se convierten en los más importantes comerciantes de esclavos de América del Sur. La burguesía²⁴ montevideana desarrolló el emporio ²⁵ esclavista más grande que jamás conoció el Río de la Plata. El negocio marchaba viento en popa F y en Buenos Aires, Lima y Santiago de Chile comprar un lote ²⁶ de esclavos era una práctica tan extendida y aceptada entre la burguesía que, cuando llegó la abolición y los esclavos fueron liberados, sus "amos", los propietarios, tuvieron que ser indemnizados ²⁷ .

En 1837 se aprobó²⁸ en Uruguay la ley que prohibió el tráfico de esclavos. Sin embargo, los menores de 25 años serían puestos bajo tutela²⁹ y los mayores de esa edad introducidos en el Ejército hasta completar tres años de servicio militar. El proceso de abolición fue largo y tortuoso.

Finalmente, los esclavos liberados, los libertos, se sumaron³⁰ con el tiempo al grupo de los indios asimilados N y de los emigrantes más pobres para formar parte del proletariado urbano y rural menos cualificado ³¹.

Con estos antecedentes³², la Asamblea General de la ONU ha proclamado 2015-2024 Decenio Internacional para los Afrodescendientes, citando la necesidad de fortalecerna-cional, regional e internacional en relación con el pleno³³ la cooperación civiles y políticos de las personas de ascendencia africana, y su plena e igualitaria participación en todos los aspectos de la sociedad. ³⁴ disfrute³⁵ de los derechos económicos, sociales, culturales,

continente africano EL SUFRIMIENTO DE ÁFRICA
El periodista polaco³⁶ y gran cronista ³⁷ Ryszard Kapuscinski describe en Ébano las consecuencias de la esclavitud para el . "Perseguida e indefensa, África fue saqueada³⁸ despobladas ³⁹ de sus gentes, arruinada y destruida. Quedaron vastas extensiones del continentey yermos de maleza ⁴⁰ ⁴¹ ⁴²cubrieron soleadas regiones de vegetación floreciente. Pero la huella más dolorosa y duradera⁴³ la ha dejado aquella época en la memoria y la conciencia de los africanos: siglos de desprecio⁴⁴, humillación y sufrimiento han creado en ellos un complejo de inferioridad y un sentimiento de daño moral jamás reparado que anida⁴⁵ en lo profundo de sus corazones".
Gaspar Cano Peral es filólogo y exdirector de los Institutos Cervantes de Estocolmo y Berlín.

Texto publicado en
Punto y Coma #67

INDIOS ASIMILADOS Indígenas que adoptaron la cultura llevada por los españoles.

MARCHAR O IR VIENTO EN POPA Se dice cuando algo está saliendo muy bien.

1 esclavo: slave 2 navegante: sailor, navigator 3 genovés: native of Genoa, Italy 4 dirigirse: to head for 5 nave: ship 6 otorgar: to grant 7 traficante: trader 8 travesía: crossing 9 investigación: research 10 potencia: power 11 recurso: resource 12 llevar adelante: to carry out 13 indígena: native 14 disminuir: to decrease 15 gripe: flu 16 viruela: smallpox 17 beneficioso: profitable 18 proporcionar: to provide 19 amo: master 20 destacado: noteworthy 21 comerciante: merchant 22 fino: refined 23 culto: cultured 24 burguesía: merchant class 25 emporio: market 26 lote: batch 27 indemnizar: to compensate 28 aprobar: to pass, approve 29 tutela: guardianship 30 sumarse: to join 31 cualificado: qualified 32 antecedentes: prior history 33 fortalecer: to strengthen 34 pleno: full 35 disfrute: enjoyment, use 36 polaco: Polish 37 cronista: reporter 38 perseguir: to pursue, hunt 39 saquear: to plunder 40 despoblado: uninhabited 41 yermo: wasteland 42 maleza: weeds, brush 43 duradero: lasting 44 desprecio: contempt 45 anidar: to nest, take up residence in

1 esclavo: esclave 2 navegante: marin, navigateur 3 genovés: Génois 4 dirigirse: se diriger 5 nave: vaisseau 6 otorgar: octroyer 7 traficante: trafiquant 8 travesía: traversée 9 investigación: recherche 10 potencia: puissance 11 recurso: ressource 12 llevar adelante: aller de l'avant, faire progresser 13 indígena: natif, indigène 14 disminuir: diminuer 15 gripe: grippe 16 viruela: variole 17 beneficioso: profitable 18 proporcionar: pourvoir 19 amo: maître 20 destacado: de premier plan 21 comerciante: commerçant 22 fino: rafiné 23 culto: culte 24 burguesía: bourgeoisie 25 emporio: marché 26 lote: lot 27 indemnizar: indemniser 28 aprobar: approuver 29 tutela: tutelle, garde 30 sumar: se joindre à 31 cualificado: qualifié 32 antecedentes: antécédents 33 fortalecer: fortifier 34 pleno: plein 35 disfrute: jouissance 36 polaco: polonais 37 cronista: croniqueur 38 perseguir: poursuivre 39 saquear: piller, ravager 40 despoblado: dépeuplé 41 yermo: désert 42 maleza: broussaille 43 duradero: durable 44 desprecio: mépris 45 anidar: habiter

1 esclavo: Sklave 2 navegante: Segler 3 genovés: aus Genua, Italien 4 dirigirse: zusteuern auf 5 nave: Schiff 6 otorgar: verleihen 7 traficante: Händler 8 travesía: Überfahrt 9 investigación: Recherche 10 potencia: Macht 11 recurso: Mittel 12 llevar adelante: vorantreiben 13 indígena: indigen 14 disminuir: sich verringern 15 gripe: Grippe 16 viruela: Pocken 17 beneficioso: gewinnbringend 18 proporcionar: liefern 19 amo: Besitzer, Herr 20 destacado: herausragend 21 comerciante: Händler 22 fino: geschickt 23 culto: kultiviert 24 burguesía: Bürgertum, Händler 25 emporio: Markt 26 lote: eine abgeteilte Menge 27 indemnizar: kompensieren 28 aprobar: erlassen 29 tutela: Vormundschaft 30 sumar: Teil werden 31 cualificado: qualifiziert 32 antecedentes: Vorgeschichte 33 fortalecer: stärken 34 pleno: voll 35 disfrute: Genuss 36 polaco: polnisch 37 cronista: Chronist 38 perseguir: verfolgen 39 saquear: plündern 40 despoblado: unbewohnt 41 yermo: Ödland 42 maleza: Dickicht, Buschwerk 43 duradero: dauerhaft 44 desprecio: Verachtung 45 anidar: sich einnisten

1 esclavo: escravo 2 navegante: navegante, navegador 3 genovés: de Gênova (Itália) 4 dirigirse: dirigir-se 5 nave: navio, barco 6 otorgar: outorgar 7 traficante: traficante 8 travesía: travessia 9 investigación: investigação, pesquisa10 potencia: potência 11 recurso: recurso 12 llevar adelante: executar, realizar 13 indígena: indígena 14 disminuir: diminuir 15 gripe: gripe 16 viruela: varíola 17 beneficioso: benéfico 18 proporcionar: proporcionar 19 amo: amo, dono 20 destacado: destacado 21 comerciante: comerciante 22 fino: fino, elegante 23 culto: culto 24 burguesía: burguesia 25 emporio: empório 26 lote: lote 27 indemnizar: indenizar 28 aprobar: aprovar 29 tutela: tutela, custódia 30 sumar: somar 31 cualificado: qualificado 32 antecedentes: antecedentes 33 fortalecer: fortalecer 34 pleno: pleno 35 disfrute: desfrute, uso 36 polaco: polonês 37 cronista: cronista 38 perseguir: perseguir 39 saquear: saquear 40 despoblado: despovoado 41 yermo: ermo 42 maleza: mato 43 duradero: duradouro 44 desprecio: desprezo 45 anidar: aninhar, habitar

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desde nivel B2 / costumbres / reportaje / Gaspar Cano LOS AFRODESCENDIENTES LATINOAMERICANOS Uno de los episodios más asombros y dolorosos de la historia es la llegada forzosa de la raza negra al continente americano desde África.

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ChocQuibTown - De Donde Vengo Yo (Official Music Video)

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Hispanic Heritage Month: Women's Army Corps

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La región del Chocó queda en el noroccidente de Colombia y aunque está llena de gente acogedora, recursos naturales que la hacen hermosa y esencial para su país, hoy nos ocupa que allí nació la voz femenina de ChocQuibTown: Gloria Emilse Martínez, 'Goyo'.

¿Cuál es la historia de Goyo?

La agrupación es una de las más reconocidas en el género urbano, que sale de una fusión de jazz, funk, hip-hop, reguee, salsa y son. 'Mi bisabuelo, Eladio Martínez, era el abuelo de Jairo Varela, Director del grupo Niche. Yo crecí viéndolos a ellos, a mi tía, Coco Lozano, cantando en grupo Niche, mi mamá también cantaba, viví el guitarreo en la noche en mi casa, mis tías todas cantaban, mi abuelo era bolerista', recuerda Goyo. Hablar con ella es como un collage de memorias, ideas y convicciones. Seguimos su narrativa y pasamos con ella por Cali, 'una ciudad muy afro' o llegamos a Bogotá, 'donde, recuerdo, te pasaban cosas en la calle. Una vez nos bajaron de un bus a una amiga y a mí por ser negras. Son situaciones que te van marcando en la vida y es importante no olvidarlos cuando tienes una voz, porque como artista fueron los temas en mis primeros pasos (...) Queríamos que, en general, en Colombia se supiera de la gente del Pacífico, no queríamos sentirnos tan olvidados', cuenta la cantante en la edición Vogue Hope del mes de septiembre.

Es cierto, lo que discurre en sus temas son trazos de realidad pura y, por fortuna, encuentran eco y abrazo en quienes las escuchan. El impacto realmente trascendental de canciones como 'De donde vengo yo', no está solo en la plataforma de popularidad que les otorgó un premio Grammy. Lo que más importa está en una frase que nos dice Goyo: 'Nunca pensamos que una canción que habla de lo local, que cuenta de nuestras situaciones locales, fuera a llegar a esa instancia, sin disquera y sin nada. Siento que somos unos abridores de puertas, como que el propósito de la vida con nosotros ha sido ese, porque muchas cosas las fuimos aprendiendo en el camino, pero siempre tuvimos claro la reivindicación de nuestra cultura, de hacer cambios por medio de la educación. Básicamente ese ha sido nuestro perfil en la música'.

Goyo y su mensaje de esperanza a través de música y cultura latina

Cada vez que Goyo está de gira con sus colegas, ellos llevan el estandarte de su tierra y de toda Latinoamérica tal como es: diversa, divertida, tremendamente compleja y, también, esperanzadora. 'Hay una canción en el Choquihouse, nuestro último álbum, que se titula 'Humano', y es como una radiografía de lo que podemos ser. Es una canción para motivar a todos, porque todos tenemos una lucha propia, individual, una lucha por la familia, tenemos muchas razones por las que seguir adelante. Nuestro propósito es llegar lo más lejos posible para motivar a los demás. Para mí eso es lo que me da más luz, la libertad y la fuerza cuando enfrentamos obstáculos o tabúes raciales. Hay que abrir la discusión sobre la gente afrodescendiente. No solo estamos para el deporte y la música, pero a través de cómo nos visibilizan tenemos una vía para exponer cómo la gente vive y se esfuerzan por conseguir sus logros'.

A Goyo se le identifica por su postura abierta y valiente a favor de los derechos de la mujer y de los afrodescendientes de una manera honestamente abarcadora, inclusiva y con la premisa de que todos somos parte de la raza y el género humanos. 'Una de las grandes cosas que como músico, como mujer y como afrodescendiente yo podría decir, es que la música y el arte son una extensión de lo que todos somos, un medio para decir lo que nosotros como artistas afro llevamos a cuesta, pero como parte de una causa humana común'.

Goyo también entiende la moda como arte y expresión cultural colectiva, y así la lleva. 'Siempre he trabajado con artistas colombianos. Recuerdo que en 2010, cuando fuimos al Grammy de ese año, llevé un turbante que representa mi cultura, todo el outfit lo armé con Olga Piedrahita. Ella es una creadora que conceptualiza lo que hace y eso nos acerca'. Cuando le pedimos que se conceptualice ella misma, responde sin pensarlo: 'Yo me identifico como una mujer afro y una artista, pero en un ámbito más abarcador, soy mujer y artista; no una artista negra o chocoana. Una de mis metas es abrir espacios. En la cultura maya, mi nombre es el del águila. Apunto a la luna para alcanzar la montaña, porque sé que mientras más lejos llegues, más se propaga tu mensaje'. El mantra de Goyo y sus compañeros es 'seguir legados y trazar caminos. Hoy estamos nosotros y mañana estarán otros, así que hay que pensar en comunidad, y unir legado y presente para alcanzar los sueños'.

Cada vez que quienes nos leen ahora escuchen a Goyo con sus cómplices del bien en ChocQuibTown, escucharán hablar de Latinoamérica, la raza, la sociedad, las esperanzas y el optimismo... Y lo mejor es que van a hacerlo con música, desde voces en las que hay una mujer que nos restaura el aliento, aun cuando comparta luchas y anhelos que desgarren el alma.

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Goyo, una cantante colombiana que enaltece la cultura latina con su música fusión

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La región del Chocó queda en el noroccidente de Colombia y aunque está llena de gente acogedora, recursos naturales que la hacen hermosa y esencial para su país, hoy nos ocupa que allí nació la voz femenina de ChocQuibTown: Gloria Emilse Martínez, 'Goyo'.

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Renata Flores - Trap + Quechua - Tijeras ft. Kayfex

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Peru’s Queen of Quechua Rap Wants to Rescue Indigenous Culture With Her Music (Published 2020)

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Renata Flores, 19, is part of a generation of Peruvian musicians combining the bouncing beats of Latin trap, rap and reggaeton with the sounds, and language, of the Andean countryside.

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Black In Latin America Episode 1 Haiti and The Dominican Republic  The Roots of Division

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PELO MALO (Bad Hair) Official UK Trailer

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visionado en línea (modo pago por visión)
JUNIO 2016
DocumentaL. 72′. Color

Guión y Dirección: Miguel Ángel Rosales
Sonido: Juan Egoscozábal
Grafismo: Kiko Romero
Fotografía: Eduardo Montero
Productor: Miguel Paredes
Montaje: Andrés Zoilo
Distribución Intermedia: Natalia de Ancos
Distribución: 3boxmedia

Sinopsis:
Al sur de Europa, donde hoy se blindan fronteras con concertinas y muros, ayer florecía un negocio que arrastraba forzosamente a miles de africanas y africanos al exilio y la explotación. Gurumbé. Canciones de tu memoria negra nos cuenta su historia para cuestionar nuestro presente y recordarnos que África está muy dentro de lo que hoy somos.

40th Sâo Paulo International Film Festival. Sâo Paulo (Brazil). New Filmmakers Competition. Prêmio do Público - Melhor Documentário Internacional. 2016

42 Festival de Cine Iberoamericano de Huelva. Huelva (Spain). Sección Competitiva "Talento Andaluz". Premio Juan Ramón Jiménez a la Mejor Producción Andaluza. 2016

ESPIELLO XV Festival Internacional de Documental Etnográfico de Sobrarbe. Boltaña (Huesca, Spain). Premio Espiello al Mejor Documental. Premio Espiello Boltaña al Documental Mejor Votado por el Público. 2017

Festival Internacional Cine Invisible FILM SOZIALAK. Bilbao (Spain). Premio Interculturalidad. 2017

FICIP. Festival Internacional de Cine Independiente de Pozos. Guanajato (México). Mejor Película Extranjera FICIP 2017.

Festival Gollut. Ribes de Freser (Girona, Spain). Premio Gollut al Mejor Largometraje. 2017

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visionado en línea (modo pago por visión) JUNIO 2016 DocumentaL. 72′. Color Guión y Dirección: Miguel Ángel Rosales Sonido: Juan Egoscozábal Grafismo: Kiko Romero Fotografía: Eduardo Montero Productor: Miguel Paredes Montaje: Andrés Zoilo Distribución Intermedia: Natalia de Ancos Distribución: 3boxmedia Sinopsis: Al sur de Europa, donde hoy se blindan fronteras con concertinas y muros, ayer florecía un negocio que arrastraba forzosamente a miles de africanas y africanos al exilio y la explotación.

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Updated: 3 days ago

A few years ago, a story I came across affected my life so positively, that today I want to talk about it again. My mind, seeking a healthy narrative to counter the stories of barbarity constantly reported from the neighbouring United States, has extracted this jewel discovered in 2014. It is an extraordinary story about healing a haunting pain that is shared by people across both sides of the Atlantic: the pain of irreparable loss stemming from the African diaspora.

We know that as a result of the transatlantic slave trade, millions of Africans were brought to the Americas as forced labour. We usually don't count the other millions who were supposed to arrive but died en route; their bodies thrown into the waters ---so many bodies that put together could link the tip of Brazil with that of West Africa, and I'm not being metaphorical. Evidently, the transatlantic slave trade constitutes the most tragic event in human history, as a result of which the social structures of families, communities and entire nations were purposely fragmented, dispersed and in many cases destroyed altogether.

For us, descendants of Africans in the Americas, it is virtually impossible to trace our family trees

For us, descendants of Africans in the Americas, it is virtually impossible to trace our family trees and identify the towns our ancestors came from. Genetic testing can point to the regions our genes originated in, but it can't be more specific than that. Many of us have this sad craving for knowing who our relatives were and where our musical traditions exactly stemmed from. It's not a romantic thought; it is the expression of a deep trauma inflicted a long time ago upon entire peoples.

Every person of African descent living in the Americas has that moment at some point in life, when their thoughts wander towards the historic past as we try to put together pictures of the faces that preceded ours. We arrive at the same end result: a mix of frustration, resentment, anger, anguish... All you know is something terrible happened to them, but you also know that they were strong. They were fucking strong. They were endowed with the most powerful cultural legacy humankind has created in the form of African music and its dances. If there's one thing the slave trade has shown the world, is the indomitable strength of the spirit of African cultures.

If there's one thing the slave trade has shown the world, is the indomitable strength of the spirit of African cultures

Today, I want to share with you the extraordinary story of what is possibly the ONLY documented tracing of a direct link between a village in Africa and their descendants in the Americas. I'm going to take you from my native Cuba back to Africa, to tell you a little bit about the thrilling and emotional reunion that is covered in the documentary "They Are We", directed by brilliant anthropologist Emma Christopher. Being a movie, I'm not going to be a party pooper and tell you all the details. Instead, I want to focus on sharing some thoughts on the significance of what was achieved by Emma Christopher and her team, so that when you see the movie you can appreciate it even more.

These days there's talk of reparations and changing our racially unfair social systems. There's talk of revising history to fix the western-centered, Eurocentric and man-made narrative that permeates our understanding of it. This narrative has hailed slaveowners and conquistadores as great people who had statues erected to their names, but which are thankfully going down as the Law of Justice Gravity dictates. I'm supportive and enthusiastic of all the initiatives put forth to alleviate the situation of afro-descendants and eventually bring us to the dignifying place we deserve to occupy in society. However, what "They Are We" address, is a reparation never heard of, because it was deemed impossible to achieve.

"They Are We" complements those efforts carried out today by offering us, afro-descendants, a true story of hope that brings about a sense of emotional healing. The story of "They Are We" is as needed as a vital social service because it restores our sense of connection with our ancestry, just like the feeling a child experiences when reunited with their parents. Ancestry connections operate similarly as neural connections: when they are damaged, bad things happen, but they can be repaired. Granted, just like it happens in reunions, it is impossible to hold your tears when you watch "They Are We", so have some tissues ready.

"They Are We" offers us, afro-descendants, a true story of hope that brings about a sense of emotional healing.

In the times we're living, this documentary has resurfaced to soothe my soul; to remind me that beautiful things can still ---and will--- happen. It's also made it loud and clear in my mind that there's more good than evil out there. Furthermore, "They Are We" makes us proud of our heritage, because we can't forget that our culture was supposed to disintegrate as our bodies were being exploited to the max, to generate White wealth in the United States, all over the Caribbean, and parts of Central and South America. Rather than falling into oblivion, we resisted and against all odds, the entire planet today dances to the rhythms we created in our New World: salsa, hip-hop, reggae, soca, merengue, bachata, konpa, calypso, samba, dancehall, cumbia, rumba, and more.

We must support initiatives like "They Are We" because they are equally important in the struggle for Black emancipation, but people like Emma Christopher need money to make this happen. That's why I want to strongly encourage you to either purchase or rent out the movie, so she can continue remedying our souls. If you've read all the way here, do yourself a favour and watch the movie anyway. I'm including some links for Amazon and Vimeo, for your convenience.

In Vimeo, for rent.

In Amazon (United States!) for rent or purchase.

If you know someone who will love hearing this story, please, share it.

A few years ago, a story I came across affected my life so positively, that today I want to talk about it again. My mind, seeking a healthy narrative to counter the stories of barbarity constantly reported from the neighbouring United States, has extracted this jewel discovered in 2014. It is an extraordinary story about healing a haunting pain that is shared by people across both sides of the Atlantic: the pain of irreparable loss stemming from the African diaspora.

We know that as a result of the transatlantic slave trade, millions of Africans were brought to the Americas as forced labour. We usually don't count the other millions who were supposed to arrive but died en route; their bodies thrown into the waters ---so many bodies that put together could link the tip of Brazil with that of West Africa, and I'm not being metaphorical. Evidently, the transatlantic slave trade constitutes the most tragic event in human history, as a result of which the social structures of families, communities and entire nations were purposely fragmented, dispersed and in many cases destroyed altogether.

For us, descendants of Africans in the Americas, it is virtually impossible to trace our family trees

For us, descendants of Africans in the Americas, it is virtually impossible to trace our family trees and identify the towns our ancestors came from. Genetic testing can point to the regions our genes originated in, but it can't be more specific than that. Many of us have this sad craving for knowing who our relatives were and where our musical traditions exactly stemmed from. It's not a romantic thought; it is the expression of a deep trauma inflicted a long time ago upon entire peoples.

Every person of African descent living in the Americas has that moment at some point in life, when their thoughts wander towards the historic past as we try to put together pictures of the faces that preceded ours. We arrive at the same end result: a mix of frustration, resentment, anger, anguish... All you know is something terrible happened to them, but you also know that they were strong. They were fucking strong. They were endowed with the most powerful cultural legacy humankind has created in the form of African music and its dances. If there's one thing the slave trade has shown the world, is the indomitable strength of the spirit of African cultures.

If there's one thing the slave trade has shown the world, is the indomitable strength of the spirit of African cultures

Today, I want to share with you the extraordinary story of what is possibly the ONLY documented tracing of a direct link between a village in Africa and their descendants in the Americas. I'm going to take you from my native Cuba back to Africa, to tell you a little bit about the thrilling and emotional reunion that is covered in the documentary "They Are We", directed by brilliant anthropologist Emma Christopher. Being a movie, I'm not going to be a party pooper and tell you all the details. Instead, I want to focus on sharing some thoughts on the significance of what was achieved by Emma Christopher and her team, so that when you see the movie you can appreciate it even more.

These days there's talk of reparations and changing our racially unfair social systems. There's talk of revising history to fix the western-centered, Eurocentric and man-made narrative that permeates our understanding of it. This narrative has hailed slaveowners and conquistadores as great people who had statues erected to their names, but which are thankfully going down as the Law of Justice Gravity dictates. I'm supportive and enthusiastic of all the initiatives put forth to alleviate the situation of afro-descendants and eventually bring us to the dignifying place we deserve to occupy in society. However, what "They Are We" address, is a reparation never heard of, because it was deemed impossible to achieve.

"They Are We" complements those efforts carried out today by offering us, afro-descendants, a true story of hope that brings about a sense of emotional healing. The story of "They Are We" is as needed as a vital social service because it restores our sense of connection with our ancestry, just like the feeling a child experiences when reunited with their parents. Ancestry connections operate similarly as neural connections: when they are damaged, bad things happen, but they can be repaired. Granted, just like it happens in reunions, it is impossible to hold your tears when you watch "They Are We", so have some tissues ready.

"They Are We" offers us, afro-descendants, a true story of hope that brings about a sense of emotional healing.

In the times we're living, this documentary has resurfaced to soothe my soul; to remind me that beautiful things can still ---and will--- happen. It's also made it loud and clear in my mind that there's more good than evil out there. Furthermore, "They Are We" makes us proud of our heritage, because we can't forget that our culture was supposed to disintegrate as our bodies were being exploited to the max, to generate White wealth in the United States, all over the Caribbean, and parts of Central and South America. Rather than falling into oblivion, we resisted and against all odds, the entire planet today dances to the rhythms we created in our New World: salsa, hip-hop, reggae, soca, merengue, bachata, konpa, calypso, samba, dancehall, cumbia, rumba, and more.

We must support initiatives like "They Are We" because they are equally important in the struggle for Black emancipation, but people like Emma Christopher need money to make this happen. That's why I want to strongly encourage you to either purchase or rent out the movie, so she can continue remedying our souls. If you've read all the way here, do yourself a favour and watch the movie anyway. I'm including some links for Amazon and Vimeo, for your convenience.

In Vimeo, for rent.

In Amazon (United States!) for rent or purchase.

If you know someone who will love hearing this story, please, share it.

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An Extraordinary Story Everyone Must Hear

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Updated: 3 days ago A few years ago, a story I came across affected my life so positively, that today I want to talk about it again. My mind, seeking a healthy narrative to counter the stories of barbarity constantly reported from the neighbouring United States, has extracted this jewel discovered in 2014.

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Sus pies prácticamente no tocan el suelo. Los corredores tarahumaras suben y bajan ligeros por las Barrancas del Cobre (Estado de Chihuahua, norte de México) el primer domingo de marzo para competir en la ultramaratón de 80 kilómetros. La rocosa montaña ha esperado un año para que los atletas indígenas volvieran a correr en sus sinuosos caminos por los que se atraviesan angostos arroyos. Los tarahumaras no llevan más que lo puesto. Aquí no hay zapatillas de 50 dólares, sino sandalias con plantillas de neumático hechas a mano. Tampoco hay suplementos alimenticios en polvo y electrolitos, solo agua y pinole (maíz) para resistir. El premio es poder llevar algunos costales de maíz y frijol a sus comunidades y el honor de cumplir con la tradición.

Los tarahumaras han vuelto en 2016 a Urique, un pequeño pueblo al fondo de las Barrancas del Cobre -las más profundas de México, con 2.400 metros de altura- donde comienza el recorrido de la ultramaratón Caballo Blanco después de que el año pasado un enfrentamiento entre cárteles de la droga pusiera en riesgo a los corredores. El pueblo de Urique es tan tranquilo ahora que por la madrugada solo se escucha el canto de los gallos. Hace un año, en las cercanías se oían disparos: los hombres de El Chapo se enfrentaron a tiros con los del Cártel de la Línea para pelearse por el control de las barrancas. "Al final toda esa gente se fue", dice un habitante de Urique. Pero todos saben que al final ganaron los de El Chapo y por eso la paz volvió al cañón.

Las Barrancas del Cobre es un sistema de montañas que forman parte de la Sierra Madre Occidental de México en los estados de Chihuahua y Sinaloa. La profundidad de la montaña, su difícil acceso y sus microclimas -cálidos en las profundidades, fríos en las alturas- la han convertido en un enclave perfecto para la producción y trasiego de drogas. En este mismo cañón se refugió Pancho Villa, el Centauro del Norte, durante el avance de las fuerzas revolucionarias a principios del Siglo XX. Desde hace siglos, la etnia tarahumara encontró en este paraíso un sitio donde refugiarse y aislarse del crecimiento urbano. Pero también han vivido en una de las regiones más pobres y rezagadas de México. En silencio han conservado sus tradiciones y de reojo han visto pasar a bandidos y también a narcotraficantes.

A pesar de todo los tarahumaras no dejan de correr. La ultramaratón Caballo Blanco fue fundada en 2003 por Micah True, un atleta estadounidense que vivió durante varios años en el cañón y aprendió las costumbres de los pueblos rarámuris -- como también se le llama a los tarahumaras--. La historia de True fue contada en 2010 por el periodista Christopher McDougall en su libro superventas Nacidos para correr (Random House Mondadori, 2010). El libro atrajo la atención hacia los tarahumaras y su técnica para correr que consiste simplemente en tocar ligeramente el suelo con sus pies mientras resisten con poco alimento y agua las difíciles condiciones de un terreno rocoso. "¡Esta es la meca para cualquier corredor!", exclama Patrick Muldowney, un atleta de Arizona (EE UU) que tras conocer la historia de los rarámuris se animó a participar en la competición.

Una mujer tarahumara durante la ultramaratón Caballo Blanco. Saúl Ruiz

A las 6 de la mañana en la línea de salida en la plaza de Urique no hay corredores profesionales, ni campeones keniatas del atletismo. El 95% de los 600 participantes son tarahumaras y el resto son algunos corredores aficionados que se han acercado a conocer las técnicas deportivas de los rarámuris y sobre todo a observar su experiencia al correr con sandalias de suela de neumático. "Me lastimo mucho menos desde que uso sandalias. Ese es el punto, ¿hace cuánto tiempo que los humanos dejamos de estar descalzos y usamos zapatos para correr?", se cuestiona Freddy Koster, un salvavidas suizo de 54 años, que ha viajado a México exclusivamente para participar en esta carrera.

A los corredores tarahumaras les toma entre 6 y 7 horas finalizar la compleja ruta que incluye pendientes pronunciadas, caminos de tierra con rocas y arroyos. Uno de los alimentos que los ayuda a resistir el calor y a evitar la deshidratación es el pinole. En los puestos de primeros auxilios, los voluntarios preparan este polvo de maíz con agua y se lo ofrecen a los corredores durante su paso. Algunos tarahumaras llegan a los puestos pidiendo exclusivamente esta bebida. Su alimentación no es muy compleja. Marisela Cuevas lleva seis años preparando la cena de los tarahumaras previo a la competición. Su menú está compuesto de caldo de pollo con verduras y raciones de nixtamal (maíz refinado) con frijoles.

Para Miguel Villegas, un tarahumara de 33 años, el fin de semana de la ultramaratón Caballo Blanco es especial. Ha caminado 10 horas desde su comunidad en Batopilas para participar en la carrera. El año pasado se llevó el segundo lugar y una buena cantidad de granos para alimentar a sus tres hijos y esposa. "Si mis hijos quieren después también los voy a traer a correr, cuando estén más grandes". Miguel usa una camisa rosa de popelina que su mujer le cosió a mano. El resto del año, este tarahumara se dedica a sembrar en el campo. Salir de su pueblo para la carrera es una ocasión extraordinaria que amerita sandalias nuevas hechas en casa con un neumático usado y cuchillo en mano. Hacerlas, dice, le cuestan unos 5 dólares. "Son caras, pero duran todo el año".

Las sandalias de los tarahumaras inspiraron a un emprendedor estadounidense que ha fundado una fábrica en Seattle (EE UU), después de aprender la forma de fabricación en este rincón de Chihuahua. Cada par se vende en 100 dólares a través de internet.

Miguel recorre con aplomo la ruta. A las cuatro horas se le ve seguro, mientras que otros corredores ya muestran un cansancio severo. No ha ganado un premio, pero no se desanima y se alegra de haber terminado la ultramaratón. Se quedará la noche a descansar para caminar por la mañana de regreso a su pueblo. Se alegra de conocer a chabochis (mestizos) que le animaron a seguir corriendo y que también le contaron cómo es el mundo más allá de las Barrancas del Cobre. Sus pies lo son todo para él y no concibe más que un mundo de corredores.

- ¿Usted corre allá donde vive? - pregunta Miguel a los forasteros de la Ciudad de México.

-A veces, cuando se puede -le contestan.

- Yo no podría imaginar mi vida sin correr un solo día.

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Los pies ligeros reconquistan la Sierra Tarahumara

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Sus pies prácticamente no tocan el suelo. Los corredores tarahumaras suben y bajan ligeros por las Barrancas del Cobre (Estado de Chihuahua, norte de México) el primer domingo de marzo para competir en la ultramaratón de 80 kilómetros.

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Ultramaratón Caballo Blanco 2019 en Urique, Chihuahua.

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Por años se ha sabido de la capacidad de correr de los Rarámuris, que son una comunidad indígena en México, y por su increíble habilidad de recorrer distancias en las rocosas barrancas de Chihuahua. Hasta hace unos años, en 2003, gracias a la llegada y aporte de un extranjero estadounidense, se inició una carrera de ultra maratón de 80 kilómetros (49.70 millas) que trascendió a nivel internacional causando la llegada de extranjeros para ser parte de este evento.

"The Infinite Race" o la Carrera Infinita es un documental que explora precisamente esa historia de los Rarámuris, a quienes también se les conoce como los Tarahumaras, y relata lo que sucedió desde el momento en que iniciaron los ultra maratones inspirados por Micah True, bautizado por los locales como 'Caballo Blanco', además de cuando sus hogares y comunidades fueron devastadas por las drogas, cárteles y la violencia.

El documental de 30 for 30, que se estrena el 15 de diciembre (5 p.m. PT / 8 p.m. Este, ESPN / ESPN Deportes), maneja diversos temas desde lo deportivo, político y cultural.

"Esa idea de estar entrenando sin entrenar explícitamente, creo que es un punto fundamental que vemos en la película", dijo Bernardo Ruiz, el director del filme, a LA Times en Español. "Filmamos un ultra maratón de 80 kilómetros en las Barrancas del Cobre, sí, es impresionante para alguien que viene de afuera que ven personas que no están haciendo estiramientos, aparentemente no se están preparando. Corredores que lo hacen con pantalones de mezclilla... ropa no adecuada para correr".

Las necesidades que viven las tribus han causado que la movilización de la gente se haga mayormente caminando o corriendo, lo que les permite mantener un buen estado físico para las carreras... de alguna manera entrenan sin hacerlo conscientemente. La violencia debido al narcotráfico también es uno de los temas centrales que se manejan en el documental.

"Esta es una zona en lo que todo se hace a base de caminar y correr", dijo el director. "Los asentamientos y los pueblos son de distancias largas y si uno se quiere comunicar con otros pueblos, hay que correr en muchos casos. Las señales de teléfono o celular tampoco alcanzan en muchos casos. Por lo que el caminar los mantiene en condiciones, que para nosotros que vivimos una vida sedentaria en frente de las computadoras".

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Correr para sobrevivir... la dura realidad de los Tarahumaras es expuesta en documental de ESPN

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Por años se ha sabido de la capacidad de correr de los Rarámuris, que son una comunidad indígena en México, y por su increíble habilidad de recorrer distancias en las rocosas barrancas de Chihuahua.

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A young girl is running up a mountain. She's fast on her feet and unencumbered by the harsh running conditions such a climb poses. In the background, we hear a dreamy song in the Tarahumara language (also called Rarámuri) about the kind of running she's engaged in. Donning the traditional garb of the Tarahumara, including a floral skirt and a pair of huaraches, this young member of that Mexican indigenous group is, like her father before her, a running star in the making. Her name is Lorena Ramírez. And she's the subject of a new short documentary film titled Lorena, la de pies ligeros. Directed by Juan Carlos Rulfo, the short doc looks to be a portrait of Lorena as she trains and runs in the mountains where she grew up as well as in the many races she's come to dominate.

Despite focusing on Lorena, Rulfo's film is a chronicle of a Tarahumara tradition that dates back generations: Rulfo's subtitle, which translates into "the light-footed one," for example, is but a Spanish version of what the Tarahumara call themselves: Rarámuri aka light-footed. For centuries these communities, which now live in the Sierra Madre Occidental in Mexico, have been lauded for their long-distance running skills, a feat Lorena embodies to this day. As she says in the trailer for the doc, "As long as my body lets me, I'm going to keep on running."

Marrying the pastoral world she inhabits with a kinetic sports doc sensibility, Lorena, la de pies ligeros looks like both a contemporary look at a fearless indigenous woman as well as a thrilling look at yet another female athlete staying true to herself while setting herself apart.
Lorena, la de pies ligeros (Lorena, Light-Footed Woman) debuts November 20, 2019, on Netflix.

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TRAILER: This Netflix Doc Is an Intimate Look at Rarámuri Ultramarathon Runner Lorena Ramirez

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A young girl is running up a mountain. She's fast on her feet and unencumbered by the harsh running conditions such a climb poses. In the background, we hear a dreamy song in the Tarahumara language (also called Rarámuri) about the kind of running she's engaged in.

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MEXICO CITY -- The long-distance running feats of the Tarahumara community in northern Mexico are well documented, yet little else is known to the outside world about the deeply held historical and cultural traditions motivating them to engage in the practice.

Those mysteries become more tantalizing because of the innate difficulty reaching Tarahumara towns, most of which are shielded within the Sierra Madre mountains that roll down the Mexican Pacific coast. For The Infinite Race -- the latest documentary in the 30 for 30 series, airing Tuesday on ESPN and ESPN Deportes -- director Bernardo Ruiz and his crew made it their mission to access these seldom-seen spots and tell the story of an intrinsic relationship between a community and its talent for running.

"To get to those isolated communities -- it's a challenge, because you have to walk or even climb in certain spots," Ruiz told ESPN Deportes' Fernando Palomo. "But I can tell you it's one of the most beautiful places I've known in the entire world."

It was in 2009 when Christopher McDougall's best-selling book "Born To Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen," launched a fascination with the Tarahumaras. Tribe members ability to run distances of over 100 miles regularly, eschewing running shoes for thin sandals or even barefoot while doing so, raised eyebrows. The author's hypothesis that running shoes caused injuries and poor form for runners who did not adhere to the Tarahumaras' more basic apparel caused a short-lived frenzy of footwear designed to mimic the reduced cushion the tribe is known for using when running their ultramarathons.

While McDougall's book introduced most of the world to the Tarahumaras, the unexpected allure it created came with an unintended consequence when runners from around the world flocked to the remote towns explored more than a decade later in Ruiz's film.

"[It's] an uncomfortable topic, the culture shock between foreign runners who come from the United States and Europe," Ruiz said.

In essence, the issue lies in the overall reluctance by Tarahumara runners to join competitions unless absolutely necessary. The Infinite Race makes the case that running is a way of life, a necessary skill developed for survival -- not a talent designed to be exploited for gain outside of the tight-knit society.

For centuries, the Tarahumaras' ability to run, coupled with their living spaces being nestled in the Copper Canyons of Chihuahua, has meant a chance to willfully isolate themselves from the outside world for as long as they see fit -- first from the Spaniards, then from the Mexican society that governs the land they live on.

"That comes from a tradition dating back to before the Spanish conquest," Ruiz said. "Running has always been a form of resistance."

Instead of adapting to the outside world, the tribe's main sporting pursuits lie in the practice of rarajipari, a game that combines distance running with the handling of a wooden ball over the course of many kilometers. Games can last for days and end when one team or competitor reaches the agreed destination first. The game has recently transcended the Mexican border, making its competitive U.S. debut.

The aforementioned resistance can also explain why Tarahumara runners have yet to break through on the international stage in competitions such as the Olympics. In Ruiz's experience, that shyness comes coupled with Mexico's apparent lack of interest in developing talents.

Mexico has long had a tradition of elite competitors in long-distance athletics ( Maria Guadalupe Gonzalez won the silver medal at the 2016 Olympics for the 20k walk event). Despite this, the country has not had a Tarahumara competitor make waves for winning an international event since Tomas Zafiro won gold in the 10k race at the 1926 Central American and Caribbean Games. Later that year, Zafiro ran for more than 100 kilometers, from Pachuca to Mexico City, in a feat dubbed at the time as "one of the more remarkable running performances in sporting history."

Even if any Tarahumara runners potentially express an interest in high-level racing, there are key factors missing from the equation in order to move them from the Sierra Madre mountains and onto pavement and tracks, much less standing on podiums.

"There is a new generation of Tarahumara runners who have their eye on bigger competitions and the highest level," Ruiz said. "But they need infrastructure and coaching. There's no investment being made."

At the moment, however, most competitors from the tribe enter races for a simpler, more pressing reason: survival. Poverty is rampant among Tarahumara communities, and violence stemming from drug cartels active in the region place an even bigger strain on the fragile situation. In Mexico and abroad, runners are now entering the fold as a way to provide for entire families.

According to the United Nations Development Programme, up to 100,000 Tarahumara men and women live in poverty due to various factors including crop death from climate change, cartel violence and the depletion of natural resources. The issues become a central piece of The Infinite Race.

"If certain members of the community participate [in races], it's because they need the winnings, the money or the prizes," Ruiz said. "They do it out of need and not for an innate desire to participate in sports."

Despite the challenges that have pushed the Tarahumaras to run beyond their usual reasons, Ruiz hopes the film highlights the traditions and the way of life that have captivated so many with the seemingly effortless prowess so many within the tribe display in their effort to resist -- and thrive.

"Without heart, no athlete can win out," Ruiz said. "Obviously, you need to develop technique and training to be a champion, but you can't do anything without heart. And we're trying to show where that heart comes from."

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In 30 for 30 The Infinite Race, the Tarahumara tribe run and run and run

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MEXICO CITY -- The long-distance running feats of the Tarahumara community in northern Mexico are well documented, yet little else is known to the outside world about the deeply held historical and cultural traditions motivating them to engage in the practice.

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Last summer, Democratic Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez, D-San Diego, posed a question on Twitter: "Does it seem like non-Latinos use Latinx far more than actual Latinos?"

A debate on Gonzalez's Twitter thread followed.

Spanish-language loyalists criticized the gender inclusive label for its attempt to change a language that consists of masculine and feminine nouns. Defenders called it a non-binary and inclusive label that acknowledges Latinas and LGBTQ Latinos.

What's clear is that the label has risen in popularity on the internet in the last five years, reaching its peak on Google Trends in September 2020, a month before the presidential election.

But a 2020 Pew Research Center study, finds that only a quarter of Latinos in the U.S. have heard the term - and only 3% use it. Instead, the study shows, Latino communities would rather be referred to by their country of origin, such as Mexican, Honduran or Cuban.

The term is embraced by younger Latinos, liberal Democrats and the LGBTQ community and its allies, including Gov. Gavin Newsom. It tends to be shunned by many native Spanish speakers and older, working-class Latinos.

"It's a question of what people choose to call themselves," said Laura E. Gómez, a law professor at UCLA and author of the book "Inventing Latinos: A New Story of American Racism."

Who uses Latinx?

The term is most used among young Hispanic women, as well as U.S.-born Latinos and college-educated Latinos, according to the Pew Research Center.

About 14% of young Hispanic women, between the ages of 18-29, are likely to use the term compared to 1% of young Hispanic men. Overall, about 42% of young Latinos, between the ages of 18-29, say they've heard the term, compared to 7% of older Latinos, ages 65 or older.

Nearly 32% of Latinos born in the US. are more likely to have heard of the term, compared to 16% foreign-born Latinos, according to the report. About 29% of bilingual and predominantly English-speaking Latinos are also more likely to have heard the term than 7% of predominantly Spanish-speaking Latinos.

Younger Latinos are also increasingly coming out as lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender, according to Beatriz E. Valenzuela, communications manager of the LGBTQ nonprofit Equality California. They tend to embrace the label.

About 22% of Latino millennials, between the ages of 18-34, identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender compared to African Americans, 14%, whites, 13%, and Asian Americans, 9%, according to a 2018 GenForward Survey, which studies Generation Z and millennial trends.

Where did it originate?

The earliest usage of the label, pronounced "la-teen-ex" or la-tin-ex," dates back to the mid-2000s, according to Merriam-Webster.

"Monthly Google searches for Latinx rose substantially for the first time in June 2016, following the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida," according to the Pew Research Center's report. The shooting at the gay nightclub left 49 people dead, most of whom were LGBTQ Latinos.

"I think it's definitely related to the growing acceptance of sexual minorities," Gómez said. She added that many Latinas might not see themselves reflected in the term Latino, a term meant to encompass both genders.

Why is it political?

During the presidential election, progressives like Sen. Elizabeth Warren used the label Latinx when conducting outreach to Hispanic voters, while former Republican President Donald Trump embraced the terms Hispanic or Latino.

Democratic congressional lawmakers increasingly use "Latinx", according to an analysis by the Pew Research Center.

Among members of Congress last year, 47% of Democratic lawmakers used Latinx on social media, compared 1% of Republican lawmakers. Among Latino Democratic lawmakers, about 69% have used the label on social media, while 13% of Latino Republican lawmakers used it.

"It's something that I see a lot of white progressives use," Gonzalez said, who represents a Latino-majority district. "It seems to be used more outside of our community than inside."

What are criticisms associated with 'Latinx'?

The label has received its fair share of controversy, mainly from critics who say it's mostly used by English speakers and that it ignores the rules of the Spanish language.

Other criticisms include confusion over how to pronounce it and pluralize it and that it's not commonly used among older or working-class Latinos.

"Is it going to survive in the long run? Very possibly, but ... maybe not, because it's got a lot of criticisms," Gómez said.

Instead, Gómez suggests asking people what term they prefer to be called.

"I hate it," said Mike Madrid, GOP strategist and co-founder of the Lincoln Project. "As a political communicator, you need to speak to people where they are ... I don't think it's going to be accepted by the average Spanish speaker anytime soon."

Will it stick?

Latino and non-Latinos have historically struggled to come to a consensus on a general label to describe descendants or nationals who represent over 30 Latin American countries, according to Kevin R. Johnson, dean of the UC Davis School of Law and Chicano/Chicana studies professor at the school.

"These efforts now, they're trying to be constructive ... as opposed to the epithets used in past generations. I think it's an effort to move forward," Johnson said.

The label Hispanic has also received criticism from progressive Latinos for its association with Spain, according to Gómez. For example, migrants from Latin America whose first language is an indigenous dialect might not want to be grouped with Hispanics nor Latinos.

Johnson said he'd be surprised to hear the term conversationally among two Latinos who are having lunch.

"Maybe a political figure may say something like that but I don't know, I'm not sure if it's going to stick," he said.

Valenzuela said it's hard to say whether the label will replace broadly used terms like Latino or Hispanic, but stressed the label makes LGBTQ Latinos feel "seen, validated and heard."

"One of the main reasons that it's starting to gain a lot of use is because of (its) inclusivity," Valenzuela said. "I think language is always evolving so we may see another term that better represents what people are feeling come up in the next 10 years or so."
Help us cover the issues most important to you through The Sacramento Bee's partnership with Report for America. Contribute now to support Kim Bojórquez's coverage of Latino issues in California for the Capitol Bureau - and to fund new reporters.

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Is 'Latinx' here to stay?: Why the term is growing in popularity, but not among all Latinos

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Last summer, Democratic Assemblywoman Lorena Gonzalez, D-San Diego, posed a question on Twitter: "Does it seem like non-Latinos use Latinx far more than actual Latinos?" A debate on Gonzalez's Twitter thread followed. Spanish-language loyalists criticized the gender inclusive label for its attempt to change a language that consists of masculine and feminine nouns.

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It's no secret, history lessons aren't as complete as we've been taught to believe. Entire nations have been erased, battles and revolts rewritten, and communities left out by design. For Afro-Latinxs, it's taken a lot of digging to unearth our history both within the U.S. as well as across Latin America and the Caribbean.

Afro-Boricua scholar and activist , among others, are often recognized during Black History Month or Latino Heritage Month, but our rich histories and figures deserve to be acknowledged all year round within history books. Not always mentioned are Arturo Alfonso Schomburg, Cuban poet and political activist Nicolás Guillén, and Major League Baseball player Roberto Clemente Afro-Latinas like Dominga Cruz Becerril, Mamá Tingó, and María Elena Moyano.

Afro-Latinas have played a pivotal role in shaping our history throughout global movements. While there are many in entertainment, the arts, activism and beyond that have defined history, here are 12 Afro-Latina game changers who've made a lasting impact across the globe:

Sylvia del Villard, Feb. 28, 1928 - Feb. 28, 1990

An outspoken activist, actress and dancer, Sylvia del Villard became the first and only director of the office of the Afro-Puerto Rican affairs of the Puerto Rican Institute of Culture. Born in Santurce, Puerto Rico, she studied at Fisk University in Tennessee, where she encountered the discrimination and anti-Blackness of the south, later returning to Puerto Rico. Upon her return to New York City, the artist connected with her roots, joining a ballet group called the Africa House and tracing her roots to the Yoruba people of Nigeria. She went on to establish the Afro-Boricua El Coqui Theater, which the Panamerican Association of the New World Festival named "as the most important authority of Black Puerto Rican culture." del Villard fought for equal rights for Afro-Puerto Rican artists.

Sara Gómez, (Nov. 8, 1942 - June 2, 1974)

Sara Gómez hailed from the Havana neighborhood of Guanabacoa, which is traditionally known as one of the epicenters of Afro-Cuban pop culture. After working as a journalist, she joined the newly-established Instituto Cubano del Arte e Industria Cinematográficos (ICAIC) in 1961 and was one of only two black filmmakers at the time, and for several years its only woman director.

There the Afro-Cuban director worked with Jorge Fraga and Tomás Gutiérrez Alea, as well as visiting French director Agnès Varda. She directed several short documentaries that brought a critical perspective toward Cuban revolutionary society, specifically the position of women and Afro-Cubans, and introduced important cinematic conversations. With her debut film, Iré a Santiago , she became the first female film director in Cuba. She created several shorts and before she could complete her first feature De cierta manera , she died at the young age of 31. The film was completed posthumously by Gutiérrez Alea and Julio García Espinosa.

Dominga Cruz Becerril (1909-circa 1970s)

Dominga de la Cruz Becerril was born in Ponce, Puerto Rico in 1909. She became a lectora in a tobacco factory, and it was through reading the news to others that she learned about Pedro Albizu Campos. She went to listen to him speak in Mayagüez and was s... https://t.co/4nf6i5fVJ0 pic.twitter.com/F59xTgIyAe

- Hope For Puerto Rico (@Hope4PuertoRico) February 20, 2019

Born in Ponce, Puerto Rico, Dominga Cruz Becerril is known as the "One Who Picked up the Flag" for her heroic act of "rescuing" the Puerto Rican flag that was left on the ground during the Ponce Massacre of 1937. She became a lectora at a tobacco factory, where she was inspired by her reading of Latin America freedom movements to join the Nationalist Party in the 1930s. Cruz Becerril rebuilt the women's sector of the movement into trained fighters.

When she testified that she picked up the flag, in the midst of danger, she said "because Maestro [Dr. Pedro Albizu Campos] taught me that the flag of the homeland should never fall on the ground." Due to government persecution, she lived the majority of her remaining years in Cuba.

Mamá Tingó (Nov. 8, 1921 - Nov. 3, 1974)

🇩🇴**D O M I N I C A N R E P U B L I C**🇩🇴

Florinda Muñoz Soriano

Also known as, Mamá Tingó, she was an activist, revolutionary & defender of poor rural farming communities in the DR born Dec. 21st, 1921.

She & several hundred other people were dispossessed of their land. pic.twitter.com/2fh4npDf8i

- Archbishop Gigas 🇵🇷🇧🇸 (@BahamaPapa_) March 8, 2020

Florinda Soriano Muñoz, better known as Mamá Tingó, fought for land rights in the Dominican Republic. Mama Tingó was a farmer, activist and defender of the rural farming community in the DR, and despite her age she participated heavily in directing the farmworkers movement. Sadly, she was killed at the age of 52 while defending her land.

Clara Ledesma (March 5, 1924 - May 25, 1999)

🎨 Clara Ledesma fue una gran y talentosa artista Dominicana, pionera en su estilo y como profesional.
Fue de las primeras mujeres en entrar a estudiar a la Escuela Nacional de Bellas Artes, donde después ocuparía el cargo de profesora de dibujo. pic.twitter.com/mhQv1VSWSM

- Fedoarcu (@Fedoarcuoficial) September 13, 2019

One of the first women to attend the School of National Fine Arts, Clara Ledesma was born in Santiago in the Dominican Republic. The award-winning artist opened a studio in 1951 where she had her first solo exhibition, and four years later she was named vice director of the National School of Fine Arts. Ledesma had numerous international solo exhibitions, including events in Madrid, Mexico City and New York City, and participated in group exhibitions in Brazil, Spain, Cuba, Haiti, Venezuela, Argentina and Puerto Rico.

Pura Belpré (Feb. 2, 1899 - July 1, 1982)

"Celebrating the City's First Puerto Rican Librarian, Pura Belpré" via @nypl ... https://t.co/mFBjavfrc7

- James Neal (@james3neal) November 19, 2019

An activist, storyteller, librarian, and folklorist, Pura Belpré revolutionized the library experience for the Spanish-speaking community in New York City. Belpré became the first Puerto Rican librarian at the New York Public Library in 1921, and began instituting bilingual story hours, implementing Spanish-language books and programs based on traditional holidays like Three Kings Day. After not being able to find any books for children in Spanish, she wrote Perez y Martina , a tale of a romance between a cockroach and a mouse. It was published in 1932, becoming the first Spanish language book for children published by a mainstream U.S. press.

Xica da Silva (1732 - 1796)

Zezé Motta como Xica da Silva em "Xica da Silva" (1976)

Direção: Cacá Diegues@zezemotta maravilhosa pic.twitter.com/nyaOerbU1D

- Is 🌈 (@sapatroas) August 24, 2020

Despite being born into slavery, Xica da Silva, also known as Francisca da Silva de Oliveira or Chica da Silva, became one of the richest and most influential Brazilians of the 18th century. Although many facts surrounding her life are unclear, Xica became the property of a wealthy diamond mine owner named João Fernandes da Oliveira, later becoming his "unofficial" wife and having 13 children with him. When Fernandes returned to Portugal, he reportedly left her with his New World wealth, which included several slaves. She became a member of a number of prestigious social clubs, and was buried in a cemetery reserved for the white colonial elite.

Maria Firmina dos Reis (October 11, 1825 - November 11, 1917)

"A Escrava", de Maria Firmina dos Reis, é um conto publicado no auge do movimento abolicionista. Na obra, conhecemos uma mulher abolicionista que se vê na posição de auxiliar e escutar a história de uma escravizada que foge de seu algoz.

✨ Compre: https://t.co/3xldSvRDjK pic.twitter.com/yGm2yPuvYv

- Resistência Afroliterária (@afroliteraria) August 24, 2020

Born in São Luís, Maranhão in Brazil, is an abolitionist, author and poet. Her 1859 novel Maria Firmina dos Reis Úrsula was a depiction of life for Afro-Brazilians under slavery.

Virginia Brindis de Salas (September 18, 1908-April 6, 1958)

Virginia Brindis de Salas was a poet of the black community of Uruguay. https://t.co/qce8CWwIQi #afrouruguaya #blackhistory #afrolatina pic.twitter.com/Zqk7gWsiyX

- La Historia Negra (@HistoriaNegra) March 24, 2017

Known as a poet of the Afro-Uruguayan community, Virginia Brindis de Salas was born in Montevideo, Uruguay. As the country's leading Black woman poet, Brindis de Salas was considered "the most militant among Afro-Uruguayan writers." She was an active contributor to the black artistic journal Nuestra Raza and her work made her, along with fellow Afro-Uruguayan Pilar Barrios, one of the few published Uruguayan women poets.

Julia López, México 1998, mexican painter.
Fotografía: Flor Garduño, México.

Seamos socialmente iguales,
humanamente diferentes
y totalmente libres.

(Rosa Luxemburgo). pic.twitter.com/eJMizoYpSU

- María A. (@zarandillo) April 21, 2019

A self-taught Mexican painter, Julia López was born to African and Amuzgo heritage parents in a small village near the town of Ometepec on the Costa Chica of Guerrero. She moved to Mexico City early in life, and began in the artist scene as a model, posing for well-known artists such as José Chávez Morado, Vlady and Diego Rivera, which morphed into drawing and painting. López began exhibiting in 1958 and since then has exhibited individually and collectively in Mexico, the United States and Europe. Her work has been recognized with awards and membership in the Salón de la Plástica Mexicana.

María Elena Moyano Delgado (Nov. 29, 1958 - Feb. 15, 1992)

"María Elena Moyano Delgado (November 29, 1958-February 15, 1992) was an Afro-Peruvian community organizer, feminist & activist who was assassinated by the Maoist Shining Path Terrorist group."#blackwomenradicals#BlackWomensHistoryMonth pic.twitter.com/wPDCmsVoSf

- Black Women Radicals (@blkwomenradical) March 14, 2019

María Elena Moyano is a Peruvian feminist, community organizer and activist of Afro-Peruvian descent. Born in the (Barranco district of) Lima, Peru, her activism began in her teens and only grew stronger with age. At the age of 25, she was elected president of the Federación Popular de Mujeres de Villa El Salvador (Fepomuves), a federation of women from Villa El Salvador. Under Moyano's leadership, the organization grew to include public kitchens, health committees, the Vaso de Leche program (which supplied children with milk), income-generating projects, and committees for basic education. Moyano left her position in Fepomuves in 1990 and shortly thereafter was elected deputy mayor of the municipality of Villa El Salvador. As an outspoken leader, she faced pushback and even death threats. Unfortunately, she was assassinated on February 15, 1992, which resulted in a public outcry.

Victoria Santa Cruz (Oct. 27, 1922 - Aug. 30, 2014)

An Afro-Peruvian choreographer, composer, and activist, Victoria Eugenia Santa Cruz Gamarra is referred to as "the mother of Afro-Peruvian dance and theatre." Born in Lima, she founded the dance company Teatro y Danzas Negras del Perú, with whom she presented numerous shows in national theaters and television. The group represented Peru in the festivities for the Olympic Games in Mexico, 1968 where they received a medal and diploma for their work. Santa Cruz has won several awards and recognized for her work. Her poem "Me Gritaron Negra" ("They Called Me Black") has gone viral in recent years.

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Meet the Afro-Latinas You Didn't Learn About in School

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It's no secret, history lessons aren't as complete as we've been taught to believe. Entire nations have been erased, battles and revolts rewritten, and communities left out by design. For Afro-Latinxs, it's taken a lot of digging to unearth our history both within the U.S. as well as across Latin America and the Caribbean.

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Why Puerto Rican Bomba Music Is Resistance

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Este es nuestro Carnaval de Leyendas. Danza Son De Negro.

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Afro-Latinx Revolution: Puerto Rico (FULL DOCUMENTARY)

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If you dance salsa, bachata, and other Latin dancers, you're dancing to music that has its origins not just in Latin America and New York but also in black African culture and the Atlantic slave trade. Chances are, some of the songs you dance to sing about the impact of global inequality, structural racism, and living in a diaspora. The evolution of the dances and musical genres also played a role in the presentation of racial identities among Afro-Latinos and those who wanted to appear more European.

Most of the people we know who dance salsa and bachata are white, and not of all them agree with Black Lives Matter. But w hen we love Latin dancing but don't support anti-racism movements, we're actively damaging the cultures and traditions we enjoy.

We're not the right people to talk about race in dancing, but fortunately, many others have done it from far more informed positions than we could. Here's an incomplete list of resources that you can use to learn more about the black roots of salsa and bachata, support your arguments, or share to inform other people.

We don't always agree completely with these resources, but we find each one thought-provoking. In the meantime, if you know of valuable resources that should be on this list, please let me know. We will continue to add to this over time.

The resources are listed in no particular order. Similarly, the brief description of each resource is simplistic and at times only mentions a tiny aspect of the reasons why it is worth reading or watching.

The Black Roots of Latin Music and Dance

Black in Latin America ( / ) by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. explores attitudes towards black and African identities in Cuba and the Dominican Republic, as well as Brazil, Mexico, Peru, and Haiti. Among other dances, it looks at Cuban son and merengue.

This YouTube series from The Valbunnys is an accessible introduction to the history of salsa music, starting from the Atlantic slave trade. There's also a and .

by Takeshi Young for Social Dance Community is another resource on this. And this SalsaForums thread discusses Dancing with the Gods by John Joseph Wong looks at the Orishas in salsa and what they mean. An Introduction To The Orishas "Should white people use Orishas in social dancing?"

Salsa Music: The Latent Function of Slavery and Racialism by Vernon W. Boggs is behind a paywall but details the role of black African rhythms and slavery in the development of salsa music. The writer has also authored Salsiology: Afro-Cuban Music and the Evolution of Salsa in New York City , and while we cannot find it for less than £65 online, it is available in certain libraries.
While bachata and merengue are distinct dances, bachata evolved out of a combination of merengue, bolero, and other influences. Merengue's African roots are therefore also relevant to bachata, while many bachata texts also discuss merengue at least in passing.
To put some of these into context, you could look at Introduction to Dominican Blackness by Silvio Torres-Saillant, My Struggles as a Black American in the Dominican Republic by Morgan Miller, or Systematic Racism and Anti-Haitianism in the Dominican Republic by Andrea C. Restrepo Rocha.

Race in the Latin Dance Scene

This panel discussion via Facebook Live from Salsa Everybody discusses racism in general, the difference between being anti-racist and not racist, and racism on the dance floor.

Spinning Mambo into Salsa: Caribbean Dance in Global Commerce by Juliet McMains explores the changing nature of salsa dancing. As part of the book, she looks at how salsa was "elevated" by the removal of its working-class and black roots. If you can't access the book or just want more information, you can read an interview with the author .

Whiteness in Latin Dancing

General Resources on Cultural Appropriation, Racism, and Dance

While not linked to dancing, is a compilation of all tools and articles you can use to learn about racism. Looking for something less US-centric? This Anti-racism resources for white people list from Survivors' Network is more UK-orientated.

Responses to Questions and Criticisms

Isn't this article just jumping on a trending movement? When we looked for dance-specific resources to share, we struggled to find them. We felt gathering the resources in one place would be beneficial.

This is ignoring all the European, Spanish, and indigenous American influences on these genres. You're right. Yet not only are we more likely to hear "salsa doesn't have African roots" than "salsa doesn't have Latin/Spanish roots", but right now there is a wave of anti-black attitudes and arguments over whether we should honour slave traders.

It's not just white people who are racist. That's correct. However, white people living in majority-white countries are the least likely to have experienced systematic racism, which is why some of these resources have been written specifically for or about white people.

It's not just black people who experience racism. You're right and it's not our intention to imply otherwise. Even though this article is focused on anti-black racism, we hope that it's also thought-provoking with regards to other elements of racism. As and when we find more resources, we will also add those.

This is just value-signalling. It's not actually achieving any thing. Sharing information is important because it helps open minds. Other things that you can do include:

Promoting and financially supporting black artists and dancers

Donating to anti-racism organisations as well as organisations support black communities

Attending protests

Voting for politicians and politics that are actively anti-racist

Listening to black people's experiences, especially when related to things that you couldn't have experienced

Questioning your initial responses, especially when it relates to people who are black or of a different race to you

Speaking up when you hear racist comments or jokes

Refusing to support racist institutions

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You Can't Separate Latin Dancing From Its Black Roots

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If you dance salsa, bachata, and other Latin dancers, you're dancing to music that has its origins not just in Latin America and New York but also in black African culture and the Atlantic slave trade. Chances are, some of the songs you dance to sing about the impact of global inequality, structural racism, and living in a diaspora.

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Lorena, Light-Footed Woman | Netflix Official Site

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Lorena Ramírez of Mexico's Rarámuri community lives a pastoral life -- except when she straps on her sandals to compete as an ultramarathon runner.