By Adriana Mendez
The first part of this story was published in the September 8 issue of Atencion, page 43.
While my ears listened carefully, my eyes refused to miss what was going on around the fountain in the central courtyard of the colonial house where the restaurant is. Another one of the drag girls, showing off her impressive elasticity, was throwing herself on the floor with her legs wide open forming splits while shaking her Chinese and blonde hair to the rhythm of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.”
“How should I refer to you? With what pronoun?” I asked.
“However you want. When I’m drag, I’m ‘she,’ but in my everyday life, I’m a man and my sexual identity is masculine. In that context, I am ‘he.’ I work managing a bar and I enjoy this female characterization some nights and during my days off. In this business there’s everything: straight and gay men; trans men and women; and drag kings or queens. It doesn’t matter the gender or sexual orientation or identity.”
I felt respect for the ease with which she shared some of her intimacy with me and for the professionalism, enthusiasm, and creativity with which her guild engages in denormalizing binary gender stereotypes.
Cashkween ran the show for the five participants to the music of the DJ’s choice. She wore black mesh cabaret-style tights, royal blue mini shorts, and white high-heeled boots that covered most of her thighs. Her head sported a lush silver wig, not only because of the length of the mane but because of the crepe on the crown of her head. She was in control of the show and seemed to be very pleased and amused. I looked forward to chatting with her.
As I enjoyed a roasted cauliflower, I congratulated myself for going. The event was a success. The diners, foreign and domestic, in addition to enjoying the extraordinary cuisine, enjoyed the extravaganza-filled show. There was much applause, expressions of amazement, and laughter.
At the end of the show, Camila—Marcela’s daughter—proudly showed me the new bookstore she had just inaugurated in one of the spaces at the entrance of the restaurant. The small shop displays the books she herself curated. I found, for example, the latest publication by Beatriz García Marñón, a read that people living—or living with someone—with bipolar disorder will appreciate.
On the way back home, through the empty streets of a Tuesday night at eleven o’clock in San Miguel, my internal discourse changed its tone. I rejoiced at the cultural offerings this city has to offer. I remembered the Valle de Maíz festival and anticipated the Alborada festival to be held on September 29.
The spectacle affected my mood and a wave of optimism embraced my thoughts. I was accompanied by my comadre Susana’s speech: “The greatness of humanity is culture. The ability to imagine and invent novel and beautiful objects or experiences generates self-esteem and when shared strengthens community ties and gives a sense of belonging.”
A hopeful smile came to my lips as I recalled his words: “One of the most significant effects of art and culture is the reduction of violence.” Everyday images appeared in my thoughts: the murals in the Guadalupe neighborhood and the work exhibited by the artists in Parque Juarez on weekends. I remembered the success of the recent Art Walk in La Aurora and the many events organized during the Festival de las Artes. The generational transmission of culture moved me through the celebration of religious festivals accompanied by conchero parades that give us shows of dance, music, costumes, and makeup.
I also remembered Don Emigdio—the fat Ledesma—icon of the Alborada festival and the first catrinas of San Miguel made up by my cousin, Esperanza Orvañanos…but that’s another matter.
There’s no doubt that culture recomposes the social fabric, and in addition to beauty, it generates confidence and builds history. I felt grateful and proud to be part of a community that values culture and participates actively to strengthen it.
When I opened the door of my house, the scenes of the fires in the OXXOs reappeared in my mind, and I felt very fortunate to feel safe, in spite of everything.
Could it be that art and culture can save San Miguel from so much violence?
