“¡VIVA LA RAZA! ¡HUELGA! ¡VIVA LA CAUSA!”
By Rene Jaime Gonzalez (as mentioned above in Texas or Bust)
These were the cries heard on the front lines of the student walkouts at Edgewood and Sydney Lanier High Schools in San Antonio, Texas, in the 1960s and ’70s; in the impassioned calls to action from speakers at neighborhood park podiums addressing crowds gathered at political rallies; in the righteous slogans written on picket signs carried by farmworkers in their pilgrimage march toward the capitol. Residing deep in the heart of what was once the Mexican state of Coahuila y Tejas, Chicano culture in San Antonio has a uniquely urban story to tell.
The genesis of the Chicano movement—an amalgam of working people and middle-class Mexican American students, educators, and community organizers—was founded on principles of reform and revolution in education, politics, and civil rights with the commitment to maintain and strengthen community ties. The seeds of my involvement in Chicano culture started with my parents’ participation in the Chicano movement on the campus of the University of Texas at Austin in the 1970s. In my childhood household on Sunday mornings, the sounds that I heard coming through the kitchen stereo speakers were the canciónes rancheras (ranch songs) and corridos (folk ballads) sung by the prolific Mexican recording artists Pedro Infante and Cuco Sánchez. I dusted off old books and read the poesía (poetry) of Alurista and other literary works focused on the folklore of the mythical region of Aztlán.
In my parents’ day, social movements like the Chicano uprising had to kick down the door of the house of mainstream society for inclusion and fight for any scrap of recognition. Now, with rights won and a new generation moving toward the front lines, we find ourselves rearranging the furniture. Many of the hard-fought demands driving la causa (the cause) were eventually won and institutionalized, but Chicanos gained much more than representation within the system: they redefined their own ethnic identity through artistic innovation and academic self-expression, solidifying a cultural legacy with a foundation of rediscovered historical roots.
When I was growing up in San Antonio, this innovation and expression manifested itself in the four elements of hip-hop culture: B-boys, DJs, graffiti artists, and MCs. By the time I graduated from high school, I had immersed myself in the local B-boy scene, grounded by my identity as a Chicano and battling along with my crew at regional competitions and hip-hop conventions. Spinning all-vinyl funk, soul, and hip-hop records, I’ve also shared the stage with the venerable MC and DJ Marco Cervantes, Ph.D., an assistant professor of bicultural and bilingual studies in the Mexican American Studies Program at the University of Texas at San Antonio. Outside of the classroom, he performs under the alias Mexican Stepgrandfather with the hip-hop collaborative Third Root, mixing classic Mexican song with new hip-hop and rap. His message is the unification of the cultural crossroads between black and brown (or the “Afro-Mestizo connection”) and the empowerment of disadvantaged youth—an innovation of cultural expression at its finest.
Whether I’m catching wreck on the nightclub dance floor as a B-boy, hosting a writing workshop at a local literary center, or participating in the democratic process at municipal public hearings, the Chicano spirit runs through the lifeblood of my 21st-century community at large. As they have since its inception, activism and community continue to stand as the backbone—the heart and soul—of our contemporary Chicano culture here in San Anto.
Full essay text
Special thanks to Tessa Love, Mai Perches, Bayla Metzger
