On this Mexican Independence Day, the day that Mexico yanked off her Iberian umbilical cord in favor of toughing it out in the orphanage of the Americas, I reflect on the pride I take in my chameleon-like Mexicannery.
As a lady of Mexican ancestry, I possess a buttload of European blood (my nalgas are an ironing board), corny Amerindian blood (our gods and goddesses were amaizeing), and a big toe whose dark corn twerks. It’s African.
From h to t, I embody la raza cósmica, the cosmic race, which Mexican philosopher José Vasconcelos predicted when he wrote “that the various races of the earth” will “intermix at a gradually increasing pace…eventually [giving] rise to a new human type, composed of selections from each of the races already in existence.”
José, that’s me! I am your cosmic comadre! I’m your chimeric kook!
In Vasconcelos’ universe, there are no flesh-colored crayons, no nude pantyhose, no oppressive band-aids. In Vasconcelos’ new world, the entire color spectrum is renamed flesh. The entire color spectrum is renamed eyes. Some Mexicans have brown. Some Mexicans have blue. Some Mexicans have red, especially on tequila Tuesdays.
To prove my cosmic chameleon nature, I will parade some different manifestations of her down this page to prove that I can be everything, nothing, and you all at once.