Tag Archive | Gloria Anzaldúa

Sounding Out Tarima Temporalities: Decolonial Feminista Dance Disruption

For the full intro to the forum by Michelle Habell-Pallan, click here.  For the first installment by Yessica Garcia Hernandez click here.  For the second post by Susana Sepulveda click here. For last week’s post by Wanda Alarcón click here,

The forum’s inspiring research by scholars/practioners Wanda Alarcón, Yessica Garcia Hernandez, Marlen Rios-Hernandez, Susana Sepulveda, and Iris C. Viveros Avendaño, understands music in its local, translocal and transnational context; and insists upon open new scholarly imaginaries. . .

Current times require us to bridge intersectional, decolonial, and gender analysis.  Music, and our relationship to it, has much to reveal about how power operates within a context of inequality.   And it will teach us how to get through this moment. –MHP

The knowledge presented in this piece is reflective of countless conversations, and the many interactions I have had with teachers, practitioners, and extended fandanguerx communities in Mexico and the U.S. In my scholarly work, I draw from these conversations and my personal experiences as a bailadora in the fandango tradition to illustrate the power of community music as a practice to generate and articulate knowledge in relation to personal and social change. My work centers the study of rhythmic synchronicity in the fandango tradition from Veracruz, Mexico embodied in Zapateado; the percussive sound of women rhythmically stomping their feet on wood.

I am particularly interested in conversations that approach the study of rhythm from a feminist perspective as it allows us to claim visibility to the gendered and racialized voices of resistance that are often absent in academic discourse. My analysis builds on the contributions of Martha Gonzalez, who through her term rhythmic intention explains in “Sonic (Trans)Migration of Son Jarocho Zapateado: Rhythmic Intention, Metamorphosis, and Manifestation in Fandango and Performance”: “[rhythms] processed by the body are not varying forms of making time in music practice, but they are indeed political acts rooted in a history of resistance” (60).  To this, I theorize the ca-fé con pan­––a polyrhythm cyclically played by women in the majority of sones in the fandango repertoire––to argue that rhythms embodied by the tarima speak of a learning practice that moves beyond the idea of individual knowledge to the concept of relational knowledge. The polyrhythmic zapateado that bailadoras sound out on the tarima is rooted in, and flourishes through interpersonal relationships among women as dancers, and through a more profound awareness and synchronized relationship with nature, all the plants, animals, and natural resources which comprise it as Shawn Wilson discusses on Research Is Ceremony : Indigenous Research Methods (4).   The relational embodied knowledge of the bailaoras through zapateado, can thus be understood as a political act, one of decolonial resistance.

My approach to the study of this rhythm comes from the perspective of a bailadora. Although, I respect the work of scholars who capture the technicality of sound and rhythm, I do not offer an analysis of it from the perspective of a trained musician. I learned to dance and play music in informal settings, with my family and the people in the neighborhood. With a working class background, formal training in music or dance was a luxury enjoyed by the elites.  Even though I lived in Veracruz for many years, I did not grow up within the tradition, but knew about the music through my dad who taught me some steps. My formation in community dances was primarily through family parties and the sonidos in Mexico City; block parties with huge speakers blasting a variety of tunes ranging from old cumbias, salsas, banda, merengue, and Mexican urban rock. Sonidos in the capital city are most popular in neighborhoods with high concentration of workers in informal economies, many of whom are migrants from states through the republic, who have been displaced due to neoliberal capital flows, various degrees of violence related to drug trafficking, and other socio economic devastation. I grew up going to sonidos in Iztapalapa, and “Neza’–Short for Netzahualcoyotl–a working class neighborhood outside Mexico City., where I lived before moving to Veracruz. From a young age, my ear became familiar to the sound of polyrhythms in family parties and sonidos dancing to cumbias and salsas.

Tlacotalpan, Veracruz, Festival de Son Jarocho, feb’13, image by Flickr User boerries nehe (CC BY-NC 2.0)

Even though I attended a few fandangos before I emigrated to the U.S. in 2004, I started to regularly practice them in Seattle with my mentor and friend Chicana artivista Gonzalez who co-founded the Seattle Fandango Project, a collective of students of the fandango tradition based in Seattle, WA.  Martha was the first person who I heard using the term polyrhythm to describe the texture and rhythmic basis of fandango. With Indigenous, African, and European influences, amongst many elements in the fandango, the tarima is a notably polyrhythmic instrument that in its majority is played by women. It also carries the driven pulse of the fandango, where multiple bailadoras stomp with their feet fixed rhythms and syncopated improvisations. The basic fixed rhythm danced in the majority of sones is the ca-fé con pan composed of two independent rhythms of duple and triple meters playing simultaneously. This foundational understanding of polyrhythm as the simultaneous sound of two independent rhythms allows us to perceive the manner in which the cyclical repetition of the cafe con pan, embodied by bailadoras on the tarima, disrupts colonial logics of linear an individualized progress marked by the hegemony of the single bit of a clock. The dancer, processing and articulating rhythms through the body, engages in decolonial (learning) practices that generate a shift in consciousness from individual to relational knowledge.

This recording of “El Siquisiri” from a huapango (another name for fandango, most used in communities in the South of the state) in Michapan de Osorio, Vercruz with Colectivo Alteppe, from Acayucan gives us two in a half minutes of community soundscapes.

“El Siquisiri,” Chacalpa, Veracruz

.We can hear fireworks, the tuning of strings, “aganse para aca” (“como this way/come over here”) and “No se pongan atras” (“don’t stay behind”). Followed by the requinto’s call of the son, the jaranas join in, almost in unison, with the percussive footwork coming at last. In some cases bailadoras dance after the first verse is sung. With the sound of the footwork, in between taking turns to get on and off the tarima, you can hear dancers showing their skills in the afinque de su zapateado, their grounding of the step.  By listening to the changes in style, rhythm, and force of sound of the zapateado, you can tell different bailadoras have taken their turn to get on the tarima.  There are changes in the volume, intensity, and grounding sound in styles of stomping on the tarima. I say that these changes articulate through sound the inclusive nature of fandango, particularly the collective listening that makes space for each other’s rhythms.

Seattle Fandango Project. Photo credit: Scott Macklin.

Articulated by Gloria Anzaldúa, I often think of bailadoras as Nepantleras: boundary crossers, thresholders who initiate others in rites of passage, activistas who from listening, receptive spiritual stance, rise to their own visions and shift into acting them out, haciendo un mundo nuevo (making a new world). They encourage others to ground themselves to their own bodies and connect to their own internal resources, thus empowering themselves. Empowerment is the bodily feeling of being able to connect with inner voices/ resources (images, symbols, beliefs, memories) during periods of stillness, silence, and deep listening or with kindred others in collective actions.

The bailadora in fandango is an example of someone who listens with a decolonial ear. Bailadoras recognize that the rhythmic vibrations they collectively create on the tarima are potential spaces to embody Nepantla. Anzaldúa explains in Light in the Dark/Luz en lo Oscúro: “Nepantlas are places of constant tension, where the missing or absent pieces can be summoned back, where transformation and healing might be possible, where wholeness is just out of reach but seems attainable” (2).  Nepantla is the space where change happens, the kind of change that requires more than words on a page: it takes perseverance, and creative ingenuity.  In learning the percussive footwork in fandango one practices listening in relation to others. A good dancer has to be aware of the space and improvisations of other dancers.

As a bailadora myself, I have often been reminded by teachers,––Ruby Oseguera, Laura Rebolloso, Martha Gonzalez and Gemma Padua–– to always stick to the cafe con pan and improvise when a good moment in the son comes up. Zapateado fandanguero cares about the cadencia del son, the feeling in the fixed rhythm: the ca-fé con pan. To maintain the groove of the son, bailadoras engage with one another in a decolonial listening practice that extends to the rest of the fandango soundscape changing the focus from a personal to a collective awareness. When we are referring to a decolonial listening practice we must understand that we are talking about an active sensorium that has personal and collective implications. Best articulated by Chela Sandoval in Methodology of the Oppressed, a decolonial praxis “depends on the practitioner’s ability to read the current situation of power, and self-consciously choosing and adopting the ideological stand best suited to push against its configurations. This is a survival skill well known to oppressed peoples” (50).  The conditions that people within communities create in polyrhythmic music practices extend beyond the musical experience. Fandango and polyrhythm are the materialization of ways of being center on the awareness of our relationships and the relationship one shares with reality. 

Son Jarocho Band, Image by Flickr User ilf_ (CC BY-NC 2.0)

Collective rhythmic practices are potential spaces where alternative consciousness to the hegemony of coloniality can originate. They activate an epistemology of differential consciousness that relies on the integration of the self as tuning into reality through sound. These acts of knowing connect to notions of relationality situated at the center of indigenous epistemologies. As Walter Mignolo claims in “Geopolitics of Sensing and Knowing: on (De)Coloniality, Border Thinking and Epistemic Disobedience,” Relationality gives us the ability to think and do decolonially dwelling and thinking in the borders of local histories confronting global designs (277).  Using music as a tool to organize collectively, fandanguerxs in Mexico, and the  U.S. challenge global designs of social organization that continue to displace communities of color around the world. To exemplify this sentiment I share this video of el son de la morena, the Dark skin woman performed by Collectivo Altepee’s in one of their visits to the U.S. Before the beginning of the son, Sael Bernal shares:

There are many types of music. This music has to do with people’s hearts, and everyone is different and this is the reason why this music sounds different depending on where you are, but in our hearts we all have this characteristic of humanity based on our capacities to relate to one another. This is the reason why we can share space and live together… ¡y qué viva la diversidad!

Chicago, 2012. Mario Gervacio, Sael Bernal, Gema Padua, Luis Sarmiento, Alberto Alor, & Simon Sanchez.

Featured Image: “encuentro de jaraneros y decimistas, tlacotalpan, veracruz, enero/febrero ’14”  by Flickr user boerries nehe (CC BY-NC 2.0)

Iris C. Viveros Avendaño was born and raised in Mexico. She is a Ph.D. Candidate and a McNair Scholar in the Gender, Women, and Sexuality Studies department at the University of Washington. Her academic interests emphasize the integration of third world feminist approaches to the analysis of colonial legacies and projects in present-day systems of violence. To this effect, she focuses on the role of social structures and state-mediated technologies of power and domination in perpetuating violence against Afro Indigenous [descent] women. In addition, Iris’s scholarly work focuses on study of decolonial cyclic temporalities embodied on the tarima, or platform drum center stage in fandangos as practices of resistance, recovery, and healing from trauma. A central idea throughout her scholarly work is the exploration of the rhythmic body in fandango–In its collective and individual manifestation–particularly on the tarima, where knowledge is produced, reproduced, and transmitted. 

A major source of Iris’s academic and personal inspiration comes from her involvement as a bailadora/percussive dancer and active co-organizer in the Seattle Fandango Project, a community dedicated to forging relationships and social activism through participatory music, poetry, and dance.


tape reelREWIND!
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Hardcore as “Home”: An Etymology of CORE through Chicana Punk Sound

For the full intro to the forum by Michelle Habell-Pallan, click here.  For the first installment by Yessica Garcia Hernandez click here.

The forum’s inspiring research by scholars/practioners Wanda Alarcón, Yessica Garcia Hernandez, Marlen Rios-Hernandez, Susana Sepulveda, and Iris C. Viveros Avendaño, understands music in its local, translocal and transnational context; and insists upon open new scholarly imaginaries. . .

Current times require us to bridge intersectional, decolonial, and gender analysis.  Music, and our relationship to it, has much to reveal about how power operates within a context of inequality.   And it will teach us how to get through this moment. –MHP

Chicana punk is a Chicana feminist punk rock subculture within a subculture and a countercultural formation. Although ‘Chicana’ identity is typically thought of as a politicized Mexican-American woman shaped by Chicana/o politics, I recognize that there are varying participants that constitute this subculture, its scenes, and/or communities. Punk is in constant movement and formation, especially as its participants come in and out of the scene, contributing to and reshaping the subculture. The same can be said about Chicana punk.

ATRAKO live @ The Smell–by Susana Sepulveda

Chicana/o and Latina/o studies cultural theorist Michelle Habell-Pallán notes in Loca Motion: The Travels of Chicana and Latina Popular Culture that punk is a “site of possibility” (150), a mode in which Chicanas and Latinas challenge the status quo and “disrupt fixed notions of Chicana identity framed by the dominant culture” (153). Thus, Chicana punk is constituted through different subjectivities, experiences, and imaginings (specifically Chicanisma, or Chicana feminist ideologies and consciousness formations rooted in the Chicana Feminist Movement) that continue to be pertinent for young women in punk today.

In this post, I explore an etymology of “core” and the relationship of this term to Chicanas and Latinas immersed in hardcore punk. I ask: How is “core” theorized as a conception of “home” within Chicana punk? Drawing from Chicana feminist theorist Gloria Anzaldúa’s notion of “making face, making soul” and the sound and performance practice of Los Angeles based Latina/o hardcore punk band ATRAKO, I frame core as home, while considering how a Chicana punk listening practice of hardcore emerges.

ATRAKO is Samahara (Vocals), Irvin (Guitar/vocals), Suzy (Bass), and Cindee (Drums). Although ATRAKO was made up of both Chicanas and non-Chicana Latina/os in 2012, their participation in Chicana punk spaces, events, and adoption of Chicana feminist ideologies help to constitute Chicana punk subcultures more broadly. ATRAKO illustrates this through their performance on Feburary 27, 2015 at Xicana Punk Night. This was to be one of their last shows before their split on July 5, 2015 at the Riot Grrrl Carnival annual musical fundraiser event held at The Smell, an all-ages-volunteers-run, do-it-yourself art and music space. Xicana punk night was a community fundraiser event for Nalgona Positivity Pride, “a Xicana-Brown [and] Indigenous project that focuses on intersectional body positivity, eating disorders awareness and cultural affirmation.” ATRAKO’s lyrics also address issues of gender, racial, and environmental violence; and resonate with Chicana feminist critiques. Moreover, they exemplify how Chicana subjectivities are reconfigured and ‘sounded out’ through hardcore.

Hardcore is a style of punk music and aesthetics that arose in the early 1980s in varying urban geographies including Southern and Northern California, Washington D.C. and New York City, with intensified musical characteristics that differ from the 1970s punk movement. Hardcore is characterized by its aggressive aesthetics typically depicted by its fast sonic tempos, short song lengths, and gritty confrontational vocals. Despite the queer Chicana/o influences on the sound of hardcore by punk artists such as Alice Bag and Kid Congo Powers, it has remained predominantly represented by white, heterosexual, masculine figures of middle class suburbia, epitomized by Keith Morris, Henry Rollins, and Ian MacKaye. But what happens when Chicanas and Latinas engage hardcore? By focusing on the relationships Chicanas and Latinas forge through hardcore, especially in relation to Chicana punk subcultural formations, I argue we can reconfigure hardcore narratives. It is also important to note that not all participants that engage Chicana punk necessarily identify as Chicanas. Yet non-Chicana/o identified Latina/os are entangled and implicated within Chicana punk subculture through their participation and co-production of Chicana punk spaces.

To theorize Chicanas’ and Latinas’ participation in hardcore, I consider an etymology of core–specifically its articulation as ‘heart’ and as ‘coring,’ that is, “the act of removing a core or of cutting from a central part.” These meanings help me to conceptualize core, and by extension, hardcore as home. As early hardcore punks began to distinguish themselves from 1970s punk, they formed new punk scenes, subjectivities, and sound. These new social formations offered new generations of punks another mode, or set of tools, to contest the status quo and articulate new social conditions, like for instance, Reaganism in the 1980s. But more than anything else, hardcore was the result of a new generation of punks creating a niche for themselves, that is, a “home,” within the broader punk movement. Thus, the formation of hardcore was an act of “coring” that produced a new site of belonging. I view these articulations of “core” further, alongside Anzaldúa’s framework and metaphor “making face, making soul” (i.e. making heart). This framework enables me to theorize hardcore as home in Chicana punk.

Xicana Punk Night Flyer– by Gloria Lucas, NPP

Making ‘core’

In Making Face/Making Soul, Anzaldúa writes, “‘making faces’ is my metaphor for constructing one’s identity” (xvi).  In Light in the Dark/Luz en lo Oscuro, she extends this idea stating “The heart es un corazón con razón, with intelligence, passion, and purpose, a ‘mind-full’ heart with ears for listening, eyes for seeing, a mouth with tongue narrowing to a pen tip for speaking/writing” (153). Within Anzaldúa’s theorizations, “heart” is rendered a part of one’s conocimiento, a self-reflective awareness of how one is cultivating an identity and generating consciousness formations. But through this self-reflective process, one is also creating notions of home and belonging.

Through the notion of coring, self-reflective processes become about de-hearting, decentering and/or disrupting what is presumed to be foundational (i.e. what is central/core), in order to refashion. In other words, coring is a process of making anew. Hardcore demonstrates “coring” in its formation, as it emerged from the early punk movement yet reconfigured its notion of punk sound, style, and identity. In a way, punk ripped out its heart to start anew as hardcore. Similarly, Chicana punk has cored and reconfigured notions of punk and hardcore sound, style, and identity. For instance, ATRAKO offers a queer Chicana feminist representation that disavows dominant hardcore punk portrayals. They spit out lyrics in Spanish only, and use metaphorical language and visuals in their lyrics and album covers addressing gendered violence in relation to environmental abuse. Furthermore, while embodying hardcore’s “traditional” characteristics, ATRAKO dramatizes hardcore sound by performing a more melodic dissonance. The music compliments the lyrical narrations and arguably enacts a call-and-response to the sung lyrics posing its own sonic narration.

The song “Madre” (2014), which translates as “mother,” exemplfies this as the guitarist begins with a lamenting introductory verse, followed by thumping drums and a grito reminicent of a battle cry. In the first chorus Samahra blurts out:

ya es tiempo de entender

quien te dio la vida

es la muxer la encarnación

la esencia de la tierra

ya es tiempo de entender

quien te dio la vida

es la muxer quien tiene el poder. (Madre, 2014)

As Samahra is singing, the drums, guitar, and bass sound out a response to the chorus’s statements. This sonic accompaniment articulates a “coring” of hardcore music through the queer brown bodies animating this sonic experience, the exclusively Spanish lyrics and narrative, which centralize women and their relations to the natural world through the figure of mother, as well as a spiritual activism–what Anzaldúa called “a spirituality for social change” (323). In other words, the song presents all things that are not typically represented in American hardcore. ATRAKO tears up hardcore to make it anew and to speak to their experiences, politics, and identities, creating a “home” for themselves in hardcore.

In addition, Chicana punk reconfigures Chicana feminist politics, experiences, and subjectivities. Punk artists and bands such as ATRAKO articulate, or rather (re)articulate, Chicana feminist discourses through the platform of punk, and more specifically, hardcore. ATRAKO demonstrates a reconfiguration of Chicana feminisim through their sonic expression which shapes a listening practice of Chicana feminist theory and praxis through a “coring” of hardcore. As ATRAKO presents Chicana feminist discourse through non-traditional avenues and hardcore style, they bring visibility to Chicana feminist experiences and subjectivites within punk subcultures. Moreover, given the ethnic heterogeneity of the band, ATRAKO demonstrates how Chicana feminist politics is engaged by non-Chicana Latinas, particulatly punks, who help shape these politics just as much as they are impacted by them. ATRAKO’s hardcore sound reveals how Chicana and Latina punks engage and reconfigure Chicana feminist discourses, positing the political potentiality punk offers Chicana feminism. In considering the conceptual framework of making heart, or rather making ‘core,’ Chicana punk, as exemplified by ATRAKO, sounds out a process of deconstruction and reconstruction.

Additionally, these continuous processes of reconstruction in punk and more specifically Chicana punk, are made possible though the cultivation of practices and cultural productions of its active participants. For instance, ATRAKO’s sound stems from a variety of musical influences that might not necessarily be typically associated to or rendered Chicana or Chicana affiliated (such as metal, punk, and hardcore). Yet, their coring practices reconstruct hardcore as a Chicana genre. In addition, events such as Xicana Punk Night illustrate how Chicana punk subculture is constituted by varying participants who enact and identify with Chicana feminist politics in one way or another. ATRAKO’s participation at this show, as well as other non-Chicana Latina attendees, highlights how a Chicana punk space and genre is generated through a structure of feeling that extends across ethno-national identities. It might be suggested that the term “Latino punk” may best describe this structure of feeling; however, the fact that participants continue to specify the genre and spaces as “Chicana” or “Xicana” punk complicates such general descriptions.

Future Developments

The theoretical basis I have presented here is a stepping-stone for thinking about Chicana punk listening practices and what can be imagined through Chicana punk sound. Considering the etymology of “core” through the context of hardcore, I have argued that one way of imagining Chicana punk sound is through a reconfiguration and articulation of home. ATRAKO offers a new way to conceptualize how Chicana punk subculture and sound is constituted through varying Latina/o identities and non-Chicana subjectivities, and how it is also a site of home, belonging, and community for such participants, culminated through the act of listening. Listening is performative here, in the sense that it is a part of the “coring” process of hardcore, as Chicana feminist praxis is enacted through hardcore sound. The connection between “core” and listening practices in Chicana punk echoes a structure of feeling and political potentiality that emanates from the scene, music, and sound, exceeding their subcultural formations. Participants engage this structure of feeling, shaped by processes of making anew, that functions as a site of belonging that speaks to new Chicana subjectivities, politics, and experiences in hardcore.

Featured Image: ATRAKO live–via https://atrakopunx.bandcamp.com

Susana Sepulveda is a PhD Student in the Department of Gender and Women’s Studies at the University of Arizona. Her developing dissertation project engages Chicana feminist studies, cultural studies, subcultural studies, and sound studies. She focuses on consciousness and subject formations in Chicana punk subcultures, emphasizing the importance of punk for understanding Chicana identities, subjectivities, consciousness, politics, and representations. Susana’s research has received support from the Barnard Library, the American Association of University Women (AAUW) of Arizona, the Women Studies Advisory Council (WOSAC), as well as numerous conference associations including the American Studies Association, the Cultural Studies Association, the National Women’s Studies Association, and Feminisms & Rhetorics. She earned her M.A. in Gender and Women’s Studies at UA, and her B.A. in Feminist Studies and Latin American and Latino Studies at the University of California, Santa Cruz. In addition to her scholarship, Susana is the founder and organizer of the annual music fundraiser event Riot Grrrl Carnival, a punk musician in the Los Angeles based punk band Las Sangronas y El Cabron, zinester, and creator of the zine series “La Sangrona.”

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