SPANISH ON LA FRONTERA: THE MOTIVATIONS BEHIND

SPANISH ON LA FRONTERA:
THE MOTIVATIONS BEHIND BILINGUAL LITERATURE
Jessica Jones
Comparative Literature 340: Problems with Literary Theory
May 10, 2013
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Introduction
Iain Chambers begins his introduction to the anthology Tijuana Dreaming: Life and Art
at the Global Border (2012) with a quote by Jacques Derrida: "For the phenomena that interest
me are precisely those that blur these boundaries, cross them, and make their historical artifice
appear, also their violence, meaning the relations of force that are concentrated there and actually
capitalize themselves there interminably" (ix). Chambers' foreword, aptly titled A Line in the
Sand, acknowledges the different interpretations of the city of Tijuana that the anthology
contains. It is a collection which strives to cross, challenge, and confront the very boundaries
Derrida writes about: the literal international border between Mexico and the United States, and
the social constructs that have been created by the fetishization of the city.
As many of the authors in the anthology have been translated into English for the first
time, their histories and experiences can be transmitted to the world in a way that was not
possible before. They can respond to the question of what Tijuana is and what it means to
identify with the city. However, a minority or oppressed group will always have difficulty
communicating their message against the imposition of the dominant society; therefore, how
does one who is trapped within these imposed borders act outside of the dominant authority?
Chambers argues that frontiers are made to be crossed, that "they are not simply the sites of the
hegemonic power imposing the reach of its law, but also of the other, subaltern, subversive, and
subterranean powers constantly pushing up against the fence, and sometimes crossing over"
(Tijuana Dreaming, xii). It is within these forbidden spaces that the subaltern - the people
outside the dominant power structure who have been politically and socially excluded by the
hierarchy - must thrive. Mexican writer and blogger, Rafa Saavedra is one of the many authors of
Tijuana Dreaming who manages to transmit his own voice through an appropriation of the
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dominant culture's language (English) for his own means. He works to disavow the "exotic"
myth that surrounds the city of Tijuana. For him, literature becomes the vehicle through which
the subaltern can speak.
Literature is, of course, separated into different categories, one of which being a division
by language. This is important because language becomes a pivotal means of identification for
many, as dialects can create a multitude of different communities within a language. However,
language can become an equally unsurpassable border that can divide as much as it unifies.
Stephen May argues that language can grant subjectivity to a group because said group has given
language the authority do so. Identities can only be linked to language by the "degree to which
we define ourselves by it" (May 141). For Saavedra, English acts as a "gift of economy" (Tijuana
Dreaming 314), which translates the idea of Tijuana from its Spanish or Spanglish roots to the
rest of the world. For this reason, multilingual literature embodies the phenomena that Derrida
sought: it challenges, appropriates, and reinterprets.
Chambers, too, writes of the potentiality of language to find the metaphorical and literal
"crack in the wall" that is Tijuana, and how language will "force the world into an opening that
cannot be reduced to a single version pretending universal validity" (Tijuana Dreaming xix). In
order to truly understand the potentiality of language, one must first understand the historical,
political, and social context of Tijuana. The city, as a microcosm for other colonized places,
provides key insights into the motivations behind the use of multilingual, or in the case of this
paper, bilingual writing. Through a critical look at select texts by Saavedra, this paper will
explore how language establishes a dialogue with the reader in order to reclaim la city from the
perceptions of the outside world.
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Tijuana and Monolingualism
Mexico's long history of colonization has molded the country and its people into a
particular historical and political sphere. As Chambers claims, "Tijuana lies both at the 'thirdworld' end of Latin America and at the beginning of the 'American Dream'" (Tijuana Dreaming
xvi). An imposed identity has been given to the city that, while not entirely false, is also not
complete. Nicknamed the "Gateway to Mexico," Tijuana is the largest city in the Baja California
peninsula with a population nearing almost one and a half million. Located on the most crossed
border in the world, Lonely Planet describes the city as follows:
Tijuana has a bad reputation that, sure, it partly deserves. Bars, brothels and strip clubs are
brazenly frequented, and prescription meds and drugs loudly advertised. Hawkers brashly
proclaim to ‘have it’ (no matter what you might be looking for), and if they don’t, they know
someone who does (Lonely Planet).
However, despite Tijuana's dangerous reputation, the city has been a major tourist
attraction since Prohibition in the 1920s, particularly for Americans. This popular conception of
the city parallels Edward Said's idea of Orientalism where the Westerner is both afraid of and
attracted to the myth of the exotic East. As Said notes, "There were – and are – cultures and
nations whose location is in the East, and their lives, histories, and customs have a brute reality
obviously greater than anything that could be said about them in the West" (5). While Said
focuses on the relationship between Europe and the Far East, the American perception of Mexico
very much channels Said's concept of "orientalism." Perhaps this is because the US maintains the
same colonizer-colonized relationship to Mexico that Europe had with the East. Nevertheless,
writers in Tijuana are forced to contend with the image and reality of the city's sordid past of
prostitution, drugs, alcohol, and violence. Even Saavedra says, "La city is a violent playground"
that is slowly devouring itself under the weight of "generalized disillusionment" (Tijuana
Dreaming 300-301).
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The impact of the United States on the unsteady economic and political situation in
Tijuana undeniably reflects the double colonization of the city. It is often easy to forget that the
Spanish language and much of the present day society that exists in Mexico is a result of Spain's
expansion during the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. 1519 marked the destruction of
the Aztec empire by Hernán Cortés and the establishment of New Spain in place of the old
culture. Although Mexico gained its independence from Spain around three hundred years later,
the Mexican-American war would once again test the boundaries between the two developing
nations. With the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo in 1848, the United States gained their
southwestern territory and firmly established the frontiers (Klee and Lynch, 194). However,
American tourists began to infiltrate Mexico in order to experience part of its "exotic" lifestyle.
With the new crackdown in recent years by the Mexican administration on gang and drug related
activities, violence in the country increased. Ironically, most of the drugs coming out of Mexico
and other South and Central American countries merely feed US demand.
Nevertheless, border cities on both the US and Mexican sides find themselves irrevocably
linked both economically and socially just as seen with San Diego and Tijuana, which are
considered two parts of an international metropolitan area that crosses the frontier. Among the
many influential American border or Latin American writers are Gloria Anzaldúa and Sandra
Cisneros who both reflect on Chicana and mestiza culture, Aurora Levins Morales and her latina
feminist perspective of life in Puerto Rico, and Junot Díaz's understanding of immigrant's life in
the US after transitioning from the Dominican Republic. Though their narratives are no less valid
than others, these authors have defined Spanish American texts and have left little room for
growth or integration of new members into the canon (De Castro 103). For those authors writing
from the other side of the border, the problem is even more complicated as the majority of the
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publishing houses are located in Spain. As Mexican writer Jorge Volpi states, "For a writer to
become known in Latin America, the decision must be made in Spain. If not attractive to the
Spanish public, it's difficult for a writer to reach our region" (De Castro 96).
Aside from having to contend with the drawbacks of the Latin American literary canon,
Tijuana writers like Saavedra must also fight against the US's attempt to make English the
dominant and standard language. Although Tijuana is not part of the US, issues of language and
linguistic competency can affect even cities across the border. As Darren Paffey points out:
Selection of a vernacular to be the standard variety within a national context might seem at first to
be a matter of endorsing one variety and promoting its use, but it also means that all other varieties
are deselected and their speakers – implicitly or explicitly – excluded from enjoying the status
accorded to the standard (49).
The belief is that monolingualism prompts the formation of a national identity thus, creating a
more stable and modernized society. In fact, in the United States, educational reforms like the No
Child Left Behind Act have actually devalued other languages and individual dialects because
learning setbacks are often erroneously attributed to code-switching in the home environment
(May 238). May stresses that, "if a particular language comes to serve important cultural and/or
political functions in the formation and the maintenance of a particular ethnic or national
identity, it is important" (136). Discounting a language or dialect only serves to destroy and
isolate a minority group rather than integrate them. All around the world, colonized groups have
suffered this loss of language. For example, the País Vasco in Spain and its attempt to revitalize
the use of Euskera or even the diminishing use of Quechua in certain South American countries.
It is clear that language serves as a vehicle for authors like Saavedra to translate a cultural
and political message; part of the message becomes about the language an author writes in and
the languages referenced within the text. Anthologies like Tijuana Dreaming, novels and
memoirs by Latin American authors, and even blogs consciously or unconsciously act out
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against the dominant monolingualism that governments seek. These texts become the response to
the "positional superiority" that the dominant hegemony proposes (Said 7). Furthermore, as
Chambers notes, "Following the sound, listening to the prose, the poetry, and the poetical, caught
in the visual frame, we are pushed into another space, another 'Tijuana,' that is irreducible to
sociological statistics, historical explanation, and political management" (Tijuana Dreaming xv).
Language proposes a new means of looking at the world, of looking at Tijuana and its people.
Rafa Saavedra and the Age of New Media
"Living (through) Tijuana: It happens again. I see it live and direct from the scene. Like all of
Tijuana were a theme park and there were nothing else to do but sit back in the taxi and enjoy the
ride, just stare through the window at our disaster of a city, this perfect example of a no-holdsbarred postmodernity" (Tijuana Dreaming 300).
With these words, Rafa Saavedra begins his section in Tijuana Dreaming entitled
"Crossfader Playlist" and establishes both the city and the viewer's relation to it. He is both living
in the city, participating in the lifestyle, but also living through the city as a spectator to the
ongoing action. Born in 1967, Saavedra is a native of the Tijuana area, having grown up and
stayed there his whole life. Since 1996, he has published eight collections of his own work,
mostly parts of his blogs, many of which have been used in anthologies like Tijuana Dreaming.
A member of the music community, Saavedra has been involved in the foundation and
sponsorship of many alternative radio and music stations including the most recent la Zona
Fantasma (the Ghost Zone), which focuses on the post-punk and indie-pop genres. As seen in
the images on the next page, la Zona Fantasma promotes the same ideas as Saavedra's blog: free
expression, communication, and collaboration. Saavedra is known for having coined the
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expression, "Tijuana makes me happy," a phrase that has since been incorporated into popular
literature and music and reoccurs frequently in his own work (Rafa Saavedra Wikipedia page).1
Despite the reputation that Saavedra has acquired over the years for his work in different
areas of the arts, his main contribution comes through his blog, the Crossfader Network. This
blog acts as a news network, personal space, and collective arena for conversations about
"Media. Literatura. Muzik. Good Times. Diseño. Pop Semantics" (Crossfadernetwork website).
Blogging as an alternative form of media is an adaptable and community oriented space that
presents a new way of engaging with the audience. While mostly written in Spanish, there are
English links and posts, which allow for a varied audience to navigate through his site.
Saavedra's blog also includes links to outside news networks, cultural spaces, and the sites of
fellow bloggers. In his article "Blogging Journalists: the Writing on the Wall," Paul Bradshaw
questions whether blogs are an accurate means of representing the objective truth that the news
industry is meant to embody. Interestingly, he notes that the ideal journalist blog revolves around
1
Interestingly, the only accessible biographical information on Saavedra is on Wikipedia, which Saavedra himself includes links to in his blog. Wikipedia professes to be a universal source of information. This concept of a collaborative informational database certainly parallels Saavedra's interest in blogs as a communal and conversational environment; however, Wikipedia is inherently problematic for two reasons. First, pages can be altered and changed by the public, which has led to the locking of certain pages due to vandalism or political tensions like the one on Osama bin Laden. Second, is the digital divide, which refers to the way that economic inequality has limited access to digital knowledge sources. While Wikipedia claims to be available to anyone, only those with access to computers or the Internet can truly connect to the database. Jones 9
local areas because the field of information and the target audience is more limited; therefore,
any "chatter" collected is more likely to have a basis in fact (Bradshaw 3).
While one could certainly argue that Saavedra's blog is not meant to be the hub of
objectivity for all of Tijuana, the elements of factuality and connectivity that occur in blogs is
precisely what Saavedra is channeling. In "Crossfader Playlist" he writes:
"This year I've seen the most unimaginable things in the media: obscene close-ups of a series of
disgusting murders meant to satiate our morbid curiosity and leave us gasping for air, the sadism
and cruelty of the posthuman tragedy, the unrelenting update of lives converted into mere
statistics. A torrent of blood" (Tijuana Dreaming 301).
For him, it is clear that the output from the media is not necessarily the objective truth that
people might be seeking; instead, the news has become sensationalized and insensitive to the
violent experiences of people living in Tijuana. There is a questionable lack of ethics that forces
Saavedra to consider blogs as the only true representative of information. However, he also states
that people, including himself, write blogs "for the people who aren't here anymore, for the ones
who've disappeared" (Tijuana Dreaming 301). They become a testimony for silenced voices and
the ideal means to cross borders whether those borders are in language, culture, or media.
Transmitting a Message
As mentioned earlier, Tijuana Dreaming represents the first English translation of many
of the texts in the anthology, including Saavedra's own chapter, "Crossfader Playlist." While the
translation is fairly accurate, it was not done by Saavedra but instead by John Pluecker, a writer,
interpreter, and translator who has written for journals and magazines in both the US and
Mexico. More importantly, however, the translation into English allows Tijuana Dreaming to
reach out to more diverse audiences in a language that crosses borders. Saavedra writes that "the
ones of us who live here, the ones who just got here and the ones on their way, we construct la
city and la city constructs us as we get to know her. Every day, language is resemanticized,
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recontextualized..." (Tijuana Dreaming 313). The city is a melting pot of languages that advocate
for "fronterizo ways of communicating and fronterizo culture" (313). There can be no
overarching understanding and interpretation of Tijuana.
May calls this cultural signification of a language "cultural pluralism," or "the heritage of
a community". However, unlike Paffey's definition of heritage as "another part of the discursive
construction of nationalist sentiments" (85), Saavedra's is trying to complicate terms like
heritage, culture, language, and society, which have all acquired a singular interpretation. Select
groups, like the Tijuana Bloguita Front (TJ.BF); stand in opposition to el Centro (the Mexican
government). As a member of the TJ.BF, Saavedra claims that their goal is "to recreate la city,
mix possible realities together, ironically comment on the construction of "lo tijuanense," shake
up antiquated structures, and, in the process, make the most impossible places fashionable as
objects of study for academics from various parts of the world" (Tijuana Dreaming 315).
With this stated goal in mind, how does Saavedra proceed to complicate the reality of
Tijuana? Through an examination of both the translated "Crossfader Playlist" text and select
Spanish passages from another of his collections, Buten Smileys, this section will explore the
three versions of Tijuana that Saavedra describes. These three facets - the nostalgic love of the
inhabitants, the media’s representation of violence, and the touristic opinion - all become
individual parts of the whole with none of them outweighing the others in truth or validity.
Aside from his motto of "Tijuana makes me happy," Saavedra consistently refers to
Tijuana as la city or mi city. The Spanish word for city (ciudad) is a feminine word requiring a
feminine article (la). Historically speaking, allegorical representations of cities are always female
as they are maternal places that communicate growth, protection, and loyalty. Women have
always held the place of homemaker and nurturer, which, from a nationalistic perspective, is
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exactly the sentiment a citizen should feel towards his or her country. While it's impossible to
know if Saavedra is tapping into this train of thought, the tone of his writing is clearly one of
affection and nostalgia; there is a love for what the city is, both the good and the bad.
There also exists a sense of ownership or possession:
“We're not leaving. La city is ours, we're not going to leave it. The street is ours, we're not going to stop
going out. And yeah, they can say we're the most violent place ever (we're not). And yeah, they can say it's
impossible to live here (the living is good, fuck you). Y sí, la city es nuestra [And yes, the city is ours]”
(Tijuana Dreaming 325).
In an interesting role reversal, Tijuana no longer reflects its maternal status, but rather the city
has become defined by the outside world's perceptions of it. Therefore, the people must protect
and defend the city, which is no longer a pillar of support. Saavedra's declarations of love for his
city are a means of protecting Tijuana and pulling it away from the defaming attitude of
outsiders. He writes that "I (re)meet her in her constant state of change, catching the details and
feeling the energy that lives in cities that one day will be sacred" (Tijuana Dreaming 326). His
feminization of Tijuana is a hope for the perseverance and eventual success of a city bogged
down by real violence and outside slander.
However, this interpretation becomes problematic because Saavedra does not use an
entirely Spanish phrase, but instead mixes languages and uses the English word for "city." One
of Saavedra's chief concerns throughout his work, and a concern of many of with fellow TJ.BF
members, is that they will lose la city under the weight of negative perceptions. La city is more
than just the facts that make up its history; Tijuana is also its present state as "our home, our
border roots, our web of friends, our work, and our dreams" (Tijuana Dreaming 302). Saavedra
points to the connection between Mexico and the US as the principle factor in destroying the city
with expressions like "capitalism gone wild." For this reason, it is interesting to note that
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Saavedra deliberately uses two languages, one of which is tied to the US and the capitalist world,
in order to define the mixed heritage of Tijuana.
This nostalgic tone is important to keep in mind with respect to the next two facets of the
city that Saavedra presents: media and tourism. As mentioned in the previous section, Saavedra's
blogs works to counteract the sensationalism of news networks while also getting out up to date
information on the goings on in the city. He writes: "The media boasted about presenting the
most complete information, the reporters said they felt like they were in a war zone, shamelessly
interviewing kids and people on the edge of a breakdown, enthusiastically showing the same
images over and over again. Qué vergüenza" (Tijuana Dreaming 303). The expression qué
vergüenza can translate into English in two ways: what a shame or what a disgrace. The former
interpretation would have an ironically sarcastic tone in reference to the suffering of the people
being interviewed. The latter would refer to the shameful behavior that the journalists were
presenting according to Saavedra. Both readings criticize the media's lack of objectivity.
In Buten Smileys, Saavedra argues that la city is a place of discord and conflict. Much of
this is due, perhaps, to the negative influence of the media's portrayal of the city. While he never
states that the violence is false, he certainly proposes that one look at Tijuana with his or her own
eyes. As a whole, his collection is meant to inform the uninformed or unaware, and this is made
clear through the titles of his different sections. The last chapter focuses more on the impact of
tourism in Tijuana and is called "Tijuana para principiantes (bonus track)," or Tijuana for
novices or the inexperienced. An earlier chapter, TJ2020.HTML, serves as an abbreviation for: a
perfect ("20-20") tutorial (HTML) of Tijuana, which refers very specifically to the "zona de
combate," or combat zone. In this chapter, Saavedra writes:
"Desafortunadamente, los mass-media globales ya han vertido su mortal veneno y otra vez,
injustamente, la city vuelve a ser la Leyenda Negra" (Buten Smileys 07. TJ2020.HTML).
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"Unfortunately, the global mass-media have already poured out their deadly venom and, again the
city unjustly returns to being the Black Legend." [My translation].
Not only has the media promoted a violent image of Tijuana to be spread throughout the world,
but it has also continued to cling to the idea of the Leyenda Negra, or black legend.
This term is important because it contains two distinct meanings: the historical anti-Spain
sentiment and the conception of Tijuana as a violent and dangerous city. The former referred to
Bartolomé de las Casas' criticism of Spanish colonization of the Caribbean during which the
indigenous people were severely mistreated by the Spanish conquistadors (Britannica Leyenda
Negra). The latter is Tijuana's own interpretation of such a historically loaded term, where the
city has taken on the negative role of Spain. In 1932, Fernando de Corral created the Leyenda
Negra in his allegorical book Tijuana, in which he moralized about the "cruel and evil goddess
who poisons and steals without mercy" (Tijuana Dreaming 36). This problematic interpretation
of the city has become a part of the literary canon. Saavedra notes that members of TJ.BF must
contend with this "unjust" image of their home and demonstrate how Tijuana is capable of
"transcending a leyenda negra that is only brought up by those seeking to benefit from it"
(Tijuana Dreaming 307).
Although the concept of the Leyenda Negra has been propagated by the media and other
outside sources, it originally developed within the city of Tijuana itself in response to a very real
and troubling situation of violence. There are generally three responses to the Leyenda Negra:
the ones who vehemently oppose it like Saavedra and the members of the TJ.BF, ones who fully
believe it and work to eradicate it, and those who do nothing. In a way, it is very similar to
Foucault's idea that the panopticon, a penitentiary system where the prisoners become their own
wardens, is a reflection of society's internalization of ideology and self-censorship. Some people
have internalized the perceptions that the media has of Tijuana and have done nothing while
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others are trying to completely recreate the city like de Corral, who chooses to burn the city at
the end of his novel.
Saavedra's group is trying to save la city; they are the optimists fighting against the tide
of negativity circulated by the media and the indoctrinated ideology. However, this latter group
also recognizes ways in which they have failed and become accomplices in the violence.
Saavedra writes in Crossfader Playlist, "We know the fight is not between good guys and bad
guys. We all participate in this. We're implicated by our silence, our indifference, our typical
attitude of "I don't care as long as it doesn't affect me"" (Tijuana Dreaming 304). Saavedra
understands that it is easier to give into the ideology surrounding the city and believe in the
Leyenda Negra, but in all his texts he holds fast to his love for la city and his own personal
experience.
From here, it's important to explore the impact that tourism from the US has on the
creation of a version of Tijuana. While most of Crossfader Playlist in Tijuana Dreaming deals
with life in Tijuana and the effect that the media has on Tijuana's global image, there is very little
in the text about tourism with the exception of San Diego's relation to Tijuana. Saavedra writes
that San Diego is most popularly known as the "the pretty side of Tijuana" (312). San Diego's
position as "the Finest City" in the highly modernized America juxtaposes it to its international
counterpart, which disregards any economic problems or unrest that San Diego might be facing.
The two cities are closely linked and many authors in Tijuana Dreaming describe how easy it is
to visit and cross the border. Since September 11, however, Saavedra has noted, "crossing la
línea has changed so much" (313). Not only has the flow of traffic leaving Mexico increased partially due to the increase in violence from the drug wars - but also, there has been a
crackdown on surveillance and security. Saavedra refers to the border as la línea, or the line,
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rather than la frontera, the frontier or border, which distinguishes the space and illustrates the
separation between the two cities. For him the línea is more than just a formality because
"wasting time in a kind of limbo/gray zone/dead space/a no place...still modifies the way we act
before entering what they advertise as paradise [U.S.]" (317).
The social division that the border represents is a common theme in Saavedra's collection
Buten Smileys, and he expands upon this idea and the impact that tourism has had on the culture
in Tijuana. His first section of the collection, "Where's the Donkey Show, Mr. Mariachi?” is the
story of two US tourists, one of whom knows very little Spanish despite his Mexican heritage
and the other who can only think of drinking and partying. The two proceed to tour Tijuana
trying to find the most authentic aspects of the city, and ultimately end up back where they began
asking about the donkey show, a show that caters solely to the foreign conception of Mexico that
visitors seek. At the end of the story, Saavedra comments:
"Uno de mis textos más citados en los estudios sobre la literatura fronteriza. Por un tiempo fue
material de lectura obligatoria en algunas universidades. Casi nadie ha entendido la ironía atrapada
en este relato y por ello, sobran las acusaciones de xenófobo, misógino y etc. Una mirada a los que
vienen a mirar a lo exótico. O algo así" (Buten Smileys 01. Where's the Donkey Show, Mr.
Mariachi?).
"[Where's the Donkey Show, Mr. Mariachi?] is one of my most quoted texts in studies of frontier
literature. For a time it was obligatory lecture material in some universities. Nearly no one has
understood the irony caught up in this story and for that reason, there are too many accusations of
xenophobia, misogyny, etcetera. A look at those who come to look at the exotic. Or something
like that. " [My translation].
Many of the chapters in Buten Smiley include authorial notes similar to this where the
audiences’ reaction swings between two extremes: complete adoration or incomprehension of the
text. The former perspective is problematic because it refuses to look critically at any of
Saavedra's works. As he states at the end of his comment, "[The story is] a look at those who
come to look at the exotic." This reflects how some people uphold his words as anti-imperialist
or anti-capitalist. However, this view leaves out the rest of his comment, "Or something like
that," which criticizes both the party that is looking and the party that is being looked at. It is
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clear that for Saavedra the tourist has these preconceived notions about Tijuana, but these beliefs
are reinforced by the behavior and actions of the people of the city. For instance, in the story, a
local invites the two tourists to the donkey show knowing it's a ploy to attract attention but
nonetheless feeding the misrepresentations of Tijuana.
Saavedra's final chapter in Buten Smileys originally entitled "Where's the Donkey Show,
Mr. Mariachi?" but is now "Tijuana para principiantes," is also one of his most well-known and
reproduced texts in his collection. However, out of all the pieces in Buten Smileys, "Tijuana para
principiantes" includes the highest amount of code-switching and truly represents the complex
relationship that Saavedra has with la city. The majority of the text is written in Spanish but
English is intermingled in such a way that the tone of the piece is one of frustration, anger,
rejection, and possession. The piece begins with a short lyrical poem written completely in
English, which reiterates Saavedra's writing as combative against the "bad name" garnered by
Tijuana. Continuing into the piece, there are four sections with each one being with either a
rejection or acceptance of an image of Tijuana. For example, the opening line is a critique of the
tourist society the city promotes with the stereotypical perceptions like flower sellers, people
with video cameras, or reporters seeking the next big story. Saavedra writes:
"Mi city no es solamente una calle llena de gringos estúpidos viviendo un eterno verano e indios
bicolores que venden flores de papel, de burros rayados y maletines do joyería chafa, de mustios
ojos rasgados con videocámaras Sony, de terrazas llenas de motherfuckers que beben poppers y
besan el suelo buscando una mexican señorita, de periodistas extranjeros persiguiendo una leyenda
negra que sólo existe actualmente en su negro culo" (Buten Smileys, Tijuana para principiantes).
"My city is not only a street full of stupid gringos [foreigners] living in an eternal summer and
biracial Indians who sell paper flowers, stripped donkeys and briefcases of useless jewelry, of
gloomy eyes tearing with Sony video cameras, of balconies full of motherfuckers who drink
poppers and kiss the ground looking for a mexican woman, of foreign reporters perusing a black
legend that only actually exists in their black ass" [My translation].
His choice of words, both those in Spanish and those in English, are very confrontational
and serve to provoke the reader into giving a response either of agreement or shock. Despite how
this beginning paragraph seeks to show how Tijuana is more than just these stereotypes,
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Saavedra never truly negates any of these perceptions. In his next section, he calls Tijuana a cage
of illusions full of the dreams of trolos [liars?] and wannabes who fight for power and money. It
depicts a cutthroat society where all the English words highlight the classist and superficial
lifestyle of some of the people: pop stars, high class, ray-ban, and jeans Guess. Immediately
following this section, however, the perspective shifts and rather than being an internal critique,
Saavedra focuses on the external issues. He writes that la city is a zone of tolerance for the
gringos looking for "sex for money" and for the people who speak neither Spanish nor English.
It is clear that for Saavedra many of perceptions that the outside world, particularly the US, has
of Tijuana have been adopted by the city to appease any visitors.
He ends his handbook on Tijuana with a declaration of the complexities of the city; that
"My city is a free point and an uncensored place, a corner filled with contrasts and hopes, [a]
mosaic of possibilities and frente en alto" (Buten Smiley). Despite the problems and the violence,
it is still a home that Saavedra has pride in and it is a place deserving of respect like any other.
For Saavedra and others, Tijuana is a changing and evolving place that reacts to the people who
live there and the people who visit. It is both a reflection of the people's identity and that of an
imposed identity. There is no authentic or authoritative interpretation of la city, which explains
why Saavedra's work never takes one side of the argument or the other. In Tijuana Dreaming, he
says, "Remember one thing: la city is NOT a utopia or a dystopia, it's the afterparty where you
hear the last call" (315). Perhaps, this is why Saavedra can never write in one language because
both English and Spanish have their own cultural, political, and historical frameworks that
change the meaning of his words. Just as Derrida wrote, language has blurred the boundaries
between cultures and nations; thus, demonstrating that there is no true interpretation, but many,
each influenced by an individual perspective.
Jones 18
Acknowledgements
This paper would never have been possible if not for all the wonderful people who supported me
through its development. To professor Ann Jones and professor Nancy Sternbach for getting me
started on my research. To Jessica Gibson for providing me with Rafa Saavedra's text "Tijuana
para principiantes (bonus track)" – I never would have found my way without her. Finally, to
Katie Brand, for inspiring me and pulling me out of any holes I might have buried myself in
along the way.
Jones 19
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