As I have lived and read books I came to some sort of crossroads along my path where dejection was a denominator in my quest to be who I believe I am to be. My spirit has been one to refute what my society has tried to impose on me as “ours”. So far I have in mind only four. Am sure there are more but the big four are all ideological in nature. My Xicano upbringing, My Mexican upbringing, The Greco-Roman past and the pernicious Judaeo-Christian virus running amok nilly willy and permeating the very fabric of society at large.
I will hereby expound with a few and short words what I mean:
My Xicano upbringing had to go through Chicano semiotics. I, at some stage, stopped relating to Mexica and Maya semiotics in the Chicano propaganda. I understood that I belonged elsewhere. The ground where my feet stood was California. Fed by the desert sands of the Sonora desert. I lived and breathed the same breath that Miguel Méndez did. I understood that through my veins coursed Apache blood, not Aztec or Maya.
Growing up Mexican I also at some point rejected the states’ mestizo propaganda. I was not Aztec nor Maya. It turns out though, if one is to believe the DNA peeps, that I am Spanish to some degree. This is a contentious jibber jabber of sorts that bears a grain of truth. I have dug my feet hard into the ground though because my people aren’t recognized as we speak. They want to bury us in a pyramid we have not built. We reject the state’s effort in “mexicanizing” the local population of the Baja lands. Somewhat late since we are numbered in the hundreds.
One of the most pernicious things about these European’s languages, English and Spanish, is their insistence on the glorification of their own past. They want us to admire their culture, up to this day mind you. Snippets in archeological realms are thrown about to appease the “radical left”. Though lo and behold, serious investigations and demands about the culture they imposed and forged by dint of violence, nil. Those records were burnt to the ground that had not a god like Pompeii had. I write about the Greco-Roman past. One is but left sick of it. And left wanting of one’s own. Sadly enough, we, the surviving people of that long ago era where pillaging and rape went about amok, can’t build a tangible present to surround our ens with; they burnt every evidence of a yore along their path. Including people. The savages they describe are not the naturals of the Americas but the methods they used to dominate their environment.
Our spiritual domain is infected by a so called monotheism. This monotheism has a lot of branches and they have conclaves but intrinsically they are all judeo-christian to the very bone. One would think it would be left at that but nay sayeth I. Tis a vicious virus that feeds like a zombie. It infects language and it targets the brain to induce its victim into believing a string of words. This virus dictates like a dictator. To use one of their metaphors, they are a wolf in a lamb’s skin. They love to play the victim as they move forth through blood and wanton destruction preaching love while they annihilate everything in its path, and by everything I mean everything, including the environment, this faith has no heart to speak of.
82 Han clachado