Bicentennial: 200 Years and counting of denial

Millions of people showed up to see the Bicentennial Celebration. 900,000 people's daddy's weren't glassmakers. A few people actually saw the celebration. This photo will also be used to play Where's Willis aka Find the negro en Buenos Aires. Good luck.

This week Argentina celebrated the Bicentennial, the 200 year anniversary of the La Revolucion de Mayo. While La Revolucion de Mayo is comparable to our American Independence day, official independence from Spanish Colonization didn’t come for Argentina until 1816. These celebrations actually commemorate the first steps of rebellion that would catapult Argentina into their fight for independence, including their rejection of the Viceroy, and the formation of their own local government.

To be very honest, before all of the noise that was made about the 200 year anniversary, I was none the wiser to all of the intimate details of political rebellion. I will always know the 25 de Mayo for the very specific way that students all over Argentina recognize the Afro-Argentine community, who at this time made up a striking ONE THIRD of the population of Buenos Aires. Yup, I’ma say it again…about 33% of the population of Buenos Aires was considered black according to census data carefully examined by scholar George Reid Andrews. Slaves, and freed Afro-Argentines made up a huge part of the port city, were hugely important in wars of independence, and yes, in the cultural development of Argentine identity—so how are blacks portrayed in the 25 de mayo celebrations?

Two years ago, while conducting interviews of members of the black community in BsAs, there seemed to be one collective memory that constantly resurfaced and caused some anxiety amongst Afro-Argentines…

“We don’t learn about Afro-Argentines in school. We learn a little about slaves. Then every May 25, students act out the Revolucion de Mayo events, and someone gets their face painted black with cork to play the slaves selling empanadas. After that, they disappear, we never talk about them again..”

So, Argentines like to celebrate independence day with a little bit of children in black face? But, I mean, who doesn’t….

Another Cape Verdean interviewee told me that each year the schools would pick their child to play the slave, because, well frankly, there aren’t too many colored kids to choose from. One year, in an ironic twist, he put his foot down and insisted that she play the role of the elite.

With pressure from groups such as INADI, INDEC, and Africa Vive, Argentina’s official posture on Afro-Argentines has become more inclusive, and dedicated to opening up the national imagery of European mixture. This year they have agreed to officially rewrite history accounts of Afro-Argentines, and will conduct a census that for the first time in a hundred years will include Afro-Descendiente as an option! Unfortunately, huge government sponsored events like the Bicentennial celebration really show just how much the Afro community will have to battle for itself to receive their proper recognition.

This is the official propaganda that the Argentine National Broadcasting Station put out:

http://www.en.argentina.ar/_en/culture/C1956-the-bicentennial-year-starts.php

What is striking, is the acknowledgement and inclusion of the indigenous part of the Argentine identity—it isn’t often that you see BROWN people in advertisements, especially not for the government. Ads and commercials that come from Buenos Aires have a tendency to idealize the blond and blue eyed rather than give an accurate representation of the spectrum of brown that exists in the country.

What is still troubling is what the ad does not show. The quote in the advertisement comes from a document written in 1810 by Mariano Moreno, a very important figure in establishing the first local government, and starting the first free press newspaper.

The video clip comes from the following passage:

La libertad de los pueblos no consiste en palabras, ni debe existir en los papeles solamente. Qualquier déspota puede obligar á sus esclavos, á que canten himnos á la libertad; y este cántico maquinal es muy compatible con las cadenas, y opresion de los que lo entonan. Si deseamos que los pueblos sean libres, observemos religiosamente el sagrado dogma de la igualdad. ¿Si me considero igual á mis conciudadanos, porque me hé de presentar de un modo, que les enseñe, que son menos que yo? Mi superioridad solo existe en el acto de exercer la magistratura, que se me ha confiado; en las demas funciones de la sociedad soy un ciudadano, sin derecho á otras consideraciones, que las que merezca por mis virtudes.

The irony here is in noticing what is left out from Morenos words. They carefully snipped out (from this passage and another passage that they use) each phrase in the series that included any mention of slaves. Though impressive amounts of Afro-Argentine slaves and free people fought in these wars and revolutionary processes, there was not one parade, ceremony, or visual acknowledgement of the Afro-Argentine community during the whole week long celebration. This blatant dismissal of the black community during this important event is quite telling of the type of public memory and identity that Argentine officials are trying to maintain. As the nation and the international community looks onward, the government continues to privilege pride in certain and identities while contributing to the invisibilization of the Afro community.

Luckily, the Afro community did not hold their breath waiting for the government to recognize them as an integral part of the Argentine nation. There were various marches, and a calendar of Diasporic events organized by IARPIDI, an anti-racism and discrimination organization in Buenos Aires. The events were inclusive of the entire diaspora, even those more recent immigrants, who also contribute to the current development of what it means to be "Argentine". The Afro-community marched, held drum workshops, capoeira classes, presentations of documentaries, musical performances--all proceeds going to an organization that helps Haitian refugees. Now, call me a hypocrite if you must but, I still had a quite sour taste in my mouth about Afro political events and thus, i opted out.

Happy 200 years of independence Argentina...we can only hope that one day you'll also be freed from this identity crisis that so plagues you.

The Name Game...

“Estoy Arto”

is the fun phrase of the week. It means

I’m fed up.

And I am.

Now, I never imagined I’d make a good politician. I’m way too fickle, way too brutal, ungraceful, and undiplomatic with my opinions. I don’t like having meetings about having meetings, voting about voting, and I have a tendency (or rather a learned familiar habit) to interrupt people with rude sounds. (Ok, before you jump in and call me a LIAR, I’ll admit that perhaps this isn’t too far from modern politics.)

During my college years my preference was always to work on the doing end rather than the legislative end. Yes, I can advocate for youth, but if I have a choice, I’d rather just work with them.

But, when my friend Fede became president of the Diaspora and when I became friends with other members of the political groups I ended up showing up to the meetings. I’d have to meet with Fede or my advisor (another anthro-activist) afterwards. I didn’t necessarily have a reason NOT to participate but today, I came to the end of my rope.

After a meeting, I came home furiously to my roommates and immediately began cleaning and organizing the kitchen cabinets. I screamed about the politica de orto, all of the boludeses that these people talk about. I can’t handle it anymore.

Estoy arto.

Today I had gone to a meeting that had started in a certain luna de miel period in differing Afro groups; two groups with “rivaling” ideologies had finally agreed to sit down together to work. The biggest problem outside the Afro-Community is invisibility. How can you get what you need if no one will admit you exist? And the biggest problem within the community is that 27 little groups of 2 black people arguing about “how” they exist.

IDEOLOGICAL issues.

As I told a fellow black scholar who just came down to study Afro-Argentines…it is awesome fodder for an anthropologist. 26 groups who refuse to work together because of ideological issues? How do you have a visible afro population of about 2%, and have 36 organizations? Why do you have TWO groups of Haitians with similar acronyms? Why do you have La Diaspora Africana en Argentina, and Africa y su Diaspora, and why can’t they work together?

I have my own opinions. Cough(Selfishness, Selfishness, Trying to capitalize off of victimization)

If in my heart I was a real academic, before I was an activist, I would love to figure that out. Instead, I passed the question onto another worthy academic with only a short time in Argentina, and told her to have fun with it, because it made my heart hurt.

On this gem of a day, La Diaspora Africana (my organization of choice because of familial ties and ideological openness) had finally gotten La Diaspora Africana (a group especially ideologically concerned with keeping their organization racially “pure” and “true”) to agree to begin to work towards an Acto de Congresso that will happen before November.

This upcoming summer (winter for yall in the NORTH Americas) is one of the most important first steps in the Afro community—the first census that will include the choice of “Afro-descendiente”. The first time in hundreds of years that definitely (well, as definitely as a census can be) a number can be taken of the amount of negros are in Argentina.

Now, of course, most people don’t know that this is happening. And really, why would they? But, this important event should be publicized and the people should be aware of it. Well, this plan of action would be the topic of discussion at this meeting if only we could stop talking about oh, I don’t know, WHO HAS THE HISTORICAL RIGHT TO CLAIM A NAME THAT HAS BOTH “africa” AND “diaspora” IN IT BECAUSE APPARENTLY THEY ARE TOO SIMILAR FOR SOME PEOPLE.

Yes, for about two hours, these were the topics of conversation

-Somehow people are not bright enough to tell apart organizations with TWO different names: Africa y su Diaspora, y La Diaspora Africana. They are absolutely, the same thing apparently.

-The possibility of going back into archives of flyers to find out which group actually started using the phrase first—handling this “name” situation LEGALLY

-It was actually said that this was a question of “moral y ethica”.

-An e-mail had arrived at the wrong group, and so this meant that there was obvious confusion and the ideologies had to be kept separate.

Now, a few of the members of the Diaspora are professional activists, which is to say that they are shameless in their ability to continue to push their organizations agenda….no matter how silly that agenda may be. But as Fede or the president of IARPIDI an anti-discrimination group would try to direct the conversation back to ya know, this once in a lifetime opportunity to start to bring afro-organizations together, to get voices heard, to get people COUNTED…. It was actually suggested that the two groups could NOT work together before an issue like this was adequately solved. How can we be able to trust each other?

This is when ETHIC & MORAL were brought up…

Now, on this mention of evil name stealers—I had to scoff a bit, and make a rude noise. I can’t help it, I told you.

With a few sympathetic voices trying to speak sense into the people, trying to remind them that they were arguing over a brand name, when they were trying to represent millions of people in the community. Worse, if was as if they were living in a big shit pile and arguing over whether it should be called PoopooPile or ShittyCaca. When you have no goals or plans for advancement, no unity, no power to help the masses of people who don’t come to your meanings, who cares what you call yourself??? Trying to convince them to put away the issue for at least a few meetings, then they could settle it….

After two hours, I had to leave. I’m just not made for all of this politics. More music less politics. More music less politics? More music different politics!

Marcelino..Intro to Dock Sud

About two weeks ago I ran into Marcelino, an activist from Dock Sud , the most cohesive community of Afro-descendants in the Great Buenos Aires. I met with Marcelino in a coffee shop so we could find a mutual understanding--what was it that brought us together? I didn’t know what the guy was about, or what his organization was, and he wasn’t sure why I was in Argentina bothering with black people, but we were certain that there was a reason that we had met each other. We sat with a beer and a few empanadas while he questioned me intently about what it was I was doing here. The question for me is still a bit difficult as sometimes I can’t answer it myself. Am I a researcher writing about hip-hop sometimes, am I an activist in the black community interested in music…am I photographer on vacation?

At this point my explanation was that I was researching youth in the black community and how they use music to express their Afro identity. My interest is his work did not come from a research interest but from a personal interest in participating in a community organization that was really helping diasporic peoples. I explained that I was tired of people talking about how much they were doing when they had hardly been outside of a conference room. I told him that I had just finished doing work for a really exciting non-profit in my home town and so I was ready to use a bunch of new skills that I had just learned.

He nodded sympathetically, and always with an “uh-huh”, a deep throaty affirmative response that seemed calculative, and introspective. His eyes were deep and probing…his emotions at his beck and call. He would pour my beer, but his eyes stayed fixed in mine. He was sizing up my intentions with my talk, was feelin out the vibrations of my heart.

He'd been in the game for more than 25 years, he had heard it all before. He'd seen a million politicians with the cara de buena and with ganas de hacer leave his organization cold after they'd gotten what they wanted out of it. He'd been left with battle scars and suspicions about those outside of the community coming in.

Marcelino was born in Cape Verde, a tiny group of islands off of the coast of Africa, and came to Argentina on a scholarship some 40 years ago. He moved directly to the neighborhood of Dock Sud, where he joined numerous other ex-patriots from his homeland. More than 100 years ago, a large wave of Cape-verdean immigrants settled to work at the docks, and their presence continues to dominate the neighborhood. It is probably one of the only places in Buenos Aires that you can find a "black neighborhood" because though Africans and Afro-descendientes continue to immigrate to Argentina, there isn't much of a pattern to where, how, and when they settle. In contrast, the Cape Verdeans through proximity, social and political action, have maintained their family, their language, and...their color.

Marcelino's mission has always been to focus on his community, to understand their needs and to respond to their problems before they found alternative ways to address them.

Yet, Marcelino does not divide his dedication by color.

Though his neighborhood is completely inhabited by those who most Porteños would call "negros" many are not "Afro-descendientes"--many are not phenotypically black.

In Argentina, the word negro has generally been disassociated with the racial phenotype. Inline with Argentine discourse, the word negro is used very emphatically and yet paradoxically.

It can be used as a term of endearment for anyone, most often for those who have darker hair, or have a bit of brown in them.

"Ay mi negra querida"

But in regards to Marcelino's barrio "Dock Sud", when people call them "esos negros" it is usually a derogatory term to describe their social and economic state.

Negros are:

poor people.dirty people.brown people.unfortunate people.dishonest people.

Those who live in the "conventillas" shanty towns

"Cabecita Negras":

Bolivians, paraguayans, those from the provincias of Argentina and general outsiders to Buenos Aires who come to "steal jobs" from the "hard working" Porteños.

"Negra de Mierda"

Nigger (or the closest you'll get with a completely distinct slavery narrative)

This is why his organization Amigos de Cabo Verde en Dock Sud does not follow a racializing ideology. Many of the youth that come in and out of his house, that work for his cooperatives, who he's taught to fix bikes and pour cement aren't black--but are still 'negros'.

He admitted to me that he was pretty uninvolved and had been uninterested in the "Afro" political community in general in Buenos Aires.

"Congresos and Actos pero no hacen para nostotros. Todos hacen por su propio bosillo."

In other words: they talk a lot of shit but they don't back it up. They are actively activist-ing for their own pockets, not the rest of the community that needs the money.

And he's right. There is a serious problem in the community in terms of distribution of money. A few of the older politicians and activists run things like super-cargo, as they've completely replicated the slave master oppressor formula, and they act as intermediaries to the victimization of their communities so that they can have careers. They prefer to have conferences lamenting the poor ideological state of the community rather than set up concrete plans of auto-ayudo where those that truly need in the community can speak for their own needs.

"Almost always, during the initial stage of the struggle, the oppressed, instead of striving for liberation, tend themselves to become oppressors, or "sub-oppressors." The very structure of their thought has been conditioned by the contradictions of the concrete, existential situation by which they were shaped. their ideal is to be men; but for them, to be men is to be oppressors. This is their model of humanity." (Friere, Pedagogy of the oppressed)

I talked very little in general except in very empathetic nods, his thoughts and ideas dominated the conversation. The conversation was just in this way. I told him what little I knew of myself at 22 and he tried to paint me a picture of what he knew in his sixty odd years to be true with only 2 hours of words.

Then, he invited me to his sons birthday party.

otld me

Un casamiento de negros: Fede & Ceci get married!

You must understand that I was jumping for joy when I found out that I would be arriving in Buenos Aires just in time to see my friend Fede getting married. As one of my best friends in Buenos Aires who had definitely shaped my political, and social views of Afro-Argentine politics, it was such a well-timed honor! His wife to be, Ceci is such a wonderfully sweet woman who speaks perfect English, and was always looking to help out with anything and everything that I needed.

My first week into the trip, and I'm still living with Erika and Uli, who have graciously donated their couch and wifi to my cause of house hunting. Yet there is no better half-way housing...

Good music all the time, awesome conversation, comfortable atmosphere, and people who appreciate my cooking. As we got ready and put on our wedding party bests (funky, flowy clothes to dance in) Erika told me about her last experience with an Argentine wedding.

“An open bar, and it went from about two in the afternoon to two in the morning!”

As Erika, Uli, and I drove to the wedding, I was bursting with anticipation to let off some of the stress and pressure of my new arrival jitters. I was excited to dance the night away...and dance all over and around that open bar.

But when we arrived, my excitement sunk a bit. People were sitting in little pods at tables, the lights were dim, and the dance floor looked like uncharted territory (I swear I saw a tumbleweed roll slowly across the parquet wood). We offered our saludos to the family and I took in the scenery.

The families sat at separate tables, the Pita family lineage of Afro-Argentinos sat regal and black-as-ever in a room full of contrasting colors. Beautifully-antiqued caramel women with thick thighs and soft waves sat next to burly mahogany men. There were all types of brown aunts, uncles and cousins who I had never met.

Fede’s Mama’s side, surrounded the Pitas--clarito, plump, and with booming, scratchy voices. As I kissed Fede’s Mama she commented on how special it was to be at “un casamiento de negros” and I nodded in agreement, then was washed with a bittersweet feeling:

This may be the last of the negro Pitas. It seemed likely that after this generation there would be no more phenotypical signs of blackness in this enduring slave family.

Fede who is already a café-con-mas-leche-que-café was to marry Ceci, who is pretty Aryan if I do say so myself. And Nico, Fede's younger brother who describes himself as a “novio muy comprometido” also fell in love with a nice girl, “without the color”.

The whole family was handsome. Beautifully mixed and huddled in the corner, I couldn’t help but getting flashes in my head of their future generations having to show ID to fight the Afro-Argentine power . Ok, so maybe it’s a stupid image colored by my American-made, color-protective instincts, but one of the few remaining Afro-Argentine slave-descending families who proudly claimed their blackness, would soon have a passing option.

Eri, Uli, & I chose a mesita on the balcony, that faced a stage that looked like a neon cube dangling from the ceiling. Though we were at a casamiento de negros, we were still in Buenos Aires. We were two negras divinas with large curly hair. Erika was sporting a Foxy Brown-esque Afro, and her indio fiancee was also decked out in his brightest patterns. Most people looked up at us curiously, unabashedly, and without a friendly greeting or smile. Accustomed to the attention, we sat around, eyeing each other hungrily and asking not-so-non-chalantly “so um where’s the damn comida?”

As the appetizers of white bread sandwiches called “migas” came out, I joked about how little of a “negro casamiento” this was. Where were the chicken wings, of the jollof rice, the laughing, and the dancing? But the grumbles were more than likely coming from my empty tummy as soon they were quieted by a tomato basil pizza, and some hot picks by the dj. Erika and I couldn’t help but belt out tunes between bites as Anthony Hamilton, Robin Thicke, Erykah Badu brought us back to the good times in the old country where we didn’t have to go “black market” to get hot sauce, negros, and some rice and beans.

After we crushed a pizza, and Uli and I alternated bringing each other Fernet y Coca, we decided to get the party started right. It was a Mo-town singer that pulled us out to the dance floor and I put down my drink of dark syrup water and vegetable booze to get down on the floor with my girl Eri.

It started out as only us two in the zone of funk. We would dance to the era, and encourage Uli to come down (or encourage him to drink more so he’d come dance). Soon after, another black girl (the dj’s girlfriend) from Uruguay came to dance with us. And little by little the liquid courage conquered the Porteño no-dancing gene and the dance floor started looking less and less like a tightrope to the crowd.

“We started this damn party” Erika threw out at me assuredly mid-twerk.

And so we did.

And so we kept it going through an awful reggae dj, a dancehall & hip-hop dj, the soul &funk period, reggaeton & salsa, and even through the 80’s. (Argentines LOVE the American 80s. No I can’t explain why. Why yes, unabashedly, with mullets and rat tails and all.)

Eventually the family mounted the stage, to not only toast the newly weds but to get a jam session going on! The Pitas and the Nadals are a super talented musical family. How musical? Let’s just say that two members of the family came out in the same “best of” Rolling Stone issue.

The band played a mix of rocky-blues and bluesy-rock, and Erika and Uli kept gently and not so gently nudging me to take over the stage.

“You better sing” Erika reminded me as Fede and his Papa started going into a bout of vocal improvisation. I preferred to stay behind my new camera to capture some of the scenes, but when the two broke into a butchered version of the Beatles “Yesterday” I received two demanding looks that pushed my ass to move. They gave me the kind of parental look that moves reluctant four year olds to kiss weird smelling grandparents, the look that leads snarky teenagers to bite their tongues so-we-can-at-least-have-one-god-damn-peaceful-dinner….and it is the look that pushed me to gingerly weave through the crowd of on-looking wedding goers towards the stage.

As I reached the stage, the two had tripped over the last verse and Fede, realizing my intention, motioned for me to take over his mic. I slid into the song smoothly, but conspicuously, the feminine gringa voice amongst the scratchy Argentines, “I believe in yesterdaaay...”

And just as I geared up to sing another verse, they finished unexpectedly, leaving me a bit exposed as the only non-family on the stage. We clumsily did a bout of improvisation on the next song until I felt useless enough to climb back down to my seat.

“Mommy and Daddy” gave me approving complements, then we all got back to celebrating The Last of the Afro-Argentiquans…I mean, the marriage of Fede and Ceci. :) Congratulations beautiful people!!!

We stayed until our feet were sore and the party was winding down. And long after we had left, Fede relayed us our complements from all of the wedding party.

As Ceci’s Dad said of the two negras “I will always remember the one for how she danced, and the other for how she sang”.

Well, at least were helping to break some stereotypes here. Yessuh, Somebody hea bess git me a basketball n some watah-mellon. ooooo--weeee!

Emerging community or Afro purgatory: Why am I here anyways??

About a month before I left for Buenos Aires I got an exciting e-mail from my friend Fede Pita, an Afro-Argentine slave descendent and political activist in Buenos Aires. He let me know that:

1.) He was getting married!

2.) He had been elected the president of the organization La Diaspora Africana en Argentina

I was ecstatic about both events, especially because I would just happen to be arriving in Buenos Aires as he would tie the knot.

Fede was one of my first contacts within the communidad afro en Argentina two long years ago. He gave an inspiring speech on a panel of activists and academics during The Week of Africa en Argentina, (although it was only later when I transcribed the speech that I was inspired, as my Spanish at the time was “mas o menos”). Nonetheless, I was impressed with what I did understand and his fiery energy that made his words shoot out in bullets. About four months into my exchange in Buenos Aires, I met with Fede, and his little brother Nico Pita for helado at the mall. We talked easily, despite my verbal hobbles in trying to express concepts of black liberation in my alien language.

The Pitas and the Nadals are two of Argentina’s largest existing Afro-Argentine families of slave descendents, and they are closely linked by marriage ties. Unfortunately, most people don’t believe that they exist. That’s right, throw away your visions of all Latin American countries being rice and bean eating brown and black people who speak a smooth Spanish. (Ok, maybe those were my prejuicios coming from the vision of the black and white city of Pittsburgh.) One of the most common phrases that you’ll hear in Buenos Aires is “no hay negros in Argentina”.

Porteños will tell you that these Afro-Argentine families just don’t exist anymore. Yup, “They’ve all disappeared” or “They were all killed off in the wars and by yellow fever.” or “We never really had very many slaves anyways, they all came from Brazil”. No hay negros in Buenos Aires.

Ok, so how can this be??

Well, at the turn of the 19^th century, Argentina’s founding fathers went through the identity crisis similar to that which most Latin American elite were experiencing. As their colonizers were pushed back to their high chairs across the sea—they realized that THEY COULD NO LONGER CLAIM WHITENESS, they were LATIN AMERICAN. The remaining elite (and often the lightest breeds) who would often become the founding fathers, scrambled to find ways to become obedient children to their former colonizers. One of the best ways to make themselves more appealing to the Mama Patria (and to their own colonized minds) was to make themselves whiter!

Argentina just happened to be more successful than most countries.

The country that some 200 years ago was one third Afro-Argentine, is now the "whitest" country in America Latina with only a speculated 2-3% of population claiming to be Afro-descendants.

How the hell did they do it?

Well, I can’t tell you why Argentina specifically was so successful at ridding themselves of black and indigenous people—I’d say part efficiency, and part luck.

Efficiency:

-- Founding Fathers such as Sarmiento (like an Argentine George Washington) literally wrote up a plan to make the country whiter and therefore more “civilized”.

--Similar to Americans, in the late 1800’s the national government organized a genocidal tour around the Argentine countryside in hopes of reinventing and modernizing Argentine society. (Read: Kill all brown and black people by whatever means necessary.)

--At the beginning of the 20^th century founding fathers mused that the most efficient way to civilize the population was to just bring in more Europeans. They received over 6 million European immigrants, doubling the population of the capital city in just a few years.

--At the end of the 19^th century, a yellow fever epidemic broke out. By taking no precautions to protect the slums, 20,000 people died—most poor, and disproportionately black.

Luck:

--Ok, well clearly a bitter sweet luck. Argentine's fought numerous and consecutive wars in their independence process, killing off a great deal of Afro-Argentine men who were fighting for their freedom.

--By endorsing the silly notion that miscegenation would actually whiten the country and civilize the people of color. (White blood is stronger, so they said.) Their genetic miscalculations actually came to fruition when the deluge of Europeans drowned out the number of colored folks.

While importing Europeans and courting the British and French, the Porteño elite also worked hard through the 20^th century to continue to rebuild their port city specifically to resemble Paris. The Argentine independence process was like 100 years of plastic surgery that the current Porteño population wants no recollection of. Despite the extensive indigenous and African influences on the culture of the country, the national imagery remains one of European mixture.

Everything that is black or indigenous is often geopolitically located to neighboring countries. When telling cab drivers what I research, one common suggestion is that I move my research to Brazil, where I might find something. When asking Argentines about the Afro-Argentine traditional music Candombe, they politely tell me that the tradition is from Uruguay.

Everyone who is phenotypically black is considered a foreigner in Argentina and so the Pita and Nadal families go through pains in trying to explain their existence.

“How is it that you are Argentine?” People ask quizzically.

“But where are you REALLY from? Where are you parents from?”

Some, blinded by a white Argentine mythology firmly bolstered by public education, refuse to believe in the existence of Afro-Argentines.

Most of my interactions with Fede Pita involved political meetings or at least political conversations. He’s incredibly well-read and well-spoken, and because of his constant interest and research on the diaspora, his ideas and understanding about black social politics in Argentina is often on a different dimension than older activist with very localized definitions of culture and race. As the name of the group “Diaspora Africana en Africana” suggests, his activist politics are firmly rooted in organizing a cultural African diaspora in Argentina. His views come partly from his voracious reading of diasporic literature…and partly from his interest in hip-hop.

Fede and his family own the biggest hip-hop clothing and shoe company in Buenos Aires, and he is actually one of the biggest inspirations for my writing my thesis on music, and for applying for a grant to study hip-hop.

Where the topic of my studies will take me, I’m unsure, but with Fede (and wife) onboard the Afro-Diasporic train, I’m interested to see where we’ll all be going...

Back to Buenos Aires....

The five months that I spent in Buenos Aires during my study abroad term in 2008 was truly life changing. I arrived as a gringa mute and deaf to Porteño español, and left having written essays on La Politica Exterior de Argentina. It was in Buenos Aires that I started my love affair with cooking, that I would jam with jazz musicians, where I tested the academic waters with an independent project. I was so enamored with the city that I almost deferred my college studies to play soccer in Buenos Aires.

My time was about language immersion with beer in hand, singing, dancing, and constant activity, activity, activity.

This time, though I'm super hyped about the future prospects, my focus will be completely different. My experiences during this grant process will focus on answering the following questions: Do I love research? Do I want to get a pHd? Do i want to study hip-hop/music/& black people in latin America...?

Do I want MORE formal education?? A LOT more formal education? Will higher education eat my brain??

When I signed up for the study abroad experience in 2008, I was embarrassingly ill-informed about the country and the culture. I was looking for a sexy spanish, salsa, rice and beans, and brown people...none of which are easy to find in this city. As I looked for ways to supplement my African American studies major, I was literally laughed at on arrival. You can't study that down here...

We don't HAVE ANY BLACK PEOPLE!

Befuddled as to how a city that was a former slave port could claim to have no black people, black history, no black roots, nor any culture to teach about, I started investigating on my own. This independent investigation became my thesis "From Candombe to Hip-hop: Generational shifts in black Ideology"

This time, I'll be focusing my studies almost completely on Hip-hop.

To get started on the right foot I've made a list of possible goals and research questions.

How the project will develop from here, only time can tell.

Exploring the significance of hip-hop culture in Buenos aires as it grows from it's incipience

Exploring hip-hop culture as it specifically relates to the black community in Buenos aires

Exploring a new sentiment of organizing (around diaspora)?

Exploring a new concept of blackness—less localized more globalized?

Can music continue to be a unifying entity for the community? (Is the word community even applicable to a dispere group of people who happen to be afro-descendientes?)

Is community something that the diaspora in Argentina is searching for?

Can music be a teaching and galvanizing force for the community?

Aside from hip-hop, what are some of the most important musical genres for young Afro people?

Will hip-hop be a way for Argentines to view and recognize blacknesses, while Afro-Argentines realize their own blackness? (Will this give Afro-Argentines a cultural identification?)

Will this alternative culture gain a voice although there is little appreciation for hip-hop in the mainstream culture?

Can hip-hop ever be a non-political entity??