Such an excellent essay by Marcel Garcia. A number of people I've talked to may have liked this movie, but when we've talked about it in more depth, it's like we've seen two different films. That's always possible with a book or film, of course, but in this case, and at this particular time in history, I've found the dissonance quite disturbing.
It always bothers me that so many people think they already know all there is to know (or all they want to know) about the complex cultures south of the American border, when they actually know very little. I'm probably hyper-sensitive because I too was quite ignorant before I started going to Mexico and learning about it myself; I wasn't even sure I wanted to go, except that I knew there was a tradition of art that I wanted to see firsthand. Now I wonder how I could have been so limited. Where does this ignorance come from? Is it because we are inundated with media "information" and mass culture through Hollywood films and TV, and equate that with real knowledge? Is it because most people don't travel to Latin America beyond the resort beaches? Is it because so few of us form real friendships with people from different cultures, religions and ethnicities than ourselves, where we are willing to actually listen to and learn from the truth of their lived experience? Perhaps most people simply don't want to be stretched in this direction because it also requires looking at oneself.
I've now been to Mexico City for six extended periods of time, and have relationships with a number of Latin American friends. Yet with every visit and conversation, as with people from every culture different from mine, I realize how little I knew, and still know. Of course I've become uncomfortably aware of my own privilege, and ability to travel and come back to my far easier North American life. But it's a lot more than that. I want to be as open as possible when I see a film or read a book or talk to someone, as well as when I'm traveling, so that I am able to learn. I don't want to live in a North American bubble and take it with me everywhere I go. We all do that to some extent, but dropping it consciously seems to be more than most people want to do.
I also know firsthand how uncomfortable this process can be. I've been doing it for my entire adult life, partly because I married outside my culture, but also because of a longstanding desire for knowledge of otherness and for being stretched. I know everyone doesn't share this, or feel that the reward of growing wiser is worth the pain of feeling uncomfortable, hurt, misunderstood, or being in the minority, where we suddenly have to listen and accept different ways, and not be in a position of control or power. I get it. Most of us prefer to stay in our own tribe, however narrowly or broadly we define that. The world is moving in a different direction, though, and we can either accept that, understand our own privilege, and change -- or fight against it, which I see so-called liberals doing just as much as conservatives, when it involves actually confronting one's own stereotypes and sense of entitlement or superiority. It's one thing to oppose building a wall, or separating families, and entirely another to actually learn what is beyond that border, or who those families are, or our own complicity in the systems that have made them want to leave -- perhaps for a life of domestic servitude in America.
Roma confronts racism in Mexican culture, but it also asks us to look within. So I was grateful for Garcia's insights and explanations about her own culture, and the lens through which North America has viewed both Mexico and this particular film. I'm grateful she took the time to write this piece.
Thank you for your thoughtful post and for linking to Marcela Garcia's article. One of my friends grew up in Mexico City in the Roma neighborhood, and she wanted me to see the movie and observe what she felt was a piercingly accurate depiction of life in Mexico in the early 1970s. Her family moved from the U.S. to Mexico in the late 1940s due to her father's job as an engineer. The entire family became fluent in Spanish. Her parents hired a Oaxacan woman to take care of her and her brothers and sisters as well as act as a full-time servant. My friend saw the movie in a similar light to Marcela Garcia. My friend, like Marcela, was startled at the use of the charged words "Pinche gata" and the mistranslation. She saw the movie accurately confronting racism in the Mexican culture in which she grew up and soberly looked at her family's part in that.
When Nathan Phillips stepped forward with his drum in Washington, D.C., the general American response reminds me of what Marcela Garcia described since Yalitza Aparicio became visible in a way that the dominant culture in Mexico is not prepared for. Nathan Phillips was quickly discounted, like Yalitza Aparacio, as a marginal person of little consequence. Light is truly being shed on dark secrets.
Posted by: am | February 28, 2019 at 04:12 PM
Thank you for your post, Beth, and comment, Am. I saw Roma in the cinema and thought it an amazing piece of art: layered, complex, dramatic & human. The underlying message I took away was 'the evil that men do', literally and metaphorically. Coming from a European rather than American perspective I wonder how different my response was: perhaps less charged and more ignorant? 'Pinche gata' shocked me in its fierceness and inevitability, but only through the delivery and English subtitle. When you say mistranslation I wonder what would be a more accurate translation? Isn't the point that it's impossible to translate the power of the phrase?
Aparicio was (is!) amazing and it was a privilege to witness her performance in Cuaron's film.
Posted by: Huw Hitchin | March 02, 2019 at 12:31 PM
Saw Roma a month or so ago. Couldn't make any grand conclusions about it other than it was fiction (based on the director's life) made to look like a documentary. But every so often random events (eg, getting the car into that narrow alleyway) intervened to suggest what you were seeing was real life. I can't remember a single cinematic cliché, the camera seemed to have a mind of its own. Racism? Well sure. Was I surprised? Not really. If I looked hard I'd probably find racism outside my front door. Look a little harder and I'd find it within my own DNA. I was not born nourishing a hard gem-like conviction that everyone is equal, there were fights to be fought in childhood, adolescence, and even now in my eighties to arrive at my present individual if wobbly view of the world. All I can say is that parts of Roma had a certain impenetrability which I associate with art. Yes, that's it. Art is hard. Chances are if it's easy it ain't art. See what I mean about wobbly?
Posted by: Roderick Robinson | March 04, 2019 at 01:07 PM