Category Archives: Language

How Mexican pop music of the 80s saved my life

It’s Friday! And it’s Memorial Day weekend, which means a three-day weekend (for my boyfriend at least; I’m on a permanent three-day weekend until my research sabbatical ends)! So I’m feeling especially festive and in a mood to listen to some music from my middle school days, when I discovered pop music from Mexico.

One of my favorite party tunes comes from Yuri, who was known as “the Madonna of Mexico” in the 80s. Here’s the official video for “Que te pasa?” which is gloriously cheesy with her bleached-out, teased hair, her acid-wash denim, a pink bodysuit topped with a black tutu, and tons of neon:

Songs like this were a revelation to me when I was a brown-skinned tween, seemingly the only Mexican girl around, and going through a mighty awkward stage. My hair, which had once been so straight it couldn’t hold a curl, started getting a little wavy, and so I plastered it down with hair products so to tamper it down…to the point where you could grab a section of my hair and it would stick straight out because it was so stiff. Also, I couldn’t do the classic waterfall bangs no matter how hard I tried. To top it off, I had huge, red Sally Jesse Raphael glasses and braces. I had a crush on a white boy named Jason and at a sleepover, my friends called him up to see if he’d go out with me (I’m not even sure what that would have meant back then…where do you “go out” when you’re 12?). I was quietly listening on the other line as he scoffed and said no. UB40′s “Red, Red Wine” was playing in the background, and to this day when I hear that song, I shed a little tear for my miserable seventh grade self.

Around that same time, my mom took me on a trip to Chihuahua, Mexico, to visit some family friends who’d moved there. Their daughter, who was a year younger than I, was one of my first best friends and I was excited to reconnect with her. She introduced me to all the popular Mexican pop music of the era: Timbiriche, Flans, Fandango, Pandora. I couldn’t believe it! Here, united for the first time (for me, anyway), were two things I loved: Pop music and the Spanish language/Mexican culture. Mexican people like me, but who were cool!

I brought home several records–yes, this was still the time of records–and was thrilled to discover that I could see many of these groups perform on a weekly variety show called Siempre en Domingo (aka Siempre es lo mismo). I would pop a VHS tape in the VCR and when a group I liked came on, I was ready to record and savor every precious second, because before YouTube, this was how we’d do things. Also, I learned that the Mexican neighborhoods of the big city nearby had record stores where I could buy these same songs (my mom, not knowing that I would like any Spanish-language music, had never taken me previously).

These all provided a cultural lifeline for me at a critical time. Suddenly didn’t feel so alone and different–and the pain of Jason’s rejection soon eased–thanks in part to the power of cheesy Mexican pop from the 80s!

I guess I don’t look like I’d listen to Depeche Mode

Tomorrow I’m going to a concert with my boyfriend, so between that and my mention yesterday that I am the only one of the grandchildren who learned Spanish, I have issues of music and language on my mind.

In particular, I’m thinking back to a comment that a colleague made to me a few years ago when I was still new on my campus. I was hired with a group of about thirty new professors, sprinkled across all the disciplines, and we’d all gone through orientation and welcome events together. The school year started in August, but we didn’t receive our first paychecks until October. In order to celebrate finally getting paid, the most social people of the group (myself included) organized an office crawl: We’d work our way around campus, checking out each other’s departments and offices, and have a different glass of wine at each stop. (Perhaps this sounds a bit nerdy–hiking all around campus just to see someone else’s office and books?–but hey, this is how professors have fun.)

The evening was going well, but by the time we all got to my office (the fourth or fifth stop, where two bottles of my favorite Sangiovese awaited us), some of the colleagues were starting to get pretty tipsy. The mathematician was becoming awfully frisky and flirty with the woman from environmental studies, and everyone’s voices were getting louder. I turned on my laptop and got iTunes going to add to the party atmosphere. Of course, the first band I chose to play was Depeche Mode. They have been my favorite band since I was twelve years old (and this was before they released Violator, okay? I’m a true fan, not some johnny-come-lately).

The business professor immediately ran over to my desk. “Oh my god, you listen to Depeche Mode?!”

“Yeah, I love them,” I said, glad to have found a new connection with someone.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Hmm.” She furrowed her brow. And then I guess the wine took over, because what came out of her mouth next was,”But you don’t look like someone who would listen to Depeche Mode.”

Oh, I don’t? Am I supposed to be all gothed-out? Wear one of their concert t-shirts at all times? Should I have kept my old Doc Martens from high school? Or wait…should I not be brown-skinned? Is that it?

Because I’m Mexican, I guess she thinks I should be rockin’ out to mariachi music, not to mention always wearing an off-the-shoulder, embroidered peasant blouse, my hair in long thick braids and a flower tucked behind one ear ad either a clay jug or a colorful parrot carried on my shoulder.

I didn’t get a chance to say any of these things, thought, or even just ask her the basic question, “Well how is someone who listens to Depeche Mode supposed to look?” because she must have realized how ignorant her comment sounded. She quickly changed the subject by whipping out her drivers’ license to show me her signature. Apparently she’s such a huge fan of the group that she incorporated some obscure symbol from one of their albums into her signature. Into her signature.

Now there may be some readers who are going to say I’m too sensitive, surely she didn’t mean her comment as a racial reference, etc. However, this is a lady who truly could not wrap her mind around how I could be of Mexican descent and be a US citizen by birth. When I assured her that yes, I was in fact born and raised in the Midwest, she pointed to the Mexican-born sociologist in the room and said, “But he is from Mexico!” as if his origins have any bearing on mine. So she’s just plain dumb. And let’s not forget that she’s got a friggin Depeche Mode symbol appended to her autograph.

I am a woman of many musical tastes, precisely because I am Mexican American. I grew up listening to my parents’ beloved Motown jams. My mom, who is fully bilingual, also played mariachi–especially Jose Alfredo Jimenez, who is from the state in Mexico where my grandma’s family is from–each and every Sunday, our clean-the-house day (to me, mariachi music lyrics can all be translated as, “You girls better get out of bed and help me clean this house!”). Through my sister, I came to love rock music of the 70s and 80s (Journey, Foreigner and the like), as well as free-style/heart-throb, house music and old-school hip hop. In junior high and high school, my friends introduced me to Depeche Mode and all the alternative/New Wave  and Industrial music of the late 80s and early 90s. When I was a tween, a trip to Mexico to visit friends opened my ears to the world of Spanish-language pop (Timbiriche, Flans, Fandango). And in college, I experienced the rise of “rock en español,” leading me to discover my other favorite group of all time, Cafe Tacuba. When I learned to speak Portuguese in college, I began listening to bossa nova, timbalada and rock from Brazil, and to this day the only way I can keep up that language is by singing along to all of those songs.

So it’s going to be hard for me to cultivate some kind of “look” that will publicize to the world my musical tastes. Of course, one could always not assume anything…and simply ask me!