Santana getting his Che on.
Oh, you radical, you.
The Educated Chicano is enjoying that wonderful middle-class life he or she has been so working so hard toward. You’ve got your HD TV working, the iPhone clicking, and a nice coche with some GPS on that ass. But deep in the ECH psyche is that insecurity that he or she is moving away from the radical ethos taught in those Chicano Studies classes by those aging, but lovable Chicano hippies with their boney-tails and greying goatees.
Just sport the Che Guevara tees, homes, and you’ll be a’ight.
At BBQs, MEChA reunions, socials at conference, dinner with old college friends, or just to piss off Cuban Americans (see #19), ECHs will yank out the Che tees so they can get their racial blood going. You know, make them feel all La Causa. After all, Che and his revolutionary background is great cover to get people looking away from those expensive shoe you’ve got there on your feet. But with Che, ECHs can let the world know, yo, I’m still down with revolution and Che is down with me. It makes them almost feel like they’re still in MEChA, minus the boring lectures about neo-Aztlan and no salsa music at the after conference dance. ECHs can even get the latest Che gear at thechestore.com.
For years, ECHs have been using Che’s image as symbol of the old struggle. He is on Movement murals in East LA. He’s on flags at immigration rallies. He’s a tattoo on ECHs arms, chest, and asses. Student ECH activist use his image to fight rising tuition. ECH feministas sometimes, and this is my favorite, invoke Che in the cause against sexism (because Che treated his many lovers and his offspring with so much respect).
But few know the real Che. For example, he pressed Castro and the Soviets to nuke the U.S. during the Cuban Missile crisis (which would have blown your WWII-vet abuelo into ashes). He advocated violence to overthrow governments (including yours) and saw nothing wrong with certain human rights violations. But hey, nobody’s perfect.
All this can be overlook when ECHs want to let the world know, look, I’m still not down with that internal-colonialism you’re trying to force on me, ese. Mira, my Che tee, and get your eyes off my blackberry. I’m not playing, eh. One day, homes. One day.
