Although she among a younger generation of Mexican writers, Tellez has been quite active in the local feminist literary scene, leading lesbian writing workshops, and working to help organize the TTTrans Festival as well as the Festival of Rock, Film, and Sexual Diversity. For more information about Artemisa Tellez’s activism and the queer perspective she brings to her work, read our 2009 interview with her.

Monday’s reading will feature musical accompaniment by Tellez’s frequent performance partner, guitarist and singer Chichis Glam, as well as commentary from contemporary writers Reyna Barrera, Odette Alonso, and Marielena Olivera.

The event funs from 7 to 8 pm at the Casa del Poeta, Alvaro Obregon 73, Colonia Roma. No cover.

Also making the list is Chavela Vargas, legendary ranchera singer, who at 91 has recorded a new album in which she collaborates with various other musicians. The radio segment discusses her decades-long career, interrupted for many years by her battles with alcoholism, the heart-wrenching tone of her voice, and her creative relationship with Spanish film director Pedro Almodóvar. Disappointingly, it doesn’t even mention the fact that she is openly lesbian: she came out ten years ago at the age of 81.

Despite this omission, the segment is still worth checking out, as are all the musicians mentioned.

This was the third time I organized a conference where he was the key note speaker. And the first time that despite canceling last minute, I convinced him to take the red eye flight from Mexico City to Montreal to give his keynote. It was the middle of winter and it was horrible, so I awaited Monsiváis at the airport fully equipped with winter clothes, which he denied at first but after feeling the first wave of cold air freezing everything including his eye balls, he conceded to the hat, the gloves, the coat, the scarf, etc. The conversation took us to the different AIDS treatments in Mexico and Canada and very soon after my many awkward attempts to impress him the magic happened: I think we clicked. He said, “Call me Carlos.”

During the three days we spent together I noticed his humbleness and was privileged to get a taste of what characterized him: his way of chronicling reality, making an art out of irony. We were witnessing similar things, while walking on the street buying movies, having dinner at a fancy restaurant with important McGill officers, attending an artsy private screening of a porn film, waiting on an elevator, eating lunch, yet he notice a different reality — always sharp, without any warning and full of irony — and chronicled it to me, the spectator.

What I first thought after hearing the news was: What am I going to think now?  What am I going to know what I am supposed to think? Not that we can not think for ourselves, but no one can equal his capacity to synthesize personal, political, past, future, present, local, and humorously, and to do it in one article that denounces the evil  and highlights the advantages of  everything from policies, treaties and politicians, to songs and cultural events. There are innumerable things we lost with his passing away. There is no space for a public intellectual anymore, that figure that is beyond academia and activism, who belongs to both and is an authority not only to the fellow critics and people but to the government.  He was our public intellectual and he is gone. And his humor is gone too. How are we going to laugh at tragedy now?

Then I thought I missed out in a chronicle of a Mexico he only knew through his personal romantic encounters. In Macha Mexico’s last post on Monsiváis, Anahí talks about how Monsivais never came out of the closet publicly yet he was one of the main defenders of the LGBT rights in Mexico, always writing against homophobia and most recently in favor of the same-sex marriage in Mexico City.

It got me thinking. Yes, I wanted to read a chronicle of all his love affairs. I wanted him to write and for all of us to know that Mexico of high level politicians, of pop icons, of random cabaretito personalities, of ambassadors, of particular secretary’s of governors, of protégées. What will Mexico look like if every one of them was outed by a posthuma novel written by Monsiváis? I couldn’t believe the Mexico that was opening before my eyes when Carlos shared with me his personal affairs. Yet, now, it got me thinking.

In the Anglo Euro-American world a primary level of identification is gender and sexuality and there is the assumption that more visibility equals more freedom and civil rights. But I think, we in Latin America have to be more cautious with this assumption. More visibility doesn’t necessary equal more power. We are millions of brown people in Mexico City, thousands of indigenous yet racism is more than prevalent — actually there was a protest not long ago where many campesinos and campesinas protested at the Zocalo, this time naked  thinking it will gain them more visibility. It did, but not from the the government and their pleas were not heard.

I was pleased that the LGBT community claimed a place in the ceremony of Monsiváis’ wake, as much as the UNAM and Mexico’s flags did. But I am most happy that although Carlos shared so much with Mexico, he kept so much more for himself. Yes, we should not be scared of talking about sexuality  but it doesn’t guarantee more freedom. It also got me thinking about private-public. Heterosexuality needs no coming out, yet for non-normative sexual identities, not only there is no privacy but the pressure to become “visible for the cause.” I am all for more visibility  but if we want to learn from the LGBTT movement in the Anglo Euro-American world, identifying primarily through gender and sexuality is not a guarantee of  civil rights and it cannot be measured in quantifying or qualifying terms. There is really no binary division, no way of measuring the power of saying or not saying  and silence too,  can be very powerful.

Macha Mexico is honored to publish this unique perspective on the passing of Carlos Monsiváis. Thank you, Susanísima, for sharing this account and your ideas in this space.

Last Saturday, during Carlos Monsiváis’ wake at Museo de la Ciudad de México, a group of young people unfolded a gay flag and put it on the writer’s coffin. Someone tried to take it away, but the group insisted and placed it right between Mexico and UNAM flags. So far, only one journalist has talked explicitly about Monsiváis’ sexuality and his links with the Mexican LGBT community.

A similar episode (link in Spanish) took place again during the wake in Bellas Artes. This time, it was the Mexican journalist Jenaro Villamil who put the rainbow flag on the casket despite the negative reaction of Consuelo Sáizar, president of the National Council for Culture and Arts (Consejo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes).

A third episode of awkwardness was described by Andrés Duque, when musician and LGBT activist Horacio Franco not only played the flute right next to the casket, but also confirmed the rumors about Monsiváis’ sexuality in an interview with a LGBT website.

Carlos Monsiváis was one of the most influential intellectuals and writers in Mexico. He was a prolific author who also learned how to use radio and TV in order to disseminate his opinions about the PRI, the Catholic church and the conservative groups that dominate the Mexican government under the PAN’s rule.

Carlos Monsiváis' wake at Bellas Artes, via La Jornada

Above all, Monsi, as many of his fans called him, was considered the undisputed chronicler of Mexico City, where passers by could recognize him on the street—a privilege that very few intellectuals have, given the separation between academia and so-called popular culture in Mexico. Monsiváis was born and brought up within a Presbyterian family in San Simon Ticumac, a poor neighborhood of Mexico City, a fact that other intellectuals of his same generation with well-to-do backgrounds despised, making Monsiváis something like an outcast within the Mexican intelligentsia.

As an activist, Monsiváis was part of the 1968 movement that ended in the massacre in Tlatelolco, he supported the Zapatista movement in 1994, and labeled the elections of 2006 that took away the presidency from López Obrador a “fraud”.

As any other controversial character, Monsiváis had his flaws: His colleagues and close friends considered him a misogynist, and despite his close links with the feminist and LGBT movements, he never came out of the closet publicly. Like Juan Gabriel, one of the many pop icons that fascinated Monsiváis, he kind of choose to follow the principle of lo que se ve no se pregunta, while defending LGBT rights in Mexico and pointing out the homophobia and double standards with which the Catholic church attacked the LGBT community and, more recently, same-sex marriage in Mexico City.

It is kind of ironic that Monsiváis was outed during his wake, posing questions about the right to live (and die?) in the closet and the power of visibility for the LGBT community. But if you think about it, the gay flag made it to Bellas Artes, the most prestigious place where someone can have her or his wake in Mexico. To give some idea of how important is this, Frida Kahlo‘s wake was in that building. The fact that the LGBT community claimed a place in this ceremony speaks to a new generation that wants to publicly acknowledge the not-so-short history of Mexico’s LGBT community. It talks about the importance of sexuality when it comes to define an identity that, like in Monsiváis’ case, was shaped by being Mexican, attending the UNAM, and being a gay man.

We’ll never know how Monsiváis would feel about this forced outing, but it is certainly sad to read “Monsiváis never married and had no children” as if that could define his personal life (and happiness) at all.

If Monsiváis’ death means the end of an era, let’s hope for a new generation that embraces all the different aspects that shape human beings, including sexuality, and the joy that comes along with it when it is accepted as part of life.

The New York Times reports that the publication of Finding Frida Kahlo, a new book on the collection published by Princeton Architectural Press,  is the immediate cause of the controversy, as the Mexican government trust that runs Kahlo’s estate moves to attempt to block the sale of the book, claiming it is presenting these objects as something they are not. Handwriting experts, art historians, and others disagree on whether or not the collection is authentic.

Anyone who has been to Mexico (or to any Mexican-inspired “kitschy” shop anywhere else), knows that the image of Frida Kahlo is used to sell anything from shopping bags, to compacts, to ashtrays, to aprons, the emotional force of her self-portraits reduced to a souvenir. With that in mind, I appreciate the effort to maintain some sort of authenticity about her body of work and the objects she used in her own life.

Apparently the collection was authenticated by Rivera’s granddaughter several years ago, but there are many inconsistencies among the objects that don’t seem to add up. Based on the information in the Times’ report, I’m inclined to believe they are fakes, but what do you think?

Is this a real Frida Kahlo sketch?

A couple of years ago the Palacio de Bellas Artes in Mexico City opened a major exhibition of Frida Kahlo’s works, photographs, and personal letters to celebrate her 100^th birthday. Hordes of people lined up outside the building, waiting more than an hour to see Kahlo’s works, which were gathered together in Mexican territory for the first time. After three months, official numbers registered 363,000 visitors, which made the promoters and curators proud. Proud of having brought such an attractive exhibit to Mexican audiences, both experts and fans, as well as curious individuals willing to know the life and work of Frida Kahlo.

Far from trying to explain the fridomania, there is no wonder that the chilangos who went to the exhibit wanted to know why this woman is so fascinanting. As ironic as it sounds, Kahlo’s presence is all over Mexico City, but her work is hard to reach here. Those who want to look at a real Kahlo’s painting have to travel to Austin, New York, or San Francisco, chasing private collections. As far as I know, one of the most important Kahlo’s paintings that remains in Mexico City is “Dos Fridas” (Two Fridas) at the Museum of Modern Art, near Chapultepec.

Yet, Mexico is still the Mecca of Frida’s fans who want to explore the same scenarios where she lived, suffered the consequences of a terrible accident, and enjoyed all the lovers that legend has attributed to her, including Diego Rivera, Leon Trotsky, and an alleged list of women. Somehow, Frida’s life and whereabouts allow her fans to dream about a woman who represent some kind of free spirit, sexual liberation, and strength against adversities–as well as to travel through an old Mexico City that doesn’t exist anymore.

Frida was lucky enough to grow up in Coyoacán, a little town that was still outside of urbanized Mexico City back in 1907 when she was born. The neighborhood is now part of the city but has been able to keep some of its cozy cobbled streets that attract hipsters, bohemians and students to its cafes, bars, and stores. Her childhood home, the Casa Azul, is in this area, the official museum and worship place of Frida’s life where you can take a peek into her private life (as private as a museum can be). After that, if you want to follow the same thread, you can take a cab or a pesero to reach the Anahuacalli Museum, Diego Rivera’s collection of pre-Hispanic art. (Your ticket from the Casa Azul also grants admission to Anahuacalli for one month.)

Frida studied at San Ildefonso, a beautiful building right in front of the Templo Mayor in the Centro Histórico. This is where Frida and Diego met when she was a 19 year-old student and he already was a famous painter, notorious for his political opinions and affection for Russia and the Communists. During this period, the Centro Histórico was a campus where young students crowded into cheap restaurants, used-book stores, and last but not least, cantinas.

Traces of Frida can also be found near Xochimilco, at the Dolores Olmedo Museum which is a gorgeous house worth to see just because of its beautiful gardens where peacocks and xoloscuincle dogs (Fridas’s favorite dog–with no hair at all) hang out with visitors. Olmedo was Rivera’s long-time lover and became later the administrator of Frida and Rivera’s art. Several of Frida’s paintings, such as The Broken Column, are part of the permanent collection, but they are often on display at exhibitions around the world, so it’s a good idea to call and check the status of specific works you are trying to see.

Right after the Frida Kahlo anniversary exhibit, the museum tried to repeat the success with a collection of Diego Rivera’s work. This time neither the press nor visitors rushed to the museum. Frida proved to have more fans and worshipers maybe due to the legend and mystery that still surrounds her as an interesting character to be explored. Maybe, deep in the ground, Rivera’s extremely high ego hurt a little.

Museo Frida Kahlo: Casa Azul; Londres 247, Col. del Carmen, Coyoacán; Phone: 5554 5999; Open Tuesday -Sunday, 10-6; Admission: 55 pesos

Museo Dolores Olmedo; Av. México 5843, Col. La Noria, Xochimilco; Tues-Sun 10am-6pm

Artemisa Téllez

Macha Mexico caught up with Artemisa Téllez, self-described fiction writer, lesbian, literature student, professional agitator, amateur journalist, and low-budget diva. She has published a collection of poetry, Versos Cautivos (2001), and a collection of short stories, Un Encuentro y Otros (2005), and has been published in several anthologies, including the bilingual lesbian short story anthology Dos Orilla/Two Shores (2008). Artemisa is also the creator and facilitator of the first women’s erotic literature workshop in Mexico and the co-creator of two shows of two “musical-poetic” lesbian shows with Fabiola Jiménez. In our electronic interview, we discuss her work as a writer and as the organizer of the TTTrans Festival in Mexico City and the Festival of Rock, Film, and Sexual Diversity as well as her hopes for what a queer Mexico City should look like.

You recently published an essay about the issues facing women writers in Mexico in an anthology about gender discrimination published by the Universidad Autónoma del Estado de México (UAEM). For those who are unfamiliar with Mexico’s literary landscape and can’t have the pleasure of reading your essay in Spanish, could you tell us about some of the issues you touch on in the essay?

In México the average of books read yearly are 2.9 (according to a 2006 CONACULTA survey). Most of them (close to the 80%) are textbooks. With the exception of Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, it is not required to read a SINGLE female Mexican author in the university programs, not even in the Spanish literature degree.

This means that a Mexican female author—after all the difficulties in becoming a writer, to take it seriously and be taken seriously, have the courage to face the machismo in publishing and cultural circles and finally get published—is not going to be read and when the first edition runs out, wont be re-issued. Under these conditions is almost impossible to succeed, most of them are forgotten when they aren’t here to defend their works.

Who are some women authors or lesbian authors that should be published and/or translated, but haven’t been?

I think the programs should include at least 20 mexican female authors. Only Poniatowska, Garro, Mastretta, Esquivel, Krauze and Loaeza have been considered in SOME cases (prices, scholarships). Usually there´s a moment in an ordinary literature course when they present “women mexican literature” they mention this names (Sor Juana and Castellanos) and students (or teachers) choose one or two works. I can tell you at least 100 names more, only talking about the published ones!

In your conversations and professional interactions with older lesbian and feminist authors in Mexico, what do you think has changed in the literary scene in the past forty years?

Feminism has changed everything, its incredible how many female authors published in the seventies and eighties under the influence of this movement. Unfortunately nowadays patriarchy is stronger than ever.

How so?

In México, the right wing is advancing; that means catholicism. For catholics the place of women is clear: mother (of twenty if God “says so”), obedient daughter or wife (or nun), and completely apolitical. Also the educational system is becoming increasingly sexist; most female writers I mention were discovered, published, and studied in the seventies. But that’s not only here in Mexico: women’s rights are being discussed all over the world. Even France (which long ago legalized abortion and contraception) is now debating if that’s right or not.

Do you know of any other organized efforts to defend this law? Are there any organizations that you think are doing good work for pro-choices causes in Mexico City and/or Mexico in general?

There are many feminist groups which have been doing a great job on it. Católicas Por el Derecho a Decidir has done an excellent campaign in favor of all women´s rights, including this. Their impact has been huge, cause they call themselves feminist catholics. Their slogan has been: “When the angel appeared to Mary, he ASKED HER…”

This year you were one of the co-organizers of the first annual TTTrans Festival in Mexico City. What challenges did the organizers face in creating that festival?

Well, the first was to find the right persons to consult in order to understand more about the problematic of being a transperson in México. Then to balance the festival, we didn’t want it to be an exhausting debate about politics, we wanted it to be truly holistic. We dedicated each day to an specific topic: the first was focused on politics, rights and laws (the Ley de Identidad de Género was under discussion in May, also was the first trans wedding), the second on health, hormones, surgeries and beauty and the last on art and culture. After the conferences we had a show and then a movie about transexuality, transgender or cross-dressing. We had a lot of press, but most of it was transphobic, they wanted to interview Mario and Diana (the groom and bride) to exhibit them as weirdos, and Tito Vasconcelos took credit of our job in front of the media. Most sponsors didn’t want to pay for the publicity, cause they realized the trans population is poor… Anyway Im very glad we did it, and was a great occasion to learn, show solidarity, and provide of an information of quality. Most activists and institutions were happy to contribute with their knowledge, presence, and material.

In the United States, there is often a lot of tension between the lesbian community and the trans community, particularly around the exclusion of transwomen from “women’s only spaces.” How is the situation in Mexico City?

Lesbofeministas don’t accept transwomen. They say they are a group that is appropriating our bodies and spaces; they still look at them with distrust because they think they’re men. In less radical groups the rejection isn’t as bad, though it’s still there.

How do these communities work together?

With the exception of Opcion Bi (a bisexual/queer group) I´ve never known them to.

From your perspective as a non-trans lesbian, what does the lesbian community need to change about it’s attitude about transpeople?

We have to understand these women are exactly what they say they are, and not to fall in a biology-conditioning position, which is not very fortunate for us (non-trans women) either. Biology (as it is understood, or used) is blind. In that case, women are females and they should feel that way and they should prefer males for reproduction, that would be the “natural behavior”. Under this vision, lesbians (or even women who do not want to reproduce) appear as “unnatural”. It is necessary to understand that biological gender, sexual identity, and sexual preference are three different variables which can be mixed in infinite ways, all of them normal.

You’ve also been involved in creating queer social spaces outside of the Zona Rosa (such as the parties you organized as part of Meras Efímeras and as part of the Second Annual Festival of Rock, Film, and Sexual Diversity). Why do you feel those spaces are necessary in the LGBTQ scene in Mexico City?

First, because all ghettos are dangerous (a good example was El Sádico, a series-killer who operated on the corner of Florencia with Londres in the Zona Rosa), boring, and likely to disappear, especially with this right-wing government that we have.

I’m curious about this idea of gay ghettos disappearing. Also, I’m not sure I agree that gay ghettos are a negative thing. At least when there are many gay venues in one neighborhood, the streets themselves in that neighborhood start to become “gay” in their own way, with machas holding hands on the sidewalks as they walk from one club to another. Do we lose that when there is just a gay club here, a gay party there?

I didn’t mean to  say they’re going to disappear. I think they’ll become unnecessary someday, and I think that would be better. Many don’t consider the ways that ghettos discriminate too; not everybody is comfortable in them. The idea of the “gay lifestyle” discriminates against lesbians, bisexuals, intersexed people, gay men in the closet and all other ideologies, even though they might be “gay” in some way. I don’t consider myself a gay woman, and even I don’t think of myself as a prototypical lesbian, I feel theres no place for my way of being in “Gayland”, nor in “Straightland”, I hope someday many of us can feel comfortable in (as the Zapatistas say) “a world where many worlds are possible”.

What is lacking from the mainstream GLBTQ scene that you’re hoping to create?

An alternative for those who have never been comfortable in the Zona Rosa; and a more integrated community with others who are also excluded (emos, punks, teenagers, seropositive people). It is so important that we have diverse and positive images outside of stereotypes, and there’s no better vehicle for that than art, culture, and entertainment. Beside our being LGBTQ, we also have our tastes, ideas, friends, families, and free time as well as the possibility (and right) of difference.

That sort of integration is something you’ve aimed for in your work as a writer and editor also. Can you tell me about dentrodelcoctel, the online magazine you edit? What is it? What are your goals?

dentrodelcoctel is a non-remunerative project whose main objective is to provide well-documented information in human rights, sexual education, gender and LGBTQ studies in a bimonthly publication. We also publish comics, photos, short stories and poetry. The magazine is free and available (past and current issues) all the time and is not divided in gay section, trans section; we divide it in topics (poetry, news, opinion…). We believe that way the LGBTQ community and other readers will be more aware about other problematics and ways of being. I mean if you like poetry, read it and if you identify, or like it (or hate it) isn’t necessarily going to be because it is written by a trans sex worker. In that very moment you could realize were not so different.

Back to the issue of Catholicism that we touched on earlier, how do you relate to your own Catholicism, as a lesbian or as a mexicana?

I’m a cultural Catholic (I was raised as one, I studied in a Catholic school, and my granny, who’s very close to me, is Catholic), but I consider myself an eclectic atheist believer. I believe in magic, energy, the Virgen de Guadalupe, faith and good will. Being lesbian has nothing to do with it.

Do you play with Catholicism in your writing?

Yes. I love catholic tropes (guilt, sin, hell and doble moral), if you can’t understand this idiosyncrasy it’s impossible to approach the problematic of sex in our culture. My culture and environment are Catholic and that is profusely reflected in my writing. Also, nuns gave me the opportunity of living in an all-female community, and learn about sorority, solidarity, independence and lesbian love!

How do you find time to write when you are so busy with activism and work?

Writing is my activism, but in fact I’m looking forward to having more time for work. I have a thesis and two novels that have been on stand-by for two years now. I plan to make a stop very soon; I really feel it’s necessary. Anyway it’s impossible to write all the time. My life is divided in three: living period (when the material is gotten), writing period (when I start researching and putting an order to the memories, ideas, projects…) and publishing period.

Finally, you’ve already mentioned some female Mexican authors, but if you had to give our readers a list of “require reading,” who would be on it?

Beatriz Espejo, Rosario Castellanos (at the very least because there are 100 elementary schools with her name), Luisa Josefina Hernández, Brianda Domecq, as I said, I could give you 100 names, but these are probably some of the most important for me, cause they give voice to the women’s condition in México through their works.

Artemisa Téllez’s books are available online at www.leslibros.com.

Macha Mexico’s (English-language) write-up of the invited performers, panelists, and presenters can be found here.

4o. Festival Lésbico, from November 20th-23th. Centro Cultural Contempo. Plaza del Ángel, Londres 162, 1st. Floor. Free entrance.

UPDATE: Festival schedule posted.

The 4th edition of the Festival Lésbico represents one of the few attempts during the year to gather and celebrate the lesbian community in Mexico City. It is organized by the non-profit organization Fundación Género Diverso, A. C. headed by Martha Cuevas, a veteran lesbian activist who has focused her work on young queer community, sexual education, and combatting domestic violence and violent relationships among lesbians. For a long period of time she worked at the now disappeared Cabaretito VIP as the promoter of Lady’s Night on Thursdays.

One of the goals of Fundación Género Diverso is to promote “a better quality of life” among the queer community through cultural activities that involve artists, politicians, and institutions as well as NGOs related to sexual diversity and sexual education. This time, the festival will be held at the Centro Cultural Contempo located in the Zona Rosa. A formal schedule has not being published yet, but a list of the participants already settled for the Festival is as follows:

LECTURES

Ana Francis Mor. Activist and actress, Mor is a member of Las Reinas Chulas, the cabaret group that manage El Vicio, a little theathre in Coyoacán. Ana Francis Mor, recently married in a symbolic ceremony to her female partner, will talk about theatre, women and diversity issues, based on her own experience.

Enoe Uranga. A veteran activist for the human rights is a former independent member of the Legislative Assembly of the Capital. Her biggest strike was the initiave regarding “Leyes de Convivencia”, the legal figure that assembles to a “gay marriage” in Mexico. Her lecture will be on “Positive political experiences and challenges we face to face”

Paulina Millán. Psychologist and sexologist, Paulina is in charge of the research department at the Instituto Mexicano de Sexología. She hosts the internet radio program “Sexo Abierto”. She is also member of Fundación Género Diverso, where she coordinates the group Nueva Generación de Jóvenes Lesbianas. Her lecture will be on sexuality and eroticism.

Musas de Metal. I know this group because of a couple of parties they organized few years ago. The environment was a little awkward since it seemed that one of the main purposes was to meet someone. But it called my attention that the crowd was pretty diverse, including the whole array of variety in the queer world. The organization has worked on case studies of discrimination and violence against lesbians. Their lecture will be about their experiences and projects.

Fundación Género Diverso A.C. Based on their 11 year-experience, this organization will talk about their campaign against violence among lesbians. The lecture is called “Let’s Make Constructive Relationships”.

LECTURES ON LITERATURE “Literature, creation… and then what?”

Gilda Salinas. Author of short stories, play and film scripts. She teaches workshops on literature and drama. She has written six novels, 22 plays, and three film scripts. She has received many awards due to her work.

Carolina Villanueva (Newvillage). Even though her actual career has to do more with tourism, life lead her to get involved with the world of TV, movies and publicity, where she started working as a script writer.

Odette Alonso. Poet, narrator, and literature promoter. Her short story “Nocturnal Animal” won the literature contest “Mujeres en vida” in 2008. She works as editor at the Dirección General de Publicaciones y Fomento Editorial of the UNAM.

Bertha de la Maza. She is manager of the internet bookstore LesLibros, a very interesting project that aims to distribute queer literature in Mexico (and around the world, I guess) through internet., She is also the distributor of Voces de Tinta, and publishing houses Egales and Topka, as well as of independent writers in Mexico. During 9 years, she has worked as a literature promoter in order to take the LGBT literature out of the closet.

CONAPRED and Dirección General de Igualdad y Diversidad Social del DF.. I still don’t know if representatives of these two institutions will participate at the same lecture, but it seems that they will be part of a space opened to lesbian organizations in order to listen to their proposals. In the case of the second governmental organization, they will describe their activities regarding programs and campaigns addressed to the lesbian community and sexual diversity. Something like a report from the government for the LGBT community.

THEATER

Las Hijas de Safo. We’ve mentioned this group before. This is a great opportunity to see them performing. I have only listened to them from a backstage, but they sounded agile, funny, and neat. Also, as far as I can remember, their make up was great.

Drag King México. They define themselves as the first drag king group in Mexico, which I think is an interesting enough reason to take a look at what they are doing. Their show will be about facing discrimination in Mexican society, especially prepared for this occasion.

Art Draof. They will perform twice. The first play is named “Historias en minutos” which is based on the stories of lesbians of different ages, social backgrounds and experiences. The stories converge to the same point throughout the play, with music as an important element. The second performance of this group is more of a comedy. They will play various famous Mexican singers from the eighties. They themselves say you can’t miss the experience…

SHOWS

Burlesquimeras. Institutrices de Belleza Universal. The first queer Mexican neo-burlesque troupe, the Burlesquimeras use their bodies as means of expression, combining humor, strip-tease, satire, and camp to create a fun and sexy show. The group members are Chichis Glam, Gabina Estrella, Glitter, Islandia, Lupe Tequila, and RiberQueen. What can I say about this show? You will have a blast…!

“Emocional”. by Ana Carolina. A stand-up comedy performed by an Argentinean girl who, if the writing on her blog is any indication, has created a show that is very funny and smart. She gives workshops on stand-up comedy and also works as correspondent for an Argentinean radio station.

“Efimeros Goces e Inés yo con tu amor“. by Artemisa Tellez and Fabiola Jiménez. Based on poetry text by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz and other contemporary writers/poets, this literary show fuses music, poetry and lesbian experiences in poignant and funny ways.

LITERATURE
There will be also, readings of lesbian short stories and poetry. Part of the literature activities include the opening of Dos Orillas, a book that compiles short stories and poetry written by lesbians from America (yes, the continent) and Spain.

And last but not least, it seems that the big show will feature Aurora y la Academia, a rock-pop band that was famous during the late nineties in Mexico. The members of the group are three women (now in their thirties) that define their style as “Flower Pop”. Check out their myspace if you want to take a look a t them and listen to a little bit of their music.

4o. Festival Lésbico, from November 20th-23th. Centro Cultural Contempo. Plaza del Ángel, Londres 162, 1st. Floor. Free entrance.

Here at Macha Mexico, we’ve been busy interviewing some amazing queers and feminists working on interesting projects in Mexico City. By translating and publishing this series of conversations, our hope is to introduce their voices and ideas to new audiences. It is with great pleasure, then, that we inaugurate this series with Mexican/Argentine tropical-punk band the Kumbia Queers.

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After meeting at the Belladona festival in Buenos Aires in late 2006, five Argentine girls and one Mexican got together to experiment playing cumbia, and the Kumbia Queers were born. Although they’ve been playing live shows for a little over a year, all are veteran musicians; bassist Patricia “Kumbiadaver”, guitarrist Pila “Zombie” Jackson, and drummer “Inspector” also play in the Argentine queercore band the She Devils. Strumming the charango is accoustic punk musician Juana Chang, and lead singer Ali “Guaguanco” is a successful DJ and front-woman for Mexican dyke punk band the Ultrasonicas. In the past year, the Kumbia Queers have toured in both North and South America, and the 2007 video of their cover hit “La Isla con Chicas” was considered “Revelation of the Year” on YouTube and currently has over fifty thousand hits.

We sat down with the Kumbia Queers in Ali’s apartment in Colonia Doctores a few days after their packed show at the Centro Cultural España. Over a bottle of tequila we discussed their opinions about the difference between punk and cumbia, women in the music industry, and the meaning of the word queer.

MM: So, why “queers”?

Juana Chang: Why not?

MM: The name “Kumbia Queers” is very political, but is also very bilingual. It’s almost like you have to have all these English and Spanish references to really “get” the title [with its reference to established male cumbia bands like the Kumbia Kings as well as to the word "queer"].

Patricia Kumbiacadaver: For some people, it’s the word “kumbia” that gets their attention.

Pila “Zombie” Jackson: For me, it’s really great. For me, it’s political and at the same there is no need to explain anything. Those that understand, understand and those that don’t—maybe say, “What is queer?” And I tell them it’s everything that isn’t normal, that isn’t what they impose as “normal.” I think it’s something that is impossible to define, and, for that, I love it. It’s so many things.

Ali Guaguancó: First came the name, and then came the band.

MM: Has the ambiguous nature of your name allowed you to get gigs in places where you wouldn’t otherwise? Has the word “queer” in your title kept you out of traditional cumbia venues?

AG: No, because in Mexico or in Argentina it’s not likely that someone would know what “queer” is. For someone putting on a show, the least important thing is the name of the band. What’s important is whether they will draw a crowd or not.

JC: To me it doesn’t seem that important.

MM: We noticed that at your shows you say stuff like, “Are you ready, chicas?” even though the crowd often has more men in it than women. It’s as if you were only addressing a specific part of the crowd…

PZJ: The men enjoy themselves too. Chicas, chicos… it doesn’t matter to them. To me, what’s cool is that everyone is included, which doesn’t always happen. It’s like a party for everyone.

MM: So, for you guys, can the word queer include straight people?

I: Yeah, absolutely. Maybe there are some straight people that don’t fit anywhere. Queer means so many different things, and no one has to feel uncomfortable.

AG: [Queer] is an urban tribe made up of the people that don’t want to belong to any tribe.

MM: We heard a paper by Canadian academic Jasmine Rault in which she discusses your music as an alternative to the melancholy and apathy that seems to characterize a lot of American queer discourses (music, culture, activism…). What do you think?

PK: [Seeing our show,] she was struck by what she saw and processed it in a way that brought in everything she’s studied about that. But playing with the band, actually being there, everything feels more spontaneous.

JC: We know that there is a political thing here, but we didn’t conceive it as something political.

MM: So how did you go from making punk and rock music to playing cumbia?

PK: I have no idea… The day they began to play, it was a very hot day, I was depressed… I went over and everything came naturally. It just seem very natural to me…

PZJ: We all have our punk bands. I think it happened sort of the same way. For me it’s amazing to grab the guitar and sing a song with all your anger and your sadness, sing about how ugly things are out there. For me, that’s great. And then, to play a song just for fun and debauchery is a trip. I love being able to do both things. If I had to do just one… that would be cruel. If I had to only do the fun part, I’d feel like the protest was missing. Doing both things is fucking awesome.

AG: It’s a response to euphoria…

PZJ: Darkness comes along with all that fear and sadness. So, the more diverse the better.

JC: [by doing cumbia] I discovered that I like things that I would never imagined.

MM: What’s it like being an all-girl cumbia band in a “man’s world”?

I: I’v never had a problem.

PZJ: I think it has to do with your attitude. Every member of the band is very grounded on stage.

PK: In Argentina, some time ago, it was more difficult for girls to go up on a stage. I remember, when I was playing with another girl, the audience threw unimaginable things at us, including stones… This was during the dictatorship.

AG: I think now [sexism in music] is much more pronounced here in Mexico.

JC: You realize it when you see the husbands here doing all the sound tech stuff. I’ve always had to plug everything in by myself!

AG: You see that no one helps us carry our equipment. That’s a luxury we don’t give ourselves.

PZJ: Joan Jett said in an interview, “No one asks me what kind of pedal I use”, but that is also part of what’s on your mind [as a musician].

PK: And we do talk about that stuff in everyday life…

MM: So, there seems to be this double standard for women in rock, that you have to be beautiful, but if you’re too beautiful, then no one takes you seriously. What’s so cool about the Kumbia Queers is how you guys seem to play with being beautiful and being ugly, like how when you play “Kumbia Zombie” you tease the audience by taking off your shirts and revealing Ali’s red lacy bra, but then put on these ripped up zombie outfits.

PZJ: But we are gorgeous! (laugh). From my perspective, I am a woman, in my own way, like Ali, like Patricia… Patricia is the “femme” of the band, but with those huge hands she has, she can slap you on the face and kill you, you know?

MM: You guys get laid in your shows?

PZJ: No, we are very professional. (laugh)

MM: What do you think about the lesbian scene in Mexico?

PZK: I don’t know it.

I: I don’t know what “lesbian scene” means, neither here nor in Argentina. I am not interested in it at all.

AG: The lesbian scene is very boring. It doesn’t catch my attention, or my curiosity, I just don’t feel identified with it.

PK: Like any other groups or urban tribes, or however you want to call them, there are people who have to turn to different ways of identification in order to come out of their shell, to feel safe, to feel more comfortable.

AG: [The lesbian scene] is too formal, too serious.

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JC: They should lower their guard.

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PZJ: I mean, I do think there is homophobia, but I don’t see as a good response to close yourself and create a circle with rules…. That doesn’t motivate me. Back when my sexuality was first exploding, I explored a bunch of places [in Argentina's lesbian scene] but I ran away from them. I didn’t want to be a part of that.

AG: It’s like, for gay men… If they don’t like [gay icon] Paulina Rubio, what can they do…?

PK: That’s why we are a group that loves many different kinds of people….

The Kumbia Queers have said goodbye to Mexico City for the summer, but are currently on tour in the United States, with shows coming up this week in Chicago, Bloomington, and New York City. We highly recommend their music and seeing them live is unforgettable. Check out the Kumbia Queers’ myspace for tour dates.