Ok, so this is one big hell of mess hon, but I’m gonna try to be as nice and understanding as possible with you, since you were trying to be honest with me too.
First of all, you’re saying you’re “latina from both sides”, cool, still living in the US, were you born on Puerto Rico? have you lived in Puerto Rico? Because I was born, raised and still live here in latinoamerica as I type this. I, unlike you, wasn’t born nor raised speaking english in the US, so you can tell I had a great total amount of 0 (cero) clue of what people meant by afroindigenous, whitepassing or anything else back in the day. My english was shit, and probably still is.
As of now, and after some years navigating the usamerican community, I have been able to understand how to express myself in english better, and find the labels that actually fit me ethnically speaking.
Let’s kill two birds with one stone shall we? You say calling a santera or curandera a “bruja” is wrong. I understand where you’re coming from, since my grandma was an afroindigenous curandera too, and like I have explained in an ask a while ago, she didn’t ever call herself a bruja, she actually taught me why she wouldn’t do so. In my country, and for my people as diaguitas, the word has quite a negative history. We’re afro-indigenous, unlike many other andean peoples, because the spaniards were really fixated on fucking us up and washing down our culture as much as possible after finding so much resistance from our peoples (specially most southern tribes, like the kilmes and mine) so they forced us into slavery, forced us to mix with other slaves brought from áfrica, and turned our culture into what it is today, an amalgamation of african and indigenous culture, not just andean like other nations far up north.
Like I’ve also explained many times already, I was brought up by a black, afroindigenous mom, and my white dad. I didn’t quite have much relationship with my paternal family until recently, because family issues, so I spent all childhood I can remember with my indigenous grandma and my maternal family. She was tucumana, and had to move to Buenos Aires (provincia, not the city) after marrying my grandfather, who was in the navy. That’s where my culture comes from, Tucumán, afroindigenous diaguita community.
The thing is: the US and Argentina are nothing alike in matter of race. I was brought up with the notion that we are all human, that’s our race. Black? not a thing. White? Not a thing. Indigenous, yes a thing, but not a race, a culture, passed down through lineages in our communities. Our culture is not tied to race, it’s a different thing, we’re latinos, because we’re part of latinoamerica. We’re argentineans, because that’s the country our ancestral lands now belong to and where we live? and we’re “indios” like my grandma used to say, because we’re indigenous. My grandma, also had the same beliefs that pretty much everyone in Tucumán has, and that I’ve also mentioned before in my blog: Curanderas heal, brujas curse. A curandera’s job many times entails healing through the maleficient work of a “bruja”.
Now, as much as I respect and love my deceased grandma, but I know calling us indians was something left by colonization, and part of my job as an indigenous person decolonizing myself is to change that to indigenous, and more specifically, due to our people’s history, afroindigenous. Because if you look at andean people in perú, they’re pretty much “andean looking” by stereotype, and absolutely no one in my community looks exactly like that. My maternal family’s skin is much darker, their hair black, curly and afro-textured. Don’t even get me started on the fact that curanderas in tucumán, like my grandma, were santeras, not by orisha practice, not lucumi practiced in caribbean communities, santera as in a curandera who worked through God and the Saints, and those Saints, even if not specifically associated to an orisha as in lucumi, do have different connotations and given powers that aren’t catholic at all. The names of the orishas were lost and associated with indigenous spirits like Pachamama too, but the practice itself remains, the way we work, the music, the offerings, it’s still santería and still african american culture.
And another task I take as an afroindigenous curandera is to stop the colonial mindset of brujas being evil. That’s why me and other latinas are reclaiming the word. It was used against my family, today, in my presence, and way before I was even born. Hell, i’m still living in latinoamerica hon, I myself have to deal with the negative connotations of being a bruja. I live in a small evangelist-dominant town in southern patagonia, and that means: brujas are evil satanists booo, when that couldn’t be more far from the truth. “Bruja” was and continues to be used against me and my people. I myself have gotten the side eyes and nasty ass comments from people passing by when I was doing a reading for my friend using my mesa, in la costanera, by the beach. I know what I’m talking about, because unlike those latine in the diaspora, I live here. I breathe, and spend every second of my life here in latam dealing with this shit. I cannot un-choose to be latine like you guys can. I cannot choose to forget my latinidad and just act usamerican like many latines have done after moving to the US.
I have taken my fair time to unpack my own identity and learn to navigate through an english speaking community, through an US-centric community, and that’s how I got to understand that while my grandma always called us “indiecitos bonaerenses”, we’re afroindigenous. Many young peoples in our communities, not just me, are reclaiming these terms, and reclaiming not just our indigeneity and decolonizing, but reclaiming our blackness, whitepassing or not. Hell, being black and indigenous to me was always in the same package, that’s just what I grew up around, two sides of the same coin. We were “indios” or “indígenas” and calling ourselves “negri” or “negrita” is still an endearment term we use among ourselves with family or friends.
Living in la patagonia I am closer to many mapuche and tehuelche communities too, which means I, again, everyday have contact with other afroindigenous and indigenous people and discuss things like this. Every other indigenous person who I’ve talked to agrees that “indio” is disrespectful af. Mapuches also have experiences with people calling them “aborígenes”, which they also find incredibly disrespectful. So we’re indigenous, or afroindigenous, period.
Onto hoodoo and afroindigeneity, since I am not a native english speaker, I didn’t even know the term afroindigenous existed. Just as back in the day, I didn’t even know “whitepassing” existed either. To me, I was just mixed. That’s literally the truth, that’s why I just identified as mixed latina at first, then as indigenous, because indigenous is the literal translation for indígena, and later, and thanks to other helpful black folks in the community, I was taught that the name in english that I was seeking is actually afroindigenous or BIPOC. It’s cool to learn new vocabulary when you’re not a native speaker actually. I also had some time to stop, and ask many, many rootworkers if It was ok for me, as a whitepassing afroindigenous person to practice hoodoo, since it was born in the southern black belt of the US. I got told, yes, you’re black, your ancestors and even your close family share our fight against slavery and racism, hoodoo is yours to reclaim, and so I did, as means to honor my black ancestors, and my own mother who had recently passed away too, and who I know have struggled with racism all their lives. This is a very personal thing for me that I take seriously for that same reason.
Now, I have never said “we’re all latinos”, because not all people are wtf. That makes literally no sense. But you can’t deny a simple truth: white latinos in latinoamerica are, well, latinos. And many times, these white latinos are more connected to their culture than the so called “latinxs” living in the US who have 1 great-great-great grandma who taught them how to make tamales. Being latino is not about race, it’s about our culture, we come in all shades and colors. My own family is proof of that. While my mom was afroindigenous, my dad is pretty much white, and both sides are all-latine born and raised here just like me. And even being “white”, he still suffers the US’s neocolonialism, how the US fucks up our economy every time they feel like it, how they just coup our governments out, how they just send people to kill us, he still deals with xenophobia when going to other countries (dammit, we got literally yelled at for more than 30 minutes by a random french asshole in a mall below the Louve museum when I was travelling with my family for my quinceaños, and you gonna tell me white latinos don’t face discrimination? the asshole literally just heard us SPEAK and started cursing us and asking the police to take us out of there for being “fucking latinos”).
You can’t tell me how to define latinidad, girl, I live here. I was born and raised here. It’s my land and my culture. Latinos are by definition those born and living in latinoamerica, so you can’t just press a button and delete white latinos just because they don’t fit your US-stereotype definition of latinidad based on race. Because again, this isn’t about race. “White latinos” still speak our tongue, watch telenovelas, eat milanesas and drink mate. Having a great-great-great granpa in europe doesn’t make you european and I got it very clear that europeans don’t fucking like us, calling us “sudacas” and treating us like shit on our own land.
Onto brujería, I have also discussed it many times, brujería is whatever the bruja defines it as. Brujería is a latine practice, just like bruxaria, because it is reclaiming a word that was used against us latinos, be us african american, asian american or indigenous. This is an experience that all POC latines share, the idea of colonizers calling us POC’s practices “brujería/bruxaria” and reclaiming that word for our peoples is our way to fight back, but our peoples are not all black. Some latines are black, yes, some are asian, some are white even, some, like me, are mixed afroindigenous. You can’t go to a latino and say “oh you can’t use brujería because you aren’t black”, because nor latinidad nor brujería are defined by blackness.
On the other hand, hoodoo is. So if you want a practice rooted in blackness, hoodoo is your go to. I’ve talked with many african american rootworkers and they’ve all agreed on other black practitioners of the diaspora practicing hoodoo as well. If you want a practice based on latinidad, then brujería. While hoodoo is rooted in the collective experience of blackness, slavery and fighting racism and white supremacy, brujería is the collective experience of latinidad, of opression of poc-latine practitioners and fighting against “el evangelio”, as our peoples say, fighting against the church who back in the day used religion as a tool to demonize our practices, calling them so, and take our culture away from us. They’re two completely different things: while hoodoo is learning to use what tools black peoples had available in america to survive and give power back to our peoples, brujería is a fairly new concept of reclaiming that word, historically used against us, to fight back the assimilation and de-culturization the church has tried to impose for so long. Brujería is not hoodoo, a rootworker is not a bruja. While brujería can come from an afrolatine and include rootwork, it’s not the norm. Brujería doesn’t stem from hoodoo.
Into the “mestize latinos” thing. Hon, I have said it, and will say it again. Mestizaje has way different connotations here in south america. I know you’re coming from a puerto rican pov, as someone who has had to deal with that “mestizaje cósmico” bullshit, and I can tell you with all honesty, the first time I ever heard of that shit was here in tumblr from another puerto rican. While mestize and white latinos may be a thing you call people far up north, it’s different here, and I honestly don’t understand why you guys have such big troubles with understanding that two societies can actually have different historical experiences and thus different perceptions about mestizaje.
I understand your anger, but that pov simply doesn’t apply to an entirely different community, with different experiences. That doesn’t mean your anger isn’t justified, you’re right, mestizaje was used in caribbean latine communities to fuck up black and indigenous folks, but not a single south american person I know has ever dealt with that experience, like, I have talked with my non-passing family, spoke to my non-passing friends, and not a single one of us had ever heard of that shit before. So, while things are, indeed, different with people in the caribe from communities with similar experiences to yours, what I speak is my truth, as someone from south america, and my people’s experiences are just as valid as yours.
I have never meant to silence black latinos or else. All I ask is for people to respect us when we reclaim that word, just as we respect rootworkers who reclaim hoodoo. You wouldn’t be happy with a person asking “hey, I don’t feel experieced enough to call myself a bruja, can I just say I am a rootworker?”, then why do you accept downgrading latine experiences?
When I say I am a rootworker, is because I am a black woman, and I have taken the time to learn rootwork as taught by black rootworkers. But that girl had no intention to learn brujería or be latine at all, she just wanted the word as a substitute for rootworker, and that’s wrong and disrespectful to us latines who are actually taking the time to learn our history and fight back past and present colonialism.
You say I call y’all gringos and that’s disrespectful, but that’s what you are? if you’re from the US, I have bad news for you, you’re a gringa. Acá y en la china, “here and in China”, which is an expression that means, go to wherever you want and you’ll get the same result, just be yourself, speak english, talk about race like you do, do your gringadas, and people are gonna know you’re american. That’s not being disrespectful, it’s acknowledging that latines living in the US have a different culture and pov from those in latam. That’s their experience as diaspora, while this is our experience living in the homeland.
Brujería is about reclaiming latinidad and reclaiming a word used against us latinos. Black latines, asian latines, whatever. If you’re poc latine, you can reclaim brujería because it was used against our peoples. We can discuss if white latines could reclaim brujería or not, since their ancestors didn’t directly get oppressed by it? and I agree with you on that. But what we can’t discuss is their latinidad. That’s simply a fact, you get born here, raised here, you have a documento nacional de identidad and a passport that says “mercosur”, well yeah, you’re latine, it’s part of their culture. Not all latinos are poc, that’s simply facts, like it or not.
I don’t know where you’re getting that brujería is an eclectic mess. Again, that may be the case in more northern communities? for uslatines? no clue. It’s not the case in latam, and definitely not the case in south america.
If you wanna discuss this more in depth, my DM’s are open, If you don’t, that’s also cool with me too. I truly hope y’all understand that people having different experiences is a thing, not just “disagreeing” for the sake of doing so. I can only speak for my own experiences, in the end, you can believe what you want to believe. This is my truth as someone, again, born, raised and living in latam, who isn’t a native english speaker, trying to make sense in a language that isn’t my own. Shame me for not being able to fully express myself in the past, maybe not even now, but at least I know I am trying to help others and that my intention was, and will always be, to protect both the black and latine communities, and respect our different experiences as poc, and as people from different places and societies. I have always spoken my truth in the best way I could, and I will continue to do so, but you can’t blame me for having a hard time adapting to an english-speaking, US-centric community.