Nuyoricans Slam Their Way About Immigration
Why we must remember the El Paso Shootings
By Hanna Park
New York, NY — A brewing cultural hub sits at the corner of the East Village, where people of color flock to hear polemics spurred by artists of their brethren. The spirited crowd resembles a congregation where the devoted and thrilled newcomers are easily distinguished. Spotted among the teeming faces in a recent Friday Night Poetry Slam, was also the star from 13 Reasons Why, Michele Selene Ang. As performers rise to the barely lifted stage, they speak in rapid spitfires — almost in tongues — about sociopolitical-charged issues of the time.
The Nuyorican Poets Cafe is a cherished bastion that serves as a breeding ground for poetry slams, as well as hip-hop, jazz, and other theatrical performances. Founded in 1973 by writer and poet Miguel Algarín among others, the cafe transfigured from a salon in his apartment to become the “most integrated place on the planet” in the words of Beat poet Allen Ginsberg. As part of the 1960s Nuyorican Movement, the Cafe was initially formed to claim the heritage and contributions of Puerto Rican New Yorkers (hence “Nuyoricans”) who were not accepted in the mainstream artistic landscape, but has now evolved to comprise African-/Asian-/Latin-American communities.
While the outside world is embroiled in the political tumult over migrant kids put in cages, an asylum ban attempt-turned-fiasco, and an El Paso massacre aimed at the “Hispanics invasion of Texas” — with the shooter echoing the words of President Trump — the walls inside the Nuyorican offer a strikingly contrasting safe space of sheer artistry and resistance.
That sense of refuge still exists.
Christopher “Chillo” Cajigas, a New York-based performing poet and hip hop artist who featured in the Grammy award-winning album The Offense of the Drum, was invited to a recent Friday Night Poetry slam. With an orotund voice as full as his body, he echoed the struggles Central/South American immigrants face.
“In the desert lost trying to get across,” Cajigas boomed. “Some of them crossing into a land that was once theirs…” Spoken under the cramped dim light, the crowd drunk on the booze and late Friday night responded to Cajigas with sassy whistles, jibing snaps, and inflamed screams. His poem took the crowd “running with the coyotes” hand in hand with the kids, drinking spirits with Zapata and Pancho, and ultimately, questioning the Treaty of Hidalgo.
Clasping his fists onto his chest, he fervently spat out in full-bodied flowing diction the jarring hypocrisy of barring the very immigrants the country reaped benefits from. “The United States/Who’s making money off the Maquiladoras/The processed corn and the profit off borders/ Using goods manifested by their cheap labor… ”
In a separate interview, Cajigas explained the theme of hypocrisy embedded in his poem, “New Mexico, Texas, California, and Arizona were all places that belonged to Mexico or people further south at one time.” Pointing out how the same visa process was not applied to present-day White immigrants, he said, “The Europeans that came over… they didn’t always have visas. The whole idea of visas is recent. Everyone that came over here didn’t necessarily go through a process.”
While he wasn’t arguing for a completely free border per se, he thought that the hostility against immigrants for not coming here the “right way” was a purely sanctimonious jab.
“Conservatives are probably using the goods that are manufactured by these same illegals, using them in the kitchens, or as gardeners in their lawns.”
“I don’t live far from the Hamptons, but I see it all the time,” he said, soberly reflecting on his first-hand accounts. “So I think it is hypocritical. I don’t think [immigrants] are trying to exploit the legal system. These people just want a better life… and I can’t knock someone for doing that.”
His poem — “Let’s Talk About It” — was actually written three years ago for No More Deaths, an advocacy group that seeks to end the deaths of undocumented immigrants crossing the desert regions of the US-Mexico border. The poem was used for a fundraiser to raise money and resources for these migrants, revealing his genuine commitment to the issue to be more than just preaching to the choir.
“A lot of people died in the desert without water, so the goal was to help out in a positive way,” Cajigas said, explaining why Latin immigrants crossing the border needed resources. According to the U.S. Border Patrol, 7,505 migrant deaths occurred along the border between the fiscal years of 1998 and 2018. Referring to immigration opponents, Cajigas added, “Some might say I was abetting people crossing illegally. But that’s what it was for.”
Another resident poet at the Nuyorican who spoke into the obvious yet overlooked matter of hypocrisy in the immigration issue is Erik Maldonado, aka Advocate of Wordz. As an author and arts educator, he had also taught poetry performance in universities such as Georgetown, Princeton, NYU, among others. His poem, “Superman,” written in 2012 was based on Action Comics #900, in which Superman surrenders his American citizenship to align with a protest in Iran.
“The greatest immigrant the world has ever seen… is Superman,” Maldanado began, referring to how the hero only arrived on Earth as an infant after being born on planet Krypton. “Regardless of your political affiliation, everyone loves him. But it’s the story of an immigrant. How much more of an immigrant can you be than Superman?”
But if Superman is a beloved “American” hero based on an immigrant story, how do we explain the anti-immigrant rhetoric steeped in the country?
Homing in on New York, the Nuyorican, and his Puerto Rican bloodline to weigh in on the beauty in diversity, Maldanado spoke in clipped articulate diction on the need to quell the fear of the un-whitening of America.
“If the world is going to look like a mix of everyone’s blood in 1,000 or 2,000 years then look at Puerto Rico,” he said, citing a National Geographic study that revealed how the Puerto Rican’s bloodline included a DNA percentage of almost all the ethnic regions of the world.
“Everyone is our cousin. We have some people who are red hair and fair skin — to the point you can see their veins — to people who are very dark with tight curls,” he added, enlarging his almond-colored eyes. “You could go to Southeast Asia, and see people with the last name Gonzales, Rodrigues, or Mendes… We got everyone’s blood. Literally.”
For Maldanado, his genealogy serves as a reminder of what America was meant to be — a country historically intermixed to be a melting pot of cultures.
“We like to say America is a land of immigrants because that’s sexy,” Maldonado said matter-of-factly. “But in many ways, it’s not. America is really a country of colonizers, enslaved people, and natives that had their land stolen. But if you buy into the story of America of immigrants, we’re supposed to be that great experiment… that country of refuge, where one person and one look can’t represent the country. Not for any political ideology, but just because we’re supposed to be a nation of diversity.”
As the outside world brawls over who belongs in America, the closed doors of the Nuyorican seek a truer definition of what it means to be an American. As current and former poets speak about Latino immigrants, they focus on the double standards of shunning yet using these illegal migrants, when much of the country’s narrative hinged on an immigrant narrative.
