Annotations for Subject-headings: Art

Long before the word “multicultural” came into popular usage, it was reflected on the public television's children's program, Sesame Street. Now the program is making an extra effort targeting minority children with special cultural curricula. This year, the Emmy award-winning show is placing an emphasis on Latino culture as Mandalit del Barco reports from New York.

[Cheerful Sesame Street Music]

As Sesame Street becomes more bilingual, even the theme song incorporates Latino rhythms. With this season's emphasis on Latino cultures, viewers can watch Big Bird leading a Mariachi band, and Oscar the Grouch dancing the Mambo with Tito Puente. Sesame Street is visited by Chicano rock band Los Lobos and New York's Puerto Rican folk music group, Los Pleneros de la 21. The show goes on location to barrios in Los Angeles where kids paint a Mexican mural, and in New York where they make Puerto Rican masks and visit a community center known as a Casita. This year, the spotlight will also be on the new fluffy blue bilingual muppet, Rosita.

¡Hola Amigos! ¿Cómo están?

Muppet Rosita is played by Mexican puppeteer Carmen Osbahr.

Sí, sí…yes, yeah I'm trying to help my friends to speak Spanish and all of my other friends that they're watching us. I'm trying to let them know that if they speak Spanish like me and English, they have to feel proud because they're very lucky to speak two languages.

¿Abierto?

Yes, certainly! Abierto is the Spanish word for open! Abierto.

For many years now, Sesame Street has been teaching kids a few words in Spanish, like “hola” and “adios”, but what's different is that with its new Latino curriculum, preschool viewers will also be taught an appreciation of the diversity of Latino cultures.

El mundo.

That's the world all right, and we are moving into...

Puerto Rico!

Puerto Rico it is! But look...

¡Cotorra!

In studies of preschoolers, researchers for Sesame Street found Puerto Rican children have poorer self-images than white or African-American children. The Latino kids had negative feelings about their hair and skin color, and the majority of white and African-American children in this study said their mothers would be angry or sad if they were friends with a Puerto Rican child. Actress Sonia Manzano, who plays the character María on the show says that's why the Sesame Street producers decided to devote the season to addressing issues of self-esteem and pride among Latinos.

I had the opportunity to write a show where María's family comes to visit, and I wanted everyone in María's family to be a different skin color because that occurs in a lot of Hispanic families. Puerto Ricans especially, is that, there are people of different skin colors in the same family so…and actually have a puppet say, "Wow! But he's darker than you. How could he be related?" or "She's lighter than you. How could she be related to you?"

For the last 20 years, María and Luis have been two of the human characters on the show. In that time, they got married, had a child, and are partners in Sesame Street's Fix It Shop.

Here, Luis and María, who are both Latinos, are regular people. I mean… they own a business; they have a family. You know… they're just regular people. They work like everybody else… you know. They brush their teeth, they comb their hair, you know…. whatever. The role model is, "Hey, they're just like everybody else.” You know… and that's important to show.

Actor Emilio Delgado, who plays Luis, says, since its beginning, Sesame Street was way ahead of most US television shows in realistically portraying Latinos.

20 years ago when we first started doing this, I don't remember any Latinos on a regular basis on television. As a matter of fact, I can't think of any right now either.

[Kid singing about his cultural roots]

Sesame Street is now in its 24th season. For Latino USA, I'm Mandalit del Barco in New York.

Oh, that was great! Well, this is Big Bird leaving you with one final word: "¡Viva!"

The word mentor is derived from the ancient Greek from the name of the man who spent 10 years teaching the son of the poet Homer. In ancient Greece, young people often studied in apprenticeship programs. Today, some Latino students are learning a variety of skills, from chess to chemistry, in a mentorship program taking place in New Mexico. Debra Beagle prepared this report.

Here, I'm thinking of placing my knight on D5. It attacks his queen.

Now, had I scanned a little better, I would've seen that the knight would've come to that square…see, and I would not have put my queen where it is, because now I need to move that queen…

Thirteen-year-old Miguel Atencio of Chama, New Mexico, beats his father in chess almost every game. He began playing when he was nine. Two years later, he joined the high-school chess team. That's when someone from Celebrate Youth, a six-year-old mentorship program in New Mexico, spotted the talented youngster and invited him to work more seriously on his game. This year, Miguel won the state middle-school chess championship.

In math, it's helped me. I can like work out problems in my head and all that. It's helped me like to remember like what the things I read and all that, because you have to remember things. You have to remember positions and all that. So, I've been getting a little bit better at that.

Miguel Atencio is both highly motivated and very talented. These are the characteristics Celebrate Youth director, Paquita Hernández, looks for in students. She also pursues teenagers who are equally talented but living in what Hernández describes as economic and social poverty.

A child who is economically poor but is matched with a mentor who is an artist or is a physicist or is a chemist or is a great writer, offers challenging conversations, exciting questions, um…different opportunities to look…through which to experience the world…I think that they flourish in ways that are magnificent.

The adult mentor meets with the student once a week for six months. Each student develops a project, perhaps a dance, a piece of sculpture, a science or math project, an essay or poem, or a piece of music.

[Person playing the piano]

Okay, now do the last two lines, and make a difference between your…your forte in the top line and your fortissimo in your bottom line.

[Person playing the piano]

Ninth grader Alyssa Montoya works with Mary Agnes Anderson of Española as her mentor. Anderson has mentored three students so far.

It gives them courage to be different, a reason not to be like everyone else, to have faith in themself. Watching this happen is my basic reward on it.

Other mentors have seen more impressive changes as a result of the program. Paquita Hernández tells the story of one talented teenager who is likely to follow two older brothers into drugs and depression. After delving into a science research project for two years in the Celebrate Youth program, he entered college and now plans to become a doctor. Success stories like these, Hernández says, are less likely to happen within the current school system.

I think there's a vacuum in the schools, not only in New Mexico but in the whole nation. I think the schools need to change, and I think they need to change radically because they are not reaching the majority of young people. I think those kids who don't drop out of school physically actually drop out often, even though they're sitting in the classroom with the books in front of them.

Those involved in Celebrate Youth say the goal is to promote excellence over mediocrity. Achievement is measured against one's own abilities rather than in competition with others. This is the attitude Miguel Atencio takes.

All right, and here's the last move, and I'm going to checkmate in one move. I'm going to move Queen on E7 to B7. Checkmate.

That's the end of the game.

These days, Miguel is sharpening his chess skills to prepare for the annual Celebrate Youth Festival in June. Nearly 400 students, including 30 chess players like Miguel, will gather for three days at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque, which co-sponsors the program. There, they'll perform their dances, hang their paintings, and display their research projects that demonstrate the skills they've worked so hard to develop.

[Person playing the piano]

The Wild Rider. The Wild Rider. Everyone has trouble with the Wild Rider. He's a hard-bucking horse.

For Latino USA, this is Debra Beagle in Tierra Amarilla, New Mexico.

It's been viewed by thousands of people in Los Angeles, Denver, Albuquerque, El Paso, Washington DC, and the Bronx in New York. Now the art exhibit known as the CARA show opens at its last venue of it's two year run in San Antonio. The exhibit examines the Chicano art movement of the 60s and 70s, through a wide range of multimedia, including posters, holograms, and altars. Latino USA's Maria Martin prepared this report.

[Tejano music background] The exhibit known as the CARA show, the acronym for Chicano Art Resistance and Affirmation, is the first-ever to focus specifically on Chicano art as opposed to Hispanic or Latin American art. Tomas Ybarra-Frausto, an art specialist with the Rockefeller Foundation and a member of the show's planning committee, calls the CARA show a landmark art exhibit which will put Chicano art on the map.

In the United States it's very difficult for Chicano art to get a hearing. First of all, because even today all the Latinos are lumped under the word Hispanic. And so, Chicano immediately separates out in a very particular way from that Hispanic rubric, which in a way many people, of course don't like because it means that it does away with your Indigenous and your African element, and only proclaims the European Spanish element. So, in that sense, because Chicano art is an art that fractures the myth of consensus, it's unknown.

[Natural sound, clapping] Playwright Luis Valdez, a member of CARA's National Honorary Committee, talked about the connection that Chicano art has with his pre-Hispanic roots.

The Aztecs had a term for growing up, for maturing, for living. All human beings in the process of their life acquired a face. And so, here the name of this exhibit, CARA, invokes this ancient concept. But it is not just the face of the Chicano community. It is not just the face of the Hispanic community. It is the face of America, and that is why I want to correct the usage of a certain title. I am not per se a Hispanic. I am a pre-Hispanic.

Officials at the San Antonio Museum of Art are hoping for a record turnout for the CARA show, which will be accompanied by a number of community events, and a low rider parade on opening day.

Recently, San Francisco-based comedian and performance artist, Marga Gomez received rave reviews for her one-woman off-Broadway show called Memory Tricks. Now, Gomez is working on a television adaptation of Memory Tricks, which looks back at her New York childhood with a showbiz family. From New York, Mandalit Del Barco reports.

Marga Gomez is the funniest simulated lesbian comic and performance artist who describes herself as somewhat of a misfit Latina.

My name is Gomez, and I look Latina and I feel that. I mean, I can eat spicy food, but I can't dance salsa or speak Spanish.

Marga is the daughter of a Puerto Rican exotic dancer and a Cuban impresario. Her solo show Memory Tricks is set in her precocious New York City childhood, when her flamboyant mom and dad were considered the Lucy and Ricky of New York's Latin vaudeville scene. [highlight music]

[background music] I thought of them as big, big stars. You know, you couldn't get to be bigger stars than my parents. Actually, they were stars in their community, and their community was a very poor community, so they were like poor stars, but I thought we were just like royalty. [highlight music]

In the 1960s, Marga's dad, Willy Chevalier, was a comic actor who produced theater reviews known as Spanish Spectaculars, [background music] featuring salsa stars like Tito Puente and Celia Cruz, female contortionists, magicians and other acts. He put together sketches called La Familia Comica, which sometimes showcased her mom's Afro-Cuban dancing, they're pet chihuahua, and little Marga Gomez.

[background music] I had delusions of grandeur from a young age, because my father would just tell me all these fantastic things, I was going to be the next Shirley Temple and all that. You know? I couldn't sing, couldn't dance, but somehow I was going to be the non-singing, non-dancing, Puerto Rican-Cuban Shirley Temple.

[background music] Marga says when they got divorced, she had to choose between her dad and her mother, Margarita Estremera, also known as Margo the Exotic. Memory Tricks is Marga's tribute to a bleach blonde, fem fatal mom who used to try to teach Marga to be a perfumed lady, how to hold her pocketbook and glide, glide, glide on high heels. In a scene from a recent off-Broadway show, she remembers going on a picnic with her glamorous mom.

Let me tell you about the picnic. Remember the picnic, the one I sold my father out for? My mother promised that we would go that Sunday, right after church. I was so excited. I prayed extra hard in church. "Father, God, please, don’t let her see any stores on the way." When the priest said, "The mass is over. Go in peace," [snapping] I was gone. I ran all the way home, ran upstairs to my room, changed into my play clothes. That's what I wear all the time now, my play clothes. Then, I ran to my mother's room to see if she was awake. See, my mother couldn't go to church with me on Sundays. She was a good Catholic, but after a hard night of belly dancing, you need your rest.

In Memory Tricks, Marga talks about not wanting to grow up to be like her mom, who always wanted a Caucasian nose like Michael Jackson's. But she's found you can't escape your roots, even if they are dyed.

She'd sing all the time in the house, but she'd sing like this. [Singing] What a difference, la la la besame, besame la la She'd sing--She knew so many songs and none of the words. So that's sort of, the way I sing, too, so don't sit next to me at a rock concert. [Singing] I can’t get no la la la la la la.

Marga now lives in San Francisco where she began her adult career in show business with the feminist theater company, Lilith. She honed her comedy talents with the San Francisco Mime Troupe and is one of the original stand-up comics with Culture Clash. [Piano playing “I feel Pretty”] Not long ago, for the biennial celebration of New York's Whitney Museum, she performed her second show, "Marga Gomez is Pretty, and Witty and Gay", which deals with her sexuality.

[Piano playing] It has to do, some of it with my relationship and jealousy. My parents were very jealous of each other, and just because I'm not in a traditional relationship doesn't mean that I can't be dysfunctional. So, I talk about being a jealous girlfriend. I also have this little interlude where I'm reading from the Diary of Anaïs Nin, and I read from her Lost Diaries where she goes to Disneyland and has a tryst with Minnie Mouse.

Marga continues to do stand-up comedy and is reading for movie parts.

[background piano music] I've heard about a Frida Kalo project, and I'd like to do that because I got the eyebrows and everything, little mustache too. I'll just stop bleaching that sucker.

This summer, marga Gomez is writing the screenplay of Memory Tricks for the PBS series "American Playhouse". For Latino USA, I'm Madalit Del Barco in New York.

Hollywood movies and television commercials often give us quick, concise images of people and places along the US-Mexico border. Going beyond those media-made notions towards real understanding is difficult, even impossible. Without firsthand contact. In the nation's capital, there was an attempt to go beyond those media images of the border. It was part of the Smithsonian Institution's annual Festival of American Folklife. But as Franc Contreras reports from Washington, real, cultural understanding required more than a taste of border foods or the sounds of border music.

[Natural sounds of Washington D.C.] Some young guys from Mexicali were standing in a crowd between the Capitol building and the Washington Monument. They wore baggy pants, some had dark glasses, and others' headbands pulled way down low. To some people, they looked like gangsters, but they're not. They're cholos with a distinctive style of dress that comes straight from the border. Suddenly, they started speaking Spanish out loud.

Bueno, aqui pasa todo los dias la patrulla fronteriza. Que tal si sacamos la lengua?

Border patrol goes through here every day. Let's stick our tongues out at them.

[Natural sounds of Folklife Festival] Then from behind a food stamp where some beans were cooking, A guy came out wearing all white with a pointed hood clan style. [Highlight, natural sounds of Folklife Festival] It was the border patrol chasing down one of the Cholos people watching realized it was a play by a theater group from Mexicali, a border town south of California. The actors were hitting one of the main issues on the border, immigration. Their translator is Quique Aviles.

A lot of people complain that they don't understand because the show is being done in Spanish, but at the same time, that's what life is. When Latinos come here, we don't understand either. So, we were talking about that last night. It's sort of like returning the favor.

A woman walked past us, dressed like the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico. She went past a display where a man was making guitars by hand, past a group of muralists from El Paso who were painting an eagle, and over to a food stand where a Black woman who speaks only Spanish was serving tamales and Tecate beer, and next to her was a woman from Texas.

We're breaking a lot of preconceived ideas, a lot of biases that perhaps have been most influenced by the media.

Cynthia Vidaurri teaches at the Southwestern Borderlands Cultural Studies and Research Center in Kingsville, Texas. She says, the American Folk Life Festival in Washington is an opportunity not only for people who've never seen the border, but also for people who've come here from the border to share their cultures.

The rest of the world perceives us as what the media makes us out to be, the movies, the news, and they're really thrilled to have a chance to say, this is who we are. We are living, breathing human beings that have the same needs as you do. We just take care of those needs in a slightly different fashion.

That sounds fairly straightforward, and some people walked away from here with more understanding about the people of the borderlands, but not without some effort. At one display, Romi Frias of El Paso was trying to explain to some people from Delaware, what a low rider is, you know, a highly stylized car, usually an older model with small thin tires, maybe a mural painted on the hood and lowered about an inch from the pavement.

[Laughter] I tell people that it's really going to mess you up. You're doing about 55 and there's this monster pothole and you've got about an inch clearance. I've got a lot of friends that face that situation and unfortunately hadn't learned the hard way.

Later under a shaded area, there was a storytelling session. It was supposed to be about women on the border. An Indian woman from the Mexican side sat on the left. On the right was a white woman who works for the US Border Patrol in the middle of the two women sat a university professor. He was monopolizing the discussion. Then at another storytelling session about immigration, the professor was taking over again. Some people in the back were saying it was typical. Here's this white male, the expert, not letting the others talk. After the session, I went over to him and learned his name is Enrique Lamadrid, a man of mixed races whose family migrated to the Americas from France and Spain like many others along the border. His family goes back generations. Lamadrid says he saw many surprised people at the folk fest who learned of the amazing cultural diversity along the border.

I mean, just the amazement that you can see in people's faces when they encounter these two black women over here from the black Seminole community. They're Mexicans. So these are really complex cultural entities.

Complex, like the land where they live. The border is often characterized by clashing cultural forces. Lamadrid says People living on the border cross the international boundary daily, but it's no big deal because it's part of their daily life. And he said the people living along the 2000-mile separating line did not come to the border. It came to them. Then he mentioned a series of treaties between the US and Mexico dating back to the late 18 hundreds. It's a complex history, a balancing act, he says, because the needs of border people compete with the national needs of Washington and Mexico City, and the result of that struggle is border culture.

But culture isn't in your blood. Culture is something that you learn. Culture and identities are things that are negotiated and forged every day of our lives as we live our lives out in specific areas of the country.

Lamadrid told me about a sewer line that broke during the festival Sunday morning. Smelly dark sewer water flooded a small area around some of the exhibits. He and the other said it reminded them of some border towns where pollution has become a major problem. But on the day the sewer broke, people taking part in the American Folk life Festival this year continued their efforts to share their life's experiences as the smell and humidity surrounded them. For Latino USA, I'm Franc Contreras in Washington.

Esperanza, or hope. It's said, that's one thing young people living in this day and age, often lack. But in San Antonio, Texas, a group of teenagers is creating theater that expresses a measure of hope for the future. Even amidst a reality of drugs, gangs, identity questions, and homelessness. Along with Lucy Edwards Latino USA's, Maria Martin prepared this report.

[Natural sounds, theater] Grupo Animo

It's the Friday afternoon at Fox Technical High School in San Antonio. The young members of the acting troupe El Grupo Animo, ages 13 to 18, have come together to start rehearsing their new production. The group's name derives from the Spanish word meaning spirit, energy, and a desire to inspire and the drama they're preparing is written and performed by the kids themselves.

[Natural sounds, theater] All the young women in the piece, over here.

Identity. [Natural sounds, theater]

The drama in production is called, "I Have Hopes, Hopes I Keep Sacred in My Soul." It's a series of vignettes, tales of young people, much like the members of El Grupo Animo, facing life's challenges and learning to cope.

It's about a young girl who gets pregnant and she has to tell her parents because both of us know so many girls who have already gotten pregnant and it's not looking better or anything.

I'm 17 years old, and I wrote about the homeless. So much we can learn from our people. They've gone through rough times, and by that, a lot of them are on the streets, and we don't even care about them.

I decided to bring up the issue of teenage homosexuality, because Hispanic, Mexican American families, it's harder for them to deal with it. There's a lot of tradition, and a lot of the tradition is built around the male role model and female role model, you know?

14-year-old Michaela Diaz, along with Guadalupe Covera and Victoria Rivera, are among the nine playwrights who make up El Grupo Animo. 16 year old Priscilla Valle wrote about a young gang member.

He's dealing with the pressures of being tied to his gang, but then wanting to get out and be free and lead the life that he wants to lead, that the gang doesn't allow him to.

You don't understand, what if they come after me? Babe, they know where I live.

They're tearing you apart. They mess around with people's lives like it's nothing. You can't be afraid to be who you are. Don't keep it down forever. I hate them!

It's really a lot of what's going on in their minds and in their lives, but they never have a place to talk about it.

Director George Emilio Sanchez of New York is working with the young playwrights and actors of El Grupo Animo.

It takes a lot of courage to be a young person. It takes a hell of a lot of courage to say, "Yeah, I'm young. I don't know everything, and I want to be alive." Boom. That to me is like heroic. I think individually, if you read the things they write, no, I don't think they have a lot of hope.

But still, say the kids, their stories do express hope as the title of their collective work indicates.

Even though we are, we're sad and depressed about it. I think there's always that bright side and that hope that we have, and that's just what the whole play is about.

That's why I think that the name of it, "I Have Hopes, Hopes I Keep Sacred in My Soul", is what we're using. They're not all happy plays with happy endings, but we're not trying to say that the whole world is terrible. You know, that everything's terrible, that there's no hope for anything. Even though we know what reality is, we still feel that there can be a change, that there will be a change, and if anybody, we'll be the ones who will do that. And that's our message, basically.

El Grupo Animo’s production of "I Have Hopes, Hopes I Keep Sacred in My Soul," runs through July 17th at San Antonio's Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center. The Center's theater director, Jorge Pina, calls the troupe the next generation of Chicano Teatristas.For Latino USA with Lucy Edwards in San Antonio, I'm Maria Martin.

Since it first opened in Los Angeles in September of 1991. The art exhibit known as CARA, the acronym for Chicano Art Resistance and Affirmation has traveled throughout the country to Denver, Albuquerque, El Paso, San Francisco, the Bronx, and Washington DC, bringing art inspired by the Chicano political and social movements of the 60s and 70s to audiences that had sometimes not even heard of the word Chicano. The CARA exhibits last stop was at the San Antonio Museum of Art. Museum patrons on this last afternoon of the CARA exhibit seemed to appear a little bit more intently than usual at this collection of 130 works by 90 Chicano artists from across the country. San Antonio artist David Zamora Casas was among those getting a last glimpse of the landmark art exhibit.

It has opened up the link that we have with our collective past. It has made it okay to and cool to be Chicano again.

Spanish teacher Barbara Merrill came from Devine, Texas. She says the works in the CARA show help her to better understand her mostly Mexican-American students.

There’s so much of the heritage and seeing it through the eyes of the Mexican American. The quote over there, the A Chicano is a Mexican American through non-Anglo eyes, speaks very much to me through this exhibit.

Combining art, politics and history. These diverse works, posters, murals, and multimedia together defined a distinct Chicano aesthetic.

What that meant some 15 years ago is that Chicano artists began to look inward at their own experience to look at their own traditions.

Art historian Dr. Jacinto Quirarte curated the exhibit in San Antonio.

Things that the Chicanos themselves had experienced rather than leapfrogging over to Mexico and looking at things indirectly. By the mid-70s Chicano artists began to really know who they were and by the 80s they were really well onto their own.

In three years of touring the Chicano Art, Resistance, and Affirmation exhibit has brought this distinctive artistic style to the attention of the mainstream art world, but perhaps its most lasting impact has been on audiences who had seldom before seen themselves reflected on museum walls.

We worked the fields in the summer and on weekends during the school year, whatever crop was seasoned. So uh-

30 year old beautician, Sally Ortiz came to see the exhibit twice in San Antonio before it closed. The familiar images she says like that of the Virgin of Guadalupe and of farm worker life and struggle touched a deep cord of memory.

The lettuce and the grapes and the pesticides. I remember my mother talking about the pesticides and of course I was very young and I never understood, but she used to always say, ‘que era muy venenoso.’ Just looking at everything. Just, it's like looking into my past all over again.

And for others too young or not around during the heyday of the Chicano movement, the CARA show proved an education.

Looking at the photos of all the rallies that they had, I found my mother in one of them and it just made me feel really proud that my parents had never really told me about it. But then they started telling me about all this stuff, makes me really proud that people were so alive back then and it just makes me want to be more alive now with the movement because it is still going on.

In San Antonio, as well as the other cities where CARA was exhibited, the show brought in more Latinos than had ever visited those institutions previously. The challenge now say many observers is to keep them coming.

[Highlight--Music--El Vez] You're pretty el vez, stand in line, make love to you baby, till next time. Cuz I'm El Vez. I spell 'H' hombre, hombre...(Cover of I'm a Man--Bo Diddley)

16 years after the death of Elvis Presley. Elvis lives in many forms. For instance, the dozens of Elvis impersonators out there, the teen Elvis, the Black Elvis, the Jewish Elvis, flying Elvis's galore. Pues, what do you think of an Elvis con salsa, or the Elvis for Aztecs? With us on Latino USA is someone who's been called, not an Elvis impersonator, but an Elvis translator. He's Robert Lopez of East Los Angeles, also known as El Vez, the Mexican Elvis. So tell me about it, Robert Lopez. Why Elvis for the Latino community?

Well, I'll tell you, there are more than dozens. There's actually thousands of Elvis impersonators. There are more Elvis impersonators than people realize. Elvis impersonators in all United States and all over different countries. So, it's like we're our own minority.

[Está Bien Mamacita--El Vez]

I would say about 15% of Elvis's impersonators are Latino. You'd be surprised because all over California and all in Illinois, there are many other Latino Elvis impersonators. But I'm the first Mexican Elvis, I take my heritage and make it part of my show.

So when and how did el espíritu, the spirit, of Elvis possess you?

[Laughter] Well, I used to curate a art gallery in Los Angeles called La Luz de Jesus we were a folk art gallery. And I curated a show all on Elvis Presley. And I had always been an Elvis fan, but all this Elvis exposure just kind of made me go over the edge. And I had met some friends and they were saying, "Well, Robert, you should go to Memphis because every year they have this Elvis tribute," which is kind of like Dia de los Muertos for Elvis. It's like a big festival of swap meets, fan clubs, Elvis impersonators galore. And so I said, "Okay, I'm going to go." I had dared myself to go to Memphis and do the show. I would say, "Okay, I'll do El Vez, the Mexican Elvis." And I wrote the songs on ... Rewrote the songs on the plane, and my main idea was to play with the boombox in front of the people waiting in front of Graceland. But as luck would have it, I got on a Elvis impersonator show, and the showrunner was so big, by the time I got back in LA it was already in the LA Times. So, El Vez, the Mexican Elvis had been born.

[Transition--Music--El Vez]

Some people have called you a cross-cultural caped crusader singing for truth, justice and the Mexican-American way. So for you, it's more than just musical entertainment, you've got a message here in the music that you're bringing.

Yeah, well, first of all, I do love Elvis and I'm the biggest Elvis fan, and you can see that when you see the show. But it's like I do try to show the cross-culture. Elvis is the American dream or part of the American dream. I mean, there's many American dreams, but Elvis was part of the American dream. But I feel that American dream, poor man, start really with nothing to become the most famous, biggest entertainment tour of all the world is not just a job for a white man. It's for a Black man. It's for a Chinese man. It's for an immigrant. It's for a Mexican. It's for a woman. It can happen to anyone. And so rather than just say, "Okay, this is a white man's dream in a white United States," I change it and I show everyone they can make it fit to their story too.

[Singing] One two three four, I'm caught in a trap, do do do do. I can't walk out, because my foots caught in this border fence, do do do do do. Why can't you see, statue of liberty, I am your homeless, tired and weary...

[Immigration Time--El Vez]

What do you think Elvis would've thought of you singing and changing the words to the songs?

Oh, he would've enjoyed it very, he'd say, "El Vez, I like your show very much." He would like it.

Some of the songs that you've changed, I just want to go through some of the names because I think that they're so wonderful. I mean, instead of Blue Suede shoes, you have ...

Huaraches azul. Instead of That's Alright Mama, Esta Bien Mamacita. One of my favorites is [singing] ‘You ain’t nothing but a chihuahua, yapping all the time’. We start the show with the lighter easy songs, the familiar ones, and then we get them with the one-two punch and get them talking about political situations, sexual situations, and rock and roll situations.

[En el Barrio--El Vez] En el barrio, people dont you understand, this child needs a helping hand, or he's going to be an angry young man one day. Take a look at you and me-

Robert Lopez, also known as El Vez, is now negotiating with the producers of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for a possible TV sitcom. He'll also be playing Las Vegas for the first time.

This is Latino USA, the radio journal of news and culture.

[Opening Theme]

I'm Maria Hinojosa. Today on Latino USA, Homestead, Florida, one year after Hurricane Andrew.

My God, it's been a year. Our lives have been affected so much that we were living so fast, so quickly.

Also, for the end of the summer, a Nuyorican pastime.

Yo, this is Orchard Beach in the boogie-down Bronx, the Puerto Rican Riviera.

And a proposal for a free art agreement.

Through trilingual publications, radio, video, and performance collaborations, more complex notions of North American culture could be conceived.

That's all coming up on Latino USA. But first, las noticias.

When Congress reconvenes in September, they'll be taking up the merits of NAFTA, the North American Free Trade Agreement. But free trade isn't just about consumer goods, and many artists and intellectuals are talking about a parallel structure to NAFTA, one that would deal with ideas and culture. Commentator Guillermo Gómez-Peña calls it a free art agreement for cross-cultural dialogue.

Mexican and Caribbean cultures can offer the North their spiritual strength, political intelligence, and sense of humor in dealing with crisis, as well as experience in fostering personal and community relations. In exchange, North American artists and intellectuals can offer the South more fluid notions of identity and their understanding of experimentation and new technologies. US and Canadian artists of color, in particular, can offer Latin America sophisticated discourse on race and gender. Through trilingual publications, radio, video and performance collaborations, more complex notions of North American culture could be conceived. This project must take into consideration the processes of diaspora, hybridization, and borderization that our psyches, communities and countries are presently undergoing. Chicanos and other US Latinos insist that in the signing of this new trans-American contract, it is fundamental that relationships of power among participating artists, communities, and countries be addressed. The border cannot possibly mean the same to a tourist as it does to an undocumented worker. To cross the border from north to south has drastically different implications than to cross the same border from south to north. Trans-culture and hybridity have different connotations for a person of color than for an Anglo-European. People with social, racial or economic privileges are more able to physically cross borders, but they have a much harder time understanding the invisible borders of culture and race. Though painful, these differences must be articulated with valor and humor. In the conflictive history of the north-south dialogue and the multicultural debate, American and European sympathizers have often performed involuntary colonialist roles. In their desire to help, they unknowingly become ventriloquists, impresarios, flaneurs, messiahs, or cultural transvestites. These forms of benign colonialism must be discussed openly without accusing anyone. Their role in relation to us must finally be one of ongoing dialogue and a sincere sharing of power and resources. As Canadian artist Chris Creighton Kelly says, "Anglos must finally go beyond tolerance, sacrifice, and moral reward. Their commitment to cultural equity must become a way of being in the world. In exchange, we have to acknowledge their efforts, slowly bring the guard down, change the strident tone of our discourse, and begin another heroic project, that of forgiving, and therefore healing our colonial and post-colonial wounds.

Commentator Guillermo Gómez-Peña is an award-winning performance artist based in California.

In the intense anti-immigrant climate of California artists, David Avalos, Lewis Hawk and Elizabeth Cisco wanted to make a statement. They came up with a project called Arte Reembolso, Art Rebate in which the artists distributed marked $10 bills to undocumented day laborers to show how the immigrant's money circulates and contributes to the area's economy. That project though proved to be very controversial, so much so that the National Endowment for the Arts recently withdrew their funding with us to speak about the project is one of the artists. David Avalos is a longtime activist for immigrant rights and a professor at California State University at San Marcos. Now, some people might see this as a piece of art that was basically handing out money, giving away free money to undocumented immigrants. Can you tell us a little bit about what was the conceptual background behind this piece?

Well, interestingly enough, in the past, many projects that I've worked on have been criticized as a waste of taxpayer dollars. So Louis, Liz and I came upon the idea of taking the money for an art project and returning it to taxpayers who would think that anyone could criticize us for that? The only twist was that the taxpayers we chose to return the money to were undocumented workers, and that seems to be the problem in most people's eyes.

What exactly did you want to show by giving these undocumented immigrants money, though?

I think it's a very simple gesture. Louis, Liz and I pay taxes and we recognize that we're part of a tax paying community and we recognize the undocumented worker in the United States as part of that tax paying community. Many of them have taxes deducted, federal income taxes, for example, deducted from their payroll checks. Others pay taxes in a variety of ways whenever they fill up their car with a tank of gas, whenever they buy a pair of socks or a bar of soap in a Kmart. This is something that's been forgotten in all the hysteria and all the hatred that's been whipped up by politicians like Pete Wilson against the immigrant. So we think it's ridiculous when people criticize the undocumented for using taxpayer dollar supported services. Hey, they're taxpayers too. That's all we're saying.

Well, is this really an art project? Or is this more of using art to make a very definitive statement about immigrants' rights in this country?

It's definitely an art project. I think if you look at the $10 bill as a material of this project, instead of using bronze or marble or oil paints, we used as a material for this project, this $10 bill, I think it's pretty easy to realize that the monetary value of the bill has been replaced in the public's mind with a symbolic value of the bill. $1,250 is what we're talking about in terms of the NE's portion of the $5,000 commission.

We're talking about a molecule in the bucket, not a drop in the bucket, but what people are reacting to is not the monetary value, they're reacting to the symbolic value and I think they're reacting because it is so painful for many of us who want a simple answer to the economic problems in this country. It's so painful for many people to recognize, "hey, the undocumented are part of our community." Like it or not, they're part of the tax paying community like it or not. So we're dealing with symbols. Unfortunately in this country, the quote illegal alien has become a media symbol, a media celebrity. The hard-earned tax dollar is another cultural symbol in this country, and we put those two symbols together. We juxtapose them just as artists, juxtapose symbols and images all the time, and the reaction that we've seen is a reaction that is all out of proportion to the amount of money that we're talking about.

Pues, muchas gracias. Thank you very much. David Avalos, who along with Louis Hawk and Elizabeth Cisco have come up with a project called Arte Reembolso, Art Rebate in San Diego. Muchas gracias.

For over 400 years since New Mexico was settled by Spain in the 16th century, Hispanic folk artists in that state have created wooden statues called Santos, representing figures of Catholic saints. They've also made retablos, images of the saints painted on wooden panels. The practitioners of these carving arts or santeros were exclusively men until the last 20 years or so, but today, women are some of the best-known santeros and their contribution is the focus of an exhibit at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Catalina Reyes reports.

Though documentation is hard to find, it may be that New Mexican men and women have always collaborated at Santo making just as they often do today. Helen Lucero curated the art of the Santera exhibit.

Women have said all along are the keepers of the faith in New Mexico, and so they will put up these images to decorate their homes to pray, to carry in processions, to dress, and so it makes sense that they would eventually start carving and painting them themselves.

[Natural sounds of Museum] 40 objects representing the work of 26 Santeras are on view in the small exhibit room. There's a bulto tableau of Noah's Arc by Marie Romero Cash and her tin Smith husband, complete with wooden animals, a tin arc and foot tall carvings of Noah and his wife With Hispanic features and early 20th century dress, popular saints are rendered in various media Santo Nino de Atocha, a Christ child who helps prisoners. Dona Sebastiana or La Muerte, a skeleton in a two-wheeled wooden cart who represents death and of course our Lady of Guadalupe and Indian Virgin Mary who's especially venerated throughout the Americas.

I haven't seen anything quite like this that the men have done.

We are looking at a carving by Monica Sosaya Halford, a crucified woman who looks strikingly cheerful, smiling in a bright blue and white Basque peasant dress. She's an apocryphal saint named Santa Librada. A legend says she wanted to devote herself to God, so she prayed he would make her ugly to prevent her marriage. When God granted her wish and gave her a mustache and beard. The brother's enraged father had her crucified, but he converted to Christianity as she prayed from the cross. In New Mexico, Santa Librada goes without the beard in mustache. She sent to intercede on behalf of women with troublesome husbands.

She is the only crucified woman that we know of. This is the saint that women would pray to, and I just find it real interesting that her name is Librada also, which is basically translates as liberated. She is the one who helped women before there was a women's movement.

It was during the civil rights movement of the 60s says Lucero, that Hispanic men in New Mexico began to revive the dying Spanish colonial Santero tradition. About 10 years later, women artists began to emerge from behind the dominance of men in public arenas, making saints images in such a variety of media that Lucero decided to include more than bultos and retablos in the exhibit broadening the definition of santera.

I chose to expand it to include other media as well. In other words, images of saints produced on straw applique on tin, on culture, embroidery, weaving, hide paintings, and even one woman's work, Rosa Maria Calles, whose work is all decorating ceramic face.

[Natural sounds of woodworking] What I'm doing now is the actual roughing out taking the excess wood away.

Marie Romero Cash began carving and painting saints in the seventies when she was in her mid-thirties, the daughter of two famed Santa Fe tinsmiths. She's gone on to become one of the region's most recognized Santeras. Today she's working on a favorite figure, La Senora de Guadalupe.

[Natural sounds of woodworking] After all the excess wood is gone, I'll be able to start working on the face and the hands and toning it down, and then it'll be ready for sanding and gesso and painting.

Romero Cash has traveled throughout northern New Mexico studying Santo carvings in villages like Chimayo, where people still venerate figures hundreds of years old, but she'd rather be called a wood carver than a santera, which to her mind means a holy person. She says her goal isn't religious.

Mine happens to be learning everything that I can about specific things, including the santeros and what they did and how they did it and trying to get all our traditions in one bundle and then saving them and perpetuating them.

But Helen Lucero believes that for most of the Santeras in the exhibit, honoring the spirit of tradition is connected inseparably to the life of the soul.

And I asked the women what this meant to them to be producing saints. And quite often the spiritual aspect of it was much more dominant than any I would've ever expected. If you are busy representing God, then you have a real direct link if you are a Hispanic, Catholic, new Mexican to what your work is so that these people really see themselves as a bridge almost between a holy place and a secular place.

The art of the Santera continues at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, New Mexico until January of next year. The exhibit will then travel throughout the country for several years, starting in Dallas, Texas for Latino USA. This is Catalina Reyes in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

One could say that the Latino population of the nation's capital swells around mid-September as Latino movers and shakers fly in for a number of fancy events celebrating Hispanic Heritage month. One such happening is the annual Hispanic Heritage Awards, honoring contributions in the arts, sports, literature and leadership. Latino USA sent two of our reporters to the gala occasion, Franc Contreras and Patricia Guadalupe dawn their best studs for the party.

[unintelligible] for the Hispanic Heritage Awards. My cousin from LA, Rita Moreno. [applause]

It was a black tie, long gown night of celebration for well-connected Latinos, a festive night of cultural pride in the nation's capital. With her sleek black dress and huge red earrings, mistress of ceremonies Rita Moreno was joined at one point by a surprise celebrity.

¡Hola!

Hi, hola. ¿Cómo te va?

Hello, Rita.

Mira que linda se ve. ¿Cómo te llamas?

Thank you. You too.

Tell everybody your name.

My name is Rosita la Monstrua de las Cuevas, and I am so excited to be here tonight to receive the Hispanic Hair Award.

Now before you get too excited...

Yeah.

Do you know what heritage means?

No. No.

Okay. Heritage simply means those traditions and beliefs that are passed on to us by our forebears.

Forebears. Oh, I love bears. I love panda bears, you know, with the blacks spot in the eye. And koala bears and polar bears and all that kind of bears.

No, no, no. Rosita, Rosita. I am talking about parents or grandparents, their grandparents and the [unintelligible].

On stage with Rita and Rosita, the bilingual Muppet from Sesame Street was golfer Chi-Chi Rodriguez, Sister Isolina Ferré honored for her work educating the poor, playwright and Emmy winner Luis Santeiro, civil rights leader Raul Yzaguirre and in the music category, Emilio and Gloria Estefan. Each of the five award winners spoke of concerns that drive their work. When Sister Isolina Ferré went to the podium, she offered an answer for an ongoing problem she's noticed since she first dedicated her life to community service about 60 years ago. It's the lack of educational opportunity for Latinos.

Real community development can only be achieved if a true and liberating educational process has been implemented. This process as it had been done in our centers in Puerto Rico should include programs for school dropouts, alternatives to formal education, formal and vocational education and literacy projects.

President of the National Council of Lara Raza Raul Yzaguirre won the award for excellence in leadership. He said Latinos must unite and solve their own social problems.

Our only hope is to build up our own institutions that can effectively advocate for our interests.

When the formal part of the evening ended, the stars went to a separate room for interviews with Spanish and English language media. Gloria Estefan told about her pride in her heritage about how important her family is to her and about her new album, Mi Tierra, which is in Spanish.

Why did you go in that direction?

Well, I'll tell you, first of all, I waited this long because I wanted to maximize the exposure of this music. If I would've done this album five years ago, half the world wouldn't know about it. So we really have been thinking about it for over five years, waiting for the right moment, trying to choose the right thing to do. We did new music because we wanted to bring something of ourselves to the project but celebrating a very traditional and beautiful form of Latin music. Hopefully, with this album, we'll be able to remind people a little bit of our heritage, especially my son, which is the main reason we did this album. We really wanted it for him.

Outside the media area, dozens of fans waited to see Estefan. They said it wasn't only her stardom that attracted them but what she stands for.

I look up to her a lot. I think she's great. It makes me proud to be Hispanic.

Really? Why? Tell me.

Why. Because there's a lot of riqueza en la raza. So she's a part of that.

When the stars left, the crowd went to the ballroom floor, to the food tables. There were tiny empanadas on one, some fancy fruit on another. The caterer promised the grapes were from Chile, not from California where Latino farm workers are still boycotting. And on a table over in the corner, there were tiny little tamales. The people serving them even unwrap them for you. With Patricia Guadalupe, I'm Franc Contreras in Washington.

Un río dos Riveras, one river two Riveras is the title of a book written by Dr. Guadalupe Rivera, a writer and historian. Dr. Rivera is the daughter of famed Mexican muralist Diego Rivera. Dr. Rivera is visiting this country, and she joins us now from Austin, Texas where an exhibition of her father's work is opening at the Mexic-Arte Museum. Welcome, Dra. Rivera.

Thank you, Maria Hinojosa. I am very pleased to meet you.

There are probably a lot of people who don't know all of the facts about your father, and they may have one question on their mind about you. And that question might be, are you the daughter of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo?

No, no, no. My father was married several times. And I am the daughter of Diego Rivera and Lupe Marin. She was the second wife that my father had.

Dr. Rivera, there is so much known about your father. I mean, his murals inspired a whole movement across the world. I mean, he's one of Mexico's most important artistic icons, but what is the one lasting memory that you have of your father that might tell us a little bit about who he was as a human being, as a person, as a father.

He was an extraordinary person because he allow my sister and I to become professionals and to go to university and to study and to learn how Mexico is and how revolution was and to be a real Mexican because he was very proud to be a real Mexican, and he teach us how to really appreciate who we are as member of a very important cultural movement.

One of the things, Dr. Rivera, about your father was that he really wasn't into... As far as I can tell and remember just from reading about him and seeing his work, which was very political, is that he really wasn't into the commercialization of art. I mean, he was really into art for communicating, what you've said, a history of the people of Mexico. But your father's work has now sold in this country and across the world for hundreds of thousands of dollars and really has an incredible market value. How do you think he would've reacted to this what is, I guess, the commercialization of his art in the art world?

Well, I think that he was not so proud of that as he was proud about the mural painting he realize in public buildings. He never want to commercialize his art. He painted paintings, let's say this small paintings, all canvas or all things like that or watercolors because he thought that he must have a way of life when he cannot paint murals. But in a way, his enormous desire was to paint murals much than everything in life.

Your father also of course loved Mexico, his country, and he was really quite radical in his politics and extremely nationalistic. What do you think your father, Diego Rivera, would've thought of NAFTA, the tratado de libre comercio- the free trade agreement?

I think that he was not very, very happy about it.

Why?

He always talk about that the necessity that each country keep his own identity. And maybe, he will realize that with NAFTA, the identity of Mexican people is going to be lost an enormous way.

Personally, I think it's a paradox, but at the same time, I am very pleased to be asking to come here as a guest to this exhibition because, in a way, my father is, again, a bridge between both countries as he was before in the '30s when he was asking to come to United States to paint the murals. It was in a special moment in the Mexican history in the '30s in which it was necessary for the Mexican government to establish a stronger contact with United States. And I consider that now, it's important to Mexico, to my country to establish a stronger contact with United States again.

Dr. Guadalupe Rivera is the daughter of Mexican muralist, Diego Rivera, the exhibit Diego Rivera and the Revolution in Mexico in Times of Change will be on view at Austin's Mexic-Arte museum through December 31st.

Last year, the so-called Quincentenary, the commemoration of the 500 years since Columbus encountered this hemisphere, caused a great deal of controversy and also inspired many artists. The Columbus theme, and the stereotypical images in history and popular culture of the natives, the conqueror and the conquered, still continue to be a source of artistic inspiration. Recently, an interdisciplinary arts project curated by artists Coco Fusco and Latino USA commentator Guillermo Gomez-Pena opened at the Otis Art Gallery in Los Angeles. It's called The Year of the White Bear, and it features performance, visual arts, and radio art. Betto Arcos prepared this report.

As a visitor walks into the exhibition of The Year of the White Bear, images of the past and the present provoke a sense of humor and seriousness. With the title Mickey Meets His Match, a ceramic figure of a pre-Hispanic warrior sits next to a Mickey Mouse doll on a wall, a painting of Columbus holding a slice of pizza by Chicano artist Alfred Quiroz. Across from it, a custom of Queen Isabella designed by Puerto Rican artist Pepon Osorio and worn by one of the curators during a performance. The Year of the White Bear was conceived as a reflection on the 500 years of the so-called discovery of America, and according to one of the curators, performance artist Guillermo Gomez-Pena, the exhibition is also meant to dispute preconceived notions of what constitutes political art.

Political art is not supposed to be humorous. Political art is supposed to be solemn, didactic, somber, and I think that there is more sneaky ways to be politically effective. Now, the common goal is to begin a reflection about the Columbus question and what is after the Columbus question.

The title of the exhibition was taken from the name given to the Spaniards by the Paez Indians of Colombia. They called the Europeans, "Pale in color and covered with hair, White Bears" Gomez-Pena says that the main idea behind the installation of The Year of the White Bear is to create a multicentric, multifaceted portrait of the debates that were generated around the quincentenary and that still have not been resolved. Within this debate, a number of issues are touched on including the North American Free Trade Agreement and the current anti-immigration sentiment.

[Violin Music] Dear Spanish Inquisition, dear Border Patrol, dear American culture, for 500 years we've been invisible to you. Recordar, desandar, performar.

In a viewing room, built like an entrance to a pre-Hispanic pyramid with the Aztec calendar above in a sculpture of the Mayan god Chaac down below is an ongoing slideshow of images of past and recent history, pictures of ancient cities and peoples that dissolve into modern day events like the Gulf War and attention along the US Mexico border, with the soundtrack that provides a narrative as the audience watches and listens quietly.

San cristal [unintelligible] Un official chronicler de la pintados. And I just discovered you is therefore--

The hybrid nature of the installation is but one of the many ambiguities The Year of the White Bear instills in the senses of the visitor. From art piece to art piece one is faced with images of the past right next to current events. On a wall, a velvet painting of LA Mayor Richard Riordan holding a book like a Bible. It's title, "INS Mexico as seen through foreign eyes".

Here at the INS, we understand immigration since that's how our ancestors arrived to this land of opportunity. What we have are-

From the gallery ceiling, a voice that sounds like that of a Border Patrol agent.

Gone are the days of reasonably regulated entry that was beneficial to all. What we now have is a full scale invasion into America by the poor peoples of the world, a flood of homeless, uneducated, job-stealing criminals that is threatening our national sovereignty.

The artists and the curators of The Year of the White Bear would like visitors to come out of the exhibit with a broader sense of reflection about the relationship between the past and the present, and a consciousness about the many perspectives on the founding of the Americas. Artists Robert Sanchez, who along with Richard Lou, created In Search of Columbus and Other White Peoples says this piece is meant to call into question certain issues about history.

What is the past really about and what is the effect on current issues happening today with toda la gente. You know, how have we gotten to this point and survived and kept intact? Certain things that have to do with very strong cultural ties, but at the same time having to have battled those things that have to do with how history has been perceived by those that are in power, so to speak. The powers that be.

The exhibit continues at the Otis Gallery in Los Angeles until November 6th. For Latino USA, this is Beto Arcos. (Guitar Music)

For years, Latino poetry in New York City was dominated by the Nuyorican School of Poets. Theirs was and is a street-wise poetry characterized by strong cultural pride presented in dramatic urban settings by poets such as Miguel Algarín, Pedro Pietri and Bimbo Rivas. Today, another crop of Puerto Rican poets is making waves in the Big Apple. But what's different about this group is that they're all women from New York City. Mario Murillo prepared this report.

Women have been traditionally storytellers and have been in a very close relationship with the oral tradition because they were the grandmothers and the mothers that told us stories and sang us songs and recite poems to us when we were small.

The wives of the dictators do not sit home and embroider, nor do they answer when their husbands return in full uniform from a kill and ask and what have you been doing? I have been doing the secret things that witches do. They are busy cutting ribbons.

You tried to kill the wild woman fused into my little girl, the one you couldn't love while claiming to. So you held me down and stabbed and stabbed and stabbed with your sharp Swiss knife while whispering seductively in my face.

Myrna Nieves, Maritza Arrastia and Ana Lopez Betancourt, three Puerto Rican poets living and working in New York City. Together they're carving a niche for Puerto Rican women writers in an arena traditionally dominated by men. The three poets founded the Atabex literature collection, which publishes the work of Puerto Rican women writers. Atabex comes from the Taino word meaning mother of the universe. Myrna Nieves says they're celebrating the diversity of writers coming from the community.

Now, when we talk about the Boys of Women writers, we are not talking about a voice, we are talking about really about the chorus. So it's not one voice that only presents a strong and potent women, but women in different stages of development, women from different social classes, women that has been recent in the immigration experience from Puerto Rico. It is very important that the leadership produced by women is made public.

I explore grief, anger, rage in safe settings at home with Lynn, surrounded by books and African relics. But I don't feel safe. I'm afraid. I'm afraid my rage will.. One of the things my grandmother would say to us as was children speak when the chicken takes a leak. Never. Chickens don't take a leak.

Poet and educator, Ana Lopez Betancourt.

So children have no voices. Girl children have less voices and women should never be heard. So there's a lot, of course there's rage and there's a lot of stuff to explore.

Among the things to explore is the challenge of being an immigrant woman in a male-dominated culture. Once again, poet Myrna Nieves.

She has to defend this culture and at the same time in her work, she has to reexamine the culture with a critical eye and produce alternative cultural forms that are more harmonious and that give her a more just and better place in society.

[Reciting poetry] When you finally let me into your games, I was the Indian and you the cowboy. Yours were the newfangled pistols, the cherry's batch which authorized your kicks and punches. Yours were the bows and arrows you lent me because you didn't like to play the Indian.

Theater Director and poet Maria Mar.

We are powerful. We are doing things. We're really the ones, the women are shaping the community and keeping it alive and the structure of community alive. But we don't perceive our power and strength because there are a lot of ghosts between our powerful self and our self-image. [Reciting poetry] Come and cross over to this side of the ocean. But you are like I am. One more Indian destined to lose in the mortal game played in the wild west north of the Americas.

The Atabex literature collection will publish the work of many other Puerto Rican women in the coming months, including an anthology of poetry expected to be released this winter. For Latino USA, I'm Mario Murillo.

In an old classroom in South Seattle, in the community center known as El Centro De La Raza, a transformation is taking place. Two evenings a week, kids as young as eight and as old as 20, some of them just a step away from joining a gang, are instead writing poetry. Ingrid Lobet reports that little by little, the kids and the adults who hear them are realizing the importance of what they have to say.

Outside the old school building, a dozen kids are shooting hoops as a cool night begins to fall across the city of Seattle.

Fellas, let's go.

As 6:30 approaches, the kids file into the classroom from the ball court. Others come in from elsewhere, looking tired. Whether tired or full of energy, the 15 kids in this room are here by choice. They've come because here they can put heart into words.

Ode To My Car. The exhaust blows out like the drop of oil. The black dewey night that passes, simply turn itself into a single piece of grass.

Martinez, Armando (Man) has been coming to El Centro for several months now.

Wild rivers, one drop of water that continues, grass, and then run off with my motor vehicle.

The kids' hands shoot into the air. They can't wait to comment. Their comments encourage, but also suggest certain word changes or changes in delivery. Armando's own older sister has a comment for him. I liked your poem, hijo, she says, it was really good. I like the way you read really slow.

Let's go ahead and stand up. It really helps to stand up. I'll be right here beside him.

But even the support that fills this room isn't enough for 16-year-old Glenda Arenas on her first night. When it comes time for her to read the poem she's just written, she hangs her head, her long dark hair, mostly covering her face. Her voice begins, barely audible.

Ode To The Homies. The tree, kicking it. Summer, smooth.

This first night, Glenda can't finish. Another girl comes over, stands by her, and finishes the poem.

Ode to the homie, the tree, kicking it. Summer, smooth. It's all eight-ball. Say eyes, high on weed, 44 Magnum, blow to the head, a scorched rag in the hood, the brightness and the sky showing a flag. Green, white, and red grows into multiplication, sweet and sad.

There's a little poet running around your house, no matter how small he or she is.

Roberto Maestas has directed El Centro for 20 years. He's seen a good number of the 74 children who've spent time in the workshops changed by them. Some are getting better grades, some are being invited to recite poetry at rallies and banquets.

I don't think that poetry itself is going to save the inner cities, but when a young person reads their poetry and other people appreciate their poetry, that begins to build a sense of value, a sense of worth, a sense of somebodiness.

Recently, we had an election for student council, and I didn't really think I'd make it, and I beat everybody by 10 points. It was really amazing.

15-year-old Sandra Martinez says it was in the poetry workshops that she learned to be confident enough to assume that position of leadership.

My name's Sandra Martinez and the poem I'm going to read is "Garibaldi Park in Mexico City".

Blue corazon danced on the stones, cuando la mujer was tocando las musica. On the streets, los gatos laughed, and tonight's the final night.

The poets of El Centro, known as Hope for Youth, now have a book, it's called Words Up. And the kids are getting more and more attention, some even nationally and internationally. Just recently, Hope for Youth received an invitation from the government of Chile to travel there this summer. For Latino USA, I'm Ingrid Lobet in Seattle.