A Latino Memoir by Gerald Poyo

A Latino Memoir by Gerald Poyo

Author:Gerald Poyo
Format: epub
Publisher: Arte Público Press
Published: 2019-10-15T00:00:00+00:00


These vacations were fun but evoked some conflicting feelings and perceptions about the United States. That day and evening at the World’s Fair in the heart of New York City, the stark contrasts between Anglo-American and Hispanic pavilions stood out. The Hispanic flamenco spoke from the soul. The American exhibits felt cold, distant, technological. My uneasy feelings about these contrasts grew stronger later. I thought of Argentina as the product of ancient and sophisticated Mediterranean civilizations that guided their societies with tested wisdoms. US capitalism inserted itself in the world with crude pecuniary interests and little respect for tradition and the past. American self-centeredness and claims of exceptionalism put me off, especially as expressed in self-congratulatory and narcissistic ultra-patriotic markers of which I was always very much aware. By age fourteen or fifteen, I thought of the United States as a nation not morally or culturally equipped for world leadership. American-sponsored schools in South America sought to connect me with the United States, but the reality is that Venezuela and Argentina won me over. As diplomats like to say, I “went native,” and much later when I applied to the US Department of State for employment as a Foreign Service Officer, it became clear that the interviewers distrusted my political instincts and, perhaps, ultimately, my loyalty.

Americans in Buenos Aires more often than not spoke about the country that hosted them in condescending ways. At gatherings of the General Motors “family,” conversations frequently revealed these American attitudes of superiority. An incompetent Argentine government, self-serving labor leaders, complaints about public services, maids that could not be trusted, lazy gardeners and a generally ignorant population usually topped the list of problems these Americans had with the country. Even the American kids, especially those who lived in Argentina for a short time, looked down on their Argentine peers. They frequently referred to Argentine youth as caqueros (greasers is the only word that comes to mind in American slang), particularly those whose clothing styles were decidedly local and who used gomina to slick their long hair straight back on their heads, which was quite common.

Eventually, I heard some of my thoughts about the United States and Americans legitimated in the writings of José Enrique Rodó, the early twentieth-century Uruguayan modernist writer and philosopher. Oh, I thought, I wasn’t the first to think this. In my university literature class, I read Rodó’s classic Ariel, written in 1900. Rodó rejected the utilitarian and materialistic assumptions of technological progress exemplified in American values; these were criticisms Ricardo often expressed about the United States when I sometimes joined him for a glass of wine. Arielistas viewed the United States as uncultured, indifferent to notions of truth and beauty, and drawn to unrestrained acquisitiveness and accumulation. They contrasted the US’ impersonal society with Latin America’s personalist aesthetic in tune with spiritual and humanistic traits and traditions. Like Rodó’s disciples, my heart belonged to the South, but somehow I knew I could not escape the North.



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