I write because I’m mad

It’s been a while since I updated this blog. I’ve been on a tear recently, editing around 10 pages of the new draft of Inventing Vazquez per day, and doing little else beyond it. The novel has become my life as of late, and probably will continue to be so until I finish it. Which is good, because I’m almost at page 300 of 496.

So far, I’ve succeeded in shortening the novel dramatically. I’ve already shaved about 60 single-spaced pages, in large part because I took out the infamous sex scene after two of my test readers said it just didn’t work. Both of them are women, and both said that it was the one moment in the book where you could really tell it was a man writing it. Not to mention, it was long, tedious, and, well, I’m not an erotica writer, so it was formulaic, awkward, and cheesy. So out it went. Hey, it’s 10 less pages to edit, I guess.

I’m confident I’ll have the book ready by the end of March. In the meantime, I plan to launch an agent search sometime next week.

There’s a reason why I am trying to move as fast as I can with this. You see, the novel is my snarky, satirical, humorous way of saying something not so humorous. I’m Latino, and throughout my life, I’ve had to watch as Hollywood and mainstream media have relegated Latino/as to the fringes of creative expression. When we see ourselves in film, it’s almost never a positive, dignified, or even a three-dimensional portrayal. More often than not, when you see a Latino/a in a Hollywood film, they’re a voiceless janitor, or a gang member, or a domestic servant.

We’re seldom portrayed as a strong people, unless we’re being portrayed as ruthless gang members in something like Training Day. We’re seldom portrayed with any depth or meaning. And when films do center around us, they’re in roles that are cliché, trite, and not all that flattering. I mean, seriously, is Jennifer Lopez in Maid in Manhattan the best we can hope for?

And it’s not just Latinos. It’s everyone who hasn’t found a way of making themselves heard in mainstream consciousness. Take, for example, Asian-Americans. Why is it that a movie like 21 (which is based off real events where a group of predominantly Asian-American students were involved) features a mostly white cast? Why is it that Hollywood thinks Asians can’t carry a film, and so it’s easier to cast whites in roles meant for Asians? Why is it that the new Avatar film, which is based heavily on Asian motifs and characters, is being cast with mostly white actors?

I guess I’m just getting mad at the way some of us just can’t see to get people’s attention. I mean, why is it that Miley Cyrus can do something as stupid as this chink-eye thing, and then offer nothing but a half-assed, “I’m the victim here” apology, and no one outside of Asian-American circles thinks there’s something messed up about the whole thing? (BTW, I hope Angry Asian Man doesn't mind me linking to his site. I think he's doing an amazing job of giving voice to the Asian-American community, and I admire him greatly for it.)

The truth is, some of us just haven’t done enough to make ourselves heard. Think of it this way. If Miley Cyrus had, instead, been photographed in blackface and eating watermelons, it wouldn’t just be the African-American community in an uproar. It’d be many others. And I’m sure Disney would then do a much better job of getting their little 16-year-old dimwit to apologize more convincingly (and maybe stop insinuating that we’re somehow at fault for feeling offended for her idiocy). Why? Because the African-American community has been much better at making itself heard. Because it’s been more aggressive, and better organized, and has forced mainstream American to listen to its grievances.

Of course, that’s not saying that we’re all well and dandy on the African-American front. Far from it. But at least people, no matter what race or background, now know better than to, say, start dropping the n-word. If you drop it, you know you’re willingly inviting trouble. And that, to me, proves that the African-American community has done a much better job of making itself heard than many of us.

Latinos, I think we’re just too splintered, scattered, and disorganized right now. Maybe it’s the same way with Asian-Americans, I don’t know. But I know that there’s something wrong with the way we respond to things that are offensive. Because if Miley Cyrus can do the chink-eye thing one moment, but still be fawned and drooled over because of what she wears at the Grammy’s less than a week later, then it’s obvious we haven’t made ourselves heard, or feared. It means the media and everyone else involved still can’t appreciate that this whole chink-eye thing is right on par with things like the n-word.

That’s why I’m writing Inventing Vazquez, and why I’m desperate to get it published. I’m mad at the way we don’t have much of a voice yet, and I want to help it become louder. I want to contribute to this ongoing, but maybe still quiet, dialogue between Latino/as and mainstream culture. And not just Latino/as, but anyone who’s ever felt marginalized by Hollywood and mainstream culture.

Inventing Vazquez is a satire about how Hollywood portrays people of color, and it’s about how one Latina decides she’s had enough, and finds ways of making her grievances—and those of her community—heard. While it’s humorous and zany, I hope it also relays a very serious message: that Latino/as, Asians, Indians, African-Americans, etc., all of us have to make ourselves heard. We have to make Hollywood and all realize that there are lots of us out there, and we have goals and ambitions and dreams too. And it’d be nice, for a change, to see movies where people who look like us aren’t just background fillers or voiceless criminals. It’d be nice if, one day, our kids could pretend to be something other than Indiana Jones, Luke Skywalker, James Bond, or any other white action hero. It’s like America Ferrerra in Ugly Betty said about Mexicans: “We don’t get action heroes. All we get is a fast rodent.”

So there you have it. My real reasons for writing Inventing Vazquez, and the reason I hope it gets published. No, I don’t hope. It will get published, even if I have to self-publish again. I just think that it carries a message that needs to be heard. Not because I think I’m so much wiser and need to impart my wisdom. No, because the book represents a voice, and if you get enough voices together speaking loudly enough, then they can’t be ignored anymore.

Yeah, I know, I’m an idealist. But what can I say? I cling to the belief that, when I finally have children, they’ll grow up in a world that’s more tolerant. Where people of different backgrounds actually talk to and listen to one another, instead of assuming things about or fearing one another. I want to believe that, when they’re old enough to see a movie, they’ll have something other than Jennifer Lopez or Dora the Explorer to feel inspired by. That they can see a movie, see a character that looks like them, and actually think, “Wow, I want to be like that person when I grow up.” That they’ll be able to see a movie without feeling secretly ashamed because they think, somehow, that all they can ever be is a janitor, or a criminal, or a busboy, or a hapless indentured servant for some rich family.

Hey, I can dream, right?