[su_label type=”info”]COLUMN: DEVIL’S ADVOCATE[/su_label]
Once again, the Day of the Dead has come and gone. It has left behind what I hope were some beautiful moments. The spirits of the dead, who came to visit us, to share the food that we placed on the altars, together with the photos and poems, have also retired to their usual places, in the background of our minds.
The living are left to deal with their daily struggles. Some thriving. Some, barely surviving. No tears should have been shed. As you should know, if we shed tears, we only make the road slippery for the visiting “almas.” What if they slip and break a bone?
I write this a few days before that large procession, which begins at the corner of 22nd and Bryant streets and proceeds up 24th Street. I certainly hope that this Day of the Dead Parade and various other, related celebrations were a success. In past recent years, I have felt that the original intent was being eroded, that it was turning into some kind of “Halloween light”—too much beer, too little cultural meaning.
I would like to assert an important fact: The Latino community, through its many artistic manifestations, has been a great contributor to the collective mental health of the entire city of San Francisco. That is what I think happens thanks to the joyful celebration of Carnaval, or with the myriad murals that cover the entire neighborhood… and, Day of the Dead. The entire city benefits from these amazing, generous, healthy cultural expressions. They are created for everyone, not only for those who live in the Mission District, or in the more specific “Latino Cultural District.”
The Day of the Dead helps us to pause, reflect, to take a soulful break in the midst of our daily existence. The painting of the “calaca” faces, the smell of sage and other incenses, the candles, the remembrance of those departed, become compelling elements in the mix. After participating in the celebration, people do feel better. Over and over again, that iconic phrase, “La cultura cura,” (“Culture Heals”) proves absolutely right.
Nevertheless, gentrification and the accompanying onset of greed, has caused many casualties these last few years. This new malignant type of “gold rush,” in the shape of a real estate bonanza, has brought thousands of new, young, well-paid “techies” to San Francisco, provoking the rise of rent and turning the city over to the tech industry. This new reality also has its negative effects upon the cultural manifestations. It has affected the Mission particularly hard. The “old Mission,” in a sense, seems to be dying. Longtime residents, people and businesses are leaving.
Last week, I attended a kind of memorial service for the venerable Modern Times Bookstore. With over 45 years of service to the city, it had come to live its last months (and to die) at its location on 24th Street. The rising of its rental price and the lowering of the numbers of clients caused its sad demise.
The event, which also served as a retirement party for one of the bookstore’s founding members—the indefatigable Ruth Mahaney—was bittersweet. Heartfelt speeches were given, beautiful memories shared, grey hair dominating the crowd of ancient warriors, still feisty. Where have all the readers gone?
Nevertheless, on Friday night of the same week, many of us gathered at the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts. There, instead of a memorial service, the occasion was more of a rebirth. Or “a passing of the torch” as someone called it. It was the release of the first CD by the young musical group Soltrón. The members of the group, almost all of them proud to have been born and raised in the Mission, were accompanied by many regular fans, friends, lovers and hopeful/helpful parents.
There was an abundance of moms and dads, or “mamis” and “papis” in this case. The families sold tickets, served food that they had also prepared and acted as MCs. A happy vibe filled the air, the realization of a true continuation.
Our music, an essential part of our culture, was well-represented by “Soltrón. It was a mix of hip-hop, salsa and cumbia with righteous lyrics that helped all realize that we are not alone in the struggle against gentrification. Those young men and women were indeed becoming an important part of the struggle taking place in our community.
Life and Death in the Mission District, an eternal cycle. Being a witness to those two events, the closing of Modern Times Bookstore was heartbreaking, but the launching of Soltrón’s first CD gives me hope for our neighborhood.
As I have learned to say: “We should not be afraid to die. We should be afraid not to live!”