Manteca! an Anthology of Afro-Latin@ Poets by Melissa Castillo Planas

Rather, I realized that even as a Mexican American in New York City who worked with undocumented Mexicans every weekend, I had never thought about their creative aspirations. Not because I looked down on restaurant work-that was a major part of my life for twelve years while I was an undergraduate, masters, and doctoral student to the extent that I even considered a career in hospitality.

Moreover, I was surprised that this professional, lyrically expressive, sonically tight song was produced by the man who had earlier served me a drink. What I heard was a Spanish language rap that wove together Spanglish chicanismos like “holmes” with a clear connection between a devotion to hip hop and national pride. It had never occurred to me that amidst the soundscapes of Caribbean Latinx and African American New York was an emerging Mexican migrant-conscious hip hop voice. “Do you want to hear a song?” he asked after the last customers trickled out. As he played me a track, I found myself surprised by both the classic sound and style of golden-era New York rap as well as the lyrical and sonic rejection of reggaetón. More than that, the conversation highlighted an articulate young man who was especially knowledgeable about hip hop’s past and present, as well as musical and technical aspects of the genre. Nevertheless, I went along with the conversation as Raul revealed to me that he was an MC and member of the trio, Hispanos Causando Pániko. I preferred “Latin Alternative,” a genre whose very premise was non-conformity to a specific musical style or tradition, with a blend of rock, salsa, pop, electronica, cumbia and anything else (including rap), that resonated with my hyphenated existence. And while the sounds of 1990s gangsta rap followed by the commercial rap of the 2000s played in the background, it was not a music that I identified with or sought out. Hip hop was masculine and black and did not relate to my experience, and reggaetón was machista and sexist and often made me uncomfortable as a young Latina. Growing up Mexican American in upstate New York, hip hop was not part of my culture. As Raul expertly prepared one of the restaurant’s signature cocktails and delivered a delicious prosciutto flatbread the conversation meandered into music.

Raul would walk over to The Orchard, an Italian Restaurant in the Lower East Side of New York City, to stock the bar at the smaller Apizz Restaurant, which lacked storage space. One night after work, I stopped by at the invite of the manager, Diego, a Mexican immigrant from Mexico City, for a drink and a bite. I had been working at The Orchard Restaurant for a few months in the summer of 2010 before I would have a real conversation with Raul Hernández, then 29, the bartender from our sister restaurant two blocks away.

Manteca! an Anthology of Afro-Latin@ Poets by Melissa Castillo Planas