Stuck in the Middle

Being Mexican-American has numerous advantages. You get the best of both worlds: hot dogs and tacos, big malls and el tianguis, punk and mariachi. Halloween and Día del Muerto. Between both of these absolutely amazing traditional holidays, I feel like I have found the center of my universe. Every year on October 31st I get to recreate myself, to have my very own Big Bang. To be someone new for a short while. It's a whole process, a ritual. Yes, Halloween is just an excuse for consumerism to tighten its grip on the population and for people everywhere to wear silly, scary, or daring costumes and get drunk. But I think of it this way: it's a chance to become more aware of our vulnerability as humans, to be in touch with something which isn't tangible: our own fears. There's nothing like a good horror film to cuddle up to and watch during these cold nights, with the beautiful October moon peeping in through the window. Then there's the jack-o-lanterns, the homemade costumes, the food designed to look like body parts... It's all one huge outlet for creativity, a way to explore outside your comfort zone. That's what totally captures me about Halloween. 

Then there's Día del Muerto, with all it's traditional and religious splendor. This is a purely Mexican holiday, a unique point of view that is shared by no other nation in the world. Today, we are reminded that death is a part of life. It's a festivity that reaches down to the deepest roots of Mexican culture, a mixture of the raw pre columbium era and the New World Catholicism. I am entirely convinced that dressing up as a catrina is the most powerful costume one could wear. She is joyous death, just as eager to party it up as any other person in this country of eternal celebration. She is not afraid of death, but embraces it as a natural part of existence. If you don't fear death, what is there left to fear? So, much the way that Halloween is an invitation to explore outer possibilities, Día del Muerto is an adventure into my own origin. I don't know what happens after death, but I know this: what makes us transcend is what we do here, now. In the future, maybe the only way I will live on is in my family's memory, and as the subject of their altar de muerto.

¡A reírse de la muerte!