When the clock struck 12 on Christmas day, my cousins husband blasted his stereo all the way up. He had been playing Bacchata songs before midnight. Bacchata is this music and dance phenomena that has taken the latin community by storm recently. Every song sounds the same to me. The smooth goateed square head singer seems to sing every damn song. The dance is carefully choreographed freak dancing. Though, not everyone can do it. It looks like it takes practice and a good 6 months of yoga on the ladies part. He had also been playing various popular rap songs. I can’t remember but I’m pretty sure I heard Fiddys mentally challanged like voice that night. So at midnight he was pretty drunk off of Boones. My family seems to think that is classy wine. My cousin and her husband were raised in the US and they speak english so this train of thought perplexes me. Not that I am a wine snob. I don’t drink wine but as of late it’s good ol’ Andre champagne that does me right.
At midnight, he blasted his stereo all the way up. To eleven, as they say. Is that what they say? Crank it up to eleven? Well he might have cranked it up to 12 even.
We’re all hispanic in my family. My cousins husband is of Guatemalan descent. Everybody else is Mexican. I am often accused of being white washed or trying to be white simply because I read and I like school and my vocabulary goes beyond “ay foo.” I absolutely love being Mexican. I am that sensitive child that will tear up looking at a Frida Kahlo painting in person. I am that sensitive American raised child that will tear up while walking up to the Grand Canyon. Somehow these moments are translated as trying to be “muy muy” or conceited.
My family is also extremely prejudiced. For some reason, my cousins’ husband is the de facto Alpha Male in our family. In all honesty, my father should be the Alpha Male because he has consistently provided for his family. He is extremely hard working. Yet, he doesn’t speak a word of English and it’s because of this that my father will never be the Alpha Male among our family. My uncle is a drunk and my other uncle is a cheating perverted man. Well, most of my family is raunchy and beyond belief disrespectful. I recently had a conversation with my sister where she revealed that my uncle told the kids about his foreplay method. The kids being his own kids. He was talking about our aunt, his wife their mother. That’s my family. Anyway, my family is extremely prejudiced. I have had to bite my tongue when all the males and kids in our family are carefully listening to what my cousins’ husband has to say about gay people, Obama, socialism and communism. He firmly believes that AIDS was introduced by a gay man who had sex with a monkey. When he says monkey he means a chimp. He reiterates what I assume were Glen Beck broadcasts about Obama being socialist and that the US is essentially, PRACTICALLY, a communist society. I have had to excuse myself several times because it’s happened in the past where I get into arguments where I end up losing because my mother tells me to drop it. It’s really hard for me to drop it when I know I’m right. My family is extremely prejudiced against certain types of Black people. They absolutely loathe white people. Not my parents. They probably pray I marry a white man since that is a Mexican affirmation, SI SE PUEDE! I’ve made it mom! I married Anglo. But for the rest of my family, it’s a betrayal and it’s hispanics who think they’re too good or “muy muy.”
So, at midnight my cousins’ husband, drunk off of $2 flavored wine, cranked it up to perhaps 13 and the living room vibrated with the regional country sounds of Nashville. The twang of the country guitars bounced from one dirty white wall to another. As the three wise men rode their camels (were they camels?) and followed the north star (was it the north star?) to the barn where Mary and Joseph held their new born baby Jesus, it was Trey Adkins Honky Tonk Bodankadunk that was the soundtrack of this miracle. And I watched my cousin and her husband exchange a wet drunken kiss. I am sure they were overwhelmed with the spirituality of the moment. And I looked at my sister and she looked back at me and we stared at each other for a good ten seconds. We didn’t have to say it. And when the song was over, we calmly dismissed ourselves, said goodbye and told my mom we were leaving and we would wait for them at home.