The Hispanick Zone by Guillermo Reyes
SCENE ONE:
SPANISH FOR LOVERS
(Enter the Instructor. She's a short, lively and gossipy woman like Dr. Ruth )
DOCTORA: Hola. I'm La Doctora Cuca. This especial episode is for
our North American friends who during spring break love to fly down to
south of the border and need to know many things, like whether or not
they should smile when natives look at them and say, "Ay, que pendejos."
The answer is yes, you do smile at them and take it like a foreigner.
But I don't teach nasty words in my class. I believe in romance. In
my class, we're all romantics here. So welcome to "Spanish for
Lovers."
Now, beautiful people, first thing you must learn while visiting south
of the border is how to express your attraction to that lovely woman
or lovely man, whatever your preference.
(Pulls out cue cards )
First, you see a lovely woman wearing a bikini in Acapulco you must
say (Shows card ), "¡Ay, Mamacita!" Everybody together(Makes
them say it ) good. Now I don't know why, but in our culture, when a
woman is beautiful we say "mamacita"- I can only imagine how Sigmund
Freud interpreted this word, but I don't know if people in Catholic cultures
want to admit attraction to their mothersmaybe to mother superior but
in case you didn't realize this, Sigmund Freud was a Latino from Vienna.
Who else would sit around listening to other people's problems and then
reveal them to perfect strangers? ¡Chismoso! We do that in my neighborhood
in Culiacán - we sit by the window and watch the neighbor walk by with
a new mistress, and we really psychoanalyze him! Over a cup of coffee, too,
and we do it for free.That's called comadreando, but I don't want to encourage
that type of thing either. When I do it, it's because I'm a professional. But
anyway, one more time, make me feel it, "mamacita." (Makes them say it )
But now, you hombres, you don't get off the hook now, because when we lust
after a beautiful man in the beaches of Mazatlán, big bulging muscles we say,
you guessed it, "papacito." See? Or even more disgusting, “papazote". But
watch it-"papazote" has to be reserved for men with a certain type of
equipment, and I don't take responsibility for how you find that out. Only a few
men really deserve it, and we women need to see the evidence. Everybody, the
two combinations, don't be shy, "papacito" or "papazote." See? And in our
countries, you don't need to be afraid of sexual harassment suits because
nobody can afford lawyers.
Now you sir, it's okay, you can call me, "mamacita." Go ahead,
"mamacita." (Makes him say it ) See? I like that, the way it
rolled off your tongue. See me afterwards. And when you use those
words, I don't need to call you no sexist pig or nothing. In my
country, we women can get even by doing this: (Shows her two fingers
doing a sign of "little.")
Just be careful where you use that. Military takeovers happen when men
feel inadequate. Just remember, size don't matter, except in
Venezuela. Yeah, it's the capital of corrective procedures, if you
know what I mean. But now I'm doing it again. ¡Que chismosa! It's
my Freudian slip
Alright, so now you've identified the object of your deseo. Now what
do you do? You go up to her or him with a very simple word:
"Vamos." This can mean many things. We go, we go to the beach, we
go have a drink, or we go to church for confession, or maybe we go,
you know, I can't say it, ay no, por favor. (She's blushing )
It's all in how you say it-an innocent "vamos," or a students
on a spring break "¡vamos ya pues!" You, young señorita, you say
it with whatever intention you like, you are among friends(Makes
her say it ) Okay, that was a weak "vamos." It won't get you
beyond a coffee date, and you only live once. You've got to work on
it a little more, mija. Try it again and make it sound primal, like
you've really got needscon ganastry again.
Very good! (or the other possibility: OK, we won't embarrass you any
longer, pobrecita ) We're ready to vacation.
We're running out of timeLet me bring out my assistant to help us
review what we've learned. Juanito, venga, mi cielo, venga
(Young man comes out looking uncomfortable. He might be muscular or at
least looks appetizingly good in some way.)
(He smiles wanly.)
Okay, so you see him in the streets and you say, first the soft
word-that's right, "papacito." The more obscene word,
"papazote."
JUANITO: Excuse me, as a man, I'm feeling a little used for my body.
DOCTORA: That is your only purpose, honey.
JUANITO: But that's just it, I'm not just a pretty face. I'm studying French Renaissance
poetry, and in my spare time, I work with disabled children.
DOCTORA: Just deliver the seeds, I'll raise the kids.
JUANITO: Oh! I feel so oppressed, so oppressed.
(Juanito runs out crying.)
DOCTORA: Pobrecito! He's feeling used, but I'll make it up to
him. He doesn't know the night's just getting started. Wellcome
back next week to learn how to play sexy word games with tropical
fruitsThank you and adios (She runs out after Juanito )
DOCTORA: Ay, mijo, come back. No llores, papazote. (Exits)
SCENE TWO
HEAVY DUTY ASSIMILATION
(Three children-two boys, one girl-at play in their room as Daddy approaches )
GIRL: Here he comes.
ALL CHILDREN: Hi, daddy.
DADDY: (Military style ) At ease, children. Before going to bed
tonight, I thought I should finally break the news to you. As you know
by now, we're moving to the suburbs-
CHILDREN: Yeah! Suburbs! Yeah
DADDY: I know, I know, no more inner city stigma, no more living this
side of the tracks, no more wondering if we were ever going to make it
in this great nation of ours. Of course, your mother and I have
decided we can no longer afford three children so one of you must go.
It's called downsizing, children. Corporate America has taught me
this technique, it's socially acceptable, even encouraged. Besides,
the average suburban couple is only allowed 1.8 children these days,
and we've exceeded that number. We don't want to be called
"Third World people," do we? "They have too many children,"
that type of thing or do we-I said, do we?
CHILDREN: No, no…
DADDY: But, you see, it doesn't have to be a sad parting for the
one of you who'll have to go. Foster care can be very pleasant these
days, even preferable really. Besides, we'll be doing some heavy
assimilation in the suburbs and it won't be pretty. So please think
about it. The ball is in your court. Before gently tucking you in
tonight, we want YOU to decide who'll go. It'll be a consensus. If
you fail to choose, we'll choose for you. Some of you are growing up
to be troublemakers anyway, but that's neither here nor there. You
have fifteen minutes…thank you for your cooperation.
(He exits )
GIRL: Ah…alright…
BOY #1: So who's gonna go?
BOY #2: I'm not gonna go.
BOY #1: She's the one who started it.
GIRL: Started what? What did I do?
BOY #2: You, you're the troublemaker he was talking about.
GIRL: Me?
BOY #1: You're the one who said you were gonna grow up and not go
to church and become some atheist.
GIRL: Well…Ms. Richards made us read the Constitution, that's
all, and it says I can believe in anything I want, including not
believe.
BOY #1: So you go and live with some atheists.
BOY #2: We're gonna stay and become altar boys, right?
BOY #1: Altar boys, yeah.
GIRL: Don't you see? This is what Ms. Richards was talking about.
It's corporate America trying to divide us when we should stand
tall, united, as children of the family. Either we all stay or we all
go. It's called collective bargaining.
BOY #2: No way!
BOY #1: Wait…whaddy you mean?
GIRL: It means we fight for our rights.
BOY #1: We're gonna get in trouble listening to her!
GIRL: No, not necessarily.
BOY #2: You're a troublemaker, troublemaker!
GIRL: (To Boy #1.) Remember the time daddy took the two of us to
Disneyland and made you stay home because you had gone off to play
doctor with one of those Navajo girls?
BOY #1: We were just talking about careers and stuff.
GIRL: See? Playing doctor is an essential part of our sexual
development! One of our rights.
BOY #1: That's right, one of our rights!
GIRL: That was daddy trying to divide us and deprive us of our right
to grow up like normal, curious children.
BOY #2: And how come daddy doesn't like Navajos?
GIRL: Dad's a racist, that's why.
BOY #1: Stop talking about daddy that way!
GIRL: And it doesn't matter that some of us have our own Indian
blood, Mayan or something, he denies it- we're a hundred per cent
European, he says, but it's not true, not true one bit!
BOY #2: What are we supposed to do about it? We're kids. BOY #1:
And he's the only dad we got.
GIRL: I say stand tall. All of us. You promise? I said you promise?
BOY #2: I'm scared.
GIRL: Don't let him see you scared!
BOY #1: Yeah, we're boys! We're not scared. We won't go!
GIRL: That's the spirit. (To other boy ) And you!
BOY #2: I demand my right to play with the Navajos, and Apaches and
everyone else.
GIRL: Alright, that's it. United Children of Phoenix, here we go.
(Daddy returns, smiling )
DADDY: Children?
(After a second of silence, they all buckle under )
GIRL: Take him (They all grovel at his feet )
ALL: Take hertake himno, take himhimher
DADDY: That's alright, children. I'm sorry to tell you, your
mother has announced she's pregnant. And we don't believe in
abortion. Two of you must go.
GIRL: I think this is what they call
CHILDREN ONLY: The Hispanick Zone!
SCENE THREE:
YET ANOTHER COMING OUT SCENE
(Young man talks to his mother during Christmas )
YOUNG MAN: For a long time I've been meaning to tell you.
MOTHER: Why did you choose Christmas Day, mijo?
YOUNG MAN It's the one time of year I get to come home. Don't you
think it was about time for all of us to face the truth? Imagine, all
those years of hiding.
MOTHER: We are just an average, Spanish-American home somewhere in
middle America trying to fit in. Why are you trying to spoil that?
YOUNG MAN: Maybe then it's time to challenge all that, mom.
MOTHER: Does the entire family have to know?
YOUNG MAN: Of course, mother, it affects all of us.
MOTHER: You have to let them down easy.
YOUNG MAN: This is not a letdown, mother. Please get used to it.
I'm proud to say it, mother-
MOTHER: Don't say it on Christmas Day!
YOUNG MAN: Well, it's true, mother. I am Jewish. (Mom wipes away
her tears )
YOUNG MAN: You ok?
MOTHER: Yes. Now, is this something that you felt at an early age?
YOUNG MAN: Yes, very early on, I suspected it.
MOTHER: Now I know why I found you in the closet at 8 years old
wearing those Hasidic curlers.
YOUNG MAN: They're called "pais," mother.
MOTHER: They didn't look right on you.
YOUNG MAN: They're part of our heritage.
MOTHER: But-I mean you are not really-You're not, you know,
like them.
YOUNG MAN: Look, mom, I traced our roots way back to Spain. I even
asked for my professor's help in confirming our genealogical data,
and there's no doubt about it: we used to be Sephardic Jews.
MOTHER: Well, it's all in the past, isn't it?
YOUNG MAN: Mother, we've been living a lie all these centuries.
MOTHER: I'm sure we converted fair and square.
YOUNG MAN: We were forced into it, mother. The alternative was the
Inquisition. And now get this: in the New World, we became closet
Jews.
MOTHER: What is that?
YOUNG MAN: In New Mexico, our family would practice Catholicism at
church and then at home, we'd eat lox.
MOTHER: Really? Lox? Is that the only proof you've got?
YOUNG MAN: And knishes, too.
MOTHER: Fine, OK, I mean at least I like knishes, I need to get the
recipe, I guess, so that we may honor our ancestors at Rosh Hashanah,
is that what it's called?
YOUNG MAN: Mother! As I was saying, our ancestors had to keep Spanish
authorities from knowing they were real Jews. For centuries, many of
our relatives kept up the facade until one by one, they started to
lose it. We became Catholics, no trace or memory of our real
heritage was left. In 500 years, they succeeded in obliterating the
truth about themselves, but it's time for the truth to resurface.
MOTHER: God, I could have sworn you were gay. I mean I know I could
handle that.
YOUNG MAN: Well, I'm dating a lesbian right now.
MOTHER: What?
YOUNG MAN: We're not into labels, ma. Susy wears a nose ring and
considers herself a radical lesbian who dates boys- sometimes, I
consider myself a radical lesbian who dates boys. I mean "hello,"
we're a new generation, and we're not into labels.
MOTHER: You know what, I don't believe you.
YOUNG MAN: Ma—
MOTHER: You're just doing this to get back at grandpa because
he's a member of Opus Dei.
YOUNG MAN: Mayour jewel box.
MOTHER: Excuse me?
YOUNG MAN: The evidence. It's in your jewel box. The one
grandma left you. Get it. Or you want me to get it?
MOTHER: I'll get it. I don't know what you're talking about
but
(She gets the box. He rummages through the box. He pulls out an old key)
YOUNG MAN: There.
MOTHER: What? That old key?
YOUNG MAN Grandma left that for you, there was a reason for it. She
didn't understand it, but her grandma had passed it on to her
without really understanding it either and on
MOTHER: Oh, just some old memory probably.
YOUNG MAN: When the Jews were kicked out of Spain, and some came to
the New World, what did they bring? The only thing that would remind
them of it: the key to their homes, in our case, Toledo. So this is the key that once
opened our gates, it was a common thing for them to bring to the New World.
MOTHER: Things have changed in Toledo in 500 years. Instead of a
synagogue, we'd probably find a McDonalds there or something.
YOUNG MAN It's time to find out then. I'm going to Spain to see
what's happened since. Maybe you'd like to come with -
MOTHER: No. We're Catholics now for better or for worse. We'll
never be different, we'll never "come out." The only keys I want
are the keys to the kingdom. Dios Mío.
(Mother exits crossing herself. He's left alone, looks at the key.
He pantomimes opening a door with the key. We hear the creaking of an
old door as it opens.)
YOUNG MAN: Excuse mewe used to live here once.
(Lights down)