Lights, Cameras, Deception!

Living in Miami, I feel like I’m on the set of a movie. There’s some omnipotent director telling me how to act my role as a local. On screen guns blaze, dealers light up, and celebrities step onto their yachts docked behind their multi-million dollar homes on Star Island. Each shot lasts less than a second and we actors are constantly running, dying, and blowing things up. There are shots of beautiful women lying on South Beach in revealing bikinis, teenagers rolling ecstasy in grimy nightclubs, and neon lights illuminating the homeless man who flashes his toothless grin at men who walk by in tight shirts and skinny jeans.

We actors know that this movie is an inaccurate rendition of Miami but we’re putting on a show that’ll sell tickets: if we act well enough people may but into the spectacle and come to the theater.

People accuse the mobiles of creating a false image of Miami but we locals are the true criminals: we become what others think we are because we want to live vicariously through exciting false representations instead of our lives that are boring in comparison.

Silhouette

As the sun yellows and dips behind the puffy clouds, swiped across the early evening sky, he sees his shadow, or rather his silhouette, just a simple black outline of the person he is, blocked out by the intense glow of the rays behind him. Unidentifiable.

Miami is a city with no identity. Of the three types of people who live here, locals, mobiles and exiles, they are either overlooked and hold no claim to the city or simply identity with a completely different place. Yes, it's true that all of them live under the same blistering sun every day, but their identities are lost within the city. Just by looking at them, you may not be able to tell where they come from or what language they speak which just goes to show how not one group is known to belong to the city. Sure, the locals call themselves just that, locals, but after the hard economic times in the middle of the 20th century, they were pushed to the dark corners of the city while the beautiful beaches were splattered with fancy condos and the fantastic influx of Cubans and other Latino people surged into the city. With this strange combination of people who all hold about equal thirds of the city, not just one can hold claim to the city.

But beside the picture just representing the lost identity of the people of Miami, I also thought it showed a little bit of the facade of the mobile culture and the way Miami is portrayed as a beach and party town because the sun is being reflected in the glass instead of directly at the sunset itself. This struck me as perhaps related to the way that magazines and TV show the beach and club scene of the city, which are truly there, but they are being used to create a fake identity of the city instead of the raw, true feeling of the city as a whole.

A Day with Jennine Capó Crucet

Never did I think I would get to hear a successful author discuss her work as if she were having an informal conversation. The voice in How to Leave Hialeah becomes evident after a few moments with Jennine Capó Crucet. Crucet’s responses to each of the group’s questions made me want to discover more. While her struggles with publishing and writing were interesting, there was nothing like hearing new material. With a novel in the works, it will provide an opportunity to form connections with her short stories.

Equally as exciting, one question that I could not wait to ask was about her use of comedy. I would have never thought she had considered becoming a sketch writer. I admit that I had pondered over this career move. She explained the importance of comedy and how it helps heighten emotion after a tragic moment. In the spirit of the discussion, she read a few snippets of stories she normally offers at bars. Taking the structure from Latina magazine, she created her own advice columns. Women asked about problems related to dating and men in general. Though they were hilarious, they presented real issues, which, upon closer examination, lose its comedic value. In my writing, I want to do the same. Let the comedy tell the story but not outweigh the core message.

Crucet’s decision to become a writer also spoke to me. She noted that she would not have written these stories had someone else already done it. Writing has to come from a personal place but must also express an idea or emotion that describes the human condition. Nice descriptions and vivid language are only as effective as the theme that supports them. Therefore, I have stories that need telling and cannot leave them for someone else who may or may not care as strongly as I do. It is not about the potential of fame or notoriety, but creating something that will help future generations understand a particular time or event and its effect on the individual or society.

Jennine Capo Crucet

I feel so lucky to have had the experience to meet and talk with an author like Jennine Capo Crucet. She was not at all like what I had expected; from How to Leave Hialeah I received almost a bitter impression of the writer of the level of tolerance and view of the Latino culture in Miami. However my first impressions of her were of a very outgoing, bubbly and happy person. She was incredibly friendly and gave great insights into her work. I was glad we got a litte time with her just to ourselves to ask questions, but she was also amazing in the larger group setting with the Women's and Gender Studies class.

I'm satisfied with her work and definitely plan on purchasing her new book when it comes out because I absolutely loved the excerpt she read from it during the second portion of the class. There is something incredible about the way she strings her words together and puts feeling behind them.

In general, I'm thrilled to have met her. I have always enjoyed reading my entire left, but it is such a rare opportunity to meet the author behind a book you have read. It's a strange experience because in your own head you perceive the book in a certain way as well as the author and meeting them can completely throw you off. At the same time, it is definitely a worth-while experience to get to meet the person who caught your attention and had the ability to probe your imagination.

With Jennine, it was fascinating to hear her talk about her own ideas and writing process and how she came about with the ideas to write How to Leave Hialeah. It's the kind of information one normally wouldn't have access to after reading a book and provides a greater insight into the story itself. Also, she seems to have the qualities of a great writer and it was so interesting to hear her talk about her life and struggle to become a writer, since I have considered the career path myself.

My new signed poster is hanging in my room along with my now signed copy of How to Leave Hialeah which I plan to spread the word about and recommend to my friends.

Who's "We"?

“We are Miami.”

Thus, even reputable news stations attempt to understand the societal tensions that comprise a divided city. Apparently, Miami belongs to the Everglades, the gaudy pink of the flamingo (referred to as “locals”), and the flash of Dolphin’s football. Miami once again relies on its main attractions to convey a certain image of the city, the spectacle. The station, however, sees them as forms of environmental awareness, local pride, and familial values. These seem different from the Miami portrayed by competing news stations, vying for a neighborhood shooting for the night’s headlines. NBC’s subtle form of propaganda wants to describe Miami as prospering, transforming into a major economic force comparable to the Northeast’s New York City or the West’s Los Angeles.

But as a source for credible journalism, how can it promote this superficial image of the city? The heart of the city does not lie imbedded in these outward layers. Where are the depictions of Overtown and the highway system that runs through it? Where are the exiles that live outside of the epicenters of Little Havana and Little Haiti? I realize that Miami cannot be disconnected from its associations to vacation and splendor. The main news anchors housed in cars and boats also speak to a local, celebrity elite, symbolizing an unspoken, hierarchical source of economic power.

The suppression of local culture also returns as a major motif. The only appearance of locals remains hidden in helmets. And this commercial reinforces another stereotype, showing the importance of physical aesthetic. Beauty and athleticism cover the real issues. Therefore, NBC Miami’s ironically continues to fall back on iconic images instead of presenting the truth in its advertisements.

So is there answer to what “we” means? It seems that Miami argues for the advancement of one group over others in an effort to define its identity, a middle that exists between truth and fiction.

Surprise Graffiti!

I had originally wanted this blog post to center around the photograph below. I went on the Metrorail solely for the purpose of taking a picture of graffiti. But not just any graffiti, it had to be graffiti that could only be seen by the riders of the train. It was at the top of a building, so the only way anyone could see it entirely would be, primarily, from the Metro. Perhaps EHN5 or HINT was a gang, or a high school, or some other organization I wasn’t aware of at the time, or referring to some important issue. I honestly had no idea what these phrases meant, but I was intent on finding out their inner meanings.

The most I found out about EHN5 was that it classified a number of hardware items, furniture, and even a trading stock on the New York Stock Exchange. But none of it seemed to be related to locals in Miami. I could find almost nothing for HINT that related to any organizations in Miami.

But what I found on one of the light posts was even more interesting. Here, in the subway station at South Miami, was inscribed the life span of an individual. I don’t know the name of this individual, the letters were hard to make out. But what was visible was “Oct. 21, 1963-2011”. The Miami Metrorail system wasn’t established until 1984, when this person would’ve been twenty-one years old. Imagine the stories this individual could’ve told us. He or she might’ve told us about life before the Metrorail, how construction impacted the community, how the subway system united (or further divided) Miami as a city. The possibilities are endless. If only the marker had engraved “Oct. 21, 1963-”.

A Reading and Discussion

Jennine Capo Crucet wasn't the type of person I expected to meet at all. It just goes to show how greatly she creates a narrator that is so separated from the author, and how she makes her characters so powerfully complex. I think it's this complexity in emotions and decisions within the narratives that really made me think of the meanings lying beneath the surface. She pointed out that she makes sure to build her characters as the foundation for the story, instead of taking a principle or idea that she wants to express and then making a plot focused on just that.

This idea reminded me of our investigations of the culture of Miami, and how we are aiming to create theories based on the evidence in front of us, rather than taking sociological or anthropological principles and applying it to the city, finding bits and pieces of proof as support. Just like Barthes, we are starting with the material, the culture groups in Miami, the trends, the lifestyles, and the tensions in between in order to see what it is that makes the city different than all of the other major cities out there.

I also particularly enjoyed her touch on the subject of identity, and the paralysis of identity that comes with being a first generation American. Both of my parents came to America to start a family, and sometimes I wonder which country is my real home, or if it's possible to have two homes. I think Ms. Capo Crucet is a very inspiring writer, and I am very grateful to have met with and to have had the pleasure of hearing such a wonderful person.