Obtained from https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mitos_y_Fantasias_de_los_aztecas_foto_60.png

 

For hundreds of years, the word “mestizo” has been perceived negatively due to the history behind the word. During the colonial era in Mexico, a mestizo ranked lower on the social ladder than someone of pure European descent . As time progressed, the word mestizo became a derogatory term that referred to poor, uneducated individuals living in the rural areas of Mexico; however, during the muralist movement of the 1920s, Jorge Vasconcelos and several influential Mexican artists presented a new way of understanding the mestizo. In his essay The Race Problem in Latin America, Vasconcelos celebrated the mestizo, and claimed that this race is a “bridge to the future”.[1] Many of his visionary ideas originated during the Mexican Revolution, where leaders such as Villa and Zapata called for the return of power to the native Mexican people. This was a clear departure from the reverence given to the European way of life prevalent during the Porfiriato. Despite this new way of viewing the mestizo that began during the Revolution and the muralist movement, there remained contradictory views about the symbolic meaning of the mestizo, highlighting the conflicting identities that characterize Mexico to this day.

Vasconcelos’ new philosophy on the mestizo was reflected in the art of the most influential artists of the muralist movement: José Clemente Orozco, David Alfaro Siqueiros, and Diego Rivera. Through their art, los Tres Grandes created arts that was not only celebratory of the mestizo, but that also represented the suffering and subjugation of this group. An excellent example of a work of art that displays this new philosophy is Orozco’s Cortez and Malinche, painted in 1926 in the National Preparatory School in Mexico City. This fresco depicts Hernan Cortez, the man responsible for conquering the Aztecs, and la Malinche, an Indian slave that served as Cortez’s translator and, later, his lover. Clearly, this work symbolizes the interbreeding between the Spanish and the native population that led to the birth of the mestizo race. Without question, Cortez and La Malinche are controversial figures in Mexican history. Cortez brought about a new era of modernization in Mexico, but he also brutally oppressed and displaced the native population; La Malinche facilitated Cortez’ process of modernizing the country, but she is also viewed by many as a traitor to her own people. Due to the controversial nature of these historical figures, Orozco’s work of art has been interpreted in very different ways. The conflicting readings of his art were characterized by the Hispanistas, who viewed the Spanish conquest and mestizaje as the freeing of Mexico; however, the Indigenistas saw the conquest as nothing more than the genocide of the native populations and their ancient cultural traditions.[2] Although Orozco’s piece could be viewed as a celebration of the emergence of the mestizo and the birth of modern Mexico, the dominant posture of Cortez over La Malinche, and his apparent stomping of a native individual, could also be interpreted as the subjugation and suffering that the mestizo was forced to endure. Ultimately, the debate that arose over Orozco’s art reveals the conflicting interpretations of the mestizo that still existed, despite Vasconcelos’ and Los Tres Grandes’ promotion of a new national identity.

As mentioned above, reshaping the idea of the mestizo originated during the Mexican revolution, explaining why the revolution itself is symbolic of the conflicting identities that exist in Mexico. The revolution was fought against an oppressive government that sought to imitate Europe rather than embrace the native population, largely comprised of mestizos. Mexican dictator Porfirio Diaz was even known for lightening his skin in order to hide his native mestizo complexions. Mariano Azuela’s novel, The Underdogs, provides a representative portrayal of the sentiments that existed among the Mexican people during the revolution. In his book, Luis Cervantes, one of Azuela’s main characters, expresses why he decided to desert the Ferderales to join the revolutionary cause. During his time with the federal army, Cervantes was eventually moved by the “misery of the dispossessed” and “came to see their cause as the sublime cause of an oppressed people demanding justice, pure justice”.[3] Although social class is not mentioned explicitly, it is implied that when Cervantes speaks of the “oppressed people”, he is referring to the common people of Mexico. Throughout the novel, Azuela continues to make a clear distinction between the “rebels” who represented the revolutionary cause, and the “dammned Federales” who continued to look down upon the Mexican commoners. This war of conflicting ideals portrayed in Azuela’s novel parallels the sentiments that existed during the muralist movement and further reveals the opposing national identities that existed in Mexico.

Despite Vasconcelos’ attempt to reshape people’s views of the mestizo, conflicting interpretations of mestizo identity and worth persisted within the country. Beginning with the revolution, there was a newfound appreciation for the mestizo, inspiring los Tres Grandes to celebrate and portray an idealized representation of this group of people in their murals; however, groups like the Hispanistas reveal that there remained sections of the country that continued to align with the European-oriented ideals that existed in Mexico prior to the revolution. Ultimately, Vasconcelos failed to fulfill his vision of a Mexico that fully appreciated the mestizo, but he inspired a deeply influential muralist movement that had a significant impact on the Mexican population.

 

Works Cited

 

[1] Ilan Stavans and José Vasconcelos, José Vasconcelos: the prophet of race (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2011), 97.

[2] Desmond Rochfort, Mexican muralists: Orozco, Rivera, Siqueiros (San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 1998), 46.

[3] Mariano Azuela, The underdogs, a novel of the Mexican Revolution (New York: New American Library, 1963), 22.