The photo above is from my wedding reception. What you don't see is the scene in front of it. Family and friends of all colors and demonitations dancing, laughing, hugging, jumping (yes, jumping), and an impromptu hora to the strings of mariachi, celebrating a cross cultural union. It was one of the most memorable moments of that wonderful day.
When my husband and I were planning our wedding, I knew right away that no matter what kind of reception we held, there had to be a mariachi. With its Mexican roots, the mariachi tradition reaches through Central and South American culture. Growing up in a Colombian family, mariachis showed up a birthdays and other life milestones. When I saw the Washington Post's article yesterday, it really struck me. Mariachi music in itself is not political. It is uncaged emotion. Joy and pain. With its traditional wear, those who play it are a proud display of Latinx heritage. In today's climate, its existence is resistence. I encourage you to take a read:
“When you die, they bring you mariachis. When you are born, they bring you mariachis. When you fall in love, they bring you mariachis.” In between, in times of change and uncertainty, the mariachis will be there, too.
If this national nightmare ever ends, I hope to celebrate with mariachis.