Migrant Power and Music: In Conversation with Chhoti Maa

A year ago, we invited artists with close ties to the Mexico/US border to share their perspectives on the Trump administration’s plan to rescind DACA, the Obama-era Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals immigration policy. Ten artists—including filmmaker Natalia Almada, photographer Star Montana, and visual artist Pedro Reyes—responded, with an eleventh adding her perspective today. Vreni Michelini Castillo—an artist and organizer who records under the moniker Chhoti Maa, shares her new single, “Sol,” exclusively with Walker Reader audiences. The timing remains apropos, given news early this month that the Trump administration has transferred 1,600 migrant children (of an estimated 13,000 held by US authorities) to a tent city in West Texas, where they have little or no access to educational or legal resources. Meanwhile, for DACA recipients, children born in the US to undocumented parents, the future remains ever more precarious: with inaction from Congress, the program’s phase-out, scheduled for March 2018, has been put on hold by several courts.

Interviewed by the Walker’s Fabián Leyva-Barragán, the Oakland-based, Mexican artist explains that the song is a “response to 526 years of narrative control.” “We have constantly been regarded as subhuman by different oppressive forces, as part of a strategy for our dispossession and the continual denial of our dignity and life. ‘Sol’ negates that racist narrative and illustrates the ways in which we defend ourselves.” Here, she discusses her background, Chhoti Maa’s forthcoming album and October 18 New York City performance, and the September 15 ritual/protest she performed at the Mexico/US border.

Listen: Chhoti Maa’s “Sol” (2018)

Fabián Leyva-Barragán

When and how did you first encounter art?

Vreni Michelini Castillo

From a young age I was surrounded by art because Mexico is a place with a strongly rooted visual culture, one made up of many narratives. My parents made sure I had access to books that represented our past, so I grew up reading ancient fables and visiting ceremonial sites, seeing our story written in stone.

I was born in Guanajuato and lived in Mexico City as a child, so my understanding of art is centered in the way it relates to the people, in the way we share and animate public space, in the way we promote communal living. I loved going to markets. My father would always take me to El Mercado de la Merced. I remember holding on to his thumb and looking up at the merchants and their businesses, listening to merolicas chant, understanding from a young age that I come from a creative and ingenious civilization.

During this time, Mexico was going through an economic crisis: the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) had been enacted, and my family lost our apartment. Shortly afterwards, my father moved back to Guanajuato for a new job, only to lose it that same night when the chemical plant he was going to work for exploded. Eventually, in 1996, my whole family relocated to Guanajuato.

Guanajuato is a place of intense vibrancy. If you want to study color, visit Mexico or other countries in Latin America and you will see that we are not afraid of color. Additionally, part of my foundational art education was being in the kitchen with my grandma, fetching food from the market, seeing how she made magic from simple ingredients, seeing her run a business from her home.

FL-B

What factors or moments in your life led you to pursue a career in the arts?

VMC

When I was 7 or 8 years old, I began to draw, paint, dance, and play music. The first art piece I made was a clay sculpture, a bust of my deceased great grandfather, Guillermo. I didn’t think about studying art until much later because as a teenager I was more interested in literature and biology. It was not until I was enrolled in community college that I leaned towards art. I went to Virginia Commonwealth University, a fantastic public school where I was able to explore all art forms. A big shout out to the many teachers who supported me, especially the late Dina Bangdel, Hope Ginsburg, and Babatunde Lawal. This is the time when I began my artistic practice, which has always been multidisciplinary. Eleven years later, I call myself a cultural producer/organizer working through art, music, writing, red medicine, and danza.

FL-B

Given your upbringing in both Mexico and United States, is it crucial for you to identify yourself as a Latina/@, Latinx, Chicana, or Chicanx/Xicanx artist? Why or why not?

VMC

I am a migrant. I think it’s important for me to honor my roots. I was born in Mexico: my umbilical cord was planted in Guanajuato by my grandmother, so I grew up having a very clear understanding of where I come from and the land I am responsible to.

In this way I don’t share the Xicanx experience, but I feel it and I empathize with the many different Mexicos that emerge through our diaspora. I met the majority of my great grandparents, which gave me a strong understanding that my blood lines come from many different parts of Mexico and the world. Right now, I identify as a Latina/Latinx with strong Indigenous roots. But I say this with a grain of salt, understanding that the term “Latin” was imposed on us… and that it also has connected our stories across this continent.

I know one day we will shed the “Latin.” What will we call ourselves next? We are a people who are constantly moving, changing, and shedding—yet remembering. That is why we are deemed as dangerous. 

FL-B

Based on the confluences between your identities, what challenges have you faced as a Latinx artist in your field? What are your daily acts of resistance under the current political administration?

VMC

Throughout my 11-year journey as a cultural producer, the main challenge is only having access to employment opportunities that destabilize me economically and keep me living in poverty. I think this is an issue that many artists from marginalized communities face. We are always struggling because we are forced to have multiple jobs that pay very little, pay late, offer no benefits, yet demand/expect a lot of unpaid work. We are kept within the role of a contractor: we are contacted last minute, are paid late for work where our presence is needed, and our ideas are mined yet our voice and work is invisibilized.

Among my daily acts of resistance are trueques, a system of trade that was practiced by my great grandfather Alfredo in the Mexican Bajio area, where I was born. Other gestures include cooking traditional dishes at home for myself and my friends; additionally, I grow some of my own medicines (such as tobacco, mint, aloe, roses, epazote). I dream, imagine, and try to create a better reality for the people around me and for those who are yet to come.

FL-B

What was the driving force behind the creation of “Sol,” your newest song? What was the source of inspiration for choosing the sun as a metaphor for strength and resilience?

VMC

This sneak peek Walker readers are getting is from my new project Caldo de Hueso (Bone Broth). “Sol” is a response to the 526 years of narrative control. As people of color, we have constantly been regarded as subhuman by different oppressive forces, as part of a strategy for our dispossession and the continual denial of our dignity and life. “Sol” negates that racist narrative and illustrates the ways in which we defend ourselves through our protecting our roots, the way we are resilient and constantly at the forefront of change.

In the lyrics, I state:

They have money and all the weapons,
but we have arrived, and we are not leaving.
Refrescamos todo el rato, don’t act dumb.
We are like the sun, strong like fire,
we carry our culture from our birth.
We are the teachers.

FL-B

In additional to your background in music, can you expand on your work with social activism and immigrant rights? Could you share with us more about your most recent ceremonial protest project?

VMC

I have been intentionally involved with the migrant power movement since 2007. Most recently, I visited the US/Mexico border during the weekend of September 15, along with 40+ womyn and “Las Maestras,” artists Celia Herrera Rodríguez and Cherríe Moraga.

During my time at the border with Las Maestras, we spoke between pueblos, among generations, grounding ourselves together so that we could showcase the love for life, for the movement, and for our people in spaces to promote death and suffering. We did this series of ceremonies against the 526+ years of the separation of our families through the use of borders, violence, and fear. The present-day colonizers we are fighting are the state, the military, the concentration camps titled detention centers/prisons.

Our collective, intergenerational ceremony at the border was also in conjunction with El Grito, the annual, historical, and symbolic celebration of Mexico’s independence from Spain. We gathered in ceremony at the ICE Detention Center, the Otay Detention Center, and the Border Wall near the Field State Park Beach/TJ Faro. Our public outcry invoked the image of La Llorona, a mythical woman who cried for her children, warning them of the arrival of the colonizer.

Ultimately, we want and call for the release of innocent children from concentration camps. We want all families to be reunited and free from being detained. For me, it is really important to study, feel and support the work of the Maestras, because they paved the way for me, and because it is in our tradition to work and live intergenerationally to protect those who have yet to come.

FL-B

What are your upcoming artistic projects or plans?

VMC

For the last two years I have been refining my sound, recording and touring. “Sol” is part of another genre-defying album Caldo de Hueso, coming out in November. If the last album’s energy was water, this album’s element is fuego [fire]. This project moves between genres, everything from hip hop to cumbia. I got the support of Women’s Audio Mission to record, mix, and master the project. This album was produced collaboratively by me and my friends beto guapoflaco and Keith Hernandez, who also helped me produce Agua Corre. Other musicians who contributed to Caldo de Hueso are the legendary saxophonist Howard Wiley, Native New Yorker emcee D.i.o., accordionist Ivan Flores, flutist Kymberly Jackson, and GeraOmar Chiknauwi Ozomatli, who plays traditional wooden and clay flutes on “Sol,” among many others. Even my grandma is up in the mix in the interlude “Venado 2” and the closing song, “Gotas de Fuego.”

The first single will be “Atiza,” which reflects on the fires in the Mission and across California, claiming “quemaron todo y aun tenemos nuestra aldea” (they burned everything and we still have our village). The track infuses west coast hip hop sounds with the dynamic flute of Kymberly Jackson.

The video, which will be released in the coming weeks, was directed by my best friend and longtime collaborator, Mexican filmmaker Arturo Segoviano, and my sister, La Pipol. Caldo de Hueso will be also be released on vinyl at the end of the year through Joyful Noise’s White Label Series.

Lastly, I have some shows across North America this month. I will be in New York October 18 and in Toronto October 20.