The Music Hidden In My Soul.
- lindafescalera
- Jun 3
- 7 min read
Most of the time I do not feel Mexican in the way that I long to. There are too many things I don’t know - things I would have learned along the way had I grown up exposed to the culture. Do you remember learning to sing "Happy Birthday"? I don’t. It was just something you picked up in the same way that you learned to talk.
There are moments when I say “I am Mexican” as a joke. Like when John asked why I bought limes - you know, was I cooking something? Were they for drinks? And I said, “Because I’m méxicana, and we keep límons in the house.”
There are times when it I say “I am Mexican” in a official sense, like when I have to show my passport. In that case I say "Soy Mexicana por ascendencia”. (I am Mexican by descent.) Because I feel a need to explain why I am not fluent in Spanish. Side note: many people, government officials included, change from being annoyed with me to interested - they are glad I am here exploring my heritage.
And then there are times when I feel mexicana in my soul.
In 2016, I went to Nuevo Amanacer, a conference on the Episcopal Church’s outreach to the Latino community. It was held at Kanuga Conference Center - a beloved place for me - a place I went to frequently when I lived in North Carolina. Because I was there a lot, I saw the conference advertised over and over. Each time, I felt a deep desire to go - but I had no reason.
Then I happened to sit next to Father Anthony Guillén at dinner one evening when he was there at a planning session and I was there - I do not remember why, like I said, I was there a lot. When he mentioned the conference, I told him I was happy to hear it was happening - I felt drawn to go. He said I should go. I told him I had no reason to go. He said if I felt called I needed to go - perhaps the Spirit was preparing me for something ahead. Then he asked what was drawing me. I told him about my father. And he told me a very similar story.
It was the 2nd time I had heard someone express that background. The first was my dear friend Rachel. I heard her story - or rather her father’s story - in very personal, intimate way. Anthony’s story came from a virtual stranger - it was shared in a public dining room. It felt less like a way to understand my own background and more like a common bond - a shared history. And not just with Anthony - but with hundreds, thousands, of 2nd generation Mexican Americans who grew up without a connection to México. It is the story of immigrants wanting to assimilate in order to not be ostracized or shamed. But for people like me - those of us who grew up so removed we never felt the pain or shame - we never had a chance to experience the joy. The community. The family. I didn’t fully understand what I had missed until I was able to experience it firsthand.
So I went to the conference. Several really important things happened. The first was the “wake-up” call I got - in every sense of the word - the first morning I was there.
Years before I had been a participant and a team member on Cursillo weekends - the same spiritual retreat that enabled my father to reclaim his heritage. Cursillo originated in the Catholic Church in Spain. On the last morning of the retreat, the community supporting the people on the retreat arrive at 6 am with flowers and sing "Las Mañanitas." I was told the song was traditionally sung on birthdays and celebratory days. I did not know it originated in México and is popular in most Spanish-speaking countries.
Early the first morning of the conference, music pierced my sleep. It wasn’t my alarm. But it was something vaguely familiar. I couldn’t quite place it. It was out of context. Then I bolted upright as I realized it was "Las Mañanitas". Was this really happening? I stuck my head out of the door and, sure enough, there was a group gathered around a hotel room door down the hall - everyone had flowers. I started crying. The song had never affected me at Cursillo - it was just part of the weekend. But at that moment I realized I was witnessing something real. Something tangible. Something Mexican. And something … familiar. I didn’t know the words in Spanish, but I sang them in English. When the song finished, the group headed into the birthday girl’s room. I sat on my bed for a long time. Had my dad been awakened that way as a boy? Certainly mis abuelos (my grandparents) had been. Would I ever experience someone singing "Las Mañanitas" for me?
That was 10 years ago. In the last month, I have been to two birthday parties here in Querétaro. The first was my friend Eduardo’s 25th birthday. A typical Mexican party, the only guests there on time were those from the US. The Mexicans wandered in over the next hour or so. Each new group of people brought more introductions, more food, another beverage. And they had to finish eating before we could have cake - but then another group came and another group and … there is a reason Mexican birthday parties last so long!
When they finally lit the candles, the group starting singing "Las Mañanitas".
While I guess I should have expected it, it never occurred to me until the music started that they would sing "Las Mañanitas". And the music pierced me again. I desperately wished I knew the words - even the English words were long gone from my memory. But I could hum it - and that helped me feel connected. I was not fully Mexican. But I wasn’t sitting outside peeking in the window. This time I was part of the celebration - even if it was only in the tiniest way.
When the song finished, the host yelled, “Now the Gringos!” And we launched into "Happy Birthday". It was a wonderful blending of my two cultures. We sang both songs again at the 2nd birthday party. This time I was more prepared. I had listened to the song several times and could sing a few phrases. And I sang even more phrases of "Las Mañanitas" the following week before diving into 12 cakes at church coffee hour on Pentecost. (Yes, 12 cakes! They really know how to celebrate in México!)
There’s another piece of music that really affects me but in a different way - "Cielito Lindo".
When I hear the music, there is an emptiness in my soul where the lyrics to the song should be. It's a song I would most certainly would have known had our family sing-alongs included songs beyond Americana - you know, "I've Been Working On The Railroad", "There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly" and the Rodger's & Hammerstein songbook. What’s worse is the words my memory fills in.
My (Anglo) grandmother used to say you are cultured if you can hear the 1812 Overture and not think of the Lone Ranger. One large step on my journey to Becoming Mexican will be when I hear the musical refrain “Ai yi yi’ and think “Canta, no llores” (sing and don’t cry) instead of “I am the Frito Bandito” of the racist 1960s commercial for Fritos. Being in México, I hear "Cielito Lindo" often. And it’s appalling to me - now that I understand the song and it’s place in Mexican culture and history - that such a universally-known and beloved song could be twisted and abused in a such a racist way. Frito-Lay retired the character and the song in 1971 after to pressure from advocacy groups like the National Mexican-American Anti-Defamation Committee.
When the Frito words sneak into my head, I think of what it must have been like for my father to hear that commercial. Worse to hear my siblings and I sing about the Frito Bandito. We found it amusing, never once considering the damage done by the sterotype of a bandit, complete with a sombrero, handlebar mustache and bandoliers, speaking broken English with a Mexican accent while demanding - at gunpoint - that you hand over your snack. In those moments, I understand why my dad choose to raise us apart from our heritage.
My journey to Becoming Mexican clearly needs to go way deeper than experiencing México on a daily basis. The path needs to include stories, songs, traditions - a different way of embracing México.
When the weather cools off, John and I will start hitting the museums in earnest. Querétaro is a great place to start. It is the "Cuera de la Independencia de México" (the Cradle of Mexican Independence) as well as a UNESCO World Heritage site with more than 1400 registered historic buildings. But right now, I am working on learning the words to "Las Mañanitas", "Cielito Lindo" and the "Himno Nacional Mexicano" (Mexican National Anthem) - all 4 verses. (I know the chorus - I learned it to be able to sing it during Independence Day celebrations in 2025. That was a day I really did feel Mexican - but it’s a moment deserving of its own blog post.)
I’m going to a 100th birthday party later this month, and I hope to be able to join in for the entirety of "Las Mañanitas". And the next time I hear “Ai yi yi” at an outdoor cafe, I want to sing the next line - “canta, no llores”. Without even thinking about a bandit.
Love this! Thank you for including my birthday on your blog!