Tag Lucha libre

Photo essay originally published online at Hemispheric Institute of Performance and Politics at New York University
Historically, Superbarrio has been strategic in promoting democratic electoral change. He first emerged in June, 1987 as representative of the Neighborhood Assembly; but in order to win, Superbarrio and the Assembly understood they had to create an alternative political imaginary against seven decades of PRI government, its repeated electoral frauds, and its unpunished corruption. In 1988, the Neighborhood Assembly nominated Superbarrio for president. But, already exercising a profound understanding of coalition building, he gave up his nomination to support Cuauhtemoc Cardenas, the progressive leader of Mexico’s Democratic Coalition.
Who is SUPERBARRIO?
Superbarrio Gomez is like any other working class man; he is a street vendor, lives in the barrio and owns a Barriomovil. According to the Cumbia de Superbarrio (Superbarrio’s cumbia song), he was an orphan. While a teenager, he witnessed the ’68 military oppression against the students uprising in Tlatelolco. Superbarrio “tried selling clothes, driving a taxi, about 200 different jobs before settling on a career as a luchador calling himself Black Prince.” Eventually he fell in love with “Lucha,” not the popular ranchera singer Lucha Villa, nor Lucha Contreras, but Lucha Popular. (Lucha is a proper name which also translates as “struggle.”) He married and had a wrestling carrier. Gomez’s life changed after the September earthquake in 1985, and after he and his neighbors were evicted from a building in downtown Mexico City. He decided to stop fighting fictional enemies in order to fight the real enemy, the government, and its illegal alliance with landlords who perpetrated tenant evictions. In his interview, David Brooks asked Superbarrio what was behind that mask, if there were many Superbarrios. Superbarrio replied that there were thousands of Superbarrios, in fact that anyone who rises his/her voice against injustice was Superbarrio.
Superbarrio’s consciousness is the result of the unification of Mexico’s majoritarian class against a large national problem, the government’s consistent project of gentrification. Superbarrio explains: “The policy of the government over the last decades has been one of forcing people from the center of the city to the periphery, and giving the properties at the center of commercial use to benefit large enterprises, warehouses, restaurants, tourist attractions.” In 1993, Mexico was the fourteenth-wealthiest country in the world, and the most politically stable country in Latin America. Simultaneously, Mexico City had the most unequal distribution of wealth; it concentrated the richness and the misery of the entire country. Superbarrio adds that, “when peasants demanded land to the government, the government gave them land—but 6 feet under. Those who petitioned housing and invaded vacant lots, got housing—but inside jail. And those workers who asked for wage increases—found themselves fired.”
La Asamblea de Barrios (Mexico City’s Neighborhood Assembly) is a grassroots organization concerned with the egalitarian acquisition and distribution of decent housing for the poor. In the late 1980s, working class women and amas de casa constituted seventy percent of the organization. La Asamblea de Barrios was the result of the unification of the representatives of 40 neighborhood unions, which emerged to oppose the city’s evictions against the marginal population in Mexico City. The government proved its lack of commitment to the poor during the most difficult moments after the earthquake. Taking advantage of the situation, the government spent most of its time “organizing” the evictions of thousands of underprivileged people living in downtown’s historic center, rather than rescuing other thousands of people dying, or already deadly trapped, “aplastadas,” by the Government’s poorly constructed building projects and hospitals. Two hundred and fifty thousand people were left homeless after the first earthquake, while, 500 thousand Mexicans slept on the streets with one eye opened, looking at their houses, afraid to lose the rest of their belongings. This devastation and corruption, and La Asamblea de Barrios’s infrastructure, created the context for Super to jump into the ring of urban politics to renovate and reconstruct the Mexican political arena. “To confront these problems a super human effort is required, and that is why it takes a Superbarrio to change it.”
Superbarrio’s ability to transform the practices of popular culture, such as wrestling and its rhetoric, into an alternative political imaginary produces the transformation of social space into urban mobilization. Simultaneously, his wrestling performance within a social movement transcends and conveys his fictional character into a real political leader.
The wrestling mask is designed to differentiate each wrestler within the various social spaces in which they interact, from the wrestling ring performance to the “fotonovela” print. While Superbarrio’s mask connotes the traditional strength of wrestling championship, he subverts this exclusive function by adding to it an extra layer of signification. “Behind the mask there is the whole struggle of the city’s inhabitants, to make it more livable, more democratic, to resolve the great problems we face. The mask is the symbol, the identification of the people in this struggle…it is not an individual struggle…” For Superbarrio to keep his mask on in the wrestling ring and the social struggle means that we are all winners, we are all Superbarrio.

Originally posted: http://articles.latimes.com/1999/oct/24/local/me-25798
Campaign: Taking inspiration from cartoon crime stoppers and wrestling stars, a string of social activists is donning outlandish costumes to fight for worthy causes.
October 24, 1999|MICHELLE RAY ORTIZ, ASSOCIATED PRESS
MEXICO CITY — Faster than a bolt of lightning? Doubtful. Able to leap tall buildings? Not a chance.
Mexico’s newest superhero rushes into his headquarters, the office of the Union of Electrical Workers, flustered and breathing heavily under his leather and nylon mask after jogging from his car.
Even Super Luz–Super Light–can have trouble finding a parking space.
But when duty calls, this mere mortal slips into tights and cape to campaign against the government’s plan to privatize the power industry and to defend the interests of his fellow pole-climbers and linemen.
Just what compels a grown man reared in a macho culture to dress up like a cartoon character–and do it with a straight face?
“Precisely that the human being, the Mexican . . . needs the existence of heroes to be able to continue enduring a common and ordinary life,” Super Luz says.
Putting up with years of rampant crime and widespread government wrongdoing has left many Mexicans exhausted and cynical. But the sight of Super Luz thrusting his fist into the air can cause weathered electricians to crack a smile.
“Go, Super Luz!” one man cheers when the masked man bounds through–not over–the union building in downtown Mexico City.
Super Luz is just the latest in a string of Mexican social activists who have taken inspiration from comic book crime fighters and stars from the country’s unique genre of professional wrestling movies.
*
They trace their origin to El Santo (The Saint), a wrestler named Rodolfo Guzman whose silver mask propelled him to fame on the silver screen starting in 1958.
Guzman starred in dozens of films battling criminals, demons, witches and zombies before his death in 1984. “El Santo Against the Vampire Women” of 1962 is a kitsch classic, and his character continues to inspire a cult following as well as lyrics in Mexican rock music.
The passage from screen to streets came in the wake of Mexico City’s horrendous 1985 earthquake, when an incarnate superhero sprang to life to rally support for the thousands of homeless neglected by the city’s overwhelmed government.
He was Super Barrio, a paunchy figure in red and yellow spandex who became a cult idol for his attacks on the administration of the dominant Institutional Revolutionary Party. He led protest marches and rallies and helped form the Assembly of Barrios–a neighborhood coalition that defended the rights of the poor.
Super Barrio has kept a low profile since the leftist opposition won control of the city government in 1997, and he declined to be interviewed.
*
Other masked heroes have followed his path: Super Universal Ecologist fought to save the environment; Super Puppy explained the need to treat pets humanely; Super Policeman railed against corruption; Super Woman cheered women’s rights; and Super Gay denounced homophobia.
One of the longest lasting has been Super Animal. Like El Santo films in which the bare-chested, masked hero met desperate clients in his bookshelf-lined office, Super Animal welcomes visitors in costume from behind his desk in a disturbingly normal middle-class neighborhood.
The costume, he explains, is a sure-fire means of attracting attention to his cause: fighting for the rights and lives of animals–a battle he admits is difficult in a society enamored of bullfights, cockfights and meat-filled tacos.
But the mask and outfit are not only attention-getters, he says. They are a necessity for Mexicans who adore ritual.
“If they were to go to a church and see a priest come out for Mass in a T-shirt and jeans, would they like it or would they ask, ‘What’s going on, Father?’ He has to put on his vestments to reach the faithful,” Super Animal says.
“Here in Latin America people really like characters–professional wrestling, the films of El Santo. People like the masks.”
*
Super Animal and Super Luz, both of whom ask to have their real names kept secret, say they have taken the common man’s love of entertainment–specifically, professional wrestling–and sharpened it into a means of attacking a government they contend is intent on keeping the masses sated with bread and circuses.
Mexican television, with its history of state control, has been used to divert public attention from real problems, Super Luz says.
“What the mass media have given us is simply trash,” he says. “We are saying: Fight! Fight for economic stability for your families. Don’t remain asleep because the federal government is trying to bombard us so that the people will be stupid, conquered and forgetful of problems while they are focused on wrestling, soccer and soap operas.”
*
For Super Luz, Mexico could use even more superheroes–with or without masks.
“I believe everyone has an important fight because in Mexico there are many things that should be done,” he says. “And if there isn’t someone who says, ‘Here I am to do it,’ then no one will.”