Inquiring Gringos Want to Know

\o7Dear Mexican, Why do Mexicans call white people gringos?

\f7It was the type of impolite question few people would dare ask in everyday Southern California, much less in print.

"Dear Gabacho," began Gustavo Arellano's answer in the OC Weekly alternative newspaper. "Mexicans do not call gringos gringos. Only gringos call gringos gringos. Mexicans call gringos \o7gabachos.\f7"

Arellano went on to explain that \o7gabacho \f7is a sometimes pejorative slang term for white Americans, with "its etymological roots in the Castilian slur for a French national."

"Ask a Mexican," the newspaper headlined it.

The column, published in 2004, was meant as a one-time spoof, but questions began pouring in.

Why are there so many elaborate wrought-iron fences in the Mexican parts of town? What part of the word "illegal" do Mexicans not understand? Why do Mexicans pronounce "shower" as "chower" but "chicken" as "shicken"?

Arellano has responded each week, leading an unusually frank discussion on the intersections where broader society meets the largest and most visible national subgroup in the country: Mexicans.

Nothing is taboo. When asked to explain the inclination of Mexicans to sell oranges at freeway offramps, he fired back:

"What do you want them to sell -- Steinways? According to Dolores, who sells oranges off the 91 Freeway/Euclid onramp, in Anaheim, she can earn almost $100 per week hawking the fruit. That averages out to more than $5,000 a year -- and since it's the underground economy, she doesn't pay taxes!"

The questions came from both assimilated Mexican Americans and whites, or as Arellano might say, \o7pochos \f7and \o7gabachos\f7. The newspaper kept publishing "Ask a Mexican," and it quickly became one of its most popular features.

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\o7Dear Mexican,

What's with the Mexican need to display the Virgin of Guadalupe everywhere? I've seen her in the oddest places, from a sweatshirt to a windshield sticker. As a Mexican, I find it a little offensive and tacky to display this religious symbol everywhere.

Dear Pocha,

... I've seen her painted on murals, woven into fabulous silk shirts worn by Stetson-sporting hombres and -- one holy night -- in my bowl of guacamole. But while I share your disdain for the hypocrites who cross themselves in Her presence before they sin.... I don't find public displays of the Empress of the Americas offensive at all.