Yo Soy Negro: Blackness in Peru

Introduction

Introduction It was a typically hot September afternoon in Ingenio de Buenos Aires, a small village in northern Peru. The Ingenio soccer team had won a match with the neighboring village. The losing team had gone back to their village , and a few men from Ingenio gathered around in a circle, passing a pitcher of chicha (corn beer) and a poto (gourd) from one person to the next. Sitting on a bench near them, I saw one of the men pour the dregs from his gourd, wipe his mouth with his sleeve, and declare loudly“yo soy negro” (I am black).1 This caught my attention, and when the men invited me to sit with them, I joined them.When I introduced myself, I told them I was visiting from the United States and was conducting research on the people and history of Ingenio. They offered suggestions of people I should talk to who would be able to tell me more about the history of the town. Don Esteban, the man who had declared “yo soy negro,” asked me if there was racism in the United States, and if it was true that, in the United States,blacks lived separately from whites.I started explaining segregation patterns in U.S.cities when another man,Don Isaac,interrupted me to tell me about racism in Peru. He said that, in his country, whites regard blacks as lesser and undesirable, and that racism is a problem. Our conversation turned quickly to romance and to the fact that, although racism exists, people often marry across color lines in Peru. Don Esteban said that, when he was younger, he wondered how anyone would want to be with him,a black man.He and Don Isaac agreed that they both had desired white partners. Don Isaac said he wanted a white partner so that his children wouldn’t be as dark as him. Don Esteban also pointed 2 r Introduction out that “opposites attract.” They concurred that it was better for darkerskinned people to seek out lighter partners. This conversation about race, color, and racism was one of many such discussions I would have in Ingenio while conducting ethnographic research there between 2002 and 2007. The preference for lighter-skinned partners in intimate relationships was a common theme in these exchanges. Despite this preference, people in Ingenio did not hesitate to call themselves or others black. I often heard people claim the label negro (black), as Don Esteban did. I also heard people use the label as an insult in some situations, as for instance, when one woman called another a“filthy black” in a heated discussion over who had the right to build a house in the center of town. On other occasions, people used black in a teasing fashion, as when a brother called his sister an “ugly black.” And, sometimes men used black while flirting, such as when several young men called out“hola, negrita” (hey, black girl) to a woman passing by in the town square. Other times black was simply a neutral descriptor, as when people referred to Señora Negra, the nickname of a woman who lived on the edge of town. When I first arrived in Ingenio in 2002 I was surprised to hear people using the word black with such frequency and variety of connotations, running the gamut from prideful to neutral to offensive. I was surprised because many scholars argue that most African-descended people in Latin America reject the label negro in favor of other labels such as moreno (see W. Wright 1990; Wade 1993, 1997; Twine 1998; Whitten and Torres 1998; Lewis 2000). I soon realized, however, that I could not make any assumptions with regard to what people meant when they used the word black. I could not take it for granted that the claiming of blackness entailed an expression of solidarity with others of African descent nor that it indicated any ethnic allegiances. This was made clear by the fact that many people in Ingenio insisted to me that blackness was no more than a skin color, with no cultural or historical implications. Any preference for lighter skin was simply aesthetic. When I asked people in Ingenio what it meant to be black, they consistently told me that it meant having dark skin. In this book, I explore the ways people in Ingenio talk about blackness in the contexts of Latin American studies and African diaspora studies. When contemplating the meanings of...