Mema's
House, Mexico City
Nonfiction by Annick
Prieur
Copyright 1998, 293 pages
University of Chicago Press
ISBN 0-226-68257-9
Capsule:
A sociologist's look at a group of homosexual transvestites who
congregate at "Mema's House" in a poor section of Mexico City. The
sociologist, a Norwegian woman, takes a long look at these lively
"vestigos" -- especially their lack of acceptance by family and
how they coexist alongside the macho attitudes of Mexican men. She
exposes contradictions in the vestigos' male sex customers and in
the men who become the vestigos' lovers.
Full review
Scandinavia meets the Mexican barrio! Can you imagine any two areas of the world less alike? Norwegian sociologist Annick Prieur chooses to study the denizens of a house in a poor section of Mexico City owned by Mema, a courageous middle-aged homosexual man. Mema's house is a refuge of sorts where homosexual transvestites live, hang out for a few days, or just visit.
The poor working class in this neighborhood live day to day. They may rent or own a home, or "squat," but they catch as catch can, with large families living in close proximity to each other. There is little privacy, little money, and with no health insurance or old-age pensions, family members form the only safety nets. Gangs, violence and crime are common. Male children are introduced to sex early, often before the age of 10. Among the men especially, sex is the common currency of speech. AIDS is a problem.
As everywhere else, effeminate homosexuals constitute a small percentage of the male population. In large cities in northern countries this faction tends to be discreet or live within a gay enclave. In Mexico, at least at Mema's House, these "vestigos" are much more out in the open and form part of the fabric of everyday life. They sell sex, work as hairdressers, or try to avoid work altogether, and some become involved with drugs. Mema tries to help them cope with life after they've been rejected by their families.
My guess is that sociologist Prieur saw this subculture, midway between men and women (almost like a third sex), as a chance to throw into high relief the relationships between men and women, especially in Mexico. Here lives and breathes machismo, a culture where men are expected to be dominant and where men are often closer to their drinking buddies than to their wives. Under this culture, being the sexual penetrator confers masculinity -- and, being being penetrated (i.e., the role of women and homosexuals) means being submissive and inferior. The vestigos throw a monkey wrench into this scheme of things because they prefer to seduce and sell sex to heterosexual, manly men, who ostensibly remain masculine by being the penetrators. But what happens when these same heterosexual men want to experiment with being penetrated?
The services of the vestigos and other prostitutes are in demand because many Mexican young women hold themselves pure for marriage (being influenced by Catholic dogma and the worship of the Virgin Mary). On the other hand, married Mexican men are notorious for looking for sexual excitement outside their marriages. Perhaps some deliberately want the experience of having sex with women with cocks.
The vestigos who work as prostitutes are seen as polluted, and used ostensibly only for quick sex. They obtain what self-respect they can by stealing from johns, fighting back in a male-ish way when necessary, and keeping male lovers. By bringing home a considerable amount of money, they gain grudging acceptance from their families. On the bright side, these women-men venture out at night to mostly heterosexual parties, where they dance and try to seduce horny young men who catch their fancy. Vistigos aren't held back by shyness, modesty or virtue -- after all, their lives are already high-risk.
The author compares vestigos' desire to craft themselves as sexy, desirable women with makeup and colorful, provocative clothing to Europeans (and Americans) who, she feels, are enamored of looking "natural."
Prieur, in closing her book: "Two things surprise me. The first is their courage. The second is their conventionality ... they are visible, they expose themselves to contempt and to violence. And they are rather conscious about the political aspects of this way of being ... At the same time they are very conventional in the sense that they show a deep respect for the traditional gender order, as well as for the family structure ... [this] shows the fundamental significance for human beings of belonging ... They do not want to live in a ghetto, to be shut out; they want to live together with their significant others, with their families.
"Thanks to their courage they obtain a lot of pleasure. Or maybe it is the other way around: what gives them the courage is their quest for pleasure ... vestidos [have] possibilities that only discreetly feminine or clearly masculine gay men can only dream of. This I understood when I observed Lupita, exuberantly dancing salsa with the boy next door, at a birthday party."
(Note: another book reviewed in Transgender Book Reviews, Travesti, offers insights into a similar group in urban Brazil. Both books are scholarly, but provide enough real-life stories to hold one's interest.)
(Reviewer: Valory Gravois) (Copyright ©1999 by Alchemist/Light Publishing)
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