Goat Blood Director's Note -Alejandro Emmanuel Torres

Eric Esquivel-Gutierrez as “Pablo” (left) and Casey Spiegel as “Owen” in the Theatre Rhinoceros/JT Presents production of Mark-Eugene Garcia’s Goat Blood, June 25-July 19 at 4229 18th St., in San Francisco’s Castro District. Photo: Scott Sidorsky

Borrowing from our writer, his words are a wonderful jumping-off point.

 “You decided the name was yours. You grabbed it like you grabbed the land, then decided everyone else was an outsider, a threat, contamination.”

Mark-Eugene’s words hit so poignantly at a time of extreme division and animosity among the populace of our nation. At a time in which state-sponsored horror and violence are being enacted on the most vulnerable in our society, and no one, not even those with the most privilege, is safe. A time when our most marginalized: the undocumented, the asylum seekers, those pursuing immigration to our country via “the right way”, those profiled due to their name, their tongue, the color of their skin, our transgender siblings, those (especially women) seeking reproductive healthcare, and others are targets of this authoritarian regime and are being stripped of their dignity and humanity. For our protagonists, Pablo and Owen, their fear will last all night as they attempt to survive, and for our most marginalized, their fears are day-to-day. 

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 Though it would be disingenuous of me to say this was the United States’ first rodeo with this behavior, it still feels disorienting experiencing what they described in the history books in real time.

   Pivoting from my ruminations on current events, the American tendency to other is so fascinating sociologically and psychologically speaking. Let’s take the concept of immigration and being an immigrant, an identity that virtually all of us who are U.S. citizens share in this country. In other words, if you’re reading this, you are either an immigrant yourself or are here because of an immigrant, full stop (with exceptions to our indigenous siblings, of course).

   With each new wave of immigration to this country comes a new scapegoat for society. A new group of people who are mocked for their tongue, criticized for their appearance, customs, foods, music, perceived as alien, and a threat to the so-called American way. In a desperate struggle for assimilation and acceptance, some new immigrants attempt to leave their old ways behind, change their names, and don’t pass on their language and traditions to their children in an attempt to keep them safe. While some of those who may be second, third generation, or more, were either spared the struggles faced by their parents/grandparents or have conveniently forgotten how their own predecessors were treated, and now engage in the same cycle of xenophobia. For some of those in the latter camp, they’re now “Real Americans” and are quick to slam and lock the door behind them. It’s happened for decades upon decades in this country, and there’s no sign of slowing down. I am shocked, for example, by the Latin Americans here for only a few years and who are now U.S. Citizens who voted for our current administration, those who would be profiled by simply how they look or how they speak, from these unchecked and cruel immigration policies, those who faced discrimination themselves but now feel superior due to their newfound citizenship.

   So, what causes people to do this? I don’t have a single answer because I think there are many. We all want to be liked, to be accepted, to belong; we all want safety, and no one wants to be the target of the ire of society. Some of us want to be extravagantly wealthy, or socially powerful, influential, or to get ahead, and so some ally with wherever they perceive the power to be in a hope they’ll either be spared or will get a slice of the pie for themselves.  This behavior isn’t unique to the U.S., of course, and it probably is something ingrained in our human animal instincts to survive in environments of real or perceived scarcity.

   Our protagonists, Pablo and Owen, have discourse over this very topic, “Who is American” and “What does America really mean?”. I love the mention of the names of the two continents (North and South America) having been hijacked by the U.S. and the term “American” repurposed to be exclusionary to anyone outside the country, when in reality everyone in the Americas is an American. Latin Americans make a point of this in Spanish by referring to a U.S. citizen not as “Americano” but as “Estado Unidense” (literally "United Stater”). The conversation becomes more interesting: Pablo, having been born outside the country though having lived here for years, muses on not being quite this or that, a conundrum faced by many Latin Americans in the U.S. While Owen reminds Pablo that he also has an immigrant heritage and isn’t devoid of roots and culture in spite of his initial “America-first bravado”.

In all these conversations, Mark-Eugene also explores queerness as another othered identity and how this community is pitted against each other via homophobia and transphobia. Queer people in many cases (and not unlike immigrants) are thrown into a hostile society from the day of birth. For Pablo and Owen, socialized in a homophobic and queerphobic culture and orbiting being “down-low”, they treat queerness as an accusation, as a witch hunt, but it is also as a beckoning siren, and a monster within. It’s fear and a perceived lack of safety that drives some closeted or confused queer people to this behavior. An attachment and a desire to be what is considered “normal” or homogenous cause many people like Pablo and Owen to push these truths down deeper and deeper (not unlike the immigrant or child of immigrants who wants to belong or wants to deny their same privileges to others). Let’s not also forget that some of those members of the LGBTQIA+ community, that have experienced more mainstream acceptance in society can be guilty of denying that same queer liberation to those either less accepted or currently under attack. It’s disturbing to hear someone say “I’m a normal gay, I’m not like them” in an attempt to put down let’s say our transgender and other queer communities. As if they’ve forgotten what it is like to be rejected, stripped of their dignity, or to simply be allowed to exist.

   Examples of people turning on each other are not new to our history, again, I think it may be an animal instinct that has been warped and exacerbated as we’ve developed complex and sophisticated societies through millennia. We can only hope to eventually end this traumatic cycle of othering and abusing each other, much like the victims of the monster in this play hope to be eventually free of their curse.

   I think I’ve written enough to whet your appetite for the drama, the comedy, the lust, and the horror that Mark-Eugene’s powerful text will bring to you.

   My final thought: How wonderful to unapologetically bring another play with both queer people and Latin Americans and their stories front and center at a time when our government wants to erase them. Because the stakes are so high, this work is urgent and necessary. Thank you for being part of this history and being present for our show. We hope to move you.