(Read Part I and II of this series first.)
Latine Heritage Month is well and truly behind us; damn, it feels like it.
If you’re keeping score, the Horror Writer’s Association has stopped all communication with me, the Instagram posts of Spaniards shared during Latine Heritage Month are still on their feed, and the wrong picture for one of the Latine authors remains in place. The centering of Latine voices has fallen by the wayside.
Let me briefly put that on the back burner and re-center, though, as none of this is new and none of it is surprising. I’ve already gone over what’s been done in the past and it’s time to look toward the future. The whole point of this series is to talk about how to build community and, as I said in part one, I want to get into what can and should be done within speculative fiction spaces to build Latine community.
I also want to frame this in a way that feels inclusive. I want to talk about this from the viewpoint of things that I can do to build Latine community. To those of you familiar with my blogging, you know I don’t shy away from my own failings and shortcomings and this will be no different. Not in the interest of self-flagellation, but in the interest of calling others in. In part two of this series, I already shared how quickly I dropped from a WhatsApp group. So, when I talk about what I need to do to build community, I will be straightforward and tough on myself. In doing so, I hope to call you in and show you how you can help, too, whether you’re Latine-identifying or not.
Conventions
I recently filled out the HWA’s questionnaire on programming for StokerCon 2025. Last year, I had been a panelist on a virtual panel on “Latin American Folklore in Horror,” recorded before the convention. It was the only Latine-adjacent panel on programming. Cynthia Pelayo, V. Castro, L.P. Hernandez, and others filled some of the other panels, thankfully, but I still felt a lack of representation at the convention. After attending, I knew I wanted to do in-person panels. I signed up to be part of programming and filled in my areas of expertise.
As I filled out the sheet, there were two questions I found especially interesting:
Do you have any topics for a panel or presentation you would like to see at the convention?
Are there any topics, panels, or other panelists with which or whom you prefer not to participate?
This felt like a great opportunity to try and guide programming, especially given my thoughts on StokerCon 2024. I answered that I wanted to see more Latine representation across all panels, not just intro-level panels like “the state of Latine horror,” and that I would not participate in intro-level panels like that. I am not saying abolish that kind of content, but to augment it by having more in-depth and higher-level panels. Let there be 101-level panels on Latinidad but also get Latine together to talk about other things, and make an effort to have Latine voices in other topics. Looking over last year’s scheduling, there were so many panels that would have been great to have a Latine voice participate in, but didn’t.
This is a double-edged sword, though. I know the HWA, or any organizing convention, isn’t in control of how many Latine-identifying folk want to be part of programming and are available for topics. That part is up to us. Don’t be shy to volunteer for panels. Doing a 101-level panel is a great way to get your toes wet, but if, like me, you’ve seen enough of those or participated in enough of those, propose a panel idea that goes above and beyond. We have to meet them halfway.
If you’re a convention organizer, make an effort to broaden the panels. Invite multiple Latine panelists and put them on panels that aren’t just about being Latine. Even better, start a fund to bring foreign translators and authors to the convention, those who usually would not be able to make the journey, so that you have more and distinct Latine voices enhancing your programming.
And if you’re an ally, demand these things when submitting feedback.
Getting Latine faces on panels is a huge step in the right direction, but not the only one.
Reading
The last time I attended a Spanish-speaking school, I was nine years old and I wasn’t exactly reading Cien Años de Soledad. Four years later,though, I took AP Spanish Lit. Reading Borges and Marquez was wasted on me at that time, though. I coasted through the class, focused more on my first year in a co-ed boarding school and a lot less on supplementing my education. I got a three, if I recall, on the AP exam. What little of my identity I had started to develop at that time had, for all intents and purposes, rejected literature in Spanish.
It wasn’t until I was working at Constelación, the bilingual magazine, that I started to read Spanish prose again. It was a struggle. I had already started my journey toward reconnecting with my culture, and a chasm opened beneath me. A yawning pit meant to have been filled with literature written by those best connected with half of my cultural heritage.
I told myself I needed to read more Latine literature. Not just Mexican, too, and not just Latine voices writing in English. I’m still working on that. I’ve only scratched the surface with authors like Pedro Iniguez, L.P. Hernandez, V. Castro, Cynthia Gomez, Samanta Schweblin, Agustina Bazterrica, Fernanda Melchor, Cynthia Pelayo, and Gabino Iglesias, yet there are so many others. I also realized I had never read classical Mexican novels. I promised myself I would get five books--Los Recuerdos del Porvenir, El Laberinto de la Soledad, Pedro Páramo, La muerte de Artemio Cruz, and Cartucho--and read them in Spanish.
During Latine Heritage Month, I was happy to see these names and others in every booktokers’ posts. Now that the month is over, it’s back to the usual. But even when it was our month, I felt like I was seeing the same books everywhere. It felt surface deep. My own reading felt surface-deep.
I’m not saying you should pick up Mexico’s most classic novels (but I’m not not saying that, either), nor am I saying you need to read in a language you don’t speak. But it would be wonderful for you to read Latine voices year round. Don’t know where to start? Both coffeeandcuentos and discover.latinx.lit have very active Instagram accounts full of recommendations, year-round, and two of my favorite books I read this year were Tender is the Flesh and Hurricane Season, both of which are translations. Even something as simple as adding Latine books to your Goodreads list is a start.
This is important for several reasons, but the two biggest are that it signals to Latine writers that their work is wanted so they can keep writing and it signals to publishers that there’s a market for these voices. Money is often the quickest way to see change in this late-stage capitalist hellscape.
Yet, reading more Latine voices is one side of the reader-gatekeeper dynamic. How can we read more Latine voices if they’re hard to find?
Publishing
Here’s the big one, in my opinion. There needs to be more Latine work, period.
Publishers and editors need to come to terms with the fact that there is a massive Latine population that has been untapped until recently. There were 61 Latine-authored books across all genres according to Goodreads in 2023. According to ghostwritersandco.com, over 10,000 new titles were published in 2023 by North American publishers.
That means 0.61% of new titles were from Latine voices.
0.61%.
Before you come for me, I will admit that the Goodreads number is self-reported and only based on authors who mark themselves as Latine on the site. But even if there were 10x as many Latine-authored books in 2023 (an amount I very seriously doubt), that’s only 6.1% of the new titles, a low number compared to the 19.5% of the entire US population that is of Latine heritage, according to the US Census Bureau, a number which has been historically undercounted.
Publishers and editors need to do better. Hire Latine first readers and assistant editors. Get more Latine interns. Add Latine voices to the closed door meetings that decide the future of publishing.
But it isn’t all up to them, either. I won’t lay the blame entirely at the feet of the gatekeepers. Part of the reason the number of new Latine titles is so low is because of them, sure, but how many Latine are writing and submitting? Given socioeconomic circumstances, how many Latine-identifying folk have the time, energy, and financial stability to become writers? How much support is there from families when we say we want to write? Or paint? Or make music? We love art, but how many parents have squashed their children’s creative dreams for the sake of learning English, getting a “useful” degree, and forcing a certain lifestyle on them?
If you’re Latine and you’re thinking about writing, we need you to write. If you already do, write more. We need your stories, and by “we” I mean the whole world, not just us Latines. Being a writer is difficult and being Latine doesn’t make it any easier, but you can be at the forefront of this new wave of Latine voices that is just… just about to rise.
Between a higher demand for Latine art, more Latine voices writing and being published, and Latine faces being distinguished panelists on a wide variety of topics, we’re off to a good start.
I’d like to wrap up this three-part series with a message for all my fellow Latine-identifying people out there.
Hermanos, hermanas, y hermanes,
We have to stop dividing ourselves. We should be celebrating our differences, not further fracturing ourselves. When we attack or demean one another, we are at our weakest. Redirect this energy to the gatekeepers and the hierarchical elites. Celebrate your heritage proudly. Share the differences. Cook more. Sing. Dance. Join a community[1]. Paint. Write.
There is more to life than la chinga diaria**[2]. There is more to us than the differences we call out or the villainization ladled atop us.
Keep submitting. Keep exposing editors to Latine voices. Show them we are here to stay and that just because our voices are unique and unfamiliar, that does not mean they are without worth. It does not mean we do not belong in publishing.
Si se puede[3].