Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Traditional Kumeay near Rosarito connects with Kumeay on reservation near Boulevard
Called into principal's office for long braid
Angel Diaz belongs to one of the five native indigenous people of what is today called Baja California; the Kumeay. He was born in San José la Zorra in the municipality of Playas de Rosarito which is not a reservation as in the U.S. but an ejido, a collectively owned village based on their constitutional right as first nations to live under their traditions and policies in their territories. Diaz grew up speaking his language and was surrounded by an environment close to his Kumeay heritage.
He was living daily as his parents and elders taught him to, along with speaking the language; he got to learn how to dance, sing, do ceremonies, harvest, and work the land and its resources to handcraft them into baskets, carpets or utensils, even into deadly arrows for bow hunting.
“While growing up I remember I started feeling really special and proud of learning our traditional songs from my grand-grandfather. I was a stubborn kid so I got good at it, and I enjoyed spending time with them, it was all about that, a family thing” He said. “Never thought this could turn into a kind of activism, for me it was just something normal.”
It wasn't until he had to go 10 miles out of his village to the closest high school that he faced racism for the first time at the principal's office. Since Angel was born and raced as a Kumeay he used to have long braided hair, which is reason enough for Mexican schools to deny students enrollment.
“The principal told me that I could potentially be enrolled into classes because of my grades, but I would have to cup up my long hair. He suggested to get a wig to use it after school,” Angel noted. “He said we were rebels because no other indigenous group in Mexico uses the hair like us. The elders from my community figured it out by writing a document quoting the 2nd article of the Constitution to the school, that's when I realized I would have to defend my rights to live as part of a native people.
While Angel made it through the Mexican education system to college and got a degree in criminology, he also got into contact with other Kumeays – but in the U.S. Though he always experienced some kind of discrimination when crossing the border he got motivated enough to get together and be part of a bigger community.
“I got to visit and live for a bit with the Kumeay at Manzanita reservation [near Boulevard], people that I have really strong connection with now. Every time I have the chance to organize something together across borders they are there, Even when the border wall was built up we gathered on both sides of the border and danced and sang as a protest” Angel stressed.
Preserving and passing on to new generations is his activism now, and he even has traditional handcraft baskets and bows displayed at Bonita Musem & Cultural Center in Bonita, but in Baja California, there is not enough interest. All of Angel's work turned into the winner of Best Documentary Short 2024 at the Red Nations International Film Festival in LA.
He and the entire community with the help of French filmmaker Dylan Verrechia got to record for two years all the daily lives and struggles of the Kumeay to keep their language, lands, and traditions alive. Which is at risk due to the communal property-owning system and deterioration and exploration of the water.
Despite Kumeay people having it hard sometimes, Angel made it out there facing a lot of obstacles. He is currently making sure everybody knows in different ways that he, his family, and his community are still alive especially in his own community through doing what his grand-grandfather used to do.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Traditional Kumeay near Rosarito connects with Kumeay on reservation near Boulevard
Called into principal's office for long braid
Traditional Kumeay near Rosarito connects with Kumeay on reservation near Boulevard
Called into principal's office for long braid
Angel Diaz belongs to one of the five native indigenous people of what is today called Baja California; the Kumeay. He was born in San José la Zorra in the municipality of Playas de Rosarito which is not a reservation as in the U.S. but an ejido, a collectively owned village based on their constitutional right as first nations to live under their traditions and policies in their territories. Diaz grew up speaking his language and was surrounded by an environment close to his Kumeay heritage.
He was living daily as his parents and elders taught him to, along with speaking the language; he got to learn how to dance, sing, do ceremonies, harvest, and work the land and its resources to handcraft them into baskets, carpets or utensils, even into deadly arrows for bow hunting.
“While growing up I remember I started feeling really special and proud of learning our traditional songs from my grand-grandfather. I was a stubborn kid so I got good at it, and I enjoyed spending time with them, it was all about that, a family thing” He said. “Never thought this could turn into a kind of activism, for me it was just something normal.”
It wasn't until he had to go 10 miles out of his village to the closest high school that he faced racism for the first time at the principal's office. Since Angel was born and raced as a Kumeay he used to have long braided hair, which is reason enough for Mexican schools to deny students enrollment.
“The principal told me that I could potentially be enrolled into classes because of my grades, but I would have to cup up my long hair. He suggested to get a wig to use it after school,” Angel noted. “He said we were rebels because no other indigenous group in Mexico uses the hair like us. The elders from my community figured it out by writing a document quoting the 2nd article of the Constitution to the school, that's when I realized I would have to defend my rights to live as part of a native people.
While Angel made it through the Mexican education system to college and got a degree in criminology, he also got into contact with other Kumeays – but in the U.S. Though he always experienced some kind of discrimination when crossing the border he got motivated enough to get together and be part of a bigger community.
“I got to visit and live for a bit with the Kumeay at Manzanita reservation [near Boulevard], people that I have really strong connection with now. Every time I have the chance to organize something together across borders they are there, Even when the border wall was built up we gathered on both sides of the border and danced and sang as a protest” Angel stressed.
Preserving and passing on to new generations is his activism now, and he even has traditional handcraft baskets and bows displayed at Bonita Musem & Cultural Center in Bonita, but in Baja California, there is not enough interest. All of Angel's work turned into the winner of Best Documentary Short 2024 at the Red Nations International Film Festival in LA.
He and the entire community with the help of French filmmaker Dylan Verrechia got to record for two years all the daily lives and struggles of the Kumeay to keep their language, lands, and traditions alive. Which is at risk due to the communal property-owning system and deterioration and exploration of the water.
Despite Kumeay people having it hard sometimes, Angel made it out there facing a lot of obstacles. He is currently making sure everybody knows in different ways that he, his family, and his community are still alive especially in his own community through doing what his grand-grandfather used to do.