While the concept of futurity has been growing within the English-speaking public consciousness since the early 17th century, futurism has only been acknowledged for a quarter of that time and predates the civil rights era, referenced above, by sixty years. The origin of Futurism is recognized by the western art world Italian Poet Tommaso Marinetti in 1909 as an artistic movement expressing the ideas of dynamism and the energy and movement of modern life. Elements of Futurism included speed, technology, youth, violence, and objects such as the car, the airplane, and the industrial city. The movement stands in denunciation of the past, and seeks to free poets, artists, and creatives from the oppressive weight of Italy’s historically dominant culture (Tate Modern). While the inclusion of technological advancement and dynamism, which corresponds with the industrialization and expansion of Western nations, are unique qualities of Futurism, the speculation of future societal change and advancement are essential elements of artistic, intellectual, and religious belief systems across the global diaspora.
Similar to the connective and collective dynamics of mid-20th century revolutionary organizations, cultural groups have worked within and across communities to reenvision Futurism as an intersectional genre featuring dynamic histories, values, and identities. In the way that organizers like “Cha-Cha” Jiménez sought inspiration from Black nationalist leaders in building the collective power of Puerto Ricans, the Latinefuturism genre has gained insight from the emergence of Afrofuturism. Although the futurist elements have been a part of Black art, literature, and music almost since the birth of science fiction itself, the term “Afrofuturism” was not introduced until 1993; scholar Mark Dert, used the word to define the existing focus on Black literature and 1980s technoculture. Explored by Black artists, musicians, and writers pursuing speculative perspectives in their work, the themes of Afrofuturism are not just about creating imagined worlds, but have also been and continue to be offered as an escape from real-world troubles or can be used as a way of examining the problems that African Americans currently face in the world.
Octavia Butler, pioneering Afrofuturist and feminist author, questioned in her 1980 essay “The Lost Races of Science Fiction,” why indeed “is science fiction so white?” Butler continues, “A more insidious problem than outright racism is simply habit, custom.” As consumers become comfortable with the way things are, the current state of media, they perpetuate the status quo and thus act in a way opposite of the futurist elements they are attracted to. Butler acknowledges this redundancy by stating, “Science fiction, more than any other genre, deals with change—change in science and technology, and social change. But science fiction itself changes slowly, often under protest.” Delena Hunter, librarian, archivist, and Afrofuturist scholar, supports the concept by adding, “With Afrofuturism, the point is to challenge what it means for Black people to be free on our own terms. Liberation is a very important part of the genre” (Bruce, 2020).
While Latinefuturism shares many connections to Afrofuturism, it does not seek to replicate, but rather reappropriate elements of futurism. Specific to Latinefuturism and the expansive counter-consciousnesses is treatment of disidentification. Queer theorist José Esteban Muñoz, defines disidentification as the “survival strategies that the minority subject practices in order to negotiate a phobic majoritarian public sphere that continuously elides or punishes the existence of subjects who do not conform to the phantasm of normative citizenship” (1999). Understanding Latinefuturism through the lens of disidentification brings into view the creative and resilient ways that Latina/o/e cultural producers since at least the 1960s have continued to repurpose and blend futurism. However, the misconception that Latines do not write sci-fi has continued due to the related issues of underrepresentation in the publishing industry. As a Chicano author of sci-fi novels, Ernest Hogan has faced the difficulty of getting published and questionability on his appeal to general readers. He reflects,
Chicano is a science fiction state of being. We exist between two cultures, and our existence creates new cultures: rasquache mash-ups of what we experience across borders and in barrios all over the planet. As mestizos we have no sense of cultural purity. Mariachis on Mars? Seems natural to me. Even when I try to write mainstream, or even nonfiction, it’s seen as fantastic (Merla-Watson, 2019).
In contrast to traditional historical fantasy, futuristic narratives explore identity and histography through a lens that allows nuance and multiplicity to live a limitlessly. In doing so, these texts maintain “a more active relationship to resistance and the politics of the possible” (Merla-Watson, 2019) as they seek to address the intricacies of anticipated crises and imaginative solutions unique to addressing the needs of each community.
Latine Movement in the Marvel Universe
In United States popular culture, the influence of futurism is perhaps most apparent in audience fascination with Marvel Studios. Marvel, started in 1939 by Martin Goodman as Timely Comics, has provided readers with almost a century of stories of super heroes, alternative worlds, and high-tech tools and weapons. The last two decades have witnessed Marvel’s successful transition from comic books to film as part of its acquisition by The Walt Disney Company. However, much like the original setbacks of the futurist genre, depictions of racist tropes and stereotypes continue to be perpetuated in Disney’s ever-expanding catalog. And while the company has made recent attempts to atone for its past, it begs the question: can it move forward without repeating the same mistakes? While the moral messaging of the movies, which are centered on a fight against evil forces, people like New York Times reporter Jenna Wortham are appalled by the lack of nonwhite characters. Wortham notes, “You mean to tell me they’ve been making these movies for over a decade — 12 years — and you have still not managed to decenter the whiteness of this universe?”
The evidence supporting Marvel’s overwhelming whiteness is most apparent in its near decade-long wait to feature a starring hero of color. While other franchises with similar box office success are as white as the MCU, many of these films focus on the same character from film to film (i.e. Harry Potter, James Bond) or focus on one family (i.e. Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit). All fourteen of the MCU films center around a white male lead, there are no women of color portraying women of color in heroic roles (Zoe Saldana plays the non-human Gamora in green body paint and Elizabeth Olsen plays a white-washed version of the canonically Romani-Jewish Scarlet Witch). Furthermore, prior to the introduction to Black Panther, there were no Native American, Latinx, Middle Eastern, or Asian superheroes on the Avengers’ roster, and the few Black male superheroes are relegated to supporting roles.
https://www.vox.com/culture/2022/11/21/23467145/black-panther-wakanda-forever-latino-colorism-racism-namor-tenoch-huerta
In Marvel Studio’s most recent Black Panther film, the studio took greater steps towards diversifying the narratives of heroes and villains. In the comic book fans meet Namor, the mutant son of a human sea captain and a princess of the mythical, and his undersea kingdom of Atlantis. However, in adapting the books into film, director Ryan Coogler sought to take an internal approach in considering the “idea of a hidden place in the water—lost continents and things like that” (Ramirez, 2022). Acknowledging that much of society’s thought is permeated by Western thinking and ideas on the Greco-Roman concept of Atlantis, Coogler wished to explore other concepts, ones that have not been displayed so much cinematically and detailed as well. The director states, “We were after something that felt truthful, and real, and we can take a deep cultural dive [with]. That felt like it was on theme, felt like they belonged in a world with Wakanda that was believable, but also felt like myth; felt like people could see themselves in it” (Ramirez, 2022). Thus Coogler and his team, developed Namor and his Talokan countrymen in close connection to the Mayan and Aztec cultures and to a time before the Spanish were able to systematically oppress Mesoamerican people and their lands and hold close. The inclusion of Mesoamerican people in the film subverts a narrative that has been left untouched by Hollywood, opening the opportunity for disidentification from a narrative of oppression.
It’s important to note that Latines are not a monolithic group. There are indigenous and black Latines as well as mixed and white people. There are also indigenous groups who don’t identify as Latine at all but live in Latin American countries. Most indigenous groups agree, though, that to identify as indigenous requires more than a distant ancestor — there has to be lived experience, community acceptance, and shared understanding of the past (Ramirez, 2022). However, the racial dynamics of Latin America were not built on such understanding. The Spanish, who were coming to Mesoamerica from Spain, had already experienced intercultural and racial mixtures via the Moors and other racial groups. So, they then mixed with Indigenous and Black peoples, often violently, and imposed a caste system to subjugate others, with white people at the top. The caste system still lingers today but is intentionally ignored and denied by Latin American countries. A large part of that is because ignoring differences was fundamental to creating a national identity when so many countries were fighting for independence against Spain. In Mexico, specifically, nation builders claimed that everyone was mestizo.
While Black Panther: Wakanda Forever makes moves in exposing viewers to a more diversified marvel-verse, the film focuses on the forging and failing to find solidarity. The premise is that ever since the now-deceased King T’Challa (Chadwick Boseman) revealed Wakanda’s wealth and strength to the rest of the world, other nations clamor for their primary resource: vibranium, a super-powerful metal. Because Wakanda, rightfully, does not trust these other countries, they refuse to share it, leading to attempts at theft and mining of the ocean floor. This is where the Wakandan and Talokan people’s interest intersect as the Wakandan’s seek to reduce capitalistic use of vibranium and Talokan seeks to keep their kingdom from discovery. Namor approaches Queen Ramonda and Princess Shuri after his people dismantled an American-made vibranium detector. Like Wakanda, Talokan is vibranium-rich, and has spent centuries keeping this a secret from other nations. Alternatively, to the historically ancient civilizations, the Talokan are able to escape smallpox and certain death by migrating underwater (with the help of an in-world magic plant). There, they shielded themselves from slavery and kept their culture intact of colonization. Perhaps this moment in the film where the promise of Latinefuturim is most apparent. The Talokan represent a moment of a past possible futurity, of what could have been, as they manage to escape from colonization through the use of unrealized power and not only preserve but also prevail in the continuation of their advanced society.
Yet, the film continues to contend with reflecting reality as two futuristic kingdoms content for power and resources. Namor pleads for help and political allyship out of desire to protect the Talokanils, and when things go sideways, the two nations are pitted against each other, despite their shared appreciation for one another. This dynamic orchestrates a race war; the Talokanil versus the Wakandans. While this conflict does resolve itself, more or less, there’s something to be said about how the pressure from Western, predominantly white nations creates an environment where colonized peoples feel like they have to fight each other for resources or support. As Alicia told me, “It’s the neocolonial tactics of they no longer have to, you know, beat us and kill us — they just have to feed us these stories that we are each other’s enemies, and then we do the dirty job for them” (Ramirez, 2022). It is here that the audience can heed a warning from taking a look into the speculative; as communities struggle in the face of ongoing war, climate crises, and white supremacy, they will need to band together in time to persist against the oppressor.
Graphic Novels Puerto Rico Strong & Ricanstruction: Reminiscing & Rebuilding Puerto Rico
Two comics anthologies, both published within the aftermath of 2017 Hurricane Maria, seek to push the boundaries Latinefuturism in pursuit of Puerto Rican futurity. Building upon themes of community, identity, ancestry, and futurity, both anthologies create windows into how the world may look if communities ban together as they persist in the wake of challenges.
The first set of comics, Ricanstruction: Reminiscing & Rebuilding Puerto Rico was produced and also features stories written by Edgardo Miranda-Rodriguez, and features his original character LA BORINQUEÑA who teams up with some of DC Comics most famous superheroes, such as the likes of Wonder Woman, Batman, Superman, Aquaman, Flash, and Harley Quinn. Throughout the novel La Borinqueña uses her power to improve the lives of citizens on the island, through means such as regenerating power to towns, while also inspiring Puertico Ricans on the mainland to contribute to the relief efforts. However, La Borinqueña's fight for justice persists to include halting the efforts of those who try to interfere with the equitable distribution of relief and even those who attempt to profit off of peril for capitalistic gains—and she doesn’t do it alone. Towards the beginning of the comics anthology, La Borinqueña asserts, “¡El pueblo unido jamas sera vencido!” and recruits Wonder Woman to contribute her powers to the fight. Despite differences in culture and origin, La Borinqueña insists that “We are here now and we will rebuild, because we are all Puerto Ricans” to which Wonder Woman adds, “Every last one of us, and just like you–¡Yo soy Puerto Rico!” (2018). Thus, propelling the arching development of a pan-international community within the human world and the superhuman world. The text itself transcends genre by ensuring that all profits from this anthology go to providing solar-powered lamps, food, clothing, and continuation of other relief aid.
Through the lens of futuristic elements, the stories explore the cultural history of the island alongside ones with envisions of a stronger and rebuilt community. Due to the nature of anthology, many characters with different racial, generational, geographical, gender, and sexual identities are able to contribute their voices to the collection. In fact, this is reflected in the many different illustrations of La Borinqueña, where in some she appears with tighter, natural curls and in others in a glossy face of makeup or a shade of skin darker than the story before. These illustrations in themselves demonstrate the multitudes of the island through the appearance of La Borinqueña. Community strengths unique to Puerto Ricans such as knowledge of nature and growth of representation are sources of beauty and pride. In particular, the comic “Bohio Girasol 2050” highlights the importance of farmers, healers, storytellers, peacemakers and builders to the future of the island. The origin story imagines Hurricane Maria as the birth of a new life for the land and traditions which are reclaimed by people of Africana and indigenous origin in the year 2050. Now engineers, having worked with the natural resources, have built solar generators and supervises water desalination which provide sustainability. In the closing of the brief story, the lead elder of the now thriving Bohio reassures the youth that “this is our land and we will never give it up again!” (2018). Derived from the debris of natural disaster and the sustaining struggle of the Puerto Ricans, this futurist depiction of the island provides an image to propel rebuilding efforts and restore faith for its people.
The second comics anthology, Puerto Rico Strong centers on Puerto Rican identity and the multitudes that exist within the community. Edited by Marco Lopez, Desiree Rodriguez, Hazel Newlevant, Derek Ruiz, and Neil Schwartz and published in 2018, the anthology explores the unique history of Puerto Rico as a US territory that is often thought of as a foreign land or neglected by the average American. Stories feature the expansiveness of the island's diaspora across mainland and the differing generational connections to the island, telling of those “who have come to the states in search of a dream but struggle to integrate into an unfamiliar culture, while there are those who have lived in the United States all of their lives but still have the same struggle because of the color of their skin or their sexual identity” (2018). Like Ricanstruction, all profits of the book go towards disaster relief and recovery programs to support Puerto Rico. Although the book contains vast genres of comics ranging from political satire, to autobiographical pieces, and history, two specific stories stand out for their ability to articulate futurity and futurism.
Though the story Of Myth and Monsters, which tells the mystical story of a family outing in the El Yunque National Forest after Hurricane Maria, is not steeped in elements of futurism, it demonstrates the power of speculative fiction in establishing futurity. The story begins with what is meant to be a check to ensure the security of a dig site turns into a battle between a Zemi (deity/ancestral spirit) and three teens assisted by a chupacabra (mythological creature). As the battle ensues, the siblings inexplicably free the Zemi from its monstrous form which reveals its true identity as the trapped soul of a Taino man who turned against the gods due to the inescapable oppression of the Spaniards. During this moment, the illustrations depict three Taino spirits emerging from the Zemi which are illustrated to mirror the modern-day siblings. The image establishes a sense of ancestry that connects the past to the present moment. The parallelism continues when Zemi mistakenly greets the siblings as “Taino warriors”. Although the teens inform him of the lost existence of the Tainos, in his departing words the Zeni expresses, “I will be with them once more. All that matters now is that you remember where you came from. What was lost and sacrificed and what can be again…the only way for the Boriken to have a future is for its people to believe in themselves, to rely on each other” (2018). The call to connect with one’s identity as a source of power for rebuilding the future not only exists in reference to the rebuilding of the island post-Hurricane Maria but also to the refortification of the resilience and endurance of the island’s community and culture.
Meanwhile, the comic Pasitos Grandes, written by Tristan J. Tarwater and illustrated by Cynthia Santas, not only continues the theme of futurity but quite literally imagines the future as a group of children on an AR (augmented reality) tour of “Diaspora of Puerto Rican People, 20th-22nd centuries” (2018). The tour begins with quick acknowledgement of the formation of Boriken by the indigenous people known as the Tainos, the colonization of the island by Spanish conquerors and colonists, and the role African enslavement played in developing the island as an economic outpost for the sugarcane production. It continues by shining light on the persistence of the Taino and West African cultures despite the violent oppression enforced by the Spaniards. The presence of foreign policy is furthered in economic profiteering, the Jones Act, natural disaster, and debt. In this way, the narrative uplifts the struggle of Puerto Ricans by detailing the contributions of Puerto Ricans as they fought for independence even during exile, pioneered migratory movement to northern mainland cities for the promise of higher wages and steady work, and continued the fight for independence as well as better healthcare, housing, and more. As the children travel through history via AR, they not only bear witness to the immense struggle but also have moments of community as they are depicted being served “desayuno gratis” by a member of the Young Lords and playing in the sprinkle of a fire hydrant in front of the “El Rincon Grocery.”
The final pages of the comic participate in the formation of the futurity of the Puerto Rican people by speaking into, imaginative, existence: the repeal of the The Jones Act as a result of “pressure from elected senators and congress people”; the creation of non-predatory companies, interested in renewable energy, technology and building infrastructure; rebuilding of the island through the work of Boricuas and their scientific advancements; breakthroughs in agricultural practices on the moon with preference for heirloom seed companies that value traditional foods. The narrator closes by paying homage to the pan-Laine efforts needed to “making manufacturing in space”, the Taino culture in the naming of “Atabbey (goddess of the moon) Space station” a resource for any nations building in the stars, and the continued contributions of Puerto Rican scientists working on “other stations for Jupiter’s moons”. With the final note to the children, “Maybe one of you will take that big step to living on another plane. Just know…you come from the many small steps our people took before you” (2018). Here the promise of futurism comes full circle, as the teacher acknowledges the children as agents for change that can further the values of community, collaboration, and justice for future generations.