Movement - Snap Classic

Snap Judgment - Snap Judgment and PRX

A podcast episode exploring identity, migration, and cultural fusion through stories of a San Francisco drag queen reconnected with her Mexican roots and a man who builds an underwater sanctuary for seahorses.

Key takeaways

• Artistic expression bridges generational and cultural divides.

Transcript preview

Snap Studios. Okay, I'm not one of those planter people. Open the fridge to take stock. A couple years of corn, cabbage. What is this, shrimp? The mushrooms have maybe one more day in them. And I think these are peppers, a tiny bit of leftover chicken. It's a random assortment of what have you. But the clock is ticking. Everybody's hungry. So I figure it's time. You see, every culture has a version of throw everything in the pot. pot in Japan is called Okonomiaki and the best way to describe it and this is not a fair description but the best way to describe it is as a savory pancake mix up some batter throw whatever in pour it on a hot griddle flip it over top with a little sauce and voila. Okonomiaki never ever the same thing twice but crazy as it sounds I promise you 98% of the time it is delicious. And today on Snap, we're mixing it out. Chop and stir it for a brand new flavor you've never tasted before. Snap adjustment probably presents movement. Movement. My name's from Washington. But, man, you said it works 98% of the time. What about that other 2%? what pizza is for when you're listening to snap judgment. Okay so I have a friend. Okay so I have a friend who is an artist in every sense of the word TED Talks. that is her, born with a spotlight. And what I love so much is that she points that light toward people and stories that would otherwise go unnoticed in a remark. Today, we're featuring a story from Leclit-Hidero, from a podcast movement, which lives on the edge of story, migration, and music. I think you're going to dig it. In today's episode, it chronicles the story of another artist, Sancho. that I think is about become one of your favorite artists as well. Snap judgment. Can you tell us about your name, Sancha? Yes. And what it means and why you chose it? So Sancha, as one word, means mistress. But her artist name is two words, Sancha. I separated it because I wanted it to be like a saint, like Sancha. And I wrote the name down and it was just something that like struck me because if you call someone a santa it's basically like calling her a bschter or something like it's really derogatory and I was like I wouldn't call myself that and then also thinking about how like the role that Saints play and especially in Mexico like sometimes people go to them for very specific things like this is the Saints play. that helps us cross the border that's the one by my mom's town you know like you go to them for something right with the name Sancha was like people would come to me for something and what would they come to you for for the drama hey On stage, Sancha is a revelation in rhinestones, fur and feathers with plenty of dewy blue eyeshadow to boot. Her roots as a San Francisco drag queen show up in this bountiful costuming. And then underneath it all, Sancha's love of Ranchera in its full complexity shines through. my feet and this is movement, music and migration, re-next. My parents are next. My parents are both like from rural Mexico like they don't have an education further than like sixth grade, but then they did all their sacraments like they're baptized, they're confirmed, like they don't have an education further than like sixth grade, but then they did all their sacraments like they're baptized, they're confirmed, they did their first communion, they're married so the catacism is there you know like so they're taught by the church and Rancheras really affirm those beliefs like of monogamy of like the way your family's supposed to be the way you're supposed to love with your entire heart or else you die you know like that person is for you and they belong to you forever and if you don't have them your life is miserable you know And having lived a different life in a moor. And having lived a different life in San Francisco and being queer and not identifying with that made it scary to go back into those, those tropes, you know? So I was wondering if you could tell us about your auntie's farm and your rediscovery of Ranchera. So the farm is the farm that my mom grew up on with her 12 siblings. So it's my grandparents farm and your that didn't get married in the family. And so she worked the farm the longest. Out of 12 kids there were seven girls. The men as soon as they were 16 wanted to come to the US to make money. So that left the women at home to do the men's jobs. The farm had like 25 cows so that was twice a day kind of thing. So it was at 5 a.m. they had to milk them and at 3 p.m. And so my mom said that like half of them would do the house chores and then the other half would do all the men's chores and then they would switch you know. So everyone could do everything. Yeah everyone could do everything. So I started going to Mexico when I was two. I think my mom was undocumented for the first like until I was six or something. So I started going to Mexico when I was two. I think my mom was undocumented for the first like until I was like six or something. So we'd go every two years and she'd come back on her own during those times and leave us with an aunt or something. So yeah, so the farm, I remember the bath being like a room with a big rock on it that you'd sit on and you'd have to heat up water and stuff like that. And there's like the oldest room in the house is made out of Adobe. And so it's always like, oh, where's this thing? They're like, El Querto de D'Oveil, you know, the Adobe room. And it used to have like one of those old ovens that you had to fire with like wood. And my aunt was like, I don't want that anymore. It's too much of a mess. And sometimes like I'll go to like one of these fancy pizza spots with the oven and I like it's that same snow. you know, right? It's not that long for anybody. Not that long, you know? So you started going to the farm when you were two. Yeah. And you returned a few years ago in a kind of transformational way. Yeah, it was going to be my 27th birthday and at that time I think I was getting tired of working so much in the bay and not having... anything to eat. You know, like it was just, it was a lot of work for nothing and I was like I don't see how this would get better. I just want to do music, you know? And I was like, it's about to be my Saturn return and I need a change. And my mom at one point, like a couple months before that had joked that I should just go keep my aunt company. on the farm because she was by herself and I was like oh you just want me to be reformed and like you know I was like no what is reformed yeah like because I was basically a drunk drag queen so she was like when are you gonna get better and not be so crazy and so she thought she could send me to basically a reform school with my aunt and then I was like actually that's not a bad idea that would be like a writing retreat or something And when I was into the idea, she was not into it. What? What? She flipped? She flipped. She flipped. All of a sudden Mexico was dangerous. And... Oh, that's interesting. But I, at that point, I was like, oh, that's not a bad idea. I should go to my aunt. And my friend actually bought me my plane ticket. So I like, went to Mexico City for a couple days, partied. birthday and then I took a bus from there to my aunt's farm. It's like a nine hour bus ride. Yeah. And then the first kind of month was really hard because my aunt, like they're still