Wandering through Pátzcuaro, a magical town nestled in Michoacán, Mexico, last October, in the vibrant lead-up to Día de Muertos, I stumbled upon a sight that bridged worlds. The streets buzzed with preparations for Day of the Dead festivities; cempasúchil flowers and papier-mâché skeletons adorned every corner. Vendors displayed sugar skulls and holiday trinkets. And there, amidst a Frida Kahlo chibi purse and a calavera figure, stood Goku.
The polyresin figurine, reminiscent of the Catholic saints found in my grandmother’s home, depicted the iconic Dragon Ball Z protagonist. A wave of delighted recognition washed over me. “Look!” I exclaimed to my friend, “It’s like my favorite pop culture saint!” I knew Dragon Ball Z, the anime saga of a spirited warrior defending Earth, resonated deeply in Latin America. The meme-like status of anime’s popularity there was also familiar. Yet, encountering Goku in Pátzcuaro, a town celebrated for its traditional artistry, felt delightfully surreal. It was a cultural exhale, a welcome loosening of expectations.
This unexpected juxtaposition sparked my curiosity. Michoacán’s rich artistic and culinary heritage had already captivated me. The ceramics, echoing ancient Purépecha techniques, and the exquisite cuisine were particular highlights. Cristina Potters, a respected food writer from Morelia, had introduced me to culinary gems at La Conspiración de 1809. Was it possible I found this immersion in tradition, this reverence for the past, somewhat…stifling?
Not exactly. Morelia and its surrounding pueblos pulsed with a playful energy. In Pátzcuaro, a large Día de Muertos ofrenda featured a Monster Energy Drink theme – a tribute to a departed soul’s favorite indulgence. It made perfect sense. I’d certainly hope for a cold brew offering on my own ofrenda, ensuring a less cranky return journey from the land of the dead.
The more I considered it, the clearer it became: my reaction to “Mexican Goku” had less to do with Mexico itself, and more to do with the often-mythologized perceptions of Mexican people, particularly in US media portrayals.
The story of anime’s embrace in Latin America is compelling. The YouTube channel “Get in the Robot” offers an insightful exploration, linking it to Latin American cultures’ appreciation for dubbed content, preference for uncut versions (unlike US censorship practices), and a market gap for animation due to limited regional animation funding. They also highlight Latin Americans’ appetite for complex, long-form narratives, nurtured by a steady diet of telenovelas.
One could attempt to draw parallels between Dragon Ball Z and Mexican culture. Goku, after all, embodies machismo in some ways, is deeply devoted to family, makes multiple returns from the afterlife, and is driven by duty. However, these themes feel too universal to fully explain the “Mexican Goku” phenomenon, which, as noted, has significant economic roots.
The true fascination of the “Mexican Goku” phenomenon in Mexico, and related cultural expressions like Taqueria “Goku,” lies in its revealing nature. It’s like a transparent computer case, showcasing the intricate workings of cultural exchange. It illustrates culture’s dynamic movement, how communities adopt and reinterpret global elements, and the delightful unpredictability of cultural affections.
Ultimately, Dragon Ball Z is undeniably captivating. It’s pure entertainment – high-octane battles between super-powered warriors, energy blasts, and planet-destroying stakes. What’s not to love about this explosive spectacle?
Yet, witnessing the “Mexican Goku” figurine brought to mind countless discussions in rooms where media executives strategize about “reaching Latino audiences.” Often, the nuanced reality of Latino consumers, viewers, or readers in the US gets reduced to a simplistic checklist of presumed preferences, as if they were zoo animals with rigidly defined diets.
While demographic categories might appear neat on paper, culture is a vibrant mosaic of individuals with diverse tastes, beliefs, and values. The prevailing, often flawed, logic in marketing books, shows, and movies to US Latinos often relies on stereotypes: emphasis on family values, constant declarations of Latino pride, and adherence to outdated machismo tropes.
This reductive approach has fueled countless cliché-ridden, unsuccessful projects, perpetuating the self-defeating myth that Latinos are disengaged consumers of media. This flawed reasoning then discourages investment in Latino-centric projects, deemed “risky.” The truth is, Latinos are deeply engaged with culture; they simply seek authentic stories that resonate, not narratives saturated with forced cultural markers and tired tropes.
Perhaps my initial reaction was accurate: Goku is something of a cultural saint. For me, “Mexican Goku” embodies a patron saint against cultural stereotyping. I invoke him whenever someone argues a story isn’t “Latino enough” because it lacks a chancla-wielding abuela, or that Latino-focused content is commercially unviable.
Compelling stories transcend rigid cultural boxes. They strike a balance between cultural specificity and universal human experiences. The cultural phenomena that truly capture imaginations are often unexpected, defying pre-conceived notions of “good” or “bad” taste. Culture can be delightfully quirky, producing unique blends like a “Mexican Goku,” a taco truck themed around anime, and countless other unexpected expressions. Embracing this cultural fluidity is key to creating content that resonates with diverse audiences and taps into unacknowledged consumer desires.
Or, as a humorous alternative, perhaps Hollywood should simply cast Edward James Olmos as Master Roshi in a live-action adaptation and hope for the best.
