_ Suddenly it all makes sense. Today was the ethnographer’s dream. I returned to the “site” that was the beginning. The rough sketch that will hopefully become some sort of masterpiece of a dissertation. The shaky first attempt and understanding something. Anything.

That is, Edgar asked if I wanted to go to the Multifuncional to see the show and try to work out a deal with Mr. Atlas. And with all the police mutiny going on around here I almost canceled on him and stayed home today. But when he called to tell me he’d be ten minutes late, I pulled on the thick down coat, and headed out the door.

_ I’ve made central to my thesis his suggestion that the luchadoras of Titanes del Ring are “payasas.” And I’ve been thinking about it as a gendered derogation. But tonight, as I sat on the cold concrete bench, surrounded by women in polleras and seven year olds screaming at the rudos that they are maricones, I understood what he he’s been talking about all this time.

Every match was far more show than lucha. He was right that I should pay attention to the way the luchadores interacted with the audiences. The cholitas arrived in the arena dancing (sometimes with the gringos in the front row), waving, smiling, being cute. The luchadores either greeted people with waves , walking all the way around the ring, or insulted the audience immediately. Throughout the matches they often stopped to interact with the audience. When Cobade jumped on the corner ropes in the middle of the match, the little girl next to me yelled “maricon” over and over. “Tu papá es un maricon. Yo soy hombre.” He responded. Yes, indeed, I need to beef up my interaction and acting.

But the wrestling itself, the claves, the cayes, the castigos, were less than impressive. I have yet to do any quantitative analysis on the subject, and perhaps my very central role biases me, but I would venture to say that my own matches have about twice as many actual wrestling moves per minute as the Titanes del Ring matches. And to me, this made them slow and boring. Certainly there was more humor involved. And the audience was given ample opportunity to shout, throw things, generally become “part” of the act. Perhaps in Super Catch matches they are more spectators than contributors.

_ But the word “clown” was the obvious descriptor for much of what I was seeing. It very much was clear in a match featuring Jenifer Dos Caras in which, before the actual wrestling began, she repeatedly fell on the floor laughing. This reminded me of Goffman’s analysis clowning, and “the use of entire body as a playful gesticulative device” as a way to indicate a lack of seriousness and childlike demeanor. Jean-Martin Charcot, a nineteenth century neurologist, pioneered work on hysteria, suggesting that the second phase of the condition was “clownism.” As Didi-Huberman (2003:147) explains, this reference to clowning was used to delegitimate so-called hysterical women.

And the very gendered history of all this added to my assumption that Edgar’s statements belied sexism, and a dismissal of the possible contribution of women to lucha libre. But tonight I understood where the sentiment was coming from and it seemed to have little to do with gender. After the first three matches he asked “Como te parece?” But didn’t quite give me a chance to answer. “Son malas, no?” And I agreed. They were funny. Lots of humorous yells at the audience, bodily comedy, and goofy antics. But the actual wrestling wasn’t convincing. The claves weren’t done with skill. “Falta mucha technica” says Edgar.

But Titanes del Ring garners an audience. Edgar and I guessed there were around 500 people there. With about 150 tourists paying 50 Bs. a person. And maybe that’s the key. Maybe the actual wrestling doesn’t matter. Maybe its all about the comedy. Last year, plenty of audience members told me the reason they attend shows is that it makes them laugh. Maybe its something like the “oasis” Veronica Palenque is striving for. But I can see how, even if this is what Bolivian audiences want, Edgar and his colleagues hope for something more. Something they can be proud of as technicos and luchadores trying to advance their sport.

In the end discussions with Mr. Atlas went nowhere and we rode the minibus back to el centro discussing what we liked and what we didn’t. There was a good jump from the top rope. Mr. Atlas had a few nice moves. And the skeleton character, Mortis, definitely has some dance moves. And I suppose the good part is, I’m feeling more confident about my own abilities. I didn’t see a single attempt at tijeras tonight. And the plan is to learn los tijeras dobles this week.

_ This morning several Super Catch stars went to Palenque TV (canal 48) to record some messages aimed at children. The channel is going to start airing lucha libre, under the name Tigres del Ring, and the promo spots recorded will come at the end of commercial breaks. 

_ Palenque TV is a project of Veronica Palenque, daughter of the late Carlos Palenque Avilés. Carlos was a presidential candidate in 1989 and 1993, running for the CONDEPA (Conciencia de Patria or National Conscience) party. In 1993, he received just over 14% of the vote, putting him in second place behind Goni (who garnered about 35.5%). Perhaps more interestingly, Carlos spent his time in the 1960s singing social-protest songs and cultivating long hair. He then became part of Los Caminantes, a pop-folk group that quickly became one of the most popular bands of time in La Paz. He eventually went solo, and the Bolivian National TV station (the only TV station in Bolivia at the time), asked him to do a weekly live music show aimed at indigenous and rural-origin peoples living in La Paz. He solicited Remedios Loza, or Comadre Remedios, to be his cohost on La Tribuna Libre del Pueblo [The Community’s Open Forum]. Remedios identified more closely with indigeneity than Carlos and dressed de pollera. She and Carlos remained close, and after his death, so ran for President in his place in 1997. However, it seems that Remedios had sharp tensions with Veronica, and left the program (for more information see Moore's piece here). 

Veronica herself then served in the Bolivian National Congress from 1997-2000. She first formed a radio station in 2000, with the objective to continue the line of social welfare, information, education, and training that Compadre Palenque (referring to her father) left behind as his principles, precents, and ideology.

“Red Palenque Comunicaciones, fue creada el años 2000, con el objetivo de continuar la línea de ayuda social, información, educación y entretenimiento que el Compadre Palenque dejara bajo sus principios, preceptos e ideología.”

In 2011 Veronica began the TV station, in response to the proliferation of pain, suffering, bad news, disasters, catastrophes, and negative news usually available on television. She decided to create a channel that emphasizes fun, entertainment, laughter, joy and positive aspects of life. Veronica explained, “El control remoto tiene que convertirse, a partir de hoy, en una ‘varita mágica’ que transporte al televidente a un oasis de entretenimiento y diversión, porque aquí sólo verá felicidad” [As of today, the remote control has to become a ‘magic wand’ to transport viewers to an oasis of entertainment and fun, because we only see happiness].

_ And, then, enter the luchadores: bastians of fun, entertainment, laughter, joy, and positive aspects of life (?). We started out recording a clip where we (attempted to) say “Hola Amigitos! Somos Tigres del Ring. Pronto por Palenque TV!” in unison. We pretty much failed and ended up just saying “Hola Amigitos” together, with Luis announcing who we were and Edgar promoting the station.

After our group recording, we each each recorded a short PSA style message for kids. These messages were not our own of course, but were scripted and handed to us to memorize about half an hour before recording. I am unfortunately left to talk about the scripts in a passive sort of voice, because they arrived to us on little pieces of yellow notepad, handwritten by someone other than the camera guy who passed them off. We did have to wait around for Veronica to arrive, and my previous experiences with her have shown that she is quite involved in most aspects of the station. So I would venture to say she was the source of the scripts, but I can’t say for certain. I would also guess that the handwriting was a woman’s, but I’m no expert on gendering based on script.

My little script was written in Spanish as “Practicar deportes, alimentarse sanamente, y alejarse de vicios son las claves de una vida exitosa. Ustedes pueden ser heroes. Es un mensaje de Lady Blade, junta con los Tigres del Ring. Estaremos pronto por Palenque TV.” But of course Omar wanted me to do it in English (I didn’t mind), so I translated it as “Practice sports, eat healthy, and stay away from drugs are the keys to a successful life. You can be a hero! This is a message from Lady Blade and the Tigres del Ring on Palenque TV.”

So yes, my little bit was chock full of certain moralizing messages that seem to conflate bodily health with some sort of emotional or social decency. And I suppose this is not surprising given the social welfare, information, education, and training espoused in the radio station’s mission statement. But what was especially interesting were the references to “our country” most of the other luchadores had in their scripts.

Luis’s was the most explicit. His went something like: “To support our beautiful country, Bolivia, we need to work hard and stay healthy.” Carlos’s began with “Drugs and alcohol destroy your life! But we can be heroes for our country, Bolivia by staying fit and respecting each other.” Edgar’s concentrated on keeping Bolivia beautiful by recycling, caring for water, and not polluting. Finally SuperCuate’s was short and simple, “The values of respect, education, and consideration make us heroes for Bolivia.”

This reminded me quite a bit of the “lessons” of Hulk Hogan’s Rock n’ Wrestling show from the 1980s. Indeed, US wrestling is often fraught with nationalist storylines which help to delineate heels from faces (villains from good characters). And nationalism has certainly had its place in my experiences wrestling in Bolivia. Primarily, I’ve had to walk a fine line promoting the US, but maintaining my status as a technica (good character). I wave at the kids, and they seem to love me, which helps. But when E came to visit and made an appearance as my partner on the program “La Revista," he played the rudo well, telling the Bolivians they had a lot to learn from the US where “real” wrestling takes place.

_ But mostly its always struck me as strange that wrestlers, people who enter the ring and seemingly commit acts of violence, are poised as role models. As Nick Sammond writes, “Wrestling is brutal and it is carnal. It is awash in blood, sweat, and spit, and…depends on the match—the violent and sensual meeting of human flesh in the ring” (Sammond 2005:7). Is this really the way to teach values like respect, education, and consideration?”

But I suppose meeting “them” where they’re at is a viable approach. And if luchadores are icons that kids look up to, encouraging them to take care of themselves, each other, their country, and the earth isn’t all bad. Especially given the fair amount of inferiority complex some Paceños I've met have about their country, perhaps encouraging a little nationalism isn’t entirely bad (though still complicated).