Nepantla

Since the 7th century CE, 1.5 million people (mostly in Central Mexico) have been speaking Nahuatl, otherwise referred to as Aztecan. This makes it a fairly important language, some words of which you probably already know. Coyote, for example, as well as chocolate, avocado, tomato, and chili. My favourite is huitzil (humming bird), because its name sounds like their humming wings as they zip past you. I have a beaded humming bird from Guatemala (via the Toronto Texile Museum) perched above my computer monitor, watching me with glassy eyes as I type. 

In many cultures hummingbirds, as well as butterflies, have the ability to bring messages to the spirit world. Aztecs loved hummingbirds, often wearing them (either representations like my beaded version, or the bodies of dead birds) because they supposedly brought the wearer vitality, energy, and fertility. The patron god of Tenochititlan named Huitzilopōchtli had hummingbird qualities. Dead warriors sometimes came back from the realm of the dead in the form of hummingbirds and butterflies. 

The name of this post, nepantla, is a Nahuatl  term for the in-between or middle. It is the precursor to the borderland, and has at its centre an implication of conquest, invasion and violence. Gloria Anzaldua uses this term, explaining that “nepantla es tierra desconcida, and living in this liminal zone means being in a constant state of displacement—an uncomfortable, even alarming feeling”. She describes it as a threshold, or a space between worlds, which can then apply to both physical borders as well as supernatural divisions. 

Anzaldua also coined the term nepantlera, which denotes someone who crosses or lives in nepantla. I absolutely love this idea because not only does it connect with the trickster figure, but they serve as a bridge between the worlds. They are the border crossers, which Anzladua uses in a far more positive sense than the illegal alien or the coyote. 

"For nepantleras, to bridge is an act of will, an act of love, 

an attempt toward compassion and reconciliation, 

and a promise to be present with the pain of others without losing themselves to it” 

This quote by Anzaldua is so hopeful and yet realistic in its understanding of the pain and uncertainty of the borderland. There is possibility for growth, for change and adaptation through this act of love and reconciliation, but the violence of the borderland as designated by the term nepantla is ever present. Anzaldua perceptively reminds her readers however that even though "no bridge lasts forever" this shouldn't prevent us from building them. 

Nepantla has a variable terrain and fluctuating inhabitants, and for nepantleras (and maybe even hummingbirds) it is a location possibility: of bridging and border crossing.