Cuatro De Mayo.

Its that time of year again when I make my political stance to what used to by my favorite holiday of all time . . . Cinco De Mayo. Last year Anna and I started celebrating Quatro De Mayo in an attempt to remind subvert the neo-colonialism and imperialistic implications of Cinco De Mayo. No need to get into the history of the holiday itself. Nor what it has balooned into. And I know it’s not the “real” Independence Day of Mexico. But still, something feels wrong about celebrating a holiday in a Mexican restaurant pounding Magaritas while those who the holiday “are for” have to work to bring the white man his fajitas and Corona. I know it’s a major pay day for the Mexican restaurant scene. But still, something feels strangely odd about the whole enterprise.

Imagine that if on the Fourth of July, every burger joint and milkshake stand all across America had to stay open and all the “Americans” had to serve a bunch of Hispanic folk who had co-opted our holiday. We would be irate to say the least. Or down here in the South we would for sure.

I guess all I’m saying is that we should think about the practices that we partake in. I love margaritas on the rock with a dash of salt just as much as the next Coach wearing, botox injected soccer mom in the suburbs of the ATL. But I for one will not be buying anything with lime on it tomorrow. Instead I will lime it up tonight.

Bottoms up kids.