on the “fukú”

guest contribution by Jacob Anthony Amaro

If you’ve ever read past the first page of Junot Diaz’s The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, then you’re already familiar with the term “fukú.” If not, here’s a refresher: it’s a curse that originated in West Africa and was transported to the Caribbean via slave ships, sustained and vitalized by the wails of captives aboard. As slavery spread throughout the New World, so too did the fukú, and it wreaked havoc on people’s lives across generations. 

In short, the fukú is a curse—one that follows you and dictates your life.

And the fukú, without a doubt, or some variation of it, is why I’m a gay man living in a Mexican and Catholic household. Fukú is why I have always struggled with my weight and image. Fukú is why I only fall for straight men. I can go on and on. The point is this: Fukú has followed me around most of my life, and it will always be there, watching…waiting. 

And I’m okay with that. 

I’m okay with it because it means I know the truth…the one you’re supposed to spend your entire life figuring out. The reason why life is hard. All that’s left for me to do, as a result, is live out my life—working, eating, sleeping, laughing, crying—until the fukú takes me.

Better that than to follow in the footsteps of the members of my generation. The ones who tell you to just “do you.” The ones who think they own their lives, who use psychology and the stars to explain everything…but who also stay up at night wondering whether they believe in what they preach. Fuck that. It’s much easier when the fukú is at the center of the universe.

There always has to be something bigger than us at the center. Otherwise, life is pointless. For many, it’s a God. A God with many names. Allah. Yahweh. Christ. For some, it’s many gods. For others, it’s science. 

Today many of us prefer to put ourselves at the center. That’s why the world is ending. Someone, somewhere once told me that we were made from ashes and that, when all is said and done, to ashes we’ll return. And it’s true.

It’s a shame hardly anyone will read this and believe it. But perhaps it’s better that way. That’s the only way the world can work, after all. There are those who know and those who are clueless, and they balance each other out.

In any case, at least now you know.

Jacob is a senior studying Journalism at Rutgers University. A Mexican-American, he requests you never order from Taco Bell in his presence. @j.amar0

originally published in cracks in pomo: the zine

Photo taken by Leslie Granados @lgfilm