Marching in Search of Answers

The McCann brothers say they’re confused. Although they were born in Cuba to parents who told them never to forget home, Rogelio, Marcos and Solomon McCann still struggle over basic issues even after spending most of their lives--30 years--in the United States.

They seem right at home here in L.A. But in keeping the promise to their parents in Cuba, the brothers face troubling options.

Do they speak Spanish or English? They won’t give up either one; Spanish remains from their past and English is the key to their future.

There are other vexing choices: Do they pledge allegiance to salsa queen Celia Cruz, worshiped by Cubans everywhere, or to thoroughly modern American Boyz II Men?

But the biggest question of all is, if the opportunity presents itself, do they return home or stay here?

Perhaps most important for them until that happens, are they Hispanics, as many Cuban Americans like to call themselves, or African Americans, because they are black?

It was a question that never really came up in Cuba, but here in the United States, where the culture expects everyone to check off one answer to the question, “What are you?” the brothers are trying to sort that out.

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Last fall, when I first met them, the three brothers had just returned from the “Million Man March” in Washington, D.C.

Marcos, the middle brother, loved the comradeship that was evident among the 800,000 participants. “Incredible,” he said. “It was just incredible.”

But the two others weren’t so sure. “I guess I went to look for some answers,” says Rogelio, the eldest, and the only U.S. citizen of the three. “Was I this or was I that? The gathering was tremendous, but I felt a little left out. A couple of older men cussed me out for speaking Spanish.”

It was left to Solomon, the youngest brother, to show the wisdom of the ancient king he was named for. “We are black. We learned something from La Marcha,” he said simply. “We are other things too, and we can learn from other experiences as well.”

They perked up when I mentioned that L.A. organizers were working to stage a Latino version of the march for this October in the nation’s capital.

“Really?” an excited Marcos asked.

“That would be interesting,” Rogelio said.

Solomon finds it another way to learn.

I personally think the Latino march on Washington--one that includes women as well as men, and Latino Americans of every origin--is a good idea. Although most Chicanos and Cuban Americans, for example, differ on such issues as immigration policy and U.S. dealings with Fidel Castro, Latinos gain individually and collectively when they get together and show the nation’s power elite that they too are a power to be reckoned with. Latinos will likely surpass blacks as the nation’s largest minority by 2001, something I doubt most in Washington realize.

By going to Washington this October, just a month before the presidential election, we can help shape the political debate leading up to Election Day.

Some Latinos don’t agree. My colleague here at The Times, Frank del Olmo, thinks it’s a mistake for Latino activists to once again emulate African American initiatives and stage their own march on Washington. Del Olmo thinks a Latino version of the “Million Man March” would be another needless round of the political war that is escalating between blacks and Latinos.

It’s a cynical view that ignores people like the McCanns, who are looking for answers. Are they black, or Latino--my word--or Hispanic--their word? Efforts that help them find the answers can’t be dismissed.

Like the feel-good attitude that many African Americans brought home last October, a Latino march can inspire pride and a resolve among participants to work to improve their neighborhoods. It won’t end every political difference within the Latino/Hispanic population, but it’s a good place to lay the foundation.

“The ‘Million Man March’ touched a part of me,” Solomon said. “But the rest of me needs to be touched too. Why not have a Latino marcha? I’m sure it can help others as well.”

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Still, for the brothers, the big questions are not in Washington, D.C., but their own Lomita living room.

Rogelio has been working on his younger brothers to become citizens. They hesitate, fearful they will lose some of their Cuban-ness, although they’ve lived most of their lives here.

He reassures them that they could still return to Cuba one day, and in the meantime they could take full part in the life of this country, including voting.

Solomon, whose namesake chose not to divide the baby, could see the logic of that. But Marcos, the middle brother, felt that becoming a citizen would be breaking a promise to his parents.

It’s a choice they never thought they’d have to make when they came here, and three decades later, it’s a choice they don’t want to be forced to make. Maybe a march would help them to make it.