LIVING WITH SELENA, 25 YEARS LATER
Selena is with me every day. I mean that literally. A 60by-43-inch painting, given to me years ago as an anniversary gift, hangs in our living room. It’s a close-up of her face and a talking point for anyone who comes in the house. It’s one of the best renderings I’ve seen. Most paintings don’t get her features right.
Roughly two dozen Selena hoodies and T-shirts hang in my closet. I purchased most of them, and some were gifts from those who get my love for the Tejano legend. I’m probably in one multiple times a week. And there’s usually one or two on the way at any given moment.
We also live in Houston, where it would be impossible to escape Selena, even if I weren’t a fan. Murals decorate the city. The Astrodome hosted her most lauded live performance. There are countless tribute nights and limited-edition beer glasses and painting parties. Her songs still play frequently on the radio.
I remember the moment Selena entered my world. Like many fans, she was my introduction to not only Tejano music but Spanish-language music in general. “La Carcacha” and “Como la Flor” sounded like nothing I’d ever heard. I asked my parents to buy me her CD titled, appropriately
SELENA'S MUSIC PLAYS A KEY ROLE IN MUSIC CRITIC JOEY GUERRA’S LIFE.
enough, “Entre a Mi Mundo.” That was it. I was hooked.
She wore a jacket with blackand-white striped sleeves and a sheer top on the cover. Her hands lifted her hair above her head. This was not the traditional stuff I’d grown up with. Selena’s look reminded me of Madonna, Paula Abdul and Janet Jackson. But there was an accessibility, a sweetness there, too. She looked like so many girls I went to school with, who were my friends.
Selena ignited something in me. Something that was always there but just needed the right push. It was pride in culture, in being Mexican and American and celebrating both equally. In feeling fully comfortable speaking English with my friends and Spanish with my grandparents. In watching sitcoms and novelas. In embracing every aspect of who I was.
Tejano music didn’t have the same separation between performer and fan as pop music. But I saw Selena on the same level. I went to see her perform every time I had the chance, which was frequently. Tejano acts toured nonstop and visited Houston on a monthly basis. I went with my parents, with friends, with my cousins. I danced (badly), sometimes coming within inches of Selena on the floor.
Once, during a break, I asked my cousin to go with me to get Selena’s autograph. She was right next to the stage, casually chatting with a security guard. Standing so close to her, I froze. I told my cousin to do it for.
“You do it!” she replied.
“No, you do it!” I answered. That went on for several minutes. Neither of us moved. The show eventually started back up, and I returned to my seat, the pen and CD cover still in my jacket pocket.
Everything changed on March 31, 1995. Selena’s death came a week into a new relationship, and it bonded us together. I had just made him a Selena mixtape a week earlier. It felt like a terrible joke.
Since then, Selena has remained a big part of our relationship. Singalongs in the car. Grocery store hunts for special-edition magazines. A trip to the museum in Corpus Christi. A screening of the movie at Rooftop Cinema.
And a beautiful painting that greets me every morning and reminds me that anything is possible. joey.guerra@chron.com twitter.com/joeyguerra