Elena Poniatowksa: A musical about '68

–M

My name is Omar Olvera, and I'm the author of the play Para la libertad: México 68 (For Freedom: Mexico 68), a musical that premiered at the National Autonomous University of Mexico (UNAM) almost 15 years ago and can now be seen at the Nuevo Teatro Libanés (New Lebanese Theater). My project began at the Carlos Lazo Theater in the UNAM School of Architecture with the title Barquito de papel (Little Paper Boat), in a school format in which we managed the production with personal resources and borrowed money. UNAM lent us the theater, and so we were able to put on our first season; its success back then motivated me to continue it now.

–How old is your work, Omar?

–I wrote it 15 years ago, and the play has been around for 13 years, in front of an enthusiastic and generous audience that wants to know what happened in 1968.

–Did you write it when you were a student?

–That's right. I was 20 years old and attending the National School of Fine Arts, which is now the Faculty of Art and Design in Xochimilco. Since the Academy of San Carlos is the parent school of the National School of Fine Arts, we were able to perform the play several times at artist gatherings, exhibitions, and events that moved the audience. My story begins at the Academy of San Carlos, which chose us as the commemorative play for its 50th anniversary.

–And UNAM?

–In 2018, we toured the UNAM faculties. Until now, we had supported ourselves with independent support from UNAM and the Museo Memoria y Tolerancia, but today we celebrate that Morris-Gilbert Mejor Teatro has welcomed us to this professional and commercial venue in front of a massive audience. Thanks to Morris Gilbert, we have the opportunity to reach more people.

–How long will they be on the bill?

–It depends on the audience. We want as many people as possible to come see us and learn about the Tlatelolco massacre, because the duration of our season depends on their attendance.

–Omar, how did you conceive this theatrical defense of the students who were persecuted and imprisoned?

–When I was very young, I saw a short television report on Channel Once at night. My dad, who was 18 in 1968, told me what he experienced. My dad didn't finish high school, but he kept his friends from Prepa 4 and was very aware of the student movement, which fascinated him, like many others. He told me that my grandmother didn't let him attend marches and rallies because it was said to be too dangerous. Later, when I entered Prepa 5, I experienced the repression firsthand, because despite being there in 2003 (my generation is 2003-2006), many had suffered confrontations with Los Lagartos, thugs from Prepa 5, who attack in uniform with special jackets as identification. They would stab and beat us, and they carried out the famous hazing, in which in addition to shaving your head with knives, they beat you to death. The Lagartos are only from Prepa 5; they're named after a lizard-shaped rock on their campus. Every time there's a student demonstration, they show up, and the police intervene with batons. I saw my classmates injured by the homemade bombs thrown by Los Lagartos. In those confrontations, the only way to save our lives was by running away. "Run, because the thugs are coming!" Being careful of them was normal in student life, because they would slash us or steal our supplies, notebooks, backpacks, jackets, caps... everything we owned.

-How awful!

–Then I entered the National School of Plastic Arts in Xochimilco, and we began to experience something that terrified me because the mistreatment was escalating. The repression became routine. The incident with Javier Sicilia's son in Cuernavaca affected us all. In 2010, I attended the first march of my life and saw thousands of people marching dressed in white. They came from Cuernavaca to the Zócalo. After the 2012 elections, the movement I come from, #YoSoy132, emerged at the Ibero-American University, and I passionately participated in rallies and conferences. I witnessed the violence at Peña Nieto's inauguration; then came the repression that escalated to Ayotzinapa in 2014. We young people needed to demonstrate, and the government repressed us. That's why I wrote the play, and I found in theater the opportunity to denounce and compare the present with what happened in 1968. We wondered why people didn't know what we were experiencing in high school and college; why society ignored what was happening to their children.

–We all heard about Javier Sicilia's son, and we went with him…

I followed this movement started by the poet. His public letters were very moving, especially the one he read in the Zócalo. My musical work about '68 is filled with all of that. I was also very interested in talking about homophobia and transphobia, that hatred of people who identify with the same gender and express it in public. I wanted to document the situation of a man who dresses as a woman and lives his life that way.

–Years ago, Luis Buñuel was extremely empathetic and understanding with the homosexuals in the J Section of the Lecumberri pretrial detention center when we visited the Colombian prisoner Álvaro Mutis…

–In my family, we had a very sad incident. One of my mother's best friends was found murdered in his apartment; I was 8 years old, and my mother, worried that I was also gay, told me what she had seen, and that was very hard for me. I'm now 37. When I wrote the play, I was 20 and felt a pressing need to denounce these injustices, this pain I'd experienced both in my family and at school with several classmates. I included songs by Joan Manuel Serrat, whom I listened to at home and whose songs I borrowed to tell my vision of '68. Some lyrics are by Miguel Hernández, others by Federico García Lorca and Antonio Machado, and others by Serrat. I wrote with the intention that new generations would be outraged by what happened in Tlatelolco, that historical wound that changed us, because the student movement of '68 is still alive in many young people. The world was outraged: Brazil, China, Latin America, the United States, in Berkeley, where the protest began. I polished and improved the play, and now we're fortunate enough to be included in the Morris-Gilbert Outstanding Theatre Award. We're thrilled to have made it this far and to see how moved people are. Right now, Nacha, the great student leader of '68, is with us and is our heroine. Since we're from the San Carlos Academy, we also want to highlight our participation in the social struggle, so I'm very motivated to specialize in musical theater and reflect the heroism of the movement by denouncing the massacre of October 2, 1968, in a play.