&Gallery, AZCAF, TFOB! Oh My!
I went from President Henry to Professor Henry!
Hey, Arizona!
Here’s how you can see me publicly from a safe distance starting tomorrow.
Saturday, March 2nd
Join Tucson’s writer Henry Barajas and special guests for a conversation on reclaiming and telling borderlands stories at &Gallery!
419 N 4th Ave, Tucson, AZ 85705-8444, United States
6-8 P.M.
Special Guests
Maurice Rafael Magaña, Associate Professor of Mexican American Studies at UA.
Cynthia Naugle, &gallery Owner and Artist.
Gace Tapia-Beltran is a Tucson educator and Ph.D. student in Mexican American Studies at UA.
Lucero Esmeralda Ramirez, Ph.D. student in Teaching, Learning, and Sociocultural Studies at UA.
Saturday, March 9th
I am returning to the Arizona Comics Arts Festival hosted by my buddy, Ryan Cody.
I’ll be in and out for the one-day event (my favorite kind) at the Phoenix Shrine Auditorium & Event Center. This is my only event in Phoenix because Phoenix Fan Fusion Fest refused to treat me like any other guest, so this is your chance.
Sunday, March 10th
I’ll attend the Tucson Festival of Books on Sunday, March 10th!
Here’s my panel:
Voces Tucsonenses
Three Tucson-born authors talk about activism, struggles, and empowerment within the Mexican American community through history and/or personal lived experiences, as well as ties to their hometown.
Nuestras Raíces Stage (Seats 150)
Sun, Mar 10, 11:30 am - 12:30 pm
Signing area: Pima County Public Library/Nuestras Raíces/Craft Tent & Signing Area (following presentation)
Panelists: Henry Barajas, Elizabeth Camarillo Gutierrez, Lydia Otero
Moderator: Selina Barajas
I’ll be signing at the Border Community Alliance booth #264 after the panel signing!
I got an email from Maestro Maurice Rafael Magaña, Ph.D. asking me if I could go to his classroom and talk about the comic I made with J. Gonzo.
La Voz De MAYO Tata Rambo was published in 2019. I equated the comic to being my college kid. I poured $30K into making it, but it left the next and doesn’t call.
I accepted the invitation at the time only if I could do it remotely since I no longer reside in Tucson. We went back and forth on dates, but he brought me to my hometown thanks to a grant through the U of A.
I insisted that Gonzo be there because, as the author, I get the lion's share of the credit for the art we made together. Gonzo has a gift of gab and knows how to work a room, so it put less pressure on me to fill the whole hour.
We spoke to an engaged and interested group of kids who read our work and had things to say. I rarely get to hear what people think about my work because friends and family don’t want to hurt my feelings. I read the reviews—the good and the bad and the ugly. But to see college kids give you their complete, undivided attention is something else. It’s not something I need for my work, but I’ll welcome the audience occasionally.
We answered some questions, and the class turned into a mini signing, letting the students meet us and let me doodle in their comic book graphic textbooks. It was neat to have that kind of one-on-one with the class like that.
I was promised college growing up. I was told, “You’re going to college.” But when it came time to cash that promise check, it bounced.
Hard.
My banking job offered 90% tuition reimbursement. I didn’t take advantage of that kind of assistance until I started working at the Arizona Daily Start, which offered 15% reimbursement or something like that. I took a Pima Community College English class to get my whistle wet. After I turned in my first assignment, the teacher asked me why I was furthering my education.
“Well, I thought I should have a degree.”
“Yeah, but you’re a writer.”
“Oh. Well. Can I get my money back?”
“No. Today was the last day to do that. Sorry.”
My brief stint in academia is something I can now laugh at. But to go to a prestigious college like the UofA—despite the questionable shit that’s happening there now—and get paid to talk about our comic about my great-grandfather helping the Pascua Yaqui tribe keep their land from being bulldozed by the City of Tucson to build the I-10 is not something I thought would happen. It’s all thanks to a passionate teacher finding our comic in a small bookstore in San Diego.
I never thought I’d amount to anything in life. I was convinced I was going to work an easy job, marry someone who hated me, have kids who didn’t respect me, and own a house that wasn’t really mine.
If I’m lucky, all those things are still possible.
But I’ll keep making comics until the wheels fall off.
And let me tell you something, my dear reader: the wheels are falling off.
Let’s enjoy it while we still can.