Banned Books

Memнn Pinguнn is a comic character from Mexico. Stories featuring him, a very poor Afro-Mexican boy, first appeared in the 1940s and have remained in print since. The character is known as Memнn Pingьнn by some Mexicans due to a publisher's change, when they found that the word pingo, whence pinguнn, was a slang term for "penis" in some countries, but later it was restored to Pinguнn.

Memнn was a creation of the late and famed writer Yolanda Vargas Dulchй, and currently, there are talks about making a motion picture based on the magazine and its characters.

Memнn was first featured in the 1940s in a comic book called "Pepнn" and was later given his own magazine. The character originally was created by Alberto Cabrera in 1943, and later was drawn by Sixto Valencia Burgos. Sixto exaggerated the character by the instruction of Yolanda Vargas Dulchй. Sixto also cites Ebony White as an influence. The original series had 372 chapters printed in sepia, and it has been republished in 1952 and 1961. In 1988 it was re-edited colorized, and in 2004 was re-edited again. Sixto still works on the comic, updating the drawings (cloth styles, settings and backgrounds) for the reeditions. It contains comedy and soap opera elements.

What is perhaps most noticeable

about Pinguin from a casual visual inspection is that he has "exaggerated features, thick lips and wide open eyes," as one blogger described him (while nonetheless suggesting that the cultural distinctions between America and Mexico might serve to justify or exonerate the stereotype). While I was reading over some of these entries, including the Wikipedia entry on the character, my three year old daughter looked over my shoulder and said, "Daddy, who's the monkey on your computer?" That would arguably serve to suggest that that the depiction of the character is indeed, as another blogger put it, more "simian than sapien."

While the character has been popular in Mexico for years, it might never have received all this attention in the U.S. but for the decision of the Mexican Post Office to issue a stamp bearing the character's likeness. This led to condemnation by American civil rights leaders and even a rebuke by the White House; spokesman Scott McClellan stated:

"Racial stereotypes are offensive, and I would say racial stereotypes are offensive no matter what their origin. The Mexican government needs to take this into account. Images such as these have no place in today's world."

The debate has raged hot and furious; much of it seems to center around historical distinctions between America and Mexico and the sense that these cultural differences render Piguin harmless or unoffensive. Personally, I think that the comments I've seen defending Pinguin have frequently confused a couple of things - namely, the question of whether something is a racial stereotype and whether it is in fact racist. There are lots of racial stereotypes, and they have everything to do with ethnicty and little to do with national borders. A few years ago, Reggie White got in a bit of hot water for a political speech where he used a grab-bag of stereotypes about Hispanics, blacks, Asians, and whites. When the film Matrix Reloaded came out, there was a small protest that the film relied upon stereotypes: namely, that it used albinos as villains. There are others: Italians are gangsters, Jews are cheap; the French are amorous, Arabs are terrorists, and white guys, by and large, can't dance (or jump). Sometimes these stereotypes have little to do with appearance; sometimes they have a great deal (mention "Italian gangster," for example, and most people probably choose from among a few "stock" or stereotypical images).

Exaggerating the features of a particular ethnicity is the hallmark of a racial stereotype: it pulls from the common perception that these are the characteristics, albeit clearly exaggerated or exploded into caricature, of the group in question. It would be hard to say that Pinguin is anything but a racial stereotype. The question, really, is whether or not he is a racist stereotype as well. Stereotypes aren't themselves automatically evil, and there may be a kernel of truth within them (some Arabs are terrorists, and many white guys can't dance, and some albinos are evil dudes). Indeed, having identified a stereotype for what it is, we can often play with it or off of it, humorously recognizing the cliche for what it is. Stereotypes are often fodder for comedians, many of whom take great delight in skewering our perceptions - both of others and of ourselves. But this is also true: once you recognize a stereotype as such, you are hard pressed to ignore that fact.

It is at this point that I am reminded of the recent article I saw about the reimergence of Little Black Sambo in Japan. Some seventeen years ago, Japanese booksellers bowed to the pressure of a U.S.-led campaign to remove the book from store shelves; earlier this year, a publisher ignored the potential controversy and reissued the book. To explore the tempest surrounding Pinguin, I think it might also be appropriate to consider the reaction to the "bulging eyes and exaggerated lips" of Sambo, who would probably not be the subject of a stamp anytime soon. The Japanese publisher who recently reissued Little Black Sambo claimed that it wasn't being racist either:

The publisher brushed aside claims that it was cashing in on a work that many consider racist, with its depictions of Sambo - a derogatory word for black people - with bulging eyes and exaggerated lips.

. . .

"Times have changed since the book was removed," Zuiunsha's president, Tomio Inoue, told the Guardian. "Black people are more prominent in politics and entertainment, so I don't think this book can be blamed for supporting racial stereotypes. We certainly had no intention of insulting black people."

What is somewhat fascinating about the Japanese debate is that Little Black Sambo never actually went out of print in the U.S. Indeed, as a Boston Globe article about the book notes, " its sales on Amazon.com rank well above many children's classics." The same article describes it as "a century-old lightning rod that is still hot to the touch, an icon beloved and loathed."

Little Black Sambo was written in 1899 by Helen Bannerman, a Scot living in India. As Wikipedia describes it, Sambo is the story of a "little boy who had to sacrifice his