Carlos Coy (born October 5, 1971), better known by his stage name South Park Mexican, is an American rapper, and company founder of Dope House Records. His stage name is derived from the South Park neighborhood in Houston, Texas where he was raised. In 2002, Coy was convicted of aggravated sexual assault of a child and sentenced to 45 years incarceration, and is currently serving his sentence at Powledge Prison in Palestine, Texas.
A wise friend recently said to me that healing doesn’t happen in silence. It’s ironic that he used that choice of words because he was dead on. He was talking about a phenomenon that is opposite of silent, created by a community that sorely needs to heal. It is a phenomenon splattered on t-shirts, incorporated in rap videos and woven into lyrics of underground rap artists all over Texas. Yet, it isn’t giving the right message.
But I think it’s time someone does.
The phenomenon my friend was referring to was the “Free SPM” movement. If you’re wondering if it has anything to do with jail, it does. In fact, it’s a rallying cry by mainly Latino Texas hip hop followers to free a rap legend know as South Park Mexican, a.k.a. Carlos Coy, who is serving a 45-year prison sentence for aggravated sexual assault of a child.
Un amigo muy sabio me dijo hace poco que las heridas no sanan en silencio. Es irónico que utilizara esas palabras, y le dio justo al clavo. Hablaba acerca de un fenómeno que es lo opuesto al silencio, creado por una comunidad a la que le urge sanar. Es un fenómeno plasmado en camisetas, incorporado en videos de rap y entretejido en la letra de artistas clandestinos de rap por todo el estado de Texas. Un fenómeno que sin embargo, no está transmitiendo el mensaje correcto.
Y yo pienso que alguien debería hacerlo.
El fenómeno al que mi amigo se refería es el movimiento “Liberen a SPM”. Si usted se está preguntando si esto tiene algo que ver con la prisión, está en lo correcto. De hecho, es el grito de guerra de los seguidores del hip hop latino en Texas para liberar a una leyenda del rap conocido como South Park Mexican, alias Carlos Coy, quien actualmente cumple una condena de 45 años de prisión por abuso sexual con agravantes, en contra de un menor.
If you even have a hint of rap knowledge, you might have heard similar cries in the last few years, like “Free Pimp C” in the south and “Free Shine Po” on the east coast. This one is a bit more– uh, lots more – complex, because it has to do more with the crime of denial in the Latino community than the crime of a man.
To even begin to understand the cultural significance of the “Free SPM” movement and the Pandora’s box of cultural issues that lay underneath, you first have to understand the story of this once-Houston-based rapper and why he is revered by “Meskins” – pronounced “Mess-kens:” a slang term used in the streets of H-Town to refer to anyone brown – around the country.
John Nova Lomax wrote in a 2002 article, entitled South Park Monster:
“Coy was a hero to shaven-headed brown kids in baggy print shirts and jeans, those son of yard men, road builders, roofers and dishwashers, the youths caught between two cultures but not particularly valued by either. Coy became a conduit for their rage and despair, but also for their aspirations and dreams.”
That couldn’t be truer. That statement hits home. I was the son of a mechanic who hailed from South Texas, like Coy’s father who is from Falfurrias, TX. I know about not being Mexican enough because I didn’t speak Spanish and not American enough because my vocabulary was limited, and I had a Meskin twang to my English. I know about being caught between the cultural walls of not being Rio Grande Valley enough to identify with your cousins on the border and trying to explain to your white colleagues in a newsroom that lowrider car clubs aren’t gangs.
For many Meskins, you can’t be brown and you can’t be white so you go black, because that culture, while not necessarily overly embracing of Meskins, didn’t reject them. They didn’t laugh or condemn them for looking and talking like them. Black southern rap, pioneered by the likes of Scarface, ESG, Bun B, Pimp C and DJ Screw, helped define a generation of Meskins …their youth, their look and their speak. Close “south side fades,” fitted Astros hats, oversized t-shirts, gold grills in the mouth spittin’ Southern slang…they didn’t exactly emulate the stereotypical lowrider uniform of a wife-beater, black Dickies and house shoes, which you’ll find in Los Angeles.
No, being Meskin in Houston was different and our fellow Latinos in other parts of the country criticized us for acting and talking “too black” and still do. But I saw it as a positive and unique evolution of our community, mirroring the black urban influence on the New York city Latino population. I was proud of it and still am.
When I think about it, whether you look like what I just described, or you were me, who didn’t necessarily look the part, but embraced all the other elements, like living in a neighborhood heavily influenced by black urban culture, embracing Southern rap as your primary source of music, and living a troublesome life, like Coy’s, filled with domestic violence and emotional roller coasters, it was hard to find your identity among other Latinos in other parts of the state or country.
But when I really think about it, we really did have an identity. There just wasn’t a word for it, yet, but South Park Mexican gave it a face.
Nova also wrote:
“He was a uniquely Houston character, a Tejano raised in the black ghetto of South Park, a hustling Hispanic whose vivid raps about dead-end street life, smuggling weed from the Valley, and an uplifted raza blended gritty black funk with borderlands Spanish slang.”
When I first saw South Park Mexican, I was attending a lowrider car show in Houston and he came on after Ice Cube, not before. And although Bone Thugs-N-Harmony came on after South Park Mexican, and even though Eazy-E joined the group on stage and gave one of the last performances of his life (succumbing to AIDS just a few short months later), South Park Mexican drew more people than any of them…more anticipation, more yells, more excitement. The energy on stage and in the audience was electrifying.
It was because he was bigger than rap, at least in Houston. He represented the struggle, the perseverance and the rewards that life gives you when you find a way to be successful no matter if it’s untraditional in nature. He came to our neighborhoods. I remember him walking the Fort Bend County Fair Grounds in Rosenberg, TX and there are stories of him working the flea markets in San Antonio and slanging his tapes in Del Rio. He was the kind of success we’d never seen before on a stage we’d never stood on before. He looked like us, talked like us, and his upbringing mirrored ours, so Latino youth from Brownsville to San Francisco gave him their heart and loyalty, hanging on to every lyric. And that includes me.
I can’t explain it. It’s like the story of Selena. If you weren’t a fan of Tejano music, you’ll never understand the impact.
“Fans saw Carlos Coy as the invincible rapper, the gangsta who could become an icon for outcast Hispanics everywhere,” Nova wrote.
“But they didn’t know his weakness – young girls did.”
And that’s where this story takes a turn for the worse – not just for South Park Mexican, but for everyone who ever followed him.
On September 25, 2001, Houston police arrested South Park Mexican on a charge of aggravated sexual assault of a child who was then nine-years old. The incident occurred on
Labor Day weekend that year. Three more charges were soon added: a 1993 incident that impregnated a then 13-year-old girl and two more in March 2002 for sexual assault of two 14-year old girls.
He was sentenced to 45 years in prison.
You know, when South Park Mexican was a young boy; he developed a complex that made it difficult for him to physically swallow anything. His mother attributed it to growing up in a fatherless home.
For South Park Mexican’s supporters, it seems his crime and his sentence gave them the same complex. It’s a loss that’s just too hard to swallow for people growing up in a Hispanic role model-less city.
Today in 2009, closing in on a decade since his arrest, South Park Mexican is far from dead. In fact, his legacy gave birth to a new generation of Latino rappers I have lots of respect for and admire, like Lucky Luciano and Chingo Bling, who like South Park Mexican, took the whole “aspiring artist begging for a record deal” and put it on its head. Like South Park Mexican, they make independent money – lots of it. And they carry the “Free SPM” flag, spitting verses on the last of South Park Mexican’s albums. They chant and lead the “Free SPM” charge in their videos and t-shirts, and the fans follow.
In their minds and for the fans, all of this is a conspiracy by a bunch of “money hungry hoes” who wanted to cash in on his earnings and fame. For the sake of the community I come from and for the inspiration he brought to Hispanics in Houston and elsewhere, I want to believe that, so bad.
But I can’t. I have an eight-year old daughter and the thought of anything like that happening to her doesn’t allow me to support the “Free SPM” movement, and that should be reason enough for those who have children of their own and do follow the “Free SPM” movement, not to anymore. I’d rather be wrong about SPM’s guilt and face my own community in embarrassment, than be wrong about his innocence and face my own daughter in shame.
But I understand that in hip-hop culture your rap sheet raises your credibility, not only of your persona, but of your lyrics, and that leads to more record sales and respect in the streets. I get that martyrdom is admirable. For those who believe South Park Mexican is innocent and for those who know he did it but believe his sentence was unjust, that’s exactly what he is – a martyr. So the movement grows stronger.
But for those who listen to his music and get an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, but know that the evidence is equally overwhelming – eight young girls recounting their sexual encounters with South Park Mexican in court – there’s a feeling of conflict. But we know there isn’t a choice.
What is deemed acceptable in life and in society is set by the previous generation. That previous generation isn’t our parents in this story – it’s us. “Free SPM” cannot be the movement that defines Meskins. It has to be something else, someone else. Whether SPM truly is the South Park Monster or just another minority made an unfair example of by the white judicial establishment, the reality is that a man was convicted of a horrific crime and if that individual continues to be our beacon for hope, then the next generation won’t emerge as anything worth respecting. This “Free” speech is really an incarceration of our growth as a community.
We’re not outcast Hispanics – we are a new blend of Latino that represents a historic meeting place between Hispanic and Black cultures. We carry with us the unique struggles and perseverance to be stronger than anyone who comes from ordinary circumstances. So it’s time to face the music and heal a different way, by not forgetting South Park Mexican, but freeing ourselves from him.
I think it’s time. Don’t you?
Rolando Rodriguez is the managing editor of RedBrownandBlue.com and producer of the nationally-syndicated radio program, ¡Adelante América!, on Miami-based GLR Networks. Rolando is also a widely-published newspaper columnist, a contributing writer for New York-based, CATALINA magazine, and an accomplished multicultural communications executive in San Antonio, TX. He was raised in Richmond, TX. E-mail him at rolando@redbrownandblue.com.
Si usted tiene el más mínimo conocimiento acerca del rap, es posible que haya escuchado durante los últimos años gritos como “Liberen a Pimp C” en el sur y “Liberen a Shine Po” en la costa este. Este es, digamos que un poco más – o un mucho más complejo, porque tiene más relación con el crimen de negación por parte de la comunidad latina que con el crimen cometido por un hombre.
Para poder empezar siquiera a comprender el significado cultural del movimiento “Liberen a SPM” y la caja de Pandora de problemas culturales que yacen bajo la superficie, primero tiene que entender la historia de South Park Mexican y la razón por la cual es reverenciado por los “Meskins” – se pronuncia “Mess-kens”: expresión utilizada en las calles de Houston para referirse a cualquiera que tenga la tez morena en todo el país.
John Nova Lomas escribió en 2002 un artículo titulado Monstruo de South Park:
“Coy era un héroe para los chicos morenos de cabeza rapada vestidos en jeans y camisas holgadas y estampadas, esos hijos de jardineros, de constructores de carreteras, de lavaplatos y de albañiles, los jóvenes atrapados entre dos culturas pero no particularmente apreciados por ninguna de las dos. Coy se convirtió en el conducto para su rabia y desesperación, pero también para sus aspiraciones y sus sueños.”
Eso no podía ser más cierto. La aseveración me llegó. Yo fui el hijo de un mecánico proveniente del Sur de Texas, como el padre de Coy que es de Falfurrias, Texas. Yo entiendo eso de no ser lo suficientemente Mexicano, porque no sabía hablar español y no suficientemente americano porque mi vocabulario era muy limitado y hablaba inglés con acento ¨”Meskin”. Yo sé muy bien lo que es estar atrapado entre las barreras culturales, no ser lo suficiente Valle del Rio Grande para identificarte con tus primos en la frontera y tratar de hacer entender a tus compañeros blancos en la redacción la razón porque era importante escribir un reportaje acerca de un club de “lowriders”.
Para muchos “Meskins”, si no puedes ser Moreno y no puedes ser Blanco te haces Negro, porque esa cultura, si bien no necesariamente quiere a los Meskins, tampoco los rechaza. Ellos no se burlan de ti ni te condenan por tratar de parecerte a ellos o de hablar como ellos. El rap negro sureño, cuyos pioneros fueron Scarface, ESG, Burn B, PIMP C y DJ Screw, ayudó a definir a una generación de “Meskins”. . . . su juventud, su apariencia y su lenguaje. Los cortes y peinados “Southside fades”, las gorras de los Astros, las camisetas demasiado grandes, los empastes de oro escupiendo caló sureño. . . . ellos no necesariamente imitaban el estereotipado uniforme de “lowriders”, los pantalones Dickies negros y las pantuflas, como los jóvenes deLos Angeles.
No, ser Meskin en Houston era diferente y nuestros hermanos latinos en otras partes del país nos criticaban, y lo siguen haciendo, por actuar y hablar como negros.
Cuando me detengo a pensar en ello, tanto si usted se parece a lo que acabo de describir, o si usted era yo, que no necesariamente tenía el aspecto pero si cumplía con el resto de los requisitos, como vivir en un barrio muy influenciado por la cultura negra urbana, adoptar el rap Sureño como su fuente principal de música y vivir una vida turbulenta de violencia doméstica en una montaña rusa emocional, no era fácil identificarte con los latinos de otras partes del estado o del país.
Pero ahora que lo pienso, nosotros sí teníamos una identidad. Es solo que no había todavía una palabra para describirla, y South Park Mexican le dio un rostro.
Nova escribió también:
“Era un singular personaje de Houston, un Tejano que creció en el ghetto negro de South Park, un hispano “movidoso” cuyos temas de rap acerca de la vida sin futuro, del contrabando de hierba desde el Valle, y una raza levantada, mezclaban el rasposo lenguaje negro con el caló español de la frontera.”
Cuando ví por primera vez a South Park Mexican, yo asistía a una exhibición de carros lowrider en Houston y el se presentó después de Ice Cube, no antes. Y a pesar que Bone Thugs-N-Harmony se presentaron después de South Park Mexican y a pesar de que Eazy-E se unió al grupo en el escenario y brindó una de las últimas actuaciones de su vida (ya que falleció de SIDA unos cuantos meses después), South Park Mexican atrajo más gente que cualquiera de ellos. . . más anticipación, más gritos, más emoción. La energía sobre el escenario y entre el público era electrizante.
Esto se debió a que él era más grande que el rap, al menos en Houston. Representaba la lucha, la perseverancia y las recompensas que la vida te da cuando encuentras la forma de alcanzar el éxito, no importa cuán poco tradicional sea esa forma. El vino a nuestros barrios. Yo recuerdo haberlo visto caminando por los terrenos de la Feria del Condado de Fort Bend en Rosenberg, TX y he escuchado historias acerca de que recorría las “pulgas” en San Antonio y hacía publicidad a su música en Del Rio. El representaba una clase de éxito que no habíamos visto antes, sobre un escenario que jamás habíamos pisado antes. Se parecía a nosotros, hablaba como nosotros, y por esa razón los jóvenes latinos de Brownsville hasta San Francisco le entregaron su corazón y su lealtad, aferrándose a sus composiciones. Y yo me incluyo en ese grupo.
No puedo explicarlo. Es como la historia de Selena. Si no eras aficionado a la música Tejana, jamás podrías comprender el impacto.
“Los fanáticos veían a Carlos Coy como el rapero invencible, el gángster que podría convertirse en el icono de los hispanos marginados,” escribió Nova.
“Pero ellos no conocían su debilidad – las niñas sí.”
Y ahí es donde esta historia da un giro para lo peor – no solamente para South Park Mexican, sino para todos los que alguna vez fueron sus seguidores.
El 25 de Septiembre de 2001, la policía de Houston arrestó a South Park Mexican y lo acusaron de violación con agravantes contra una niña que entonces solo tenía nueve años. El incidente ocurrió durante el fin de semana del Dia de Dar Gracias ese mismo año. Pronto se le agregaron otros tres cargos: un incidente ocurrido en 1993 en el que embarazó a una niña de trece años y dos más en Marzo de 2002 por violar a dos niñas de catorce años.
Lo sentenciaron a 45 años de prisión.
Sabe, cuando South Park Mexican era un chico, desarrolló un complejo que le dificultaba tragar cualquier cosa. Su madre lo atribuía a que había crecido en un hogar sin padre.
Para los que apoyan a South Park Mexican, al parecer su crimen y su sentencia les crearon el mismo complejo. Es una pérdida muy difícil de tragar para personas que crecen como hispanos en una ciudad que carece de modelos a seguir.
Actualmente en 2009, casi una década después de que fuese arrestado, South Park Mexican dista mucho de estar muerto. De hecho, su legado ha engendrado una nueva generación de raperos latinos, como Lucky Luciano y Chingo Bling, que al igual que Coy asumieron el rol de “aspirante a artista en busca de un contrato de grabación” y lo pusieron de cabeza. Al igual que South Park Mexican, ellos se ganan dinero de forma
independiente – mucho dinero. Y llevan como bandera el lema de “Liberen a SPM”, repitiendo las estrofas del último álbum de South Park Mexican. Corean el lema de “Liberen a SPM” y dirigen la embestida en sus videos y camisetas, y los fanáticos los siguen.
Yo imagino que en sus mentes y para los fanáticos, esto no es más que la conspiración de unas “prostitutas ambiciosas” que querían sacar ventaja de la fama y el dinero de SPM. Por la comunidad de donde provengo y porque inspiró a los hispanos en Houston y en otras partes, yo quisiera creer eso.
Pero no puedo. Yo tengo una hija de ocho años y el solo pensar que algo parecido pudiese pasarle me impide apoyar el movimiento “Liberen a SPM”, y esto debiera ser razón suficiente para que los que apoyan el movimiento, no lo sigan haciendo.
Pero yo entiendo que en la cultura de hip-hop tu historial delictivo incrementa la credibilidad, no solo tu credibilidad personal, sino la de tus composiciones, y eso a la vez incrementa las ventas de tus discos y el respeto que obtienes en la calle. Yo entiendo que el martirio es admirable. Para aquellos que creen en la inocencia de South Park Mexican, como para los que saben que es culpable pero creen que la sentencia fue injusta, él es precisamente eso – un mártir. Así que el movimiento crece.
Pero para quienes escuchan su música y se sienten abrumados por la nostalgia, pero saben que la evidencia es también abrumadora – ocho niñas que confesaron sus encuentros sexuales con él durante el juicio – existe un sentimiento de conflicto. Pero nosotros sabemos que aquí no hay opción.
Lo que es considerado aceptable en la vida y en la sociedad es determinado por la generación anterior. Esa generación previa en este caso no son nuestros padres, somos nosotros. “Liberen a SPM” no puede ser el movimiento que defina a los “Meskins”. Tiene que ser algo más, alguien más – este movimiento no puede definirnos. Tanto si SPM es realmente el Monstruo de South Park o solo un ejemplo más de un integrante de la minorías que fue tratado injustamente por la organización judicial de los blancos, la realidad es que un hombre fue declarado culpable de un crimen horrendo y si ese individuo sigue siendo nuestro faro de esperanza, la siguiente generación no surgirá como algo digno de respeto.
No somos hispanos parias – somos una nueva mezcla de latino que representa un encuentro histórico entre la cultura negra y la cultura hispana. Llevamos dentro de nosotros las luchas singulares y la perseverancia necesaria para lograr ser más fuertes que cualquiera que provenga de circunstancias ordinarias. Así que ya es tiempo de enfrentar los hechos y sanar nuestras heridas de otra forma; no olvidando a South Park Mexican, sino liberándonos de él.
Ya es hora. No lo creen ustedes?
Rolando Rodriguez es el jefe de redacción de RedBrownandBlue.com y productor de ¡Adelante América!, un programa de radio sindicado nacionalmente por GLR Networks de Miami. Rolando también ha colaborado en numerosas publicaciones, incluyendo la revista CATALINA de Nueva York, y es un ejecutivo de comunicaciones multiculturales en San Antonio, TX. Rolando se crío en Richmond,TX.
November 7th, 2009 at 4:43 am
Rolando Rodriguez is a cultural chronicler of a generation of urban Latinos at a crossroads. Will the members of this generation, raised in a blend of ‘hoods and barrios where traditional paths to success are often viewed as weak and pathetic, fulfill the potential of their God-given talents by harnessing the power of their passions? Or will the inner tensions, anger and grief fueled by their hard-scrabble experiences doom them to rotting in jail for heinous crimes or drowning in self-pity? Rodriguez should be lauded for taking this bold stand. He recently wrote about returning to his home of Richmond, Texas with hope. One wonders if after this piece, hope will be tinged with apprehension. Either way, Rolando Rodriguez is a beacon of the kind of good that can rise up from bad circumstances.
November 7th, 2009 at 7:47 am
Great post. I completely agree with you. We need to put ourselves in the shoes of the young ladies’ lives he damaged. Would we be so tolerant if the victim was one of our own family? Lo dudo. (I doubt it.)
November 12th, 2009 at 8:44 pm
After hearing his crime I felt shame and embarrassment. At one point, I actually felt a sense of ‘pride’ that one of my own is making a difference in our community. One of my own is coming up and spreading the message about our struggle and dreams. Now that’s all destroyed. I agree, we don’t have to forget but let go.
November 13th, 2009 at 12:26 am
It bothers me very much when my community/culture group (Mex-Am) makes excuses for bad behavior and those who commit such acts.
November 13th, 2009 at 3:07 am
Great piece, Rolando!
November 18th, 2009 at 2:50 pm
Nice post & nice blog. I love both.
November 22nd, 2009 at 11:45 am
This article made me think a lot about both sides ive defended spms innocents even though i new his crime and i hate people who do things like that but i made an exception how can u admit your insparation was a rapiest i gues maybe i wasnt just deffending spm i was defending all mexicans but thanks for posting this
December 3rd, 2009 at 11:27 am
This is gay SPM they shouldnt put him in jail that long. Killing someone is way worse and they dont put u in jail thay long. Thats some bull shit rght theyre. Let him out. Viva La Raza.
December 12th, 2009 at 4:30 am
I don’t believe we should stop supporting the “FREE SPM” movement. If an innocent man is in jail, it’s up to us to try and free him. We only get one life, forty-five years behind bars is too much time wasted for no reason. Being locked up for a crime you did not commit, is something no human-being should go through. In SPM’s case, there was not enough evidence for a trial to even have taken place. If you take the same evidence to any lawyer, they will tell you that there is no case because there is no evidence. But since SPM is a celebrity, the district attorney and the prosecutors felt that they have to make an example out of him. Judge Mark Kent Ellis never saw SPM as innocent until proven guilty; in his eyes Carlos Coy was guilty no matter what. Lady Justice had her blindfold taken off for this case; the people chosen as Carlos Coy’s peers consisted of an all white jury who would rather see an ex-drug dealer locked-up, than pay full attention and give a proper judgment to the current case. Carlos Coy admitted to having sex with a teenage girl who he thought was of legal age, but it is stupid to compare having consensual sex with a teenager to performing oral sex with a child. There was no saliva found on the girl or her underwear, no witnesses to the alleged crime, and the family of the girl did file a civil suite after Coy got convicted. If a child in my family got molested, we would seek justice not money. They lost the civil case and were upset about it; but the reason they won’t admit their accusation were a lie is because of a guilty conscious. Apart from convincing their child that the crime occurred, they also convinced her grandfather who died shortly after. The girl’s mother is convinced that her father’s death was due to the stress caused by hearing that his granddaughter was molested. If she admitted the accusations were false, she would also be admitting responsibility to her father’s death. The jury did not take these things under consideration, and the current district attorney in charge of Carlos Coy’s appeal is taking the easy way out and not doing anything. SPM is not perfect, he has his faults like everyone else, but he should not be in jail for a crime he did not commit. New DNA tests have proved the innocence of hundreds of prisoners convicted for rape. This proves our justice system is not doing its job properly. Why should innocent men like Carlos Coy suffer because of this? They’re trying to stop the rise but the Mexican lives. And his friends, family, and true fans will never stop praying for his release. Free Carlos “SPM” Coy!!
January 29th, 2010 at 8:16 am
First I would like to say that I didn’t go black and I don’t talk black either I still talk Spanish and English. If you talk black I think you just want to be black. Soy Mexicano y orgulloso por vida ese (I’m Mexican and proud for life homie) and if you can’t talk spanish don’t call yourself mexican. Now about SPM I don’t think his guilty of all the charges they accused him of. I too beleive that the family lie so they could get money.