The new Selena Quintanilla series on Netflix (aptly titled Selena: The Series) is a brief joyous, albeit, very dull sequin on the Selena profit extravaganza.
Another repeat of a known story, when there are many unheard dream chasers and future trailblazers that could help break walls for future Latinx creatives. Rather than label something as representation and go through previously broken barriers.
Selena Quintanilla is an iconic figure. Being a first-generation Mexican American growing up in Texas in the nineties, you knew her name. You’d hear it as often as any other Texas-born legend like George Strait or Willie Nelson. The public got to know Selena through her music; her vocals commanded while her brother AB Quintanilla would add cumbia beats, and her sister Suzette rocked on drums; they were hypnotic. Fans began to get to know the woman behind the voice also the band who have such incredible hits; well, that’s when we all fell in love.
Selena’s smile lit up every room. Her heartfelt toothy yet dazzling smile paired with her sincere charm disarmed the harshes critics. The public became enamored with her, and rightfully so, Latinx women rallied for and felt represented by her.
On the cusp of Netflix’s newest series, Selena: The Series, fans got a sense that it’s a more in-depth look into Selena’s life story, specifically her roots in Tejano music. While the series is a labor of absolute love, fans mostly “ride or die’s” should know that even unconditional love or admiration, including representation, doesn’t make it any less available for critique.
My guestimate on the consensus, split. Some will love it because “it’s Selena” and “representation for a new generation,” while others will detest it. My reaction may not be a surprise to those who follow me on Twitter; however, I’ve had thoughts about the ongoing diluted treatment of Sel’s legacy.
Christian Serratos (The Walking Dead) is alluring. Her fierce gumption is evident, and she enchants viewers with Selena’s quintessential dance moves. Yet, sadly, that’s where the delight stops.
The series lacked that IT factor, that sabor, from the beginning; it felt off the entire time. It’s as if you ordered the original 1997 film via Wish (when you order something online vs. when it arrives). Maybe the series would’ve worked if it was more camp-like Emily in Paris and accept the cringe it is, rather than project a grander scale.
We say this without any disrespect because we’re fans. Selena was a breath of fresh air representing Chicana women in a way that hadn’t existed in the music industry before her. Selena felt illustrative of the Latinx culture; she looked like familia. She was athletic with wider hips, thicker thighs, and a butt she never hid in shame during a time where heroin was chic. Selena’s divine brown skin glowing in the spotlights, particularly on the GRAMMY stage, was a significant moment. It helped solidify her as a trailblazer, helping Latinx women accept their stunning complexions and bodies. She represented women who never felt visible or sexy for being built differently. Nevertheless, the difference in physical likeness plays a factor in never fully submersing yourself in the familiarized story.
On the heels of the series’ release, there’s been some interesting discourse as far as accepting surface-level over substance; This is why, as fans, we should honor Selena’s real legacy. Not just glorify her as a memory spoon-fed to us. Just because it’s representation doesn’t mean that Latinx’s don’t deserve more.
Dismally, the series isn’t a new take or a more nuanced approach that could’ve elevated Selena to a newer generation. The Selena iconography is there, but the series feels like production for its sake than offering anything new. Therein lies the disappointment; Selena’s legacy’s built, and a placemat at the table is set for life. So why share the same story?
Alternatively, if questions are being raised, this doesn’t take any further joy away from an already established juggernaut like Sel’s fandom. So stating that ‘good or bad representation is STILL representation no matter what,’ is a patronizing disservice.
Instead, there’s now a condescending spotlight on those who want to be accepted as seen vs. those who desire more creative and artistic expression through representation. Those who are willing to look the other cheek and accept generational assimilation for Hollywood and media embracing. It’s almost 2021; we shouldn’t still settle for scraps of representation thrown in our direction or leftover crumbs at the table just for the sake of being seen.
Then there are the very tight reins of who can tell Selena’s narrative. Back in 2018, the Quintanilla patriarch denounced Telemundo’s series, El Secreto De Selena, based on María Celeste Arrarás book from her 1995 investigation of the tragedy (which Mr. Quintanilla also denounced at the time). Apart from this, Mr. Quintanilla even took Selena’s own widower, Chris Pérez, to court.
Pérez wrote a loving book about his relationship and wanted to bring that love story to life. Still, as expected, Mr. Quintanilla’s reputation precedes him, and the court forced scrapped Pérez’s plans for a television series.
The irony is claiming that the Telemundo version opens up fresh familial wounds. Yet, the very same injuries seen again over at Netflix, with a broader audience and demographic. Except there isn’t anything new added, it’s just a retelling of a retelling. So why not use those resources to amplify and explore different narratives and stories to tell with a production company in Selena Quintanilla’s name? Instead of a rehash, again, why not invest back into the community instead of commercializing Selena into Amazing Amy territory— a perfected made-up version of a real person’s life to sell a romanticized image.
This is evident when the series’ writers portray the Brownsville Texas/Matamoros, Mexico international bridge as some winding drive on the California coast. In reality, the border doesn’t look like some Malibu drive up, and I’d know; my family originates from Tamaulipas, Mexico. I’ve taken the drive to visit my family throughout the years, and I’ve yet to see the gulf of Mexico on the way. So if you’re going for representation, as previously stated, why take creative liberties?
Because of this, our final Binge-Watch Chronicles verdict? Pass.
However, we will say that the cast is lovely. This wasn’t an easy task to undertake; the cast did marvelously with the provided resources and material.
We’ve yet to fully let go of Selena and her legacy, for now. While the series is a romanticized representation of the Texas legend, the constant seal of approval from the Quintanilla’s makes it suspect (Selena’s father, Abraham, and sister, Suzette, serve as executive producers).
The line between honoring and exploitation has been blurry for some time; now, it’s fully crossed over into nonexistence. Every capitalistic endeavor of limited edition items and the profiteering from the imagery have been major red flags throughout the years. Not to mention who’s there through every limited edition, re-release, makeup product, or never-before-heard music? The fans are with wallets in hand— Anything for Selena’s. Sadly, this has now become all too literal. Selena: The Series drops December 4th via Netflix subscription.
