Black Argentine: Seselovsky's uncomfortable view of mixed races in Argentina

Alejandro Seselovsky had been thinking about the voice . Not his own—although there's some of that too—but rather the voice of the other, the voice of others, the voices that traverse histories, regions, and lineages. The result was his third book, one in which, both intentionally and unintentionally, he ended up portraying the Argentine condition. It was published by Orsai in January of this year, and now, in addition, that initial thought is taking shape as a theatrical performance at Paseo La Plaza . The presentation was supposed to take place on Saturday, May 3, at 10:30 p.m., but in the end, it's the beginning of a new adventure that, if it goes well, could even lead to a nationwide tour.

Seselovsky was rereading the chronicles he'd been writing since 1991, when he published his first piece in the newspaper Clarín , at age 20. The whole thing, a vast, diverse, and prolific corpus, was assembled over three decades in different media, ranging from magazines like Gente, Rolling Stone, Orsai , and Gatopardo to elDiarioAR and La Agenda, among others. There it was, reiterated, that word: "black." A returning brand, an unresolved question. Editing and the desire to always do something new, as a curious impulse, but also because you have to earn a living, took its second form: the book Negro argentino .

“At the very core of the word Negro, where the word encapsulates meaning, there is a crucial mismatch: the Argentine black man is not of African descent . That is to say, the Argentine black man is not black. He is dark-skinned. Mestizo. Indian. Amerindian. A more or less black man in a country without black authors,” he writes.

In this back-cover text, Seselovsky explains the "pigmented reason" lovingly constructed in "Negro Sosa, Negro Olmedo, Negra Poli, Negra Vernaci, Negro Lavié," but also in the lacerating underside, that of "Negro slum dweller, Negro head." He concludes this idea with a personal declaration of human and journalistic principles: "I have no problem. I am all the Black Argentines there are to be."

The book compiles fifteen chronicles written between 2004 and 2023—plus eight unpublished stories— that the author rereads with a magnifying glass focused on that word that in Argentina is an adjective, noun, insult, nickname, belonging, stigma, and sometimes all of them together.

Argentine Black , however, isn't exactly an anthology. It's scenes from an author who prefers to get down and dirty with reality rather than speculate on purity. It tells his personal story —the search for his biological mother, his relationship with his adoptive mother—and his professional life, but it's not an autobiography either.

The whole thing, in its order, also has something of a non-fiction novel about it . There's a structure. As in Douglas Coupland's Generation X , the stories told aren't so much a plot as a climate, a state of the times, a way of inhabiting the world.

The book Negro argentino is a bit of all of these things. As if, after so many years of going back and forth along the edges of the map—geographical, symbolic, emotional—Seselovsky had decided to sit down and trace a shape. Not definitive, but certainly precise. A contour that delimits an identity impossible to pin down: Argentina.

The cartography he constructs is that of a place from which to view the country without explaining it . Between a fight between two former top models on TV and a suburban disco, Seselovsky watches, listens, and shows, with adventures and characters, stories that are sometimes funny, sometimes sordid, at times exciting and always vivid.

Alejandro Seselovsky was born in Rosario, Santa Fe, in 1971. He is a journalist. He grew up and lives in Buenos Aires. He is the father of two. He is also the son of a duo: his foster mother and his biological mother, whom he once sought out but never found. He is a journalist. He has worked for almost all media outlets: large, small, national, and international. He is a writer. In 2005, he published his first book, Christ Call Now!: Chronicles of the Evangelical Advancement in Argentina, and in 2011 , TRASH - Portraits of Media Argentina .

“ It took me 20 years to write those 15 articles . The first one is from 2004, and the last one is from last year,” he says, explaining the selection process that led to the creation of Negro argentino, where he revisits his long-standing curiosities—or obsessions?—and his most cherished stories.

There's a way of seeing, and writing, that could come to define Seselovsky. It's constructed with the indiscreet eye of the gossip, the ear of the journalist, and the patience of the narrator. Martín Caparrós is a master in the art of saying "I" without it meaning to speak about himself.

Seselovsky is part of that school of prose, with a personal prose where his uniqueness doesn't impose itself, but rather accompanies it . Even in the texts in which he narrates his own story, he never comes first. He appears, yes, to be an "everyone" (or at least a "many"). Or he has cameos on Cuarteto strips, in Mar del Plata's arcades, in the line at Barajas Airport where he is deported for being a "sudaca," on a pilgrimage with Damas Gratis through the suburbs.

The chronicles that appeared in the media first and the book later aren't necessarily about racism, but they are materials that explore, in stories, a system of representations built on what the author captures and defines as "the Black Argentine." From there, in the author's nearly 300-page compilation, he creates a map of mestizoness . Not one of categories, but of the bodies that move between those boxes.

“I, at least, don't have the opportunity to dedicate myself to books. There's a determining economic issue that makes it impossible to write outside of work, which is making notes. My way of writing books is by reconstructing and redefining a number of notes , so that together they produce a new value. And that value is the book,” he reflects. Seselosky is restless. He never stops. So what was supposed to be the presentation of Negro argentino—the author, the audience, a toast—ended up being a theatrical experience.

It's not something that hasn't been done before; it's been happening for writers to go out and read and/or put their body and face in a theater , in front of an audience. Mariana Enriquez did it with "No traigan flores" (Don't Bring Flowers), Cristian Alarcón does it with "Testosterona" (Testosterone). Seselovsky is now on the cusp of that shining star.

“Taking those stories, which were loose notes and then a book, to the stage and turning it into a paratheatrical piece is something I still don't quite know how to do . I'm just coming back from a rehearsal. We got together with the guitarist, the guy who does video art, the producer, and the guy who seems to be going to be the director. I thought I was going to read texts, but now I don't know; I don't understand anything,” he confesses with a laugh.

Negro argentino , the book now available—and the stage production, which is still searching for its form—brings up a topic for reflection: writing, if it's done out of necessity and impulse, because nothing else can be done, isn't translating reality into words. It's going to find it. Where it is. Even if it hurts. What form does it have?

Even if it's uncomfortable. Seselovsky, who isn't afraid of restlessness, but rather loves it , says: "I don't know if this material continues in the future or stays here. I didn't know I was producing a book when I was writing the notes one by one. I didn't think, when I was producing the book, that I was going to present it as a show. This is a very difficult country to learn things in. Everything is seen and resolved day by day. Tomorrow we'll see." And he laughs.

Argentine Negro , by Alejandro Seselovsky (Orsai).