Dominican Culture: The Real Fukú

            Throughout The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Díaz discusses the culture of Dominicans both in reference to their lives in the DR as well as their new lives in the diaspora. However, while typical cultural origin stories focus on the benefits and blessings of one’s heritage, Díaz expresses the pressures of Dominican culture as more of a curse or “fukú” on the characters.

            As Díaz details each character’s unique battle with their Dominican roots, it is almost as if they are compelled by some cosmic force rather than just pressured. The most blatant example comes with Oscar’s self-destructive quest to find a woman, all in the hopes of sharing the sexual prowess expected of his countrymen. The tone is set when Yunior claims early on that being Dominican meant Oscar “-was supposed to be Atomic Level G, was supposed to be pulling in bitches with both hands” (Díaz 24). Yet, Oscar’s pursuit of women is not described in the book as a product of familial wishes or loneliness, but as a deep-seeded almost sociopathic drive. There are multiple times in the novel where Oscar goes against all logic and throws away any shred of self-preservation on the off chance he might get the girl. The first is when Oscar stands outside of Manny’s home, gun in hand, not caring that “-he would more than likely be put away forever, or that niggers like him got ass and mouth raped in jail” (Díaz 47). Inexplicably this kind of behavior, which Oscar explains to Yunior to be an extension of fukú on his bloodline, leads to his death after going back for Ybón. However, there are other characters whose actions demonstrate this theme just as well.

            Yunior serves as a much stronger character than Oscar who still falls victim to the grip of Dominican culture. While he adamantly claims that he does not follow traditional Dominican beliefs, he still cannot overcome negative urges that fit in with his stereotypically Dominican persona. When Oscar questions Yunior on his infidelity he simply states, “If I knew that, it wouldn’t be a problem,” and constantly recognizes that he cannot change how sucio (dirty) he is even for Lola (Díaz 313). A more dramatic point comes across when Yunior shoves Oscar claiming, “For a second I almost let it go, just a mistake, a mistake, but then I remembered myself,” as Yunior is unable to listen to his better self and instead is compelled by his Dominican machismo (Díaz 179). On the opposite end from Oscar, he is unable to break away from his hypermasculinity. Yet, this theme is not limited to the younger characters.

            Beli, Oscar’s mother, may have the most compelling case out of all of Díaz ’s characters. Despite coming from a humble background and working a tough job with La Inca, Beli still falls into the trap of being a female Dominican stereotype. While it is not her intention, she only falls for powerful men within the story, whether it be Jack Pujols in high school or The Gangster in her adulthood. The cosmic effect comes into play heavily with the latter, as Beli “tried to keep him out of her mouth but it was hopeless” in her craving to see him after their brief introduction (Díaz 117). The rest of her story crumbles because of her inability to fight the cultural role she was placed in.

            With all the brash choices and misguided decisions made by each of the characters, Díaz effectively demonstrates that the true curse on Dominicans is the fukú of Dominican culture itself.