Che Guevara as a symbol

My dad was a Latin American History major in college. It’s a little strange for me to think about, since, as a teacher, he always taught math and science courses. But the focus makes sense when I consider Dad graduated in 1974. He came of age in the New-Left era, when the Southern Hemisphere was a hotbed of revolution.

Che Guevara had been executed in Bolivia less than ten years prior. I think my dad was a lot less susceptible to left-wing romanticism than I was, but how could you not be swept up by the story of an entire continent trying to throw off the chains of colonialism? I certainly was, reading about it many decades later.

My dad had a letter published in The New York Times in 1975, arguing it was against American interests to support right-wing dictatorships: “More than once hesitation, delayed recognition and harassment have pushed a new leftist regime toward Communism. Was Castro always a Communist or did we force him into that position?”

There were many biographies of Latin American revolutionaries lining the walls of my childhood home. But the figure who had the most dedicated shelf space was probably Guevara. Of course, we had Jon Lee Anderson’s massive tome, but there were others I remember as well, such as David Kunzle’s work.

For whatever reason, there seemed to be a resurgence of interest in Guevara in the mid 2000s. Perhaps it was just Baby Boomers like my dad feeling nostalgic for an icon from their youth. Maybe it was an affectation of the movement against the Iraq War. Regardless, Guevara seemed to be everywhere.

The Motorcycle Diaries, a film about his pre-political adventures, was released in 2004. The following year, Jay-Z released a hit song in which he confusingly described himself as “Che Guevara with bling on.” T-shirts emblazoned with Alberto Korda’s photograph of the revolutionary were so ubiquitous, it became a joke.

I had one such shirt. When my dad took me to Peru in 2005, he refused to let me bring it. That was understandable. My father had to cancel a previous trip due to Shining Path violence. In hindsight, though, it likely would have been fine. Even more so than in America, Guevera’s face was inescapable.

Later that year, I started college. Many of my friends joined the institution’s volunteer fire department. Instead, I chose the college ambulance squad, despite having no aptitude for the endeavor. I believe I was inspired by Guevara’s medical background, which was showcased in the aforementioned film.

In my sophomore year, I burned out on leftist politics and fell into a depression. A lot of factors led to this, most notably obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I think part of the cause was the example of stoic masculinity presented by Guevara. It was unobtainable for someone with my temperament.

I didn’t get around to reading Anderson’s biography until after I graduated college. There are a lot of criticisms I could make of Guevara on a personal or political level. But, for me, he’s almost like Jesus of Nazareth. What the historical figure did or didn’t do doesn’t matter. He’s a symbol of revolutionary sacrifice.