Lost in all the Michael Moore hullabaloo of last week’s Academy Awards ceremony was something a little more subtly subversive. It was not Moore who delivered the evening’s first explicit anti-war message, but Mexican actor Gael García Bernal, who asserted that if Frida Kahlo were alive today, she would be “on our side — against war.”

García Bernal casually wiped the remark away with a smirk as a volley of cheers surged from one distinct corner of the Kodak Theatre, though it wasn’t exactly clear who was on “our side.”

With an Oscar in his hands for Best Original Score for “Frida” later in the evening, composer Elliot Goldenthal accepted the award on behalf of all of Mexico. The same corner raised another ruckus, this time joined by a handful of other cheers.

By the time “Frida” star Salma Hayek came onstage to present the Best Foreign Language Film award, you kind of got the sense that Mexico’s “El Crimen del Padre Amarro” was a lock. Doing her best not to roll her eyes and sound disappointed, Hayek instead announced Germany’s “Nowhere in Africa.” The semi-silence from the rest of the crowd was deafening.

It seemed Mexican representation at the Oscars was like Brendan Fraser’s Encino Man at a party — over-excitable and gauche at first, but by the end of the night, all the cool kids and pretty girls are clamoring for his attention.

I only hope that Julia Roberts went home that night and saw her cleaning lady in a new light or that Harvey Weinstein had a newfound respect for his eight in-house cooks.

Now, I mention these absurdly archaic stereotypes only to make a point. Mexican and other Spanish-speaking immigrants to the United States have, of course, proven their conviction by climbing the social ranks Anglos hold so dear. So I’m not asking anyone to beg his father to give Jorge or Josefa a middle-management position out of pity, nor would I have everyone run out in a surge of overwrought empathy and hug the first person you can find with a tilde mark in his name.

I’m only asking that you begin to see what I think a lucky few acknowledged last week at the Oscars — that the Spanish-speaking population of this country considers itself to be, as García Bernal put it, “on our side.” The American side, that is.

I took every opportunity I had to see it García Bernal’s way when I was on spring break. During an especially long cab ride, the driver and I chatted about a friend of his going to school in Indiana. When I made the mistake of asking him if he had any other Mexican friends in America, he smilingly replied, “Sí, pero no son mexicanos nada más. Son americanos.”

When America’s melting pot took in masses of Italians, Irish and Germans a century ago, none of them were a dominant enough ingredient to give the stew a distinct taste. What we are presently seeing, though, is a more gradual assimilation, slowly cooked over many generations so that in another century we might not have even noticed the change in flavor.

Native English speakers can choose the degree to which they will embrace this change, and those who don’t are simply denying the inevitable. MTV, McDonald’s and Levi Strauss are already pervasive pop culture presences in Latin America — why should we be reluctant to accept Univision in our cable package or be mildly annoyed at the sight of a bilingual brochure?

There’s a poignantly prescient moment in Wes Anderson’s “Bottle Rocket” in which the protagonist, having just had his heart broken partly because he couldn’t communicate with his Latina lover in her native language, offers his sister one piece of advice: learn a foreign language.

While I wouldn’t ask everyone to undertake something as difficult as Anderson’s advice (though he is a Texas native and is most likely seeing our country’s changing face at a much more accelerated rate than we are in the Midwest), start out as simply and passively as you can.

Watch some telenovelas (Spanish-language soap operas). In 15 minutes, I guarantee you’ll glean at least one useful phrase or factoid. And if not, there’s plenty of eye candy.

Or look at this year’s Oscar nominees. Alfonso Cuarón’s “Y tu mama también” is not only a seductive story, but also a veritable lesson in culture. And while it’s far from a faithful depiction of her life, “Frida” should at least pique your interest in one of Mexico’s most important icons of the 20th century.

Be entertained, learn, tolerate and embrace. Soon enough, to the chagrin and/or delight of García Bernal and Hayek, there simply won’t be any more need for sides.