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Women in Detention

Women in Detention

by Shloka Ettna

 
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Posted by on May 10, 2013 in Her stories

 

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NO, COMPA, NO TE DOY MIS OJOS

“-Qué quieres, amor?

-Lo quiero TODO

-Pues te doy mis ojos”

(…) Entonces, con tu mano izquierda , sí , la misma que empuñas mientras  proclamas la revolución y  repites discursos que yo misma he escrito, INTENTAS TOCARME.

NO, compa.  Mi cuerpo no será sometido a tu deseo en sumiso sacrificio a la lucha. No, no lo sigas intentando, ya te he dicho que NO. Lucharé por la liberación primeramente liberándome de tus caricias forzadas. Mi boca serán consignas que gritarán ideas entre versos que escupen tus besos robados. Mi nariz disfrutará el aroma de la sexualidad consentida y el goce de la hermosa  resistencia. Mi piel sentirá el ardor de mi propia deseo, mientras que mis dedos le dan ritmo y  forma a un placer que se emancipa de tu liderazgo pre-fabricado que esconde macharraneria ¿de izquierda?

NO, compa, no me reducirás a un cuerpo porque he hecho mío el poder de reclamar mi  forma. NO, compa, escúchame, NO. Ya no silenciarás mi IDEARrio porque mi voz encuentra eco en el de las jornaleras, las estudiantes, las boricuas, las dominicanas ,las chicanas,  las chingonas, las (de)colonizadas, las indocumentadas, las silenciadas, las compañeras, las camaradas que HOY TE VENGAN. O  nunca te has preguntado por qué tanto rojo? Si el rojo nació en nuestro vientre.

No, compa, no te doy mis ojos.

 
 
 
 
 
 
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Posted by on May 9, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Rest In Peace

Rest in peace.

Past midnight when the sun is no where in sight
There lies the struggle to maintain the fight
Don’t give in don’t stop the try
Tears turn dry I can’t cry I won’t cry
Trying constantly to paint rainbows in the sky
Ghetto streets turn dry as blood spills in endless crime
I can try to paint the rainbows but the ghetto vibes will turn it dry & they will just cry

 
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Posted by on May 8, 2013 in Her stories

 

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A Message to All History Robbers in My Life

I will battle anyone who tries to
take away my history;
those wanting to evaporate my stories into thin air
All because in truth’s narrative they are the oppressors
Oh, diplomatic
history taker of mine.
History robber.
And your grave digging tools are a silence so thick
the darkness builds a second home around your
vision
and the very sound of spoken words make you shake
with unease.
Yes, I am speaking to you, Oh America, the beautiful-
stealer of my land and mother tongue-
calling it “Progress.”
Leaving memory of whips and chains, a ghost on my body
passed to me through generations-
and you calling it “Democracy.”
And I am speaking to you too,
dear teachers of mine fighting for cultural education-
raised high above all the rest of us
on isolating pillars
scrapping the sky.
Using your morals and values as stepping stones you
walked all over on your ascent up.
A magnificent death of Panche Be. A buscar la raiz de la verdad
To seek the root of the truth.
No more, no more.
For truth to you falls on deaf ears;
Evaporates into thin air.

 
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Posted by on May 6, 2013 in Her stories

 

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Xicana voice — on honoring mujeres

I have played a spectator role with the Tucson machismo circus that has taken place for a series of months. I have watched this so-called “beef” created by men stating that man-haters are after them, and care more about taking an online blogger down rather than focusing on reviving Ethnic Studies. Let me break down some consciousness for you, DA, the fight to bring back Ethnic Studies begins with you. The problem here is patriarchy, and your failure to recognize your volatile actions within your “community.” As a self-ascribed journalist, you praise men like Sean Arce and place them on a pedestal for being the “face” of a movement. You ignore writing about any women, unless it is for your convenience. As a blogger, you pick and chose what topics you wish to write about and cover up realities such as domestic violence cases committed by these Chicano “idols.” Why are you so pissed off that a group of women have gathered together and created their own blog that calls out your bullshit? Are you afraid because their words are true? Or is it because the narratives that these womyn tell discredit your news articles? I can see it from New York: you’re scared. You are doing the same thing that the state is doing, you’re censoring true histories. As a self-ascribed journalist you are expected to write the “real” stories and narratives according in our communities, right? Then why do you fail to include the whole truth, and constantly use your media platform to bash empowered women who threaten your narrative? Censorship, false histories, and distorted realities are exactly the same bullshit we see in the history books, and the reason the Arizona State Legislature banned Ethnic Studies. They, like you, fear the truth. They fear the real histories and personal narratives of people of color because it threatens white supremacy and it threatens the patriarchal system which you all fight to keep intact. You may not be white by DNA, but your actions and behavior sure the fuck are. You threaten women, censor women, and wish to continue to dominate the struggle with your macho bullshit. Tell me, DA, how are your actions different from those who hold patriarchal powers like your nemesis (I should say your equal) Huppenthal? You both have attacked a minority community because you fear them taking power. Any power that a womyn of color possesses through her words are a threat to your masculinity.

This morning I looked at my news feed and saw your post, “In Celebration of May, Moon, Mothers, and Womyn.” I thought that you finally got it, I believed you had turned over a new leaf—I was wrong. Your post made me angry at your underlying attacks on women through this contradictory essay that is ostensibly geared at honoring women, the life givers. Not only do you continue to use your hetero-nornative approach within your blog, your bullshit machismo rants overpower the original reason you supposedly wrote this post— to honor the mujer. You are so scared, extremely scared, of Malinztine. You are scared of them because they are pointing that smoking mirror right back at you and showing you the real perception of who you are: a sad, pathetic man who only has machismo and a blog to hold on to.

Within your blog you mention that your partner is Chicana, bilingual, has family on both side of the border, and is, or was, poor. Sorry to burst your bubble, DA, but I am also a Xicana, poor, bilingual, with family on both sides of the border—as are many other Chicanas. You celebrate your partner’s struggles and fail to recognize the struggles of her peers, the women of Malinztine. Just a couple of months ago I remember you posting a status that attacked a single mother, who is Chicana, and is in poverty. Why did you choose to attack this woman and choose to honor another when both have the same histories and struggles? Oh, I get it: you got to penetrate one of them; therefore it is ok to show love for that woman while disrespecting the rest of us who carry the same personal experience. Let me teach you something that you might have chosen not to consider in ethnic studies books — you are full of patriarchy and hella full of shit. How dare you write a blog where you seek to reconcile your differences with women in Tucson and then slap them in the face with your sexist and hetero-normative words?

Then you proceed to make an ass out of yourself and declare that your partner is “embodying the greatness of a woman.” Why — because she is pregnant and has your “DNA” inside of her? Would she be even greater if she were cooking barefoot for you in the kitchen? Oh, this stung a little; well it hurt for me to read your post today. Mujeres should be honored every single day, not only when they are carrying your child. Are you so blind that you fail to recognize how hetero-normative your blog was today? You should know better than to ever make these types of comments. Have you forgotten about a woman’s moon cycle? You know, the period in time where they carry the most energy and are the strongest? This occurs every month, not only when DA’s “DNA is implanted inside of her.”

You mention the moon — by which I am sure you must have meant Coyolxauhqui. How dare you even mention the moon and the female energies and powers without understanding your own people’s history.  Coyolxauhqui was killed by a man, her limbs destroyed because she was seen as too strong and powerful. I find it insulting that you reference the moon when you continuously cut off the spiritual limbs of the women in the struggle every day with your machismo, words, and failure to gain consciousness as a man of color. You attack all of the modern Coyolxauhqui’s who are the womyn warriors in my community. Your attacks on them are direct attacks on me. You have insulted my sisters and me enough, and now it is time to fight back.

This is a new time in the history of Xican@ struggle where women do not hold their tongue nor step back behind men, waiting for their order. We love the movement too much to allow for your love of domination and sexism to destroy the minds, bodies, and souls of women who have done more in their young lives than you ever will in your life time by sitting back and being an armchair revolutionary. Your time is up, DA, you are at the point in your life when you must decide if you will change or if you will continue being the person you are today. One road leads to destruction, while the other leads to reconciling the damages made and moving forward in the struggle as equals. You can’t be a feminist or an equalist and choose to respect one pool of women while disrespecting the other. I share the same struggle that your partner had, and that same struggle also belongs to my sisters in Tucson. I think you might have forgotten about the philosophy of In Lack Ech —that attacks that you are staging against my sisters are a direct assault to me —moreover, the only one you’re hurting in the end is yourself and the thoughts of the child your are about to bring to this earth. You must change your ways and think about the 7 generations after you. Do you want your future daughter in the struggle to experience violence, subjugation, and abuse like we did? You must change now if your answer is no. As a Xicana who writes as a method of personal healing, I ask for you never to put down women of color and their words. As a Xicana who is on the frontlines of a movement, I have been a victim of verbal abuse and assault and have used Malintzine as a space of healing. Your campaign to shut down this blog is a direct effort to continue to keep us silent victims. The only ones who profit from our silence are you, the Chicano Machista males. You will no longer be free to bash women without a rebuttal from one of us. I thank you for making me angry enough to write my first post on this blog.  On a final note, you are full of contradictions and macho bullshit. Try to come at me DA Morales; I would love to see you try.

 
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Posted by on May 4, 2013 in Chicano Movement, Tucson movement

 

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Dress

She used to wear a dress
                And her dolls watched as she danced
                                And the sun smiled upon her, and her light was bright
People would come and go
                And tell her she was pretty
But HE stayed
                Told her she was pretty too
                                Wanted to show her just how much
HE liked the way her dress was easy
                HE could go in and out
                                Unseen
                                                Not even her dolls watched
But she could feel it ALL
                She could feel her light go out
                                Every time she wore a dress
 
Then HE turned into SHE
 
SHE saw her
                Small and scared
                                And told her she could help
SHE held her in the dark
                Told her not to tell
But she could still feel it ALL
                She lost her light there in the dark
                                And began to disappear
Then days turned into months, and months turned into years
 
She didn’t own a dress
                And never slept in the dark
She learned to live without having to feel anything
                Until
She met the one who turned her light back on
                The one who told her it was ok to be pretty
                                The one who held her hand when things turned black
And with this love, her light began to shine again
                But
She was still afraid of the dark and never wore a dress
             But
She was still afraid of the dark and never wore a dress
 
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Posted by on May 2, 2013 in Her stories

 

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I Can See Your Shattered Ego

Those with the smallest minds have the biggest mouths.

I can see your shattered ego all the way in Colorado.

You can be as angry as you please over a depiction of you that occurred at Malintzine’s event a few months ago. You can call it man-hating. You can call it sexism. You can call it gender violence. You can criticize the Tucson Weekly for being racist, but the embarrassment you feel over people applauding everyone’s favorite Xingona mama kicking your ass is nothing compared to the embarrassment we feel every time you write a new article.

The annoyance you feel every time someone calls you out on Facebook for your discrepancies, your lack of ethics, and most importantly, your protection of a known woman-beater is nothing compared to the irritation that rushes through our veins when you try to proclaim yourself as a progressive. You continue to cry wolf, and play victim. You spotlight articles that are targeted at you, or men you follow like a lost puppy, and use that as evidence of hate. You target articles that promote Malintzine and proceed to give your two cents about why it is sloppy journalism. For someone without a degree in communications, you sure seem to think you know a lot about what makes a good reporter.

The ecstatic happiness you get from comparing Malintzine and their supporters to Jan Brewer, Joe Arpaio, and John Pedicone is nothing compared to the joy we feel when we see your fan base shrinking as we provide the stories you have refused to tell. You know nothing of the bliss when we see the emails pouring into Malintzine talking about men exactly like you and the abuse they suffered at those assholes’ hands.  You are unaware of what its like to know you’ve given people a voice, because you continue to perpetrate one agenda.

It’s takes a long time for a woman to realize it’s okay to be a Chingona, but now that I have, I won’t be going anywhere. I like the sight of a man pissing himself because of the power I now possess. It doesn’t matter that you don’t agree. Your thoughts are trivial when there are so many more people calling for Malintzine than there are calling for you.

 
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Posted by on May 1, 2013 in Her stories, Tucson movement

 

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