From May, 2013

“Why are you so angry?”

How about — why do you try to hold my anger above me, as if it strips me of any credibility? why do you have to dangle my unhappiness in front of me? I’ve become the most ultimately unamerican I can be — I’m an unhappy brown girl caught in a white man’s world. I’m pretty sure if you grew up being stared at or called a sandn***er you wouldn’t be too thrilled either. If you had to wonder whether or not your masjid was going to be shot up or if your mother was going to get cussed out at…

Attn: Voices Needed

Voices Needed Because that one time at the bar you felt it was okay to go up my skirt with your hand Because my drink made me sloppy drunk with a few sips AND you took advantage Voices Needed Because community peeps for ‘social justice’ feel that it’s okay to support a rapist instead of their semillas Because that movie tells ‘our’ story ‘so beautifully’ AND semillas need sunlight to grow… NOT… shade… Voices Needed Because young girls can get raped because they ‘drank too much’, ‘wore that dress’ and ‘were looking for action’ Because those beautiful wombyn find ways…

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…

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

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…

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…

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…

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…