By malintZINE

Leave Love Left Where Love Died

Because I thought I could change you with ‘the right kind of love’, I took whatever you gave me. Because drunk meetings in dark closets and rooms were romantic enough to let you take off all my clothes. Because I thought that you holding my hair back while I gave you head meant you cared. Because after spending an entire day right beside you, secret eye signals kept me content. Because I thought that when you told me stories about your mom and dad, you gave me keys. Because when you really did give me keys to parts of you,…

La lucha, they say, is no place for love letters

It´s finally sunset on top of the mountain but the shades of red are simply the sky’s reflection of the anger in your words: “I don’t understand how your mind works. I don’t like how your mind works” you said. Between shades of silent frustration, I hear again and again the echo of those words, as I  struggle to ground myself in the poems and tales of those who were abused by their compañeros within the movement. La lucha, they say, is no place for love letters.   “I don’t like how your mind works. I don’t like how your…

Let the revolution continue…

And on that day without plans We all had agreed that a revolution was the goal Angela said that a revolution lies in the principles and the goals that you’re striving for, not in the way you reach them. And Malcom agreed with her—by all means the revolution would take place with or without us. But Marcos had the last words, stating that we would always be able to question the means but never the revolution itself. That is when the words of Marx resonated in our heads. I remember him telling us that a revolution cannot be judged by…

Keep Ya Head Up

When the fears start to reveal themselves, but your no longer afraid you’re just so sad it took you this long to understand. Then the tears run down your face because of all the pain you put yourself through, and you wonder how you managed to pretend you were so strong when clearly you were wrong. It’s like a self-inflicted wound that gives you ecstasy, but drains and brings along so much pain after the fact. But no one is there to kiss your scars, and until you find a way to love yourself in the aftermath of this craziness…

Letting Love In

I caught glimpses of her through sugar cracks in ripe yellow walls. Her presence makes me want to paint mixed-media murals, on her skin, with found objects. She said we came from the same cloud. I’d say the same thing, if I hadn’t already known my semilla sprouted in soil. She comes with fire & water from the west. Like desert monsoons, she digs rivers out of dry beds and electrifies the night sky. Our elements intersect like our identities, to teach us lessons we have yet to learn. Life Lessons, Love Lessons. like what it means to love ourselves…

A Letter to the United States People

Freedom Freedom Freedom Freedom Freedom Freedom Freedom Freedom    Open your eyes.  No matter how painful the sight, look at it.  Look at it! 2 million in cages?  Masses of children being medicated for “mental disorders”?  Masses of poor people being medicated and told that everything they face is their individual problem and their individual fault? War after war after war after war after war like tv show after tv show after movie after film showing the same violence scene and We Love it, do we? …And it doesn’t look like war violence, cause by the way, folks, you can’t…

baby daddy blues

woke up this morning finally heard the anthem to my blues baby daddy blues   baby daddy didn’t have a father folks split up when he was young papa said he had a new family that relationship was worth his time mama probably had the blues herself left mexico behind and found a new man the womyn/child beater kind   woke up this morning finally heard the anthem to my blues baby daddy blues   baby daddy hated school hated men that didn’t care for baby mama’s used his rage and trained EZLN/AIM militant security talkin’ bout taking back our…

Chicana History: Maria Urquides: Mother of Bilingual Education

By Anna NietoGomez 2013 Maria Urquides was a third generation Mexican American born in 1908 to parents that had little to no education in the Barrio Libre near downtown Tucson Arizona. Although her parents had little to no education, they were leaders in the community. Her father, Hiliario Urquides was a businessman and civic leader who in 1894 helped found the Alianza Hispano-Americana in Tucson, which became the largest Mexican American, mutual-aid society in the Southwest which subsidized death benefits, social and cultural activities and assistance in dealing with racism. It was a fraternal organization until the 19th amendment was…

Beauty Painted Through Full Lips

On this night of the hazy full moon, with a nice hazy mist like dreams Softly clouding over my visions of today- and of that better tomorrow. Nights like this take me there. Led to the strong fierce voice of womyn lighting up the night like that glistening pearl orb shining away the darkness. And it is now I realize more than ever Art is perhaps the most important and most powerful tool, weapon and medicine we have for this movement- for this long road of liberation ahead of our trails who without fail will bring us down to our…

Dear Love: I hear you knocking!

Dear Love (8 years ago) I hear you knocking on my door and I don’t know why because I didn’t call you. Last time I checked it wasn’t for me It was too much, too messy, too soft, too co-dependent, and just a bit too many emotions, they weren’t the good kind or maybe they were a few times but never lasting. It wasn’t for me It did save my life though and for that I did love… Dear Love (2013) …But I still haven’t decided if that is a good thing or not. I am almost done understanding how that…