Damned Ignorance

They peddle the documentary DVDs
like political leaflets, presenting them proudly
as they solicit support and monetary contributions
for the cause.
They are vending a symbol of gender subjugation;
a film that is stained with allegations of sexual assault;
assertions that were muffled; claims that were
minimized; and cries that were choked in the name
of the cause.
They have contaminated the cause and
have even attempted to hijack it.
Damned Ignorance!
Does the end justify the means?
No, not here!

The cause.
We were all clear
about our cause.
It was wrapped around keeping our precious
Mexican American Studies courses that
enable our youth to gain relevant knowledge
to successfully catapult forward in a
self-awareness.
Remember?
Students were and are at the
center of the cause; at least for us.
After all, what we learn is empty
without knowing who we are.
MAS courses allowed all content that
was learned to stream through a perspective
that brought definition to it.
We honored one another (In lak ech)
in our learning spaces.

The film was meant to tell the story of this cause,
in truth (panche be) through student and teacher voices.
The film was meant to offer protection to our youth from
further oppression through our united voices.
The film was meant to help rescue our perspective.
All of these voiced intentions were merely propaganda
upon which nothing but exploitation ultimately took place.
The intentioned promises were all broken.
We knew that the antagonists- Horne and Huppenthal-
and others with like-lower consciousness, were the ones
with the scheme to remove the Mexican American perspective
from anything taught, keeping us forever bound
in Damned Ignorance.

Gradually, as most revelations occur, it became clear
that our cause was not at the focus of saving ethnic studies.
Internal antagonists within our movement took on an assault
within our trusted movement.
A deep contamination of the cause took place through

the elevation of male egos;
the Frankenstein-like creation of a hate-based attack blog;
the exclusion of womyn in decision making;
excessive consumption of alcohol at functions;
the persistent exploitation of young womyn;
intimidation tactics to silence any word of sexual assault;
the lining of pockets with total lack of accountability;
excuses for a man with a known and legal record of domestic violence;
cheap and wrongly founded blog attacks on activist womyn;
a “destroy all-nuclear” strategy in the event of legal defeat – one that has  embraced  loss and proclaimed the death of MAS;
the ill formed notion that one segment of the movement was
thee movement;

and the list goes on ad nauseam.

With the many unfolding revelations,
many left the corner of deception, misogyny
and Damned Ignorance.
Energy shifted within the movement.
We stand here
NOW united.
And the external and internal
antagonists, alike in so many ways,
are all recognized
for what and who they are and
what they have done.
The recognition itself is a form of accountability.

The cause is the path;
not the tyrannical attorney;
not the regressive blogger,
whose multiple muddles
have minimized him from three to zero;
not the moth-eaten sexist bato activists who
desire nothing more than to resurrect their egos;
not the documentary that epitomizes
the drastic wrong turn on this path.

The cause is the path on which most of us have remained.
The path is clearer and conviction is more solid.

I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you…

I’m sorry, I did not mean to offend you.

Only trying to help you.

Don’t you see who you went to?

This person who has no more fate that to

save you

Always. That’s how it’s been

I will save you, him, them

I figure I can change you.

I just wanna save you.

And though I’ve told myself countless times

that that is not my job

That I can’t be your mother and

You my child who I nurture away

all the wounds from,

Who I defend from the unfairness of

the world. That is not my job.

It is unfair to you.

You must live your own battles, grow, fight your own raging war

I already have mine. Oh, yes, I already

have mine.

 

“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 the grocery store you wouldn’t be so carefree.

My anger isn’t a sign that I’m weak and that my opponents control me. My anger reminds me I’m alive and I’m still here.

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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 to stop their breath
AND they need to keep on…going….
Voices Needed
Because sexism, misogyny, and patriarchy are ‘not a big deal’ and make us ‘lose focus’
Because movements need to keep moving and ‘your shit is a roadblock’;  ‘you’re a manhater’
AND we raise and love men
Voices Needed
Because our stories continue to be questioned
Because we are told, ‘Police report please’ and ‘be consistent with your story’
AND our traumas, our fears are carried so deep inside us nothing… comes… out
Voices Needed
Because I can go on and on with these stories
Because you think you know who wrote this yet it is not who you think because these stories. feelings. are common…
AND they need to be STOPPED. SUPPORTED.
KEEP USING YOUR VOICES.
WE HEAR YOU!

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 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.