From Her stories

Men Threaten

Men like to threaten, to loom over us to show they’re bigger stronger I’ll beat you to a pulp, little girl. They use their loud voices push tobacco-scented onion-flavored beer-laden breath in your face and I’ll show you who’s boss. Who da fuck you think you are, bitch? worst thing you can call a man “a girl” “womanly” “feminine” “C’mon, ladies” — sneering football coach/drill sergeant — the biggest insult   Men say threatening things on your blog and send revolting pictures horrible pictures of other women beaten cut bloody headless bruised and battered This could be you, watch out,…

Soundless Song of the Corn Maiden

She stood there at the top of the mountain overlooking the valley The city and all its people inside. A skin tight black dress flowing flowing, breathing, as she stares up to the cosmos and brings down her clenched fists- and soon the sky burst forth and you heard that first damning sound of thunder while the acidic scent of moisture in contact with earth entered your nostrils, as she cries out in pain, “Bring on the storm! I, simply known as Malinche, who rides the winds as swift as justice, am opening up these vaults of pure and utter…

Love without walls…

I never understood the concept of love how my friends and family defined it or maybe I just had a different conceptualization of what this meant.   Because growing up I felt unloved by my own mother, the person who gave birth to me yet who also wished for my vanishment was hard. I grew up thinking that love did not exist, at least not for me. That love was only meant for others, but not for me. From an early age I decided to redefine the concept of love.    Redefine the concept of love not as forever, but…

A Night Out

Let me make this clear. I DO NOT get dressed up to look this good for you. I know I look smokin hot but I am not here to impress you or get with anyone. If you try to creep on me; if you touch another girl on this dance floor without her permission; if you “accidentally” brush my breasts one more time I will kick your ass you sorry, lazy, lonely, entitled, small minded, motherfucker. I came here to dance – to have fun, relieve stress and move my body, not to give you a hard on. I am tired…

Selfish Lover

“It doesn’t always have to be about you.” It is always about me though. You make it about me. You make it about me making it about myself. But it isn’t about me. It’s about you. You take my silence for anger, instead of hurt. You justify your actions by blaming the situation on me. You shrink me, because you can, and when I refuse to let you, I’m being an overactive heartless bitch. “You started it. You said something hurtful, so I said something even more hurtful back. I had to one-up you. You act like you’re the only…

Eve Who Ate the Apple

I am that black velvet blue ink sky of silent solitude. Yes, my whisper is that toneless breath on the wind. A truth speaking louder than words. And yes, my night will swallow you. Devour you, whole. The unspoken song of a woman confined by the roles placed upon our bodies by men. By those without sight, wisdom, nor intuition. Yes, we see this all, a shadowy, hazy vision, and stand by to make way for your falling stars Captured in our open hands, still swollen from the endless throb of our taboo sexuality.

Puga Nini Sha’de Butterfly Dance

She thinks, ‘I can do it,’ as a vibrant, deep and fluorescent butterfly floats over her head. ‘I shouldn’t have to hide who I am. This is my reality- this is my truth. Just my presence alone brings with it the entire weight of the mistakes of the Movement and the reason why true liberation has not yet been achieved. So my truth now becomes your truth.’ This tragedy alone has morphed me into a new being. Like the violent hacking of the wood, the splintering and breaking apart of its body- for all to watch in deep fascination- when…

de/romantic revolutions

I remember the first time I went to the MEChA meeting he was there to the side with his Ché mane sad eyes and I liked him                                                                         (no, you don’t understand) he’s a beautiful brown man he reminds me of my brother lost, rocky childhood, angry, charismatic, womanizer but wants to be a lawyer or politician do right by his people                                                                         (his mother) first time he holds my hand, we’re at the movies watching motorcycle diaries his sweaty palm, let’s go stares and for a moment I imagine revolutionary love                                                                         (wack right?) that’s when he tells me…