Tagged love

Re-imagining the Home through Conscious ways of Healing

Like Anzaldua I have attempted carrying home on my back but sometimes carrying home includes carrying a lot more, to the point that it becomes overbearing. I have been divulging in the words of Eden E. Torres the Chicana academic who brought us Chicana Without Apology; however, her words struck me when she began talking about the difficulty in maintaining mental health. And I wondered, what happens when home becomes a threat to your mental health? I’d like to start with a quote by Friedrich Nietzche—“the most spiritual human beings, assuming they are the most courageous, also experience by far…

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…

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…

Love Letter

I’m mostly mad at love right now cause it hurt my friend. Love made my friend hurt my friend. And it hurt me too, but that was a different story. Love hurt me for the best. Love made me choose. It made me choose between loving someone else and loving myself. I chose myself. I made the right choice. Thanks love. So I guess love saved me. I guess I shouldn’t be so mad at love. I guess I should be thankful. I am grateful love, but I am not indebted to you. I don’t owe you. I don’t owe…

Hace mucho tiempo te quise

Hace mucho tiempo te quise. Fuiste la mujer de mi vida. El amor más grande de todos mis pinches 27 años. Tú me decías que era muy joven Y yo quería crecer y ser la mujer perfecta para ti. Quería que me gustaran las cosas que te gustaban. Quería alcanzarte y gustarte. Yo sé que te gustaba. Me decías que me querías. Sé que lo sentías… Que lo vivías. Te gustaba besarme. Me gustaba mirarte. A veces nos gustaban las mismas cosas. Pero nunca fue suficiente. Tú querías otra cosa. Otra vida. Tal vez otro cuerpo y no el mío.…

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…