Tagged silence

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…

Girl Code, Responsibility, Accountability and In Lak Ech

I didn’t believe my friend when she was raped. …… The last few years in Tucson have been a struggle to survive. With the battles in our communities and legislation targeting brown people of color on indigenous land – we have nearly killed each other and the work and the fight and the fighting has made us all sick – susto. It deserves writing that will never end now that it has started. Through it all, I now reflect on two moments when I know I fucked up. I monumentally fucked up and hurt other women. When it first happened,…

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…

malintZINE does the telling

By Anna NietoGomez, Coughing Woman Custom was that violence against women was private and should not be talked about in public. The women’s rights movement changed all that, and violence against women became a public discussion. Women demanded that they have the right to be safe at home, at work and at play. Traditionalists ignored this challenge, blamed the woman for the violence done against her and took no action. Then women told their stories.
 First they began the telling with friends and family, but nothing changed. The story was forgotten, and violence against women continued.
 Then the telling became…

grey days

grey days settle like dust outline my body feels like death watch the clock hour by hour until grey nights begin their shift.eyes open, incessant images loop. las manos de mi abuela patting dough coated with flour into tortillas las manos patting. dough folded into tortillas. flour dust settling. las manos de mi abuela. I haven’t moved in 6 hours, feels like 1, feels like 12. she died when I was 14.my bed comforts me as much as it reminds me I am ungrateful wasting time wasting away what a waste my friend with MS my cousin with cancer my…

To My Daughter

Mijita,   we are the in between neither black nor white   we are the mud the mix between the menstrual flow of the planet and the machismo ground beneath our feet   we are the brown the piece of construction paper that is thrown away the ugly created when mixing too many colors the only crayon chosen when coloring Martin Luther King or dirt   we are the cockroaches despised and disgusted but even with the bam of a stomping manly foot we refuse to die   we are the voice of the wind loud and undesirable yet never…

Sister Outsider

“Your silence will not protect you” Audre Lorde, The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action