Tagged silenced

Quiet All Summer

This is what it’s like to be lost in between. To feel the words of the songs you heard in your childhood resonate inside your heart. To feel the lyrics rise up, and yet not have the words to let them out. To keep Borderlands/La Frontera on the bookshelf of your mind for two years, only to find out that Gloria Anzaldúa is dead. To mourn her passing, so deeply, so late, anyway. To not be able to participate in the conversation between your elders, and yet rest your head and soak it in, enjoying it, anyway. It’s the silence…

Three Sonorans – blogger/publicist; deception by deflection, attempted polarization, sour grapes- all with underlying misogyny and prejudice

After being called on his misogynist oriented blogging and continued spread of misinformation, some weeks ago, DA Morales, also known as Three Sonorans (TS), proclaimed that his blog would be shut down. The TS absence lasted only a few days and many pockets were lined with quick cash from bets won against his promise. We are regretful to have won the bet! At a New Year’s party, Richard M. Martinez referred to Morales as his “publicist” which simply affirmed Morales’ role. Perhaps the bestowment of his role and title is what propelled Martinez’ promoter to begin TS and what prodded…

Calling upon the Chicano Pope to Reflect

How was the Chicano Pope chosen? Did I miss the anointment ceremony? The Chicano Pope proudly grinds the biggest axe to attack those who do not heed his mandates and demand for complicity. This is a call for the Chicano Pope to thoughtfully engage in the issue of accountability.  After all, it was the Chicano Pope who wrote, “What is so frustrating about politics is that there is so little accountability. We can continually screw up as my students would say and are not accountable. Because we as a society are ahistorical, we are unable to sort out the lies…

Letters From the Palestinian Border

It would feel like if you ate Gorged yourself in front of a hungry person. But the starving one is the one who cooked the meal, Grew the garden, Nurtured the abundance And then they just took it. Ate from another’s plate. For 63 years.   This is the border between Palestine and Lebanon Between Palestine and us. Between you and I. This is what the border must look like To the thirsty To the hungry – Dry, cracking Earth where I stand Dying, withered weeds Trash. Zionist wrappers. Empty Bottles of water And then- My eyes feast on the…

Good Girls

My hips, they extend outwards in imitation of the horizon believing they will be welcomed like the morning sun signaling the beginning of a brand new day— They are not.   My belly, it extends forward and under filled with excitement to be part of the world bouncing happily along as if constantly waving to those passing thinking it will be met with the same cordiality— It is not.   My thighs, they rustle together making me chafe as I walk to class—or anywhere really—thinking the constant “swish-swish” friction of fabric is like the chatter of gossiping friends whose conversation…

Culture of Silence

Acts of violence are committed against women in the Mexican-American Studies community consistently, yet it seems they are only discussed publicly when people outside the movement get involved. As a young woman in this community I should have been made aware of men in the movement who are known perpetrators of violence. I need to know which spaces are safe spaces and I need to be able to make informed decisions about the people I am involving myself with or organizing with. I believe that part of the reason I had no previous knowledge of any man’s history of gendered violence was because of a carefully constructed culture of…

I too

I too know this rage of which my sisters speak I too feel it burning inside of me I too feel an explosion imminent because I.am.so.tired.of.this.shit.   Hey man, You think your oppression is bad? Imagine millennia of suffocation by idiots who can’t possibly imagine that their wives/daughters/friends/sisters might know better than them Might lead better than them   Imagine being suffocated from nearly beyond your depth of memory And knowing Truly Completely That your suffocation is the reason for the state of things today   Imagine trying to say it out loud to men Who laugh at you Call…

Think about the family

We keep talking about the pain it causes our families I know that, I am them   I am the one that held on to stories of violence so hard I bled Held on to secrets of feeling unsafe Felt my insides explode, cancer in my belly, pain in my chest   I too felt it was no ones business So I kept on holding on Explosions continued in my body, on others faces, on my arms   Growing up I began to think these secrets were normal This fear and uncertainty I kept inside Comfortable Was love, was safety…