Thursday, March 24, 2016
Friday, March 18, 2016
And she silenced me
She told me I liked it
He said I wanted it
He said what’s a nice girl like you in this business for?
Get out before you change for good.
You're too good,
Get out before you become like them-
But I had been born tired,
carrying the grief for her and protected her in the beatings.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
I have a little bit of devil in me.
Gods and monsters. It depends on which you choose to love in the end. Which I choose to put my attention to. It depends on which I wake up with and spend my day with. It can be either full cups of cream or mostly empty. It was all my perspectives. I have a little bit of devil in me. Like the one time my husband laid on the couch relaxing after a fight in which he controlled my finances. I thought that I would much enjoy scalping his skull at that momment. The thought itself brought me such significant joy I gurgled out a burst of laughter and merriment at the fantasy or daydream. He continued to lay their oblivious to his danger in my presence. A year later I did try to scalp him and spent a day in the most notorious jail in the nation being headquartered by an infamous Sherriff Joe Arpaio known nationally and federally for his human rights abuses. I walked with a certain knowledge about myself. I knew that if I died in his jail that I would be a political prisoner and that it would be similar to dying in Juarez because that is what became of me loving a Mexican. I became a woman who almost died in Juarez. When half joking and half evil he would say to me with a snarl of sarcasm and arrogance Remember, Chappparraaa….!! I am from Juarez. This comment was a way to control and have me feel intimidation. As if his size alone and professional position weren’t intimidating enough. He being six foot 200 pounds and me being a size 4 100 pounds and no longer a 5 foot even. He enjoyed standing over me hovering over with his weight and size to control with his body over me. Suffocating me until I was buried alive and then one day I had to dig myself out of the grave he left me in for almost dead. The only thing left dangling was a sliver of love from seven generations who looked for me until they found me and brought me home to love. Seven generations of women before and after me came for me. I even called in the Yaqui grand grand father who killed one of those women with his rifle end when she stepped out of line. His only solace now that she’d escaped was knowing the law still decided weather or not she had a home without him and she would be left homeless if he decided. He was not done trying to ruin her life but we all knew that in the end he would be the one lonely.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Monday, November 25, 2013
Don’t Give in, Chicanita (para Missy Anzaldua)
Don’t give in mi prietita
Tighten your belt, endure.
Your lineage is ancient, your roots like those of the mesquite, firmly planted, digging underground toward that current,the soul of tierra madre- your origin Yes, mi ijita, your people were raised en los ranchos-hear in the valley near the Rio-Grande you descended from the first cowboy, the vaquero, right smack in the border in the age before the Gringo when Texas was Mexico over en los ranched los Vergeles y Jesus Maria-Davila land. Strong women reared you: my sister, your mom, my mother and i. And yes, they’ve taken our lands. Not even the cemetery is our now where they buried Don Urbano your great great grandfather. Hard times like fodder we carry with curved backs we walk. But they will never take that pride of being Mexicana-Chicana-tejana nor our Indian woman’s spirit. And when the Gringos are gone- see how they kill one another-here we’ll still be like the horned toad and the lizard relics of an earlier age survivors of the First Fire Age-el Quinto Sol. Perhaps we’ll be dying of hunger as usual but we’ll be members of a new species skin tone between black and bronze second eyelid under the first with the power to look at the sun through naked eyes. And alive mi ijita, very much alive. Yes, in a few years or centuries la Raza will rise up, tongue intact carrying the best of all the cultures. That sleeping serpent, rebellion-(r)evolution, will spring up. Like old skin will fall the slave ways of obedience, acceptance, silence. Like serpent lightning we’ll move, little woman. You’ll see.
Translated from the Spanish by the author Gloria Anzaldua
My Analysis oral history project La Familia de Martha Chavarria from South Texas settled in Guadalupe Az.
Chris –"Strong women reared you: my sister, your mom, my mother and I"
"And yes they’ve taken our lands ", however Chris in your work you are returning the land to its rightful place. "Perhaps we will by dying of hunger as usual"- my mother in her childhood and the year Ernesto left and took the air condition with him and I almost died of heat stroke and hunger. But "we’ll be members of a new species" –Nick, Chris, Mia, Lexi and Angie, Christian. "Yes, in a few years or centuries la Raza will rise up." Chris it may hurt a little because "like old skin will fall the slave way of obedience, acceptance" of the old like the girls having babies before they themselves are born, Silence, how we just don’t talk about the oppressions against us and what happens to our lives when we are raped, abused, pregnant at 15. How this hurts our sons, our unborn daughters." Like serpents lightning we’ll move"-its not adhd Chris- it is our way of moving through power, weaving and braiding the power into our own hands. "The power to look at the sun through naked eyes"- your third eye will be your new eyes my sons, my granddaughter. "They took our cemetery" in Guadalupe. My grandmother Virginia, me and Lexi "walk with curved back": carrying us from the hard times. Carrying our mothers. And alive, hijos, "very much alive"!! And free- your daughters and sons will be free!