Revelation(s)

It was humbling to realize that I was no different than someone I've "hated" for quite sometime. I can admit that it makes me no more of a woman (of a person) to criticize another person for acting/behaving in a hurtful, selfish manner. I am no different. I am not perfect. Who the fuck am I to judge anyone? I chose to put myself in an environment that was not conducive to my well-being and then acted accordingly. I chose to put myself in a position where I was surrounded by individuals who are not the way I want to be and became one of them. So, I need to take responsibility for my own bad behavior. I have been disrespectful and selfish and immature. But, I know that's not me. I need to get back to who I am. First thing is admitting that we're all shitty in our own way and it doesn't make me any better to point out others' mistakes. Also, MY biggest mistake is choosing fear every single time. I make decisions out of fear NOT LOVE. Bad things happen when you say YES to everything, when you're passive about what you actually want out of fear of losing (nothing!). Love is the only way: self-love comes first. I am woman enough to admit that I am no better than anyone else.

Poison

I have an issue with alcohol. My drinking has helped me ruin several relationships. I do bad things when I drink and I feel like I am a bad person deep down. Every single time something is going fine for me, I fuck it up. I will abuse people. I will act a fool. I can't seem to walk away from situations that are obviously negative for me. Every part of my being is hoping for forgiveness from yet another person who I've hurt. Words cannot ameliorate the pain I've caused.

I know you won't read this, but I am sorry.

The Light

 You're a boy enslaved by your need to belong, be loved. You're a fool for shiny toys and skin and bones. You're cold to me in your own way, because the love I gave to you was taken but yet it wasn't enough.

For those things, the light that once peaked through that cage just beyond where your heart hangs withering and unquenched in the Californian sun has faded.

Last night, you played music. In that hot house, in that grey room, on that giant bed of yours. You played music and I folded your clothes. And I felt like I knew you. And I, for a short while, remembered that there once was a light.

Different modes for a feeling

Here's a hodgepodge of my favorites.
I can't write tonight, but I want to put something good "out there."...here.
Nina Simone, Audre Lorde, Toni Morrison, and Frida Kahlo have continually shaped me (my understanding of myself and others, my understanding of a world I can't wrap my head around). I, too, believe that freedom exists for each of us in our own way and that every individual is capable of feeling free. But the concept of freedom is so elusive to me...
I think there's a freedom we generate within ourselves and for others by doing that which breaks us away from the unrelenting tug of war between life and death (time): making, crafting, writing, singing, dancing, working, moving, listening, breathing--doing something for the sake of doing it.
I think there's a feeling of freedom that's realized momentarily when we "give in" to the present in a way that seems as if you know exactly where you are in this great universe and you say in your head "beyond this...well, that's nothing to me," but that just happens. It's like reading a line of poetry that just strikes you or when you happen to catch a child giggling and you can't help but smile. You don't do anything, you're just there.
Regardless of how it manifests, there is no comparable thing. Love leads us there. Friendship, too. Good conversation. Laughter. Poetry made me feel free for a long time. It all leads to a temporary succession from any form of mental, spiritual, emotional, physical binding.
Maybe you write or paint or sing or dance to set yourself free, maybe you do that so others may realize how it feels to be free and then feel the urge to share that feeling you gave them. There's a great amount of labor being done daily, on multiple levels of our society, by women who seek to set themselves, one another, or other people free.
Freedom is a feeling all humans fight for in small, beautiful ways. Here are some catalysts for me (bits of others who move me):




**Start at 1:15**

"And where the words of women are crying to be heard, we must each of us recognize our responsibility to seek those words out, to read them and share them and examine them in their pertinence to our lives. That we not hide behind the mockeries of separations that have been imposed upon us and which so often we accept as our own." ("The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action" -Audre Lorde).

“The function of freedom is to free someone else.” -Toni Morrison


"Roots" by Frida Kahlo (1943) http://www.fridakahlo.org/roots.jsp#prettyPhoto[image1]/0/

On standing up for what you believe in.

[Repost from my blog. Thought it was worth sharing]

One day my buddy Luis came over to invite me to a show at the Carpenter Center at CSULB.  to watch a really compelling show: N*gger W*tback Ch*nk. With a title like that, who could say no? I sat down, the lights dimmed, for the next two hours I watched three men speak on the uncomfortable truths that accompany our racial identities, They held an acute understanding of how the way we look at one other impacts the way we look at ourselves.

It honestly was one of the most memorable entertainment experiences I've had in some time. It was funny, well-thought-out, and infinitely relatable to anyone whose skin has provoked a joke. Though the applause was rousing, the dialogue sparked during the audience talkback was as critical as it was lauding. Not every joke was funny to every group of people, but the performers were gracious and receptive to everyone's pain. It felt good to be heard in open forum about things that are taboo to discuss in pubic. When I got to the lobby, the crowd of people around these three performers was so thick you would have sworn they were performing miracles. They were immensely popular and maintained a relationship with the university after this performance, teaching Masters' students and completing a residency. How brilliant!

That was about a year ago. A few mornings ago Michael shot me a text this morning with this linked:
CSULB's Carpenter Center Director Michele Roberge Resigns In Protest Over Show Cancellation

The school's president, Jane Conoley cancelled the shows upcoming performances without comment, but the official campus statement reads:

Members of the campus community voiced concerns to the President about the educational value of the performance and whether or not it was achieving the goal of creating constructive dialogue about race relations..subsequently, President Conoley asked the Carpenter Center team to withdraw the performance from the 2016-17 schedule. Despite the cancellation of the show, the artists will be fully compensated and we wish them success with their future performances.

This prompted the Carpenter Center director to resign. And I don't blame her in the slightest. Universities are epicenters of education, enlightenment, intelligent discourse. N*gger W*tback Ch*nk is nothing if not enlightening and intelligent.  If CSULB is to be a bastion of knowledge, it can't compromise that in the face of discomfort.

I'm inclined to believe the cancellation is due to the renewed sensitivity to the Race issue this year. Donald Trump's hateful rhetoric gets rigorous applause, Black Lives Matter has gained major traction as a national force to be acknowledged with the constant threat of police violence lingering over people's conscious. I think these things have contributed to the sudden flip-flop in opinion of the value in this show. When I saw it last year, we hadn't lived through Philadro Castile or Alton Sterling, and those Dallas cops were still alive.. The conversation on racial tension has definitely heightened, even if they haven't progressed.

However, I think more than ever the campus should want to engage discussion on these topics. Confronting these issues head on will arm the diverse Long Beach community with the knowledge to deal with these issues when they inevitably arise. If the most educated among us are afraid of engaging with this kind of discourse, what illumination can we expect from the world at large?

Just some thoughts. I've been on a no compromises, no excuses kick lately, and I have infinite respect for Michele Roberge who recognized injustice and decided to stand for what she believed in. I hope the university takes the hint and chooses education over fear.

looking for diamonds in a coal mine

The discourse I seek is a native language and it runs through me like the blood in my veins. I've been searching for understanding by listening to the words of a speaker with a poisonous tongue whose sounds and vibrations only suffocate and bombard me.

I woke up this morning with a sense of clarity. This morning, as I felt the cool hard wood floor against the warmth of my feet and brushed one foot at a time across the room, I caught my reflection in the mirror. A tiny, lumpy figure with messy curls dressed all in black. Tits to the floor. Shorts riding up. My dark circles confronting me. I opened the door and caught the aroma of the dark brew I love to drink so much. I saw my mother's freckled face and she smiled at me admiringly. I said, "hey, what's up?" as if to say, "what are you staring at?" and she just kept smiling and nodded her head with the smirk I, too, have inherited.

How much of ourselves do we see in each other? How much love can we procure by accepting who WE are? I can't put two and two together right now, but it's coming together with or without my intervention.

Last night, I had a feeling of hopelessness and disillusion because I engaged in conversation with a person who is inartistically cruel at times and who values basic people/things. He doesn't see people the way I do and yet I've put a lot of weight on his words. But the beauty and truth of discourse that's real to me is not within him. I need to stop looking for things in the wrong places and so, this morning, I BEGIN AGAIN and "seek out the words of women" whom I respect and who love truly. Here's a repost of mi cielo's "Move" (which is an older post on this blog). I read this last night before going to bed and felt overwhelmed with pride for her, her words, her impact on me. She gave me a little light to combat the darkness.

"Move"
by Abeni Moreno


I asked my grandmother how should women move in the world? 

And she said …. head, torso, hips

she explained, Its our intelligence that make us aware of who we are in life and how society views us. Its our hearts that guide through the darkness and its our hips that give life, hypnotize and infatuate those around us. "Thats how a woman should move in this world" she said. 

I asked my mother, how should I move in this world? She said, "con duda y poder". Don’t trust a place where a woman has no face, where she is just a body on display. Be weary of a world that doesn’t recognize you, that leaves you, cheats on you while you raise their children. Don’t trust a world that has you chained to the bed as you give birth… while you wait to see your baby’s face. Move carefully but with strength.

I asked my tia how do i should I move in this world? She said, "dance como si eres muerta, libra y sin vergüenza". Know that you come from a long line of beautiful women who have fallen and gotten up, who fought back after being dragged and who left their homes to create a new life when no one appreciated them. Dance as if you were dead, free and without shame. 

I asked my sister how should I move in this world? She said "move without apology". Walk with your head up high and love in your heart. Speak truthfully and with authority. Have nothing command you but yourself. Know the space around you is self-held and self-felt. Mover 

I asked my brother how should I move in this world? He said, "move with pride, mija". Show others who fail to understand who you are, that you live in this world brown and beautiful in time where it is dangerous to do so. They feel threatened by your existence. Interrupt their reality and perception by shaking their hand and showing them  that you are human- even though its not your job to do so. Move with pride, mija.

I asked myself, how should I move in this world? "Move… just move," I said.  Move even though you have been left and cheated on. Move even though you have been sneered at with disgust as they said “mira esta morenita” with their nose up. Move even though a customer is yelling at you, saying you are less of an American because your family are immigrants- even though he is a chicano veteran. Move even though you have woken up without your clothes and no one is man enough to tell you what happened to your body. Move even though you had to let your first love go. Move when someone calls you “a lesbian” as an insult because my sexuality is none of their damn business. Move even though you feel alone when you really have an army at your side. Move when you have tears in your eyes. Move when you are broken and torn down. 

I said to myself .. move with that smile on your face because you know better.  Move with those eyes that show nothing may phase you. Move around those who wont walk with you. Move your head, torso and hips and dance as if you were dead, in world that doesn’t recognize you but your steps are without apology and you are proud of your brown identity. Move mija, move. 

And To my sisters who are in between- my gender queer queens,  androgynous,  transgender two spirited loves. Let you be seen in a darkness that make you worriers.  Move

M. Andrew:

Today I realized that when you're happy, you're easy to talk to. I almost forgot all the fucked up shit we did to each other. Maybe things would have been less fucked up if I had said: thanks for making me dinner/food often enough. Thanks for letting me see you be real and fucking weird when no one else was around. Your room felt like home.

-V