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?
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
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