RSS

Tag Archives: feminist

Pleasure Is Measured In Presence

The bed and it’s room
is no place for the computer to cast it’s shadow over your eyes
My thighs and universe in between
no place for carelessness, half truth, and lies
Pleasure is measured in presence
A place of vulnerable posture held by caress
moved further to openness
I let you in deeper
through fear
The stars of my inner night guide you
The story of these constellations
Passing expressions
remain in memory long after the taste of your sweat has left my lips
Alone now
No light in the bed or it’s room
Inside myself
Closed eyes
Thighs wide
Tongue traces the lips it protrudes from
The taste of my sweat
Pleasure is measured in presence
Oneness the O in Ohhmm
The mmm in orgasm
I leave myself breathless
And rest in peace
 
1 Comment

Posted by on April 19, 2013 in Her stories

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Selfish Lover

“It doesn’t always have to be about you.”
It is always about me though. You make it about me. You make it about me making it about myself. But it isn’t about me. It’s about you. You take my silence for anger, instead of hurt. You justify your actions by blaming the situation on me. You shrink me, because you can, and when I refuse to let you, I’m being an overactive heartless bitch.
“You started it. You said something hurtful, so I said something even more hurtful back. I had to one-up you. You act like you’re the only one who got their feelings hurt.”
Take some fucking responsibility. We’re not a couple of kids. If I hurt your feelings, fucking say SOMETHING rather than try to hurt me back. Call me out on my aggressive behavior. HUMANIZE ME. Make me see the wrong and why. Don’t belittle me in your reasoning for the hurt you caused.
“Stop being dumb. You started it. If you didn’t say something mean in the first place I wouldn’t have said anything mean back.”
You’re right, but you’re wrong and you know it. That’s why you keep using me as an agent for justification. You think my silence is guilt; that I am not speaking because I don’t want to admit that you’re right. I don’t want to admit that you’re right. I don’t want to admit that I can be a kid sometimes when I get angry. I don’t want to admit that you make me feel like a mouse compared to a lion when you talk down to me the way you do. I don’t want to admit that if I initiate dialogue about any of this that I will start crying. I don’t want to give you the best of me, even though you think you already have it.
 
“It doesn’t always have to be about you.”
But it does. It needs to be about me because you think it’s acceptable when we fight for you to stand over me while I lay down, so that your dick is in my face and its obvious you dominate. You have to be THE MAN, while I be the little woman, who started everything but can finish nothing. It’s your job to finish. You make that very clear and I feel like the cigarette butt you threw out the window, and your feelings are the sweet smoke you hold in your chest that comes out cleanly, precisely, and truthfully.
It needs to be about me because it is never about me. Because you either legitimize my feelings or you toss them aside. It needs to be about me because I am fucking DONE with my feelings only being the truth if you validate them. What the hell does it matter what you think about how I feel? Who are you to judge the hurt in my heart?
It’s need to be about me because this disrespect for my feelings, no matter how petty you think they are, are more important than your god damn ego.
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on March 18, 2013 in Her stories

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Reflection… Correction… Direction…

Here’s the thing — a little more clarification is necessary since it seems that the confusion continues.

First of all — this is not a competition for fans or views or reads. When we set out to launch malintZine on December 21, 2012 we had a vision of offering an anonymous space for women to speak their truths. Truths that had been silenced for too long. MalintZine has been and will continue to be a radically safe space that will ferociously protect the anonymity of our authors. But malintZine and her authors are not just the women who you’ve seen in photographs — we’re everywhere!! Indeed this space has been used to call men on the mat for their straight up bullshit and specific instances of fucked-upedness, but it has also been a safe space for sharing experiences than span the spectrum from fear to rape. We were not under the impression that the presence of our truths would come easily for anyone involved including ourselves. The truth tears down barriers, destroy relationships and bring others together. While we might have hoped otherwise, personal attacks were expected.

Since December 21, 2012 malintZine has grown into a larger community than we could have imagined that stretches from LA to Colorado, New York and Baltimore with a strong core of amazing mujeres in Tucson.

We were honored and blessed to have participated in and hosted events in the last week in Los Angeles and in Tucson. We were invited to speak in Maylei Blackwell’s class and sit on a panel with Maylei and Anna Nieto Gomez. In 1971 M.E.Ch.A held a mock funeral procession that was a ritualized attempt to kill Las Hijas de Cuactemoc. They carried caskets and walked with candles to a makeshift graveyard with gravestones for Hijas leaders and a lynched effigy of Anna Nieto Gomez (with her name inscribed). It was an honor to meet Anna, who stood up to the misogynistic Chicano leaders of her time, and a humbling privilege to sit beside her on the panel.

On Friday March 8th we had the pleasure of hosting Andrea Smith for a powerful discussion about accountability with well over 150 people in attendance followed by a launch party that brought together the community of malintZine readers, authors and editors. The ability to have the physical manifestation of the safe space that had been created online at malintzine.com was quite the event. There were poetry readings, zines, and plenty of music. Yes, there was a piñata and yes it was male bodied and yes we beat it with a stick until tamarindo, chamoy, lube and condoms gushed out. Yes, a drag king who resembled Three Sonorans attended the party and photos that have since been made public were taken. Three Sonorans has become the living embodiment of contemporary chingon politics. By his own doing, DA Morales has turned himself into a caricature of a 50-year history of misogynistic one-sided Chicano Movement narrative that holds its male leaders in blameless esteem.  Herein lies the point — maltinZine was created to counter the continuation of that narrative and on Friday night we celebrated.

And finally, we expect that you will continue your personal attacks on our motherhood, on our loyalty, on our motives, on our writing skills, on our education or lack of education, on our age, on our perceived sexuality, on our children and on our character — but your attacks don’t blight the truth. You may know who we are but you should also know that we are not going away. If there is a month where you cease to spew your false problematic narratives — we will be happy to keep your name of our blog (maybe!).

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

malintZINE accepts submissions!

For more photos of March 8th’s International Womyn’s Day events hosted by malintZINE click HERE!

 
1 Comment

Posted by on March 12, 2013 in Chicano Movement, Tucson movement

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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 I’m naïve
I don’t know anything about people
people aren’t good.
 
He reads Langston Hughes,
I too sing America
I am the darker brother….
and then say’s he’s a feminist
because he believes women should have sex before marriage
                                                                       (sex with him to be exact)
I tell him I’m a virgin, I don’t want to have sex anytime soon
he’s totally into it
until we make out and he gives me a guilt trip
that I’m a tease
“blue balls” to be exact
“can’t you take care of that?” I ask
            “no, it’s not the same” he says.
 
The first time it happens
I’m in complete shock
                                                                       (he didn’t even ask)
I didn’t feel a thing.
Whenever “it” happened
I was never there, it was never about me.
 
I tried saying I love you, once
searched his eyes for a loving gesture
but never found one
I felt my body an object
a woman archetype
to get off
when I finally asked how many women he’d been with
he looked down and said “two”
                                                                       (seriously?)
“I don’t know….14-15?”
he’s 21.
 
“You’re too difficult.”
his response when I plead
for him not to enter me from behind, again…
and when he walks out enraged, I know it’s over.
 
Overdue.
 
About time I realize
 
romance and revolutions
 
don’t mix.
 
Leave a comment

Posted by on March 8, 2013 in Her stories

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

From: The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House

“For women, the need and desire to nurture each other is not pathological but
redemptive, and it is within that knowledge that our real power is
rediscovered. It is this real connection which is so feared by a patriarchal
world. Only within a patriarchal structure is maternity the only social
power open to women.” ~ Audre Lorde
 
 
 
“Women of today are still being called upon to stretch across the gap of male
ignorance and to educate men as to our existence and our needs. This is an
old and primary tool of all oppressors to keep the oppressed occupied with
the master’s concerns. ” ~ Audre Lorde
 
2 Comments

Posted by on January 25, 2013 in Historical radical pieces

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Borderlands

Though we “understand” the root causes of male hatred and fear, and the
subsequent wounding of women, we do not excuse, we do not condone, and we
will no longer put up with it. From the men of our race, we demand the admission/
acknowledgement/disclosure/testimony that they wound us, violate us, are afraid
of us and of our power. We need them to say they will begin to eliminate their
hurtful put-down ways. But more than the words, we demand acts. We say to them:
we will develop equal power with you and those who have shamed us.
It is imperative that mestizas support each other in changing the sexist
elements in the Mexican-Indian culture. As long as woman is put down, the Indian
and the Black in all of us is put down. The struggle of the mestiza is above all a
feminist one. As long as los hombres think they have to chingar mujeres and each
other to be men, as long as men are taught that they are superior and therefore
culturally favored over la mujer, as long as to be a vieja is a thing of derision, there
can be no real healing of our psyches. We’re halfway there—we have such love of
the Mother, the good mother. The first step is to unlearn the puta/virgen dichotomy
and to see Coatlalopeuh-Coatlicue in the Mother, Guadalupe.
Tenderness, a sign of vulnerability, is so feared that it is showered on women
with verbal abuse and blows. Men, even more than women, are fettered to gender
roles. Women at least have had the guts to break out of bondage. Only gay men have
had the courage to expose themselves to the woman inside them and to challenge
the current masculinity. I’ve encountered a few scattered and isolated gentle
straight men, the beginnings of a new breed, but they are confused, and entangled
with sexist behaviors that they have not been able to eradicate. We need a new
masculinity and the new man needs a movement.

Lumping the males who deviate from the general norm with man, the
oppressor, is a gross injustice. Asombra pensar que nos hemos quedado en ese pozo
oscuro donde el mundo encierra a las lesbianas. Asombra pensar que hemos, como
femenístas y lesbianas, cerrado nuestros corazónes a los hombres, a nuestros
hermanos los jotos, desheredados y marginales como nosotros. Being the supreme
crossers of cultures, homosexuals have strong bonds with the queer white, Black,
Asian, Native American, Latino, and with the queer in Italy, Australia and the rest of
the planet. We come from all colors, all classes, all races, all time periods. Our role is
to link people with each other—the Blacks with Jews with Indians with Asians with
whites with extraterrestrials. It is to transfer ideas and information from one
culture to another. Colored homosexuals have more knowledge of other cultures;
have always been at the forefront (although sometimes in the closet) of all
liberation struggles in this country; have suffered more injustices and have survived
them despite all odds. Chicanos need to acknowledge the political and artistic
contributions of their queer. People, listen to what your joteria is saying.
The mestizo and the queer exist at this time and point on the evolutionary
continuum for a purpose. We are a blending that proves that all blood is intricately
woven together, and that we are spawned out of similar souls.

Gloria Anzaldúa

Artist: Beatriz Guzman Velasquez

Artist: Beatriz Guzman Velasquez

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 22, 2013 in Historical radical pieces

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A Taste of Power: A Black Woman’s Story

A woman in the Black Power movement was considered, at best, irrelevant. A woman asserting herself was a pariah. A woman attempting the role of leadership was, to my proud black Brothers, making an alliance with the “counter-revolutionary, man-hating, lesbian, feminist white bitches.” It was a violation of some Black Power principle that was left undefined. If a black woman assumed a role of leadership, she was said to be eroding black manhood, to be hindering the progress of the black race. She was an enemy of black people. Her strategy for functioning as a woman was to rely on the membership’s loyalty to Newton, and it worked, to an extent: …I had introduced a number of women in the party’s administration.

There were too many women in command of the affairs of the Black Panther Party, numerous men were grumbling…. It was a given that the entire Black Power movement was handicapped by the limited roles the Brothers allowed the Sisters and by the outright oppressive behavior of men toward women. This had meant little to me personally, however…. And because of Huey — and now Larry — I had been able to deflect most of the chauvinism of Black Panther men. My leadership was secure. Thus, in installing Sisters in key positions, I had not considered this business. I had only considered the issue of merit, which had no gender…. Oddly, I had never thought of myself as a feminist. I had even been denounced by certain radical feminist collectives as a “lackey” for men. That charge was based on my having written and sung two albums of songs that my female accusers claimed elevated and praised men. Resenting that label, I had joined the majority of black women in America in denouncing feminism. It was an idea reserved for white women, I said, assailing the women’s movement, wholesale, as either racist or inconsequential to black people. Sexism was a secondary problem. Capitalism and racism were primary. I had maintained that position even in the face of my exasperation with the chauvinism of Black Power men in general and Black Panther men in particular. Now hearing the ugly intent of my opponent’s words [one of her opponents in the 1974 election of the Oakland City Council, a black man, had denounced her as a lesbian!, I trembled with a fury long buried. I recognized the true meaning of his words. He was not talking about making love with women — he was attacking me for valuing women.

The feminists were right. The value of my life had been obliterated as much by being female as by being black and poor. Racism and sexism in America were equal partners in my oppression. Even men who were themselves oppressed wanted power over women. Whatever social stigma had been intended by the label “lesbian” — always invoked when men felt threatened, I observed with the benefit of hindsight — did not concern me. It was simply the rattle of a man terrorized by a social order dominated by other men. It was a social order I was bent on destroying. But his accusations did wake me. There would be no further impositions on me by men, including black men, including Black Panther men. I would support every assertion of human rights by women — from the right to abortion to the right of equality with men as laborers and leaders. I would declare that the agenda of the Black Panther Party and our revolution to free black people from oppression specifically included black women. I would denounce loudly the philosophies of the Karengas, who raised the name of Africa to justify the suppression of black women. I would lambaste the civil-rights men who had dismissed the importance of women like Fannie Lou Hamer and Ella Baker and Daisy Bates and even Kathleen Cleaver. I would not tolerate any raised fists in my face or any Black Power handshakes, or even the phrase “Black Power,” for all of it now symbolized to me the denial of black women in favor of the freedom of “the black man.” I would claim my womanhood and my place.

If that gave rise to my being labeled a “man-hating lesbian, feminist bitch,” I would be the most radical of them.

Elaine Brown

(pp. 357, 362–363, 367–368)

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 19, 2013 in Historical radical pieces

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,