Tag Archives: Raza
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 that our leaders tell us or correct our own errors…The biggest obstacle to furthering a Chicano, Latino, or anything you want to call it agenda is a lack of accountability.” Wise words but is the Pope exempt from heeding them?
The Chicano Pope feigns objectivity and freely admits that “In times like these I have found myself trying too hard, and becoming a motivational speaker instead of a teacher, relying on what some may call hyperboles to make my point.” He also proclaims that he is “protective of the legacy of the sixties.” Is the Chicano Pope trying to suppress intellectual inquiry that does not fit into his hero making narratives? Are the accusations that Reies López Tijerina molested one of his children off limits? Or does this history not matter? A few months ago the Chicano Pope openly encouraged us to embrace another “martyr” by boasting, “Based on my reading of history the stock of Sean Arce will reach epic levels. If he were living in California or Texas there would have been at least a half dozen corridos (ballads) written about him.” The Chicano Pope has been silent on this issue, why?
Maybe the Pope “dreads” going to NACCS in San Antonio because for the last two years he has used the organization to peddle charlatan leaders who silenced and threatened those who disagreed in Tucson. Or does this history not matter? People donated to ethnic studies and defense funds because the Chicano Pope had blessed these fundraising efforts. Are these organizations going to offer yearly reports that detail where all the funds were spent? The Chicano Pope asked us to donate to these causes and held the collection basket in his hands as he blessed those who reached into their pockets. Where is the accountability?
The Chicano Pope has made it clear that, “If people would be held accountable, this would put people on notice.” Chicano Pope, this is your notice. You have sold Chican@s short and out. The paper trail you leave in this lifetime grows each time you lead the Chicano choir in nationalist hymns and engage in perverted reasoning aimed at silencing dissent in order to achieve a “Wonderful Life.” What you offer is delusion.
Stop using smoke and mirrors to encourage ignorance and to discourage deeper examinations into shameful, antifeminists and homophobic histories. Stop casting stones against your CSU Northridge colleagues, NACCS and anyone who disagrees with you. And, realize that you do not have the power to dictate where outrage should be directed. This message is also a call for the Chicano Pope to examine his conscience. Stop seeking conformity. Embrace new ways of thinking and listen to youth instead of preaching to them. This is hard to hear because your narcissism gets in the way, but Chican@ Studies will not crumble if you retire. New forms and people will step in and build on what it is and once was. And, yes, it might even be better. Don’t be a Chicano Pope who presses for the conservative and traditional.
It is time.
Channeling my destruction,
The interrogation of assumption Validating a world for most complacent The realities are tangible and often serene Mis suenos
Mi cuerpo A justification that is omniscient
Anzaldua You, I, reach an utopia
an epitome for gender deconstruction
A mestiza anatomy esto es todo lo quiero
suenos dream and I dream
an insurgence to intersections I will venture but never leave los mayas
los aztecas y los mexica todos los grita “Fuck you i won’t do what u tell me” por que? ya basta
ya tu sabes el mente machismo es el mente chiquito,
mi corazón, mi alma, mi cuerpo grito know your enemy imploding
i see visions VOY A CAMBIAR EL MUNDO NO ERES LOCA SOY MESTIZA Y estas mujeres son la razón de mi sonrisa I WILL take a path through my darkness channeling your spirit MI DOLOR awakening to the enlightenment of truth i bow to the knowledge of your couth la leyenda de mestiza vive en mí
Why do (some) people keep complaining that those of us writing original work for this blog are choosing to remain anonymous? Why are you so uncomfortable? Is it a problem because we don’t need credit for our words? Are you disturbed because our egos don’t need stroking with pats on the back and high-fives? Does it bother you to not have a specific target to aim at when you disagree? Are you afraid that it’s your sister, your girlfriend, your mother who’s writing — and you don’t know?
We speak collectively because of our politics. We do not claim authorship for each individual piece because our experiences are shared by many women. We are creating safety for ourselves and our sisters by speaking our truth. We are unnamed because we are everywhere. You should assume that every single piece that has been published so far was written by a different woman. That’s a lot of voices rising in unity!
The other day, I heard someone call this “K’s blog.” Well, it’s not K’s blog, or A’s blog, or B’s blog. Dozens of women — an entire alphabet of mujeres — have already contributed, and a collective is staffing the submissions email addy, the Twitter feed, the FB page, and the Tumblr. This is not the work of one woman, no matter how awesome she may be. This is the work of many, and we are moving like wildfire, burning away patriarchal debris and illuminating a woman-centered landscape.
Just so you know — I’m not a member of the editorial collective, and my view on why anonymity is important may resonate with them, but it may not. You don’t know who I am, your assumptions are probably wrong, and you don’t have any say about what is going on here. You can’t bully us, and you can’t beat us. But you should definitely listen to us.
I’m not going to lie, life has hardened me.
I thought healing came with forgetting, but how can the vivid picture of seeing your own flesh and blood lying dead on the pavement floor be forgotten? How just is justice when pigs can gather around and separate us from him with a yellow piece of plastic caution? Then at the same time eat at the crime scene having a damn picnic as if to have no respect for the pain we all were going to face from then on. Don’t bother asking if I like cops, I much more than just dislike them. I don’t respect them. Fast forward to a year later, having heard the shots I ran out the apartment complex to a car pulling up aiming a gun at my face, looking at him dead in the eyes. If it weren’t for that retractable door between us who knows what my fate would have been. The cops question the homie while he’s on the floor bleeding.
“Where the fuck is the ambulance!” “He’s in shock how the fuck is he going to answer all those questions!” I yell, as she tells me to back up or she will have me detained.
Paying no attention to his wounds already deeming him a dead man. Trying to take justice into our own hands and not knowing how to heal… lead to more pain and losing the only person I could call my brother a few months later. Pointed fingers left me feeling guilty myself, I should have stopped him from leaving, why didn’t I? The stabbing feeling in my heart to know now I am alone. How can one heal when you live in a constant reminder of yesterdays?
How can I be soft and delicate in a world that’s so hard?