I Smell like Victory

6/30

Entre más apuntan con el dedo juzgador,
that says que no eres de aquí, from this unfriendly soil, I am more sure of something: nobody else can replace the kindness of my people, those I left between the campo and those that are intertwined in the spiral caña and guaba hair.

#CrónicasParaDescolonizar

Mujer con Voz ©2016

 


photo credit

Never Enough 

Photo by Leo Rivas

3/30
My story is not fascinating like the ones you are accustomed to write about. I think my story repeats in every household composed of immigrants. The kids learn a new language, the one spoken by the parents disappears, and there is this thing, this loneliness, of belonging to two places at the same time and never being enough for any. I am a map ripped apart that still connects to its river, and even if it goes far in distance, always returns to its origins. 
#CrónicasParaDescolonizar

Mujer con Voz ©2016


 

Gossip 

2/30

Me confieso contigo
. I dressed that one day like I want the world to be inside my chest. ¿Qué te digo? No I didn’t want attention, no man spilling their tongues all over me, from far, from there, from across the gentrified corner. I just wanted to dress and feel beautiful inside and out, something these days we cannot say too loud. But the chismosas del barrio, they took each piece of my soul and destroyed it with their bare mouths. Aunque la mona se vista de ceda, mona se queda, look, look she is a prostitute seeking for attention wearing that dress that looks like a diaper instead of clothes, qué Dios la perdone, el mundo se va acabar, la mujeres de ahora no sirven.They didn’t know, how we are slaved in this notion, that the way you dress decides whether or not you are a good or bad member of society, that their words are prisoners of generations that couldn’t set their feet free, they assumed and they brake, they do not fix. The day I decided to feel beautiful for me, was the same day they assumed I was the bitch. 

#crónicasParaDescolonizar 

Mujer con Voz ©2016