“Stop Crying or I’ll Give You a Reason to Cry About”
The bruises and the scars remain on my back…
The bruises and the scars remain on my heart…
But it was all out of love
It was all for my progression and success
But I must confess
I am scarred.
I try so hard
to forget
I try so hard
to imagine a future
In which I don’t hit mis niños
Yet at the same time
Lo encuentro duro pensar su futuro
If I don’t.

This is in response to the recurring theme of the body and the opening passage “The Body Re/members.” In my personal experience, my body has always been a target for my parents. I think it is just part of the culture, as they were also beaten as kids. So, whenever they would get angry at me, instead of speaking to me, I’d just get hit. Because of this, I struggle with whether I deserved it or not and how I will discipline my kids in the future. I don’t want to hit them, because I never liked being hit myself. Yet, at the same time, I have no idea how else to teach them right from wrong.

Dear curvy girl, stop.

You are always worried

You are always scared

You are not yourself

Stop

Every curve in your body highlight

In the front , in the back

But you are not loving yourself

Stop

There is one that is hidden

The one in your face

The one that is the most important

Stop

Please STOP

Your body can be sexualized

Your body can be objectified

But not your soul

Be free, be you.

Pssst!

What a beautiful body. God bless you mami.

Where I come from, un piropo is like a how are you.

You get it everyday, at anytime, anywhere.

Pssst!

What a beautiful body. God bless you mami.

If you pay attention to it, you are considered a whore,

or they assume that you want somenthing with them.

If you don’t, you get insulted for ignoring them.

As we grow up we start to understand that enough is enough.

We don’t want to hear the…

Pssst!

What a beautiful body. God bless you mami.

Because through these lines we ask ourselves at some point,

“Since when does physical maturity signal that your body is available to any men at any time?”

Poetry response to Quintanales’ “Depression”

The past haunts me too

And all the injustices I have faced within myself

The hatred I used too, and sometimes still feel towards my body

This vessel that confirms my entire being

Everything I ever was and am, settled down within me

Why is it so hard to love myself?

Why is it a daily inconvenience?

Everyday I try to start anew

But what for?

What about the memories, talents, love within my body?

I am trying, slowly and willingly

To accept this vessel I call my body

To love it as much as I love others

I want to repair my beautiful skin

And nourish it, adore it

I have one life to live

My body has been my everything

My war tank, my demise, my whole presence

So let me work on myself

And learn to protect and nurture my body

Because it’s my own and will always be mine.

I felt so melancholic while reading Caridad Souza’s “Missing Body.” On the one hand, I was so amazed to find a testimonia that talked about the internalized disdain one can have for the “latina” parts of one’s body (curves, breasts, legs). But on the other hand, I was so disheartened by the fact that this is such a common occurrence for Latinas.

I have struggled with body image issues for my entire life, especially during my adolescence. I lived in a predominantly white New Jersey suburb, and I found that I was often fetishized by my white girl friends. They would comment on my breasts so often, usually leering in jealousy, but making me feel like such a freak. I was ashamed by the womanhood that had presented itself to me and everyone else through my hips; as they widened, so it seemed did the chasm between me and my self-esteem. I wanted to be thin and featureless, a true androgynous entity.

And I tried so tirelessly to achieve that image. I started running every day, I used my phone to count calories, I wouldn’t let myself eat in front of others. I became so ashamed of my body that I tried to whittle it down into nothingness, in the hopes that men would stop leering at my figure, that girls in the locker room would stop commenting on my breasts, so that I could fit in like all of the other white girls in size 2 jeans.

There’s no real moral to that story. I still struggle with food, honestly, and I am certain that a lot of it still carries over to my college experience because I go to school in such a predominantly white college town. I experience the same inability to look at my body in the mirror on most days like Souza. It was only until recently did I realize that my relationship with food was less a study in vanity as much as it was an attempt to suppress the parts of my body that gave away my “otherness”, my latinidad. I still feel an uneasiness about eating on most days. All I can say is that I’m working on it.

Dedicated to a very especial person in my life that I prefer to keep anonymous:

As Claridad writes about a missing body
I reacted in regards to missing souls
never thought of it this way
could it be possible that when all we care about is our great body
this is linked to the need of hiding our abused souls ?

Claridad’s testimony led me to think that she does not care about her body no more
because she don’t want no creeps looking at her in the wrong way
she kept working on her mind putting no effort on her body,
what about when all you want is guys’ attention, the wrong kind of attention
because you don’t realize your worth goes further than your body
because all of the emotional abuse you’ve suffered all of your life
you forever focus on your body putting no effort on your brain
because as far as you always known  you don’t have a brain ..

Dear the Unknown,

I used to be afraid of what would happen if I did not know what was next or not knowing the unknown. I was worried because sometimes the unknown is scary and we might not take chances but dear Unknown, I do not know you but I am thankful for all the advice you have given me.  Teaching that you can start small but always grow to be a better woman. When reading this I thought about my sorority, when I finished started my journey I never knew what my days consisted of but I know that one day I would be a great person. Just like you I knew I needed support, especially being a minority; being a woman. I remember when I was also biting through, being the first in my family to go to college at first was very hard; I was depressed. But, the Unknown can never cease to exist; it is always there in the back of your mind, watching, learning, waiting for the perfect time to manifest into a something new ask yourself questions like: “what will happen next?”, or how will I die?”

What I do know is that I want to die leaving my legacy behind. When I read about being a Latina and try to explain that to other people they will never understand, because you if you do not understand the unknown you will never understand the position you stand in.  No matter how hard you strain for us Latinas to be equal, you will never truly understand what being sad about who you are, what is at the bottom, IF there is a bottom or what could be staring you right in the face can make you FUERTE! Tu sabe the biggest fear to all humans is the fear of the unknown, but for me it has always been something that excites me.

Throughout my life, I have faced multiple obstacles placed in front of me, with each success and failure shaping the person I am today. However, in life like the Unknown has always followed us Latina because we were always targeted or forced by society hate who we are and how we are judged. For me, I continued with my battles of being Latina. I was placed in many situations where being myself and what I STAND for did not matter but afterwards but if it was worth it all!

So, dear Unknown thank you for tough messages that you would send my way but for also being there in silence giving me as a Latina advice to grow against all the odds against me. I am better than my limits and when you pass by again Unknown I hope you are ready to chat because I have a lot to say and I am grateful and I hope that you can stay. Stay to excite me for your next move and how that will reflect me and you, as we BITE through the hard times and work together to love you, us, and the unknown.

Resilient,

Menorka

Luz del Alba Acevedo in her testimony, “Speaking Among Friends: Whose Empowerment, Whose Resistance?’ displays the challenges and contradiction between feminism race and ethnicity in implementing new curriculums to undergraduate studies focusing on women studies.

This reading provoked in me the most interesting of reactions because I had never read anything on this topic before. I think it would be great in the United States could incorporate a nation wide “basic” curriculum for Latin American and Caribbean Studies and Women Studies.

I would like to point put the distinction the author makes between “what a woman is” and “who we are as women”(page 251).

I feel that the transition that Luz del Alba Acevedo mentions from being invisible to being the visible minority might be an experience that many of the “other” might experience when they arrive to this country, however sometimes is not always in the same way for everybody. I have a personal experience to share, before moving to the United States I was always Costarricense, if somebody (not that I remember anyone doing it) asked where I was from, Costa Rica that would be the answer, simple as that. I had always lived with Costarricenses around me.

When you separate yourself from the comfortable space is when you start realizing who you are. Oh the first thing here when I was applying for school, how would you describe yourself?

Latino, White, Asian, Other.. I was in my head like “hmm I am white”, I associated whiteness to the color of one’s skin, not to race nor ethnicity..

Who defines diversity? After these profesoras find themselves with this puzzle, a new code for the “other” is created “women of color” I wouldn’t necessarily say Asian are people of color, then we go again with the differentiation between color, and ethnicity. Luz argues how her professionalism was shadowed by the university’s need to fulfill their inclusion and multiculturalism quota.

It is amazing how whiteness would mostly be associated with patriarchal power regardless of gender. I cannot believe the whole women’s studies faculty would team up against a professor that challenges their ideological teachings, instead of acting as professionals in their field they behaved as petty ignorant people.

As I grew up, I listened several times people calling me too white. Too white, for being Ecuadorian, too white for being mestiza and even too white for being related with my family. However, according to the same people I couldn’t be considered Blanca either, because at least in my country this term is only acceptable when you are Blanco Europeo, which means that you dont have any kind of mixture, but nowadays no one is 100% of anything. Its something I have get used to it, nevertheless I am sick of hearing it. I am tired of explaining people that you can be white and be born in a south american country, I am tired of explaining that I am in fact related to my grandparents even though they are not white, but mostly I am tired of this stereotype because at the end of the day, it only helps to increase the racism.