Mar 31, 2012

mujeres creando




Hermosa. una miradita al taller de el Colectivo Mujeres Creando, de Bolivia. Colectivo feminista que ha colaborado de muchas formas a la creacion y a la apertura de espacios, mas amplios.

Que placer, de imagen, y aire.

en esta manana, ese aire de lucha, esta muy presente en mi.


Mar 30, 2012

no fear

'Nothing intimidates me when I’m writing.' J.Derrida.

I feel again more connected to the words that Derrida made me love. I love his words because he spoke of the things that I was always curious. The first time I read that statement, I was very young, and I was going through a big moment of anxiety in my life, because someone read what I wrote to myself. Something secret. something painful. I thought back then that writing was death to me. and that I was death too.

I am not afraid of writing anymore. I’m not afraid of being abnormal; the writing to me creates who I am. But who I am is continuality. Is not going to end now, or in 5 years, I will continue to be. I am writing, therefore I’m alive. Writing was a necessity for me when I was 13 years old. And is a necessity now. Is the way I becoming to learn more about me, and others.

Mar 27, 2012

my feminist Identity

Today I have been thinking a lot about feminism and its influences on me. And I think that is very good for me. My history with my encounter with feminism is one of passion with literature and how I am becoming to interconnect the things I love, the things I believe in and the ones I hate seeing, such as injustices. 

Few years ago I would never consider myself a feminist. I was constantly fighting to take off that label from me. But this “fight” was due to knowing inside of me that I loved many of the ideas and values that the feminist movement promote and believe in.
Growing up in a culture where feminism it’s the enemy for women, I used to put those ideas that I had in a box with a big lock, in my diary.
I used to hear this very often: “women over 30 that wants to study are old single ladies forever, they will die dry” most of this comments were made by men and women as well. However, the ideas behind these statements were socially constructed on a patriarchal society where there was not space for a third option for women, it was only either married or not. Single or not. I knew right back then, that something was not completely right about those ideas. I always look up at my mom as my example, and know I understand that even if she doesn’t name it like that, for me, she was my big first example and firsthand experience with feminism.
She broke many rules of her time. She chose to be with a married man, and even though she continually listened to many voices telling her what was wrong of what she was doing, she stay close with her ideas and values as an independent woman. I don’t think she realizes the importance that the way she lived her life means to me.
Later in life I found myself realizing that something was not right in the way I was feeling about myself looking at my friends getting married, and achieving “normal” things for their age. I felt constraint for a long time with the weight of those ideas of the things that I “suppose to achieve” by then. But I was afraid to speak up.
It was not until I found myself in my studies of literature that I found a place where I could fit. And I fit right.

As I start learning about the construction of realities through literature, through texts and book, I became fascinated with the idea of paying attention, finally, to those ideas of being a woman in this world, in a text, in a way somebody speak about life through books.
I met with Derrida, Bakthin, Foucault, Rosario Castellanos, Elena Garro, among others that made me feel welcome in this world that was new to me: the world of the other.

It was mainly, Derrida and Foucault that made my skin excited with each reading.

On my introduction to Derrida, I remember a professor telling me about an image and the drawing it for me. The image was a hand writing something. And then, another hand writing something looking at the other hand writing something. That was a magical moment to me. This was almost 11 years ago and I still remember the importance of that moment in my life. That moment has become a pivotal moment in my development as a student, professional, writer, and last but not least, as a woman.
That image has so many meanings. But the idea that writing is something independent from meaning is amazingly fascinating to me. Derrida promotes that. Derrida is one of the most complex writers I have ever read, but its complexity has a meaning, many meanings. At that time, everything became clear to me. I remember thinking, so, after I write something I am not the author anymore! So, what’s the point!! I was perplexed. But then I start fascinating readings about women I love. I met Rosario Castellanos and her early feminist ideas in a traditional Mexico. I felt much identified. Then, I remember thinking, “now I know, her words are not only hers. They are mine too.”
Derrida talks, among many other things about the death of the author. The meaning of a story or a line that you read has not only one meaning. It has many. And it has as many meanings as many readers read that same line. Because the experience that a person brings into a reading is not the same experience ever. It will always change. I get so excited just by saying this. So excited that I almost forget that im talking about me and my journey through feminism.
This is a long journey. And im not able to summarize my journey tonight. But I can start by saying that this idea that concepts doesn’t have only one meaning is what makes me identify completely as a feminist. Because I am a mix of the feminist ideas that better fit to me. Because I believe that the legacy to fight against injustices is one of the best legacies I ever learn from somebody. From my grandfather, from my mother, and from some books and words that are opening my eyes my fantasies and dreams into a more complex experience than just that.
I believe that feminism is a way of being human. But it’s not the only way. Therefore, that its not the only thing I am. I am many. But feminism is close to my hearth as a human being and as a child that witnessed injustices. I really like, the idea of picking and choosing pieces of what I love of the feminism and other theories that I am fascinated by. And like I said, it doesn’t have to be one way. There is no need, when I can be many.

This is not my only journey. But my encounter with this writers are one way i have come closer to ideas im developing over the years, it was my second encounter. Seeing my mother being so strong was the first one. And the third one, that one can be for another night.


Mar 25, 2012



Me gusta que algo que se puede oir, o tocar, me haga llorar. lo poco que se de arte, lo se poco. Pero me llega mucho.

Hoy despues de algunos años vuelco a ver la pelicula Kamchatka, y me conmovio igual. pero por otras razones.

Escuchar esta hermosa cancion me hizo llorar, y recordar lo efimero de los momentos bellos.

Recorde cosas que leo y que me afectan de manera especial, desde niña. Recorde lecturas que leia mi padre, y que yo leia con una gran pasion pensando que si yo entendia lo que el leia, lo entenderia o estaria cerca de el.

Recorde cosas que mi madre a leido mias. cosas que se van.

Me pongo sentimental, asi nomas.

Esta cancion simplemente me recuerda a mi misma mi derecho a la escritura. mi derecho a lo que siempre he creido, que la escritura no es un escape de un escape y nada mas. son muchos escapes juntos y amontonados independientemente de quien este involucrado.

me recuerda el porque sigo creyendo. y me hace llorar.



Mar 24, 2012

My mother made me food last night. she felt happy i was at home. we talked about other people and their lives, we drinked some wine. our time together is not more than being together. and to me thats more than i can ask for.
She cooks and she is happy seeing other eat. Littlr things like that, that i wish i could have.

I like sunrises. and im happy if im sharing those.

I like not being the only one who sees the sun.

I guess in a way, i am kind of like her.

Mar 19, 2012




Hoy pense en como me han herido frases como estas, "mi tipo de mujer es..." y escuchar los "tipos" de mujeres que son el tipo de mujer de los hombres, incluyendo el fisico. Hoy me doy cuenta que esos "tipos" que algunos hombres han creado en su mente no son solo de ellos, son una creacion de la sociedad en la que ellos se han construido..ahora lo entiendo. El entenderlo, no quita el dolor. Me sigue hiriendo que de alguna forma yo fui presa de creer que esos estereotipos eran validos. Y hoy soy todo lo contrario. Hoy quiero romper estereotipos propios y estoy en busca de otros, de los mios. con otros nombres, con otras construcciones. Aunque este camino hacia otra identidad, hacia la que prefiero, no es del todo dulce. es amarga, y conlleva algunas lagrimas. pero la necesidad es una mezcla de placer y gusto. las identidades, las nuevas, son como una droga. no se puede dejar de tratar, de llegar a ella.


Mar 18, 2012

Identité



One of the philosopher that I really love is Judith Butler. No one can speak but herself the way she does. Love this documentary. Her conception of identity regardless gender and fighting for our preferences continues inspiring me. I am reading her now, and i cant stop. reading her is dangerous. meanings start multiplying. When I read her I feel I am having a conversation with her. I know, i love dreaming.

Mar 16, 2012




el poder del lenguaje nos hace segregar o dignificar al 'otro'.
hoy casi no puedo dormir pensando en este crimen de odio. muchas batallas se siguen aun perdiendo, y con ello la muerte. espero seguir teniendo esa esperanza.

Que triste. y que impotencia. que la discriminacion empiece por la boca..pero termina en asesinato.

Mar 14, 2012

Female otherness is created by discourse but also by spatial practices and constructs’                
    - Jean-Fracois Staszak


The ideas that are around me as woman are constructed by history, by men, by media representations, by traditions. They are not real.
This idea that ideas that we have in a society or in our life might be a social construction of our contexts, are really powerful to me. This idea gives me hope.
Gives me hope that what people are expecting of me are just socially constructed ideas of cultural expectations assigned to my gender.
I am fascinated by this idea of the otherness and how societies are assigning the meaning of being the ‘other’ to specific people, and not to other. In this process of assigning meaning, there is marginalization.
There is marginalization ideas by giving something or someone power, over others. And viceversa.  
I think about this often. And I will continue to. In many levels, in many way, im fascinated by what I don’t know about the ‘other.’ Including myself.

Mar 12, 2012

my body

I have been thinking a lot about my body lately, today, this year, right now.I hear things and stories about how it supposed to be my life at this moment in time. because of my age, because of my experiences, because of the family, and society. I hear: 'you should have a baby now, before it is too late, if thats somethings that you want".. "you should have a baby because i want to be a grandma".. and the last one: "we should make a baby, and that way we stay together,"..and many other phrases like that.

I think about what those discurses mean to me. Why they do affect me so much, even though, i know they shouldnt. Before they used to bother me because of the context. I used to think that if my situation changed I would be probably think differently about having or not a child. The stories transformed to many others when they are being processed thorugh pain, or the opposite, through happiness.

Now, those annoying statments about how my life supposed to be by this time, bother me for other reasons. Now I think about my body. and the power I have over it. I think about people think they have a right over the desicions of my body, and I feel really mad. I am tired of explaining. I am exausted to explain, even to myself what I want or not out of my body.

I do not now yet.

Maybe I want a child, but maybe not out of me.

or maybe yes.

and I will find out, even though becomes late.

That desicion will come from me, and from my body. and only from that binarie. I want to be in peace with my desicions, but mostly I want to be in peace, with it, with my body.

Mar 11, 2012

vw

Me pregunto si estare loca. siempre he estado obsesionada con la locura. en especial, la locura de las mujeres. siempre he tenido una gran curiosidad por las causas de la locura, sus consecuencias, razones, y el como vivir con ella. Pensando en ello, me ha fascinado la vida de Virginia Woolf. Compre el libro de su diario cuando me cambie a vivir a san diego, hace 6 anos. Recuerdo sentirme identificada, conectada con las experiencias de Virginia en terminos de aislamiento. de silencio. y de pensamientos que de tan internos se perdian en mi. Poco a poco pretendi entenderla. pero nunca lo hice. solo admiraba fascinada por aquello que yo no conocia, y que por lo tanto, no podia sentir en carne propia.

Me fascina lo que no conozco.

Espero nunca entenderla.

Mar 7, 2012

migration of identity

I have been thinking about Michael white today and the migration of identity. Today im realizing that I am migrating, that I have been migrating out of my old identity for a while a go now. It has been, and it is still, a long process. But I am embracing the fact that im deciding to be a different person, the woman that I want to be. A more free one.

The migration begun not only by physically moving away from the things that and the people that I didn’t wanted to be with. The migration started once I start thinking and feeling about myself in a different way. In a more compassionate way towards my own experiences. And mistakes.
I am noticing that there is no place in which i want to arrive, yet. But I know I want to go somewhere else. Within myself.
I have not arrived to my destination in this process of migrating, but will try this rite.

Mar 5, 2012

Una

La palabra clave para esta semana, para mi, es deconstruccion. de-construir las cosas que me pesan que vienen de las ideas patriarcales de actuar, de ser, de sentir, o de internalizar una experiencia de vida.

Yo he internalizado ser menos. menos que ___. menos que alguien, menos que muchos.

deconstruir, hoy, me ayuda. a sobrevivir. de los demas. de sistemas. de mi misma considerandome menos. Si paso a paso, deconstruyo lo que ese lenguage se ignifica en mi vida, sere capaz de mirarme al espejo y decirme, soy una.

por medio de de construirme, me reconstruire en la que quiero y anoro ser, en una.

Mar 4, 2012

Laya

I am listening to Nina Simone's station at pandora. While im listening, i cant help but thinking on many colors of women voices in my life. Women that are strong because of the humility that they present in my head. There is no other word but that one. Humility.
I think of great grandmother, abuelita Yala, and the stories i grew up listening, not from her, but from others about her. My greatgrandmother was a woman that all the characteristics of the indigenous women of Nayarit, Coras. She grew up at the time where looking more as indigenous was a sin. You were curse for life if your skin was dark. My greatgrandmother endure a lot of pain at her time. Pain that has not ended because times have not changed. At least not for us.

My great grandfather, on the other side, was light skin and had blue eyes. Zarco was his name. And i used to have a feeling of safety every time he huged me as a baby. I didnt have that feeling of safety from men as a child. But I do remember him. My greatgrandfather Zarco never stop drinking. And never stoped hitting my great grandmother. He used to come home drunk and attempting to hitting my greatgrandmother even with the 'machete' that he used to work with. I remember hearing from grandfather, Chuy, "thats her luck, thats what she gets for marrying a white man". The whole town and part of the family, assumed that she needed to endure that pain and way of life because of her position as an indigenous looking woman. But she never completely believe, or viewed herself as a victim.

She divorced him. and she leaved alone for many years until she died.

This may not sound as a happy story. But it is for me based on the context. I see my greatgrandomother Laya, as a pioneer woman that faced many obstacles and was treated badly for many years but that didnt conform with her 'luck'. She maybe ended up alone the rest of her years, but she chosed that life. It was her desicion, her power. She didnt hate my greatgrandfather. she just didnt want to be with him.

I remember her house. her smell. but mostly, i remember her long, long white hair. She used to be unique. extremelly thin and with a distict look of calmness that i will never forget.

I want many things from her. But as of now, I can only try by constructing with many stories, the idea of my perception of her, in my life.

Mar 3, 2012

I am an inconvenient woman. For some, for you. And for me because I keep fighting against me.

Mar 2, 2012

I went to a training today in which one of the professors, which is a brave woman, was talking about how invading other people’s home for therapy can create really damage for some families, instead of helping them. I so value the fact that that was coming from a woman in a position of some power, such as is her position as a professor, and Caucasian woman.

It got me thinking on the complexity of relationships, and how we can get effects over others without even knowing that.
I thought about her, and thought about my own assumptions of her before I start this program. Before I get into the program I did my research on the professors. I made assumptions about her. I thought that from all of the professors she was probably the one that I wouldn’t be able to relate at any level. That we didn’t have anything in common. I thought I knew all about her and was intimidated of her as well. She represented fears, and some of the general stereotypes that I was against. I was wrong.
After some time of getting to know her ideas, her previous experiences, and her way to interconnect personal experiences of fighting against labels, norms, and patriarchy, really relates to my own experience as a woman that is on her search of becoming closer to fighting some norms, that doesn’t fit with me anymore.
I like to interact with women like her. With women that have what I don’t have, women that have what I want.
Qualities that are at some place hidden in me, that I need to find out.

I am continually thinking about power and the relationship with power between women. I think on my own biases against her and biases that women that inspired me had about me.

I think on how other women may perceive me. And i think on the power that that perception may have on me. She told me once that i have a "desarming look."  I wasnt sure what that meant back then. But im thinking now that has something to do with this idea of being approachable, non judgemental. And im liking that idea. If there is something that i want to contribute to my identity is this piece of being just myself. with no pretensions. being natural and transparent about my intentions with people. In this sense, i guess im enjoying the fact that another woman gave me acompliment. And im really curious to have more ideas of other women about me, about others, about themselves, in this effort to construct our identities in ways that fit better for ourselves.

Mar 1, 2012

My Feminist March

I always receive my March's with a big smile. Regardless of what I have been through. And today is not the exception. I am (hopefully) going through another one of our multi break up. again. and again with the same. I don't know for how long, but this tons of little break ups really kill something on me each time. I feel almost a year older each time i decide to leave him on my past. Because that past keeps coming back. After crying all night, after feeling a great victim, I always make the desicion of staying alone no matter what.

Yesterday, after classes, I was about to die again. To be weak to not make sense. Once at home, i start crying on the shower, and under my blankets feeling powerless.

And I woke up. and March showed up.

It was a combination of March. of the Morning. of the coffee, and the lavender candle that make me feel again stronger.

I dont know for how long. and I dont need to know now. But today, March 1 received me alive. maybe lonely. but alive.
going back and back, from him. to him.
back to back.
and it does not feel right.
even though for now, this is only on my mind.

The lesser blessed

I have to tell you something, I said, I’m not going to lie, I have to tell you I have this god-shaped hole in my  heart, and I think you do ...