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To the round brown girls who are told they aren’t enough, who move in the world uncertain if there’s room for their bodies, selves, and hearts. Take all the room you need, camarada. Make no apologies. Fight hard. Love on each other. You are a miracle.
PALANTE * PA’LANTE (adverb) Puerto Rican slang, also used in Latin America and other parts of the Caribbean. Contraction of para adelante, meaning to move forward. A call out into the world for our people to always keep it moving.
“You must walk in this world with the spirit of a ferocious cunt. Express your emotions. Believe that the universe came from your flesh. Own your power, own your connection to Mother Earth. Howl at the moon, bare your teeth, and be a goddamn wolf.”
All the moments where I was made to feel like an outsider in a group that was supposed to have room for me added up and left me feeling so much shame.
“It’s everyone’s job to come up with a theodicy. One that has room for every inch of who they are and the person they evolve into.”
Our entire existence is constantly being validated and yeah, we have lots of shit to deal with because of the patriarchy. But for goddess sake, check your privilege. We’re the ones that need to give women of color space for their voices.”
Libraries had zero tolerance for bullshit. Their walls protected us and kept us safe from all the bastards that never read a book for fun.
Maybe America just swallowed all of us, including our histories, and spat out whatever it wanted us to remember in the form of something flashy, cinematic, and full of catchy songs. And the rest of us, without that firsthand knowledge of civil unrest and political acts of disobedience, just inhaled what they gave us.
“Your one job is to just accept what a person feels comfortable sharing about themselves. No one owes you info on their gender, body parts, or sexuality.”
Her consistent linking of genitals to gender as an absolute is violent as hell. It’s a closed fist instead of open arms, you know? And besides,” she added, staring at herself unflinching in the mirror, “womanhood is radical enough for anyone who dares to claim it.”
“But what did you think of yourself?” she asked. “What did you want to learn from this experience?” “I wanted Harlowe and this internship to change everything.” “But how, Juliet? What did you want to be different?” “The world,” I said. “I wanted her to change my world.” It was Mom’s turn to pause. The television noise died down on her end. She must have lowered it. We sat for a minute together, on opposite ends of the country, listening to each other breathe. “Mi amor, only you can change your world,” she said.
You said reading would make me brilliant, but writing would make me infinite.”
All the women in my life were telling me the same thing. My story, my truth, my life, my voice, all of that had to be protected and put out into the world by me. No one else. No one could take that from me. I had to let go of my fear. I didn’t know what I was afraid of. I wondered if I’d ever speak my truth.
Like Ava said: womanhood was radical enough for anyone who dared claim it.
Reflections of my womanhood rolled over me each with its own expectations like all the times I stared in the mirror as a kid wishing I was pretty like Ava. Or like, just not “fat and ugly” like me. I closed my eyes and imagined myself on my knees offering myself to the glory of womanhood. I broke off the pieces of me that were brittle from getting hollered at and also threatened on the block. Shook forth the doubt that came from lungs afraid of change and brick-ass NYC winters. Offered all of it to the glory and asked for clay to rebuild.
Dear Juliet, Repeat after me: You are a bruja. You are a warrior. You are a feminist. You are a beautiful brown babe. Surround yourself with other beautiful brown and black and indigenous and morena and Chicana, Native, Indian, mixed race, Asian, gringa, boriqua babes. Let them uplift you. Rage against the motherfucking machine. Question everything anyone ever says to you or forces down your throat or makes you write a hundred times on the blackboard. Question every man that opens his mouth and spews out a law over your body and spirit. Question every single thing until you find the answer in
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