Sunday, March 16, 2008
Inin otik chichike kanoche nin toyolo: This I write from my heart:

Cihuatl Ollin: The Mental Movement of Women

Saturday, March 8th was International Women's Day. Originally, I had hoped to spend the day in the company of my sisters- my lovely and powerful Indigenous friend Gaby, and other fellow sisters of color on the campus of UC Berkeley... However, due to the reality of my single-income household, I was unable to make it out to the annual Empowering Women of Color Conference that kicks so much ass.
I did make it out to a smaller, but legitimately inspiring luncheon that focused on the life of Emma Goldman. As I am considering a double-major in Ethnic Studies and Gender Studies (and just because I am an enthusiastic rule breaker), hearing about such revolutionary women is oh-so-fascinating in my book…
I was quite intrigued by her misfit status- she was highly criticized by everyone! Men and women- especially those women who considered themselves to be the radical and progressive of that time- condemned her uncompromising opinions and critical questioning of the real worth of women’s suffrage. Part of Emma Goldman’s plea seemed to be for women to own up to the corruptive way that they viewed themselves- stating that the prevailing frame of mind of the late 19th century and early 20th century had much to do with the level of equality we would ultimately have with men, as well as the advancement we would achieve in society.
Modern women of the 21st century have remarkable opportunity for advancement that seems to transcend the boundaries of gender. Women are now benefiting from the materialized achievement that was conceptualized two centuries ago by the many insistent voices and struggles of women foreign and domestic. Great strides have paved the way for exceptional educational opportunity for women, and we have proven time and time again that we are highly capable of contributing to the academic world.
In the time before Emma Goldman, two women in particular, Mary Wollstonecraft and Judith Sargent Murray, voiced their revolutionary and fervent arguments that challenged such ideas like those of the Republican Motherhood, which suggested women should only be educated as a means of better serving their husbands and children. It was their (Wollstonecraft and Murray’s) argument that the women of the late 18th century were fully equipped to develop their minds as much as their female physicality.
Currently females are still dealing with the implication of inequality (if not blatantly displayed) regarding the perception of what defines a man and a woman; a perception handed down through the years from our predecessors of early nationhood. Anyone can look up the definition of womanly in 2008 and find that it is comprised of characteristics or qualities that are viewed as “positive; especially warmth, and calmness.” Similarly, when defining manly by the same reference, you find “qualities conventionally thought to be characteristic of, or appropriate to, a man, especially physical strength or courage.”
I have talked about this idea of femininity before, so it always interesting to learn further how this sort of thinking took root in this society we now find ourselves in. It is even more interesting how this frame of mind impacted women of color; who were even more overlooked and misrepresented than white, colonial woman fighting for “women’s” rights- rights that fell short of fully supporting Black, “Hispanic,” and Native American women.
This belief regarding woman’s fragility (and a subsequently fragile mind) and man’s courageous and protective qualities (and undoubtedly strength of mind) - was highly prevalent in a time when women gave up their freedom- forfeiting their rights to their money and their property- to seek the protection of man, provided through marriage. Their inability to be autonomous and their disinterest in such status was presumably smothered in the early stages of youth by colonial conventions, long before it had a chance to breathe a different frame of mind into the conceptions of females. These perceived male qualities of intellectual curiosity and adeptness existed in stark contrast to the view of the weaker female concerned only with being feminine and pleasing their husbands.
In a time when the most influential men, like Thomas Jefferson, spoke of women as only being useful in their capacity to have children and be helpmates to men, while emphasizing the beauty of their physical qualities as opposed to their mental faculties; a most audacious Judith Sargent Murray, rose to challenge such conventions. It was her estimation that women, being deprived the opportunities to gain an education like their male counterpoints, became captive to false feminine ideals. This product of deprivation is communicated through her writing in On the Equality of the Sexes. I really felt like the following passage summed it up well, “At length arrived at womanhood, the uncultivated fair one feels a void… What can she do? To books she may not apply… Fashion, scandal, and sometimes what is still more reprehensible, are then called in to her relief… Meantime she herself is most unhappy.”
Upon reflection of my own personal evolution as a woman, I find that I relate very much to the convictions expressed by these women over 200 years ago. Having made my own sort of bold strides towards understanding the meaning and direction of my life, I embarked on an excavation of my own psyche in my early twenties. This exploration gave way to my decision to return to school; which in turn led to the discovery that the qualities which so defined my being prior to my intellectual “rebirth” were out-of-date and really just inadequate to illustrate who I was. Superficiality- that concentration on attaining praise based on my femininity or my endeavor to attain and exemplify physical perfection (which had so pervaded my world and my view)- fell short of inspiring a sense of wholeness and strength, and empowerment that my intellectual nurturing has most abundantly inspired.
The focus of a woman’s significance then should not completely overlook the existence of her femininity- allowing any woman to express and define what that is for herself- but rather give chief attention to, and greater magnitude to, the contributions of her intellect and the innovations of her multifaceted mind. And it is through her perception first- what she feels she is capable of and the muscle she is willing to put behind it- that will give momentum to the change she so envisions.

Wednesday, November 8, 2006
Inin otik chichike kanoche nin toyolo: This I write from my heart:

For the Love of Frida

Frida Kahlo... Divine. Her name glides across my lips as an expression of perfection. In all her complexity, in all her sensuality and tragedy; her story exists as an inspiration to me and many other people of all walks of life… If there is a common recognition continually resurfacing in my life, it is the awareness of this huge gray area that exists in our mental, emotional and sexual understanding. There is this gigantic shadow world filled with crazy, passionate impulses reverberating within us. Should it be denied? Is that which may be unearthed, in it's daring exploration, as dangerous as the loss of never taking that plunge into the depths of your soul, into the capacity of your feeling?
Frida dove deep… deep into the exploration of love and pain and possibility. She led a life unbound by conventional standards, and loved another despite his compulsion that would threaten to break them apart. Her life was a beautiful, raw and tender tale I hope we will not soon forget…


PEEP FRIDA AND DIEGO ON YOU TUBE...

Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Inin otik chichike kanoche nin toyolo: This I write from my heart:

Thoughts of Femininity

Femininity... hmmm... I read a blog earlier this morning that aroused my thinking on this topic.
First off, femininity is defined as the quality of looking and behaving in ways conventionally thought to be appropriate for a woman or girl. I am in very few ways a conventional woman. This is not to say I do not abide by the laws or customs of society; in all my rebelliousness, I do succumb a lot more than I'd prefer. But I'm sitting here wondering, what are these ways?? Is to be feminine to be sweet and compassionate, to be comforting and nurturing, and is this also to be womanly? I was surprised when I looked up the word "womanliness."
I discovered that by definition, womanliness is synonymous with maturity, calmness and competence. So, I ask this; am I less of a woman, or lacking in femininity if I am so moved by the inequality, oppression and degradation in this life, that I then use my voice in opposition- fueled by my passion, at times ignited by my anger- to speak up?? If I choose to not always smile, to not always be tender in my actions; if I display the rawness I feel, the strength radiating from my core; if I make use of the sharpness of my tongue- suggesting words that do not ooze sensuality and fragility and vulnerability- does this make me masculine?So be it.
I have said it before, I'll say it again- I am duality. I have grown into the understanding that I cannot categorize who I am, what I feel, who I love, and what I want by conventional, sexually defined divisions. I feel vulnerability when I look at my children; understanding that for them to be in my life, also means they can be taken away. I know any man with a connection to his children would feel the same way. I feel calm and serene, and nurturing when I'm cooking in my kitchen, making food filled with love for the ones I love. I feel physically powerful and transcendent when I am getting tattooed. I feel attraction to beautiful women, beautiful men, beautiful beings with exquisite minds and souls. It cannot be deduced to being heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, masculine, or feminine for me. Maybe I am androgynous in my being. I'd rather identify with something that does not hold limits on my perception, or my experiences.
I hope to never succumb to any definition that you may find while flipping through any old dictionary to uncover what it is to be a woman. I do not love my curves any less than the muscle I work hard to nurture in my body. I treasure the waist-length hair I wear, that I've earned through pregnancies and dedication, as I equally cherish the magnitude and the deepness my voice resonates when I am serious - which, I must admit, is a lot of the time... If I shall be categorized, then let it be by my definition...

warrioress (n): wor-ree-or-ess 1. a present-day adelita- a revolutionary with words as my arsenal- working for the future of my people and children through strength of mind; who may at times be (both separately and simultaneously) divinely sensual and audaciously outspoken. 2. a seducer of conceptions for the illumination of greater consciousness as a means of revealing a new awareness to any and all people willing to consider a different point of view.

Monday, October 9, 2006
Inin otik chichike kanoche nin toyolo: This I write from my heart:

The Making of This Woman

I was brought into this world an old-soul in an infant’s form, with my mama’s hope that my arrival would bring about the end of the turmoil she and my father were enduring in their passionate, yet destructive relationship. My parents, two very young, very talented and equally troubled individuals, struggled to keep our family of three young children together in the midst of my father’s drug addiction & my mother’s breaking, restless heart…
Heeding the call of her soul, and cleaving to three small babies along the way, my mother moved on and chose a father for her children that would win over my heart and serve as the model to which I would compare every man I’d encounter for many years to come… Though his presence in my life was short-lived; the foundation he assisted in creating for me endured and was fairly pivotal in my mental reclamation (from Hell’s depths) at different points in my young life. So, despite their impending divorce and the years of rollercoaster emotional exchange that lead up to it, this relationship and this father-figure would provide for me a sense of security that would nurture the discovery of my distinctiveness, my worth as a woman, and the fortitude and potency of my words. On the flipside of that, I had also uncovered that this need for security later in life- a mental construct I believe is quite illusionary- motivated those choices for settling for that which was neither mentally, nor soulfully nourishing. All in all though, all roads and all choices have lead me to my current place of peace within my heart and soul; albeit, it has been a long and laborious journey…

I wonder if this sensitivity- this essence of me, which allows me to feel so deeply- is such an advantageous trait to possess. In my adolescence, I carried the weight of the turmoil of the outer world, and my inner world on my shoulders- namely the chaos my family was dealing with and still healing from through the existence of several disheartening ordeals- divorce, abuse, illness, disability… Concurrently, I was becoming increasingly aware of the separation between myself and the majority of my peers. This distance was not unknown to me, but certainly the gap seemed to be widening with each passing year. So, I turned the pain inward. I used intoxication to inhibit my intuition and to desensitize my heightened perception of an unloving world and painful home life. Experiencing far too much at far too young of an age had disastrous consequences on my young body & mind. I would soon enter a bleak period of my life. Anxiety had a firm grip on my being; fear had it’s claws set deeply into my outlook … But, alas, they would not conquer me…
We are a like rocks, the women in our family. We are strong- strong in mind, even stronger in heart- we survive the harshness that life brings forth; not so much unscathed, but we keep on moving nonetheless… damn, like rolling stones… I’ve heard it said before- our toughness bestows a sort of love protected with an armor-like casing; impenetrable for some who attempt to breach it’s depths, and prone to inflict injury upon those who are tenacious enough (or foolish enough) to make it through…
This reminiscing- it does its share of mending the wounds… Articulating the words is like releasing some of the poison… There is so much more to say… That pedestal though, that my Step-Dad once stood upon for so many years, has well, sort of collapsed as my idea of a perfect parent, or a perfect person has become dismantled by this merciless reality. Thank the Creator for this, for it is what has opened up my eyes and heart to my Mother- what allowed me to make peace with her- when I understood that she was just like I am now; trying to make her way through this world with hopes and dreams locked away in her heart, as she works her ass off to make sure her children will have a chance…

Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Inin otik chichike kanoche nin toyolo: This I write from my heart:

Enhancing Soul by Way of Skin

With all the difficulty I have faced the last few years, I felt the need to commemorate this rebirth of me; having found a sense a peace, and long awaited understanding of my Self- a reconnection to my heritage and the awareness of my place in this world, for what truly feels like the first time...
My right arm is the canvas for what will be a sleeve ending right below my elbow in its completion. I have dedicated the last two years to learning my native tongue Nahuatl as much as time will permit, so it was important that my art represent this beautiful language of poetry... 'Noyollo Iztaya' is translated into 'my heart becomes white'; which is further translated as having found joy in the heart or having a long-desired wish come true. I have much to be thankful for and to be joyful for, as I have reunited with love in many forms this last year... Two herons represent the two little girls, who upon entering my life, catapulted me on a journey that has sent me home to the heart of myself. White herons are also symbolic in the Nahua culture, as they are native to the area of the ancestors- Aztlan - which means 'Place of the herons.' And finally, Tonatiuh resides on my shoulder, above everything; symbolizing my responsibility to the preservation of my culture, as well as my childrens future on this planet- the rising of a new sun...
For me, getting tattooed presents a unique opportunity to capture the happiness, growth, pain or revelation experienced so fleetingly in this life and make it a more permanent experience...
When I set out on this journey of transformation, my intent was to capture the essence of what I had been experiencing prior to the time of starting my sleeve... Little did I know, the joy would keep coming- is still abounding- and that I would find new inspiration and connection that has illuminated my heart and soul.

WORK BY JASON McCONNAUGHEY, BOUND BY TRADITION TATTOO,  FRESNO,CAWORK BY JASON McCONNAUGHEY, BOUND BY TRADITION TATTOO,  FRESNO,CA

WORK BY JASON McCONNAUGHEY, BOUND BY TRADITION TATTOO,  FRESNO,CAWORK BY JASON McCONNAUGHEY, BOUND BY TRADITION TATTOO,  FRESNO,CA

Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Inin otik chichike kanoche nin toyolo: This I write from my heart:

Muscle Memory


I am convinced...
Love has no bounds.
Our self-imposed limitations about such an experience
are easily dismantled by this force
that is much greater than our narrow views of time,
and it's ability to heal....
Love does not move in a linear direction
no such thing as loving this person now,
and never again feeling the pang in your chest years later-
after you've "moved-on"... Wishful thinking.
Rather, love encompasses all spaces of your heart and psyche;
at times setting one against another...
And reason, well, it does not apply in this venue of emotion, of being...
This Love; it is madness- though it is also divine hope,
exquisite pleasure, and haunting regret.
It truly never dies;
but lives on within our souls forever-
claiming its permanent home in a fragile place within our hearts-
all the beats of our lives,
and beyond.