Emerging: Mi Cultura..Mi Jornada-My Culture..My Journey

Monday, June 13, 2005

To Rant and Purge... In my own Words

Another Study, More Deceit
You mean Puerto Rico is still Not the 51st State?? It seems like the hottest topic for the past five years has been about Puerto Rico and its status. In an article from the Christian Science Monitor, 2003, “taking Puerto Rico out of limbo,” the editor cited that the White House would be conducting another study. The study is meant to answer the question; should Puerto Rico become the 51st state, remain a Commonwealth or become an independent? Though the new task force that President Bush appointed has not completed this study, the discussions have been bandied about for the past 105 years.

While I agree that the people of Puerto Rico need to decide what would be best for them, I don’t agree this decision should come from one selected group of people. This task force is made up of mostly Americans who have no knowledge of what it’s like to be a Puerto Rican living on the Island or a Puerto Rican living in the United States. For this to be a fair study, the citizens who live on both sides of the spectrum should be the one’s conducting the study. It is my belief that only when Our Votes count will we have any power. The people voted into office in this country are those who will, on a daily basis, make decisions that can and will affect the people of Puerto Rico by virtue of its being a “Commonwealth of the United States.” Therefore, the people of Puerto Rico and their votes should be taken seriously.

Honestly, how would you like someone not of your country, culture, or origin; dictate what happens in your country, yet you can’t be a part of the election process that puts that person in charge of the decisions that affect your country and your people? So again, our 2.4 Million votes don’t count. Puerto Ricans have to decide if they want to be the 51st state, and yet, we are NOT the one’s leading the “study” that will allow us to truly decide for ourselves what is best for the Isla.

So I have the following questions regarding this “new” study: 1) Where are we in terms of the cost of this study? 2) How much longer will the study take to complete? 3) Why was the option of remaining a Commonwealth not included as part of what this task force should study? Last but certainly not least; 4) who benefits from the decision once the study is complete and will those benefits favor the people of Puerto Rico?

I am sure that those chosen to conduct this study are not doing so on a volunteer basis, or out of love for a people most of them wouldn’t deem good enough to sit at the same table with. Let’s face it, these studies have been going on for years, it’s still being debated here as well as in Puerto Rico, and still there's no decision.

And let us NOT forget that it is unconstitutional as well as undemocratic for the option of remaining a Commonwealth not to be included in this study. I find this to be a strong-arm tactic. The motive here is to take away the Puerto Rican's voice. It's either join or become independent. Lose yourself to the United States or lose your country to the untread waters of independence. This smacks of the same insidious tactics used on the American Indians... "We've given you citizenship, we've lulled you with our Bountiful Commerce, (not to mention stripping you of your pride with welfare), we've pretty much taken over a lot of your Island, and now we want complete control, isn't that a great deal?" I mean, what more could we possibly want?!?

While there was a time that Puerto Rico could have tried to survive as an independent nation, that option is not available today. No longer is Puerto Rico rich in sugar and tobacco that were a pretty big industry and could have become larger. So much progress has taken place that sugar cane and tobacco fields are extinct. Puerto Rico no longer has anything to export or trade with.

I feel this study as all the others before it will not answer the question of whether Puerto Rico should become the 51st state or become independent. As long as the people conducting these studies, and those making the decisions, are not the people of Puerto Rico. The study will continue to fail; the questions will continue being asked. Thus the study is useless. One thing I am pretty sure of-Puerto Rico, in this present day, could not survive as an independent nation.

I have yet to find what advantages Puerto Rico was given when it was granted U. S. Citizenship in 1917. It seems to me now, as it was then, that the people of Puerto Rico continue to give in more than what they get out. There is no balance of power; Puerto Rico lost much when they went into this agreement back in 1917, the least of which was the loss of our lands. Land that is no longer owned by us but mostly by Corporate America and the U.S.

Puerto Ricans really need to wake up and pay attention for in not doing so they will find that the decision will have been completely taken out of their hands. They will find that there is no longer La Isla. Puerto Rico will become just another overrun state in an already overrun country. We don’t need the study to be completed; Puerto Rico is still a Commonwealth of the U. S. The decisions have not been made and yet the changes can already be seen in Puerto Rico. No longer do Puerto Ricans and the occasional vacationer inhabit Puerto Rico, I daresay there are more foreigners there now than there are Puerto Ricans.

Puerto Rico…La Isla del Encanto (The Isle of Enchantment) is no more. The streets are riddled with drugs; the beaches, once beautiful and serene are beginning to lose their luster. The island, filled to bursting with progress; tall cement buildings calling themselves hotels and resorts. My final question; what are people going to find so beautiful about the island if we don’t stop the "giving of ourselves away?" Lets face it, if i want to give up a beautiful view, or go to beach where I could just walk across the street for a burger, I don’t have to go to Puerto Rico, I just stay here and do it for a lot less.

Wake Up Puerto Rico!! What are you waiting for? You fought for a small part of the Island, when you fought for Vieques, why are you NOT fighting for your rights where it matters most? What will it take for you to wake up?

Finally, Emiliano Zapata once said "I rather Die on my Feet, than Live on my Knees." We are still living on our knees, every time our voice is taken away, every time more of Puerto Rico is lost, ever time a Latino kid can't speak or understand their language, we continue to live on our knees. As a Proud Latina I say, "Una voz puede crear un murmullo, Muchas voces crean un clamor." - "One voice can create a buzz, Many voices create a roar." a.e.m. 2003
This Emergence Ocurred at , 4:30 PM | link | 0 comments |

Saturday, June 11, 2005

MALE PRIVILEGE

A poem for men who don't understand what we mean, when we say men have "it."

Privilege is simple.
Going for a pleasant stroll after dark.
Not checking the back of your car as you get in,
sleeping soundly.
Speaking without interruption
and not remembering dreams of rape,
that follow you all day,

that woke you crying,
and Privilege is not seeing your stripped, humiliated body
plastered in celebrationacross every magazine rack.

Is going to the movies and not seeing yourself terrorized,
defamed,
battered, butchered
seeing something else.

Privilege is Riding your bicycle across town without being screamed at
or run off the road,
not needing an abortion,
taking off your shirt on a hot day, in a crowd,
not wishing you could type better just in case,
not shaving your legs,
having a decent job and expecting to keep it,
not feeling the boss's hand up your crotch,
dozing off on late-night busses,

Privilege is being the hero in the TV show not the dumb broad,
living where your genitals are not denied
knowing your doctor won't rape you.

Privilege is being smiled at all day by nice helpful women
it is the way you pass judgment on their appearance with magisterial authority,
the way you face a judge of your own sex in court

and are over-represented in Congress
and are not strip searched for a traffic ticket or used as a dart board
by your friendly mechanic.

Privilege is

seeing your bearded face reflected through the history texts
not only of your high school days but all your life,
not being relegated to a paragraph every other chapter,
the way you occupy entire volumes of poetry
and more than your share of the couch unchallenged.
It is your mouthing smug, atrocious insults at women

who blink and change the subject politely.

Privilege is how seldom the rapist's name appears in the papers
and the way you smirk over your PLAYBOY.

It's simple really,
Privilege means someone else's pain,
your wealth is my terror,
your uniform is a woman raped to death here, or in Cambodia or wherever
wherever your obscene Privilege writes your name in my blood,
it's that simple,
you've always had it,
that's why it doesn't seem to make you sick to your stomach,
you have it,
we pay for it,
now do you understand?
------------by D. A. Clarke 1981
This Emergence Ocurred at , 11:50 PM | link | 0 comments |

Friday, June 10, 2005

Yesterday

I felt myself die yesterday, twice! No, I am not crazy. What I have is visions, premonitions, etc... I hate it because I never get enough to be of any help! Some have told me to try and work with it to make it stronger, but they don't feel the things I feel when I am going through one!

Sometimes it comes in slowly, like a picture through a hazy mist, sometimes it starts kind of water-colored, other times its just BAM! Right there! I've had this since I was a kid, no, I don't remember exactly when it started. Though I remember many of the dreams I had as a kid that came true. My mom never freaked because she too would get them, she understood that I had this "gift" though I don't think even she understood why. Anyway, I digress...

Yesterday---I laid down, tired, feeling nauseous. Tried to take a nap, and couldn't. My middle child was getting ready to go out, and I start to feel anxious about everything, my insides start to quiver. I know what's coming, so I call my Oldest into my room. I explain what's happening and she tells her sister that she can't leave yet, to wait 'cause I'm having one of my visions. They both come into the room, and start to ask me what I see (they do this as it helps me).

I see the color yellow coming in, looks almost like a rectangle of yellow but looks like someone took a pencil and shaded in the edges. I start to see the color green like it's spilling on top of the yellow, it's tree branches. Suddenly I feel this bang to my left temple, like a quick explosion of pain, then... I see red kind of seeping into unto the yellow from the side. I see a young girl, blonde, short hair, I see me/her (I know it to be her Spirit) just sit up, look around, no pain, no confusion... the words come into my head.. it is what it is. Shit! I want out of this! one of my daughters asked me if I was seeing a car accident, I say, I am not sure, but I think so, do I see other cars, is there someone else in the car with her, NO! just her, and she's gone. but then I see a man behind a counter, this one I am looking at like I am outside looking in. He is giving a bag to a young girl at the counter, it's a convenience store, I must be standing at the door as you walk in because I can see both the man behind the counter and the girl, she has brown hair, she is smiling, she has a dark dress on with a small flower print on it, as she walks by me and out of the store, I hear myself thinking, my God, she doesn't know that she will not make it home today! I start crying, I could hear my daughters asking me if I want to pull out, but I can't, I never can, I need to finish it any way it wants to end. I see a tigers face, my daughters ask questions, is it this is it that? No, it's like a symbol, a symbol on a sign. I can tell this is different, I don't feel like it could be connected to the first one but it could be, I just don't know!!! I see brown boots, no heels, leather, you can tell because they look comfortable, broken in, she loves those boots. There it is, I see the boot looks like it's coming off, but it's not, she's been hit by something. She is laying there in an awkward position, then it's me, I can feel my life/her life slowly seeping away, it's as if the light is dimming slowly slowly. It stops, I cry, I feel such a loss, my heart feels like its breaking, I feel myself rocking side to side,I'm rubbing my chest, I hear my daughters telling me to let it go. I am finally able to. I am depressed the rest of the day, I don't much feel like doing anything but let myself feel miserable, and numb. I put this in here today, couldn't do it yesterday.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 5:39 PM | link | 0 comments |

En Mi Viejo San Juan

En mi viejo San Juan
Cuantos sueños forjé
En mis noches de infancia.
Mi primera ilusión
Y mis quitas de amor
Son recuerdos del alma.

Una tarde partí
Hacia extraña nación
Pues lo quiso el destino;
Pero mi corazón
Se quedó frente al mar
En mi viejo San Juan.

Adiós (adiós adiós)
Borinquen querida
(dueña de mi amor)
Adiós (adiós adiós)
Mi diosa del mar
(mi reina del palmar)

Me voy (ya me voy)
Pero un día volveré
a buscar mi querer
a soñar otra vez
en mi viejo San Juan.

Pero el tiempo pasó
Y el destino burló
Mi terrible nostalgia.
Y no pude volver
Al San Juan que yo amé
Pedacito de Patria.

Mi cabello blanqueó
Ya mi vida se va
Ya la muerte me llama.
Y no quiero morir
Alejado de ti
Puerto Rico del alma.
Adiós ...
-----by Noel Estrada

ahhh, Puerto Rico, mi Isla del Encanto!
No me doy por Vencida, aqui estoy
esperando el dia en que pueda volver.

For those of you that may not know... This is not our true Anthem but to most Puerto Rican's this means to us what the Star Spangled Banner is to North American's. The Latina in me cries every time I hear my song, just as the part of me that has grown up American cries when I hear the Red, White, and Blue.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 4:27 PM | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, June 08, 2005

The Children of My Heart

While I have three children of my own, and have mentioned them here. I have not mentioned the children of my heart. These children came to me through my kids. Little do many of us realize, our childrens friends can touch us in many ways.

First there is Virgil. He came into my life when at a very early age (in elementary school) he fell in-love with my oldest (same school). Virgil would come by to see Nana, always had a small offering for her, and always something for me. But it wasn't the small offerings that made me love him. It was the manner in which I could see the love for my child shine through his eyes. The care he took in always having time for her, his wonderful manners didn't hurt either! I was devastated (internally of course) when as they got older, my daughter confided that she loved Virgil, but more as a brother. I was a little dissapointed, but comepletely understood.
Virgil and Nana have grown up, Virgil went off to college, he is a daddy now, and I am soooo proud of him for the way he has stood up to the challenge of fatherhood. He keeps in touch, and I rarely get to speak to him as my daughter hogs the phone when he calls, but he always sends his love, I always send him mine. Virgil, son of my heart... Thank you for loving my oldest (in the early years), protecting my youngest, and for turning out to be the kind of man any mother would be proud to call a Son.

Enter Lorenzio (my name for him) and Marciece (I always want to put a Q in his name). They sort of came in at about the same time, both in high school with my oldest, and they along with my daughter quickly became the Three Muskateers and stationed themselves in my home. From the moment I first met these two, I felt an emotional pull, and I also knew two things right away. One, that my daughter had a thing for Marciece, but I knew he was not THE one for her. Two, that my Lorenzio was gay. Yes, You read correctly! Of course, at that time, I am not sure he knew he was, I never asked him, though I did ask my daughter and she said no. It was for Lorenzio that my love grew even faster. I guess I was preparing deep down inside for the day when He realized he was gay, and for the day he would tell his parents. I guess I prepared myself to give him all the love I could because I had seen too often what rejection from family does to a gay person. I was NOT going to allow him to feel that there was anything wrong with him!!! Thankfully, he did not need what I was prepared to give, his parents understood and accepted him. Lorenzio keeps in touch and he is doing well. He better always wear a raincoat too.

Marciece on the other hand was very much a heterosexual but with such an open mind. His quiet strength and his beautiful mind would leave me in awe sometimes. At that time, I could see the inner turmoil he may not even know he battled with. He seemed adrift for a while, not sure what he wanted to do with his life. He was sometimes quiet but always honest, I found that such a refreshing quality in someone so young. He is grown now, still handsome, writing his music, he has made a CD which I am still waiting to hear, and I am sure that which ever road he takes, it will always be the High one.

Monica, my String Bean, is my middle childs friend. She and Vero were partners in crime so to speak. Always together like two peas in a pod; wherever they went. Monica had a mischievious streak in her and very spunky for someone so skinny a strong wind could've blown her over. But always so sweet and affectionate, always ready with a quick smile and a warm hug. I hated that she joined the Navy, but she was so happy about it. We don't get to hear from her too often as she is constantly being moved around, last time we got a call she informed me she was engaged. Grrrrrr....He better be good to her or I'll go a huntin'!

Robin came in with the wind and just as quiet, but so sweet with her sometimes gentle manners. She tried to be the goody, goody but I could tell she was just like Vero, if she had something to say, she would without compulsion! Take no prisoners kind of thing. She is going to be a mommy now, and Vero will be the Godmother. I miss her so much. Her spontaneous laughter and her pretty smile.

Robbie came into my life through my Son. It turns out that he and 'stevie became fast friends when 'stevan defended him against a bully (I wish that bully would see Robbie now). Now these two were trully inseperable! My goodness, you couldn't see one without seeing the other, that's how often they were together, where one went, the other followed, period! Anybody wanting to mess with Robbie would always have to be willing to take on Estevan and vice versa. Robbie learned to take care of himself. They have both grown up so much. I have to keep saying they because they are so much alike in so many ways. I still feel terrible that I had to move to Florida. I could still see the tears in his eyes and hear Robbie's plea in his question "Do you have to move away?" If I had only known then what I know now Robbie, I would NEVER have moved to Florida. Estevan misses you too. And so do I. If you can't make it here this summer, he will see you there, I will make sure of this again.

Virgil, Lorenzio, Marciece, Monica, Robin, Robbie... All grown, all beautiful people, all children of my heart.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 2:18 PM | link | 0 comments |

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Tattoo's,Morality and Minor Rebellions

I am not quite sure how old I was when my mother first told me that tattoo’s were a bad thing for women to do to their bodies. When I asked Mami why it was a bad thing, she simply made a face and said that only “loose” women had them. But what did it mean? And why wasn’t it bad for men? I never did get a clearer answer than that from my mother but as I got older, I began to understand that it was an integral part of our cultural beliefs.

As it is in most Latino cultures, men and women were, and are still held by different standards. Growing up as one of two girls in a house with seven brothers was not an easy thing. Each brother was more of a machista than the next, and therefore, were an integral part of the belief system I was raised in. For example, if a man was unfaithful to his wife he was considered to be, and even revered by others, as a great man. Yet, if a woman did the same thing, she was labeled a whore, and if she happened to have children, she would be thought of as an unfit mother. Thus, the woman would be forever scorned by society.

As most of us eventually do, I had children. In raising my children, I tried to use equal measures of the belief system I was raised with, and the knowledge that life was different from when I was growing up. I used what I believed to be the good things of my upbringing, and replaced those I felt were wrong with what I felt were in tune with the changing times.

The topic of tattoos was never brought up by any one of my children as an issue to be discussed. I am sure that it may have come up in passing, and I can remember clearly making the same face my mother did and putting it to rest. My day of dealing with this came soon enough. When my oldest daughter turned eighteen, she decided she wanted either a tattoo or a tongue ring. Her way of presenting me with her wish was very straightforward and honest. Two things that as my child, she knew I would value and appreciate. Clearly we had something that needed to be addressed. We each had a turn at stating our case.

I explained to my daughter in what I felt was a concise manner why I did not like the idea of her getting a tattoo or piercing. All the while my insides felt like they were on fire, I was terrified that if my child went ahead with getting a tattoo, I would see her as damaged. Of course, that is one of those thoughts and feelings you don’t dare divulge to your child even under the most extreme circumstances. After all the explaining, pleading, and begging, I gave up. I had to use a different tactic, so I did; I simply stated that as her parent, I would not allow her to do it, period!

To which in turn my daughter, with all the charm in the world, simply broke me down by stating that she was technically an adult therefore, she did not need my consent. She went on to say that while she could and would go behind my back to do it; she would prefer it if I were a part of what she called her “minor rebellion”. Needless to say, we made a compromise, I agreed to the tongue ring. She later went on to adding the tattoo, behind my back, at the age of twenty-one. While I don’t see my child as damaged, or any less of a young woman with class, I still strongly disagree with what she chose to do to her body.

The issue of getting a tattoo or not continues to be a controversial one for me. While I have seen some tattoo’s that are interesting, it is not something I find admirable. It has been a difficult journey for me to accept that in today’s society it is acceptable to have a tattoo which, is even considered an “art form”.

Everyday I wage a battle within myself, with the belief that was instilled in me as a child. I try not to define a person by the tattoos they may have. This in itself is difficult because my automatic reaction to a person with a tattoo is that they are “trash, less than perfect” human beings. Who am I to judge? To some this may be something that doesn’t even cross their mind, yet to me, I find I have to stop and weigh my thoughts. I have to “level out the playing field, so to speak, by remembering that my child now has not one, but two tattoos.

Is it a moral or personal issue to get a tattoo on your body? I cannot speak for others, only for myself. Because of my upbringing and the moral belief that it is not a thing of beauty but a thing to be ashamed of, I cannot see myself ever getting a tattoo. Would I like a tattoo? Yes, I guess I should be honest and admit to it. Maybe a younger me in today’s contemporary, free-age way of thinking would get one but for now, I still have a 19 and 15 year old that have me waiting with baited breath for what they feel they want to do to their bodies as their “minor rebellion”.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 4:57 PM | link | 0 comments |

Monday, June 06, 2005

School's Out!!!!

School's out!!!! Now I have three, yes, count them THREE Kids in my house at pretty much the same time. I can't complain, my kids are soooo different than what I was afraid they would be... Of course, that's because I keep expecting them to be like some of the kids I see everywhere else. They really aren't "kids" anymore, now they are 23, 19, and 15 years of age. And what an experience!

I am NOT the type of mother who claims her kids are "little angels". I know what each of them is capable of. They are capable of driving me crazy (but they keep me sane), steering me to drink(lots and lots of tea), going over the deep end (I bungi jump off the sidewalk), and using up my last good nerve (of which I don't remember where I left the first one).

They are also capable of making me smile, feel the power of love, hear the music in my heart, dispel my dark clouds, enjoy the breezes, laugh at myself, conquer the world. They are the true meaning of Unconditional Love. Thank you, for giving me the world.

Every day I wonder what I did right, where it came from, and everyday, I remember what Mami said to me the day I was expecting my first child and feeling doubtful about being a good mother. Mami asked "Do you love what is growing inside of you?" I said yes, she said "Then that's all you need, love will guide your hand, and the rest will fall into place." Mami...your wisdom still astounds me.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 1:51 PM | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, June 05, 2005

The Myth Of Female Inferiority

The best slave
does not need to be beaten
she beats herself.

Not with a leather whip,
or with sticks or twigs,
not with a blackjack
or a billy-club,
but with the fine whip of her own tongue
and the subtle beating
of her mind against her mind.

For who can hate her half as well
as she hates herself?
and who can the finesse
of her self-abuse.

Years of training
are required for this.
--Erica Jong
This Emergence Ocurred at , 1:36 PM | link | 0 comments |

Thursday, June 02, 2005

Puerto Rico...

Cuanto anoro estar contigo,
viendo tus lindos paisajes,
que me hacen reir y llorar.

Cuanto anoro volver a infancia
para jugar en tus lindos parques,
tan floridos de recuerdos!

O, Puerto Rico!

Cuanto anoro comer de tu dulce
fruto, que me hacen la boca agua.

Cuanto anoro el perfume de tus noches
tan brillante en las montanas!

Cuanto anoro bailar y gozar con tu musica,
tan alegre y salsera!

O, Puerto Rico!

Cuanto anoro estar con mi gente;
los hombres fuertes,
las mujeres orgullosas,
y los ninos, que tambien hacen
sus recuerdos en tu bello palmar...

--A. E. M, Sept. 19, 1982
---Puertorriquena Orgullosa
This Emergence Ocurred at , 2:47 PM | link | 0 comments |

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

My Mother... My Culture

To define my mother, and my culture, I could go back in time and talk about the almost extinct Taino Indians. To my mother, the Taino Indians were her ancestors, a proud people. Through my mother's eyes I was able to see a culture that was quickly fading. Through her words I was able to hear the wisdom of her time. Though there are many ways to pass on your culture, our culture was passed down generation to generation through sayings; in this manner we were taught many things.

My mother was born in 1923. Mami did not have the best that life could give her. She was one of five children born to a woman who cared more about the next man she had in her life than the children she gave life to. Perhaps it was because of her own vulnerabilities and insecurities as a child living in such a loveless house that Mami couldn’t do better than she did.

Mami was born in a time when women were not appreciated, nor respected as individuals. Perseverance should have been her name. I have many memories of Mami. She would take time to talk to us about her life, and through her I was able to form the pictures that later would become part of my culture.

When we were little, our breakfast consisted of hot fresh bread with butter and a cup of hot chocolate. Other times, when she could afford it, Mami would put a piece of gouda cheese in our hot chocolate. This was her way of teaching us that life had its ups and downs; it taught us to appreciate the good, and roll with the bad.

The pride I take in who I am, I owe to my mother. Mami would work from morning 'till night. She worked very hard to put food on our table and clothes on our backs. She worked as a housekeeper for some, as a laundress for others, and as cook for all; for she was well sought after when one of the well-to-do had a formal dinner party. I grew up hearing stories about how some of the rich families would fight to have my mother cook for their guests.

I never heard my mother complain, or say she was tired, although I could see it in her walk. But the pride that would shine in her eyes told me that no matter how hard she had to work, she knew her self-worth.

Through her teachings, and her abundance of love and patience, we learned our culture and the ways of our people. There are many ways to pass on your culture. The way Mami chose to pass hers on was through her sayings, which she was famous for (in our house). She taught us about the many ways to prepare our foods and its variety. Through the way she made Thanksgivings' and Christmas' so very special. We learned to stand for what we believe in, and to help those less fortunate than us. She would say ("You can't undress one Saint to dress another"). This is my culture, the beliefs and strenghts Mami instilled in us. My mother defines my culture.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 1:59 PM | link | 0 comments |

Monday, May 30, 2005

When Love Dies... (Laughter and Sunshine)

In my heart there is a place,
where Laughter and Sunshine
once put up a house.

They worked hard, side by side
to build a home; they named it
Trust and christened it Love.

They had children, soon adding;
Hope, Loyalty, and Faith
to this unruly yet, cherished place.

One day, Sunshine started to fade,
it scared Laughter, who sought
desperately for help.

Communication didn't say much
and Trust was busy weathering
the storm.

At their door, a stranger knocked,
Doubt was his name, he brought
Fear and Anguish to help.

Disenchantment soon moved in,
Pain, Tears, and Lonliness
came along, just to ensure
their job well done.

Sunshine faded away
and Laughter soon died,
Trust wouldn't return
and Love said its good-bye...

To the place where once
Hope, Loyalty, and Faith
reigned supreme.


--A. E. M, March, 1999
This Emergence Ocurred at , 6:24 PM | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Latina's And Depression...

End of 1997
It took me a long time to figure out what was wrong with me. All I knew was that I didn't want to get out of bed anymore. I didn't find pleasure in any of the things I used to love to do. Even seeing my kids didn't make me feel the usual warm, loving things I was used to. Every day I would wake wake up and feel like Vilar must have felt when she said, "Face up, the beginning of another day is unbearable. You feel that nothing is ending and nothing is beginning. Maybe if you close your eyes and get away from the light of day you can put an end to that anguish. I tried to move. Starting with my arms, and then my hips, back, and head. Finally, I managed to move my legs and with great effort, I succeeded in turning onto my side." (I. Vilar, 1998)

Little did I know that coming back to myself would be so difficult. My mind had shut down. It's as if a door had closed, and I no longer had any other doors to open. I had become an atrophied body who couldn't do anything for herself. I could not feed or dress myself. Try as I might, I couldn't pull down the black sheet that had come to cover my eyes; the dark shroud that encircled my heart.

The moment of light finally came when I sat in my bedroom with a piece of glass in my hand. I didn't know why I had it, but I knew what it was for. I meant to end the pain that tore at me day and night. The torment of the shadows that existed in what was the closet of my mind. It was time to put to rest all those demons that I couldn't seem to run far away enough from.

Just as I pulled my arm back to run the glass over my wrist, my son ran into my room. He'd had a bad dream, and came looking for my comfort. I began crying uncontrollably. It was the cry of the wounded. The sound reverberates in my mind even today. The sound was God awful; the despair was profound. My son put his arms around me and told that he needed me, and for me to please come back to him. How could a boy that was barely 9 years old know what to say?? I believe God directed him to me that night, for that night, I was the one needing my children.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 6:44 PM | link | 0 comments |

From the Darkness...

There have been many significant incidents in my life, the most special being the birth of each of my three children. Today, I choose to write about an incident that many don’t normally speak or write about. Some would give it the antiquated term; melancholies, others in today’s society call it depression.

A short five-week look into the life of a Latina and her battle with depression.

Week 1: I have been feeling very tired lately, and pretty dissatisfied with things in general. I can’t seem to find pleasure in the things I love to do. The sewing, cooking, gardening and just plain going out seem like such a chore. I know something is wrong, but what?

Week 2: I talked to my husband about how I’m feeling; he didn’t seem to understand. He seems to think I’m just being lazy. I am losing my appetite, and sleeping is something I’m forgetting how to do. I can’t get out bed. My kid’s look at me with a question in their eyes, I can’t face them so I just hide in my room again. I try to get up and do something around the house, I feel awful that I didn’t have the energy to do it so I hide longer.

Week 3: I tried to explain to my husband again the things I am feeling. I asked if he could help me figure out what is wrong. “You’re just being lazy and you need to get a life!” Those were my husband’s words to me; I guess I am just being lazy! I can’t eat, can’t sleep, yet I stay in bed all day long. I’m beginning to lose my hair! I had huge clumps of it in the shower drain when I washed my hair. I cried and cried! Could it be cancer? Is that why I am not eating or sleeping? Is that why I’ve lost all this weight? I wish we had medical insurance so I cold go see a doctor! Lord, please help me find out what is wrong with me.

Week 4: I just want to die! When I have been able to sleep, and I open my eyes all I think is; “why another day Lord?” Why didn’t you take me while I wasn’t looking? I have become terrified of going out! The kids want me to go out but I can’t. I can’t breath; I feel the world is going to crash in on me. I don’t even seem to take pleasure in having my children anymore. I must be an unfit mother! So my husband repeatedly says to me. My husband has gotten worse in his verbal abuse, of course it makes me angry! After the anger is spent though, I feel worse, maybe I am a mess just as he says I am?

Week 5: The less I do the worse I feel. I feel totally alone in this; I haven’t asked my children for help. How do you ask for help with something that you don’t understand yourself? My husband has completely turned his back on me. Now all he can say is that I am crazy and imagining things; it’s all in my head. I think if I ask him to leave he will realize that what I need from him is his support, unconditional love, and understanding. I need to hear him say that I am okay, that WE will weather this storm as we have countless others; it never happened. He chose to leave.

Things went from bad to worse. My husband leaving me I thought was my undoing. I just wanted to curl up and die. I very nearly did, by my own hand. Keep in mind that by this time my mind had basically become atrophied. I couldn’t feed myself; I couldn’t even walk without assistance. When I say that my children had to dress me as if I were a one-year old is not an exaggeration, it is a fact, one I am not proud of, but one that became a defining moment in my life. Allow me to expand on why this was such a significant incident in my life, and why it was my defining moment.


It seems my children knew far more about what I was going through than even I did. My children took over. The day after their father left, my kids took it upon themselves to make me better. No, not entirely, but you’d be surprised at how much it helped to hear someone giving you positive feedback as opposed to negative. What turned this around for me? Was it having my middle child combing my hair or my oldest child dressing me? Perhaps it was watching my youngest sitting at the foot of my bed and reading to me even if I wasn’t paying attention? No, none of the above, it was the final awakening. It was the realization that the Lord had seen fit to loan me these three wonderful children.

My children brought me out of a world of helplessness and darkness. Once I started to feel better, and was not so afraid to go out anymore, thanks to my children; I decided I was going to find out all I could about what I was going through. I read a small article that related the top five illnesses affecting Latina women. It was not an in-depth review of these illnesses but it was enough to push me to look further. The one illness the article spoke of was Depression, and why Latina women are more prone to suffer from it. I could clearly see myself in that article; it was speaking of me, my life.

Today, I am an on-going survivor of this illness. There are many ways of combating this illness, medication, counseling, and/or a combination of both. Should you see little signs of yourself in this, by no means disregard them. I hope that I can pay forward what my children did for me, and that this serves as someone else’s defining moment in what could very well become a significant incident in their lives.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 6:17 PM | link | 0 comments |

Saturday, May 28, 2005

An Innocent No More...

After I took a bath, I went to my bed and laid down. Many things kept going through my head. I disobeyed Mami, I could hear my mom's voice in my head telling me, "Don't go to anyone's house if a grown-up is not there." Now I knew fully what that cryptic message meant. If I disobeyed Mami, bad things happened.

But the biggest thing that went through my mind, was that if I told, there would be blood shed. I don't know how I knew, I was only 5 years old. But I knew. I was terrified something would happen to my brothers. So I didn't tell, I kept quiet. It was after this that I started to see a man looking at me. It was the beginning of something that I would still not comprehend fully until much later in life.

I became very quiet and sad after that. I learned to keep to myself, there was danger in having friends, and even more so if I went to someone's house. Mami would ask why I didn't want to go to Ivette's house anymore, I told her I didn't like Ivette anymore. Ivette came over many times looking for me, and I would always hear Mami telling her that I wasn't feeling well.

Mami could never get much more out of me than that. I could see her frustration with me. I could see the silent question in her eyes; "Why wasn't I as open and sharing with her as I used to be?" I am sure this caused my mother much anguish. Mami even tried to get me to yell like I used to, but all I would say was "No thanks Mami, I don't feel like it." How could I tell her what happened? I believed I was no good, and I was terrified that if I told her, she wouldn't love me anymore. I was not a good girl anymore.

It seems that after that first time, I was to have such things as this happen many more times. As I got older, I would spend many hours looking at myself in the mirror. My brother's and sister would tease me that I was in-love with myself. In fact, I believed that I had a sign on my forehead that said, "If You're a Child Molester, I'm Your Child!" I kept trying to see if I could see the sign so that I could remove it.

Every time I was molested, I would see that man again, the one I started seeing after it happened the first time. He always dressed in the same clothes; black ski hat, pants and turtleneck. He also had black hair and eyes, and a big mustache. I would look up and I would see him peeking at me from around corners, wherever I happened to be. Just as suddenly, he would dissapear. He remained a part of my life for many years.

The last time I was molested, I was a married woman. That night as I lay in my husbands arms, I waited for that man again, the one I used to see, but he never came. Suddenly, I got this very clear message in my head that said, "You don't need him anymore, you have your husband now." It turned out, I would never get molested again but I started to see that I had a pattern of sadness that I could not shake. I became adept at hiding it, or telling myself that I was just "a little blue" today.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 5:09 PM | link | 0 comments |

Growing up... in a Hurry!

There I was, 5 years old, and bored, bored, bored. It was raining, Ivette came over and asked if I wanted to play with her dolls. "Your mom is not home," I said, and my mom is not here either, I can't. Mami said never to go to somone's house unless there is a big person there. "Why does she say that?" Ivetted asked. "I don't know, my mom never tells me why."

Ivetted starts to whine, and I give in. It's only for a little while, besides, Ivette's brother is big and old, he's almost 21. Little did I know that going to Ivette's house that day would change me forever.
Ivettes younger brother Joey asked if we wanted to play a game, we agreed gladly. We were bored with the dolls anyway. He told us taht we would have to go to his room where Pablo, Ivette's old brother, was waiting to play too. The game was called "Adivina" (Guess). It's a game where we would get blindfolded and we'd have to guess what we were touching, feeling, etc... I was mad because Pablo picked Ivette to go first but he said that he picked her so that I could see how the game was played.

Joey led Ivette to the bed and made her sit down. Pablo started the game by putting a pencil in Ivette's hand and she guessed correctly. Then he put other things in her hand and mouth; a quarter, a rock, she guessed them all. Then it was my turn, I was happy cause I knew that it was going to be easy. As I was taking turns trying to guess what Pablo put in my hand and mouth, Joey told Ivette to go with him, he was going to show her something.

Meanwhile, Pablo said he was going to try something different because I was guessing everything too easy. The next thing I knew, he was putting something in my mouth that made me want to be sick! I knew something was wrong, and I tried to push him away, but he was holding me tight and he said that if I wasn't quiet, he would hurt me.

I was so scared, all I wanted was to go home. I heard Ivette coming back to the room, and Pablo let me go. As soon as Ivetted walked into the room, I jumped up, took off the blindfold, and ran out of the apartment.
In the hall, I stopped to take a breath, I wanted to walk into my house quietly. For some reason, I felt that I wasn't quiet, my brothers or sister would know what happened. I was afraid that they would tell Mami that I had disobeyed her by going to Ivette's house. I opened the door slowly, and looked in the kitchen. I ran straight into the bathroom withoug being notices. I climbed into the tub and turned the hot water on. I don't know why it was so important that I take a bath, I just knew that I had to be clean.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 4:34 PM | link | 0 comments |

Madre, Las Flores de Mayo...

Madre, las flores de Mayo,
ya han bordado los caminos,
y el sol parece en el cielo,
un caracol amarillo.

En el paisaje, la aurora
abre su rubio abanico.
Madre, Madre, hoy es un
dia para estar contigo!

Que ternura tiene el alba!
Que temblor tienen los nidos!
Hoy todo me sabe a infancia,
bajo el ala de tu abrigo!

Cuanto te he echado de menos,
en este dia tan florido!
No te acuerdas Madre, cuando
yo iba a pescar en el rio?

Hoy me llegan tus recuerdos,
como perfumes antiguos,
y mi pensamiento vuela
los pomos de tu carino.

Por el aire, una paloma
te lleva un mensaje mio:
un album de mushos besos
y un abrazo de tu hijo (a).

Madre, las flores de Mayo
ya han bordado los caminos,
y el sol parece en el cielo,
un caracol amarillo.


--Joaquin Lopez Lopez
---Poeta Puertorriqueno.

Mami, yo se que Dios te tiene
en sus brazos. Se tambien
que has de estar trabajando
fuerte... Descansa,
A Dios no le molestaria.

Feliz Dia de Las Madres!

My daughter was born on my
mother's birthday, what a gift!
This Emergence Ocurred at , 2:36 PM | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, May 08, 2005

May, Mother's Day

So Mother's day is coming and I thought it would be easy to just sit here and write about my mother... It has proven to be a hard road to take. For this month of May, I will write about Mami and my beginnings. I may put it in order....or I may not. Try and keep up.
There are so many great things about my mother, yet so many others that were confusing. The experiences of my childhood were many, not all good, not all bad. But the one sustaining force through it all was the knowledge that my mother loved all nine of us. She wasn't perfect, but she loved... She wasn't able to be there all of the time, but she loved... She played the best game she could with the cards she'd been dealt... and still...She Loved, Unconditionally!

Some things will make sense, others may not. But such is life afterall...
This Emergence Ocurred at , 12:28 PM | link | 0 comments |

Sunday, May 01, 2005

Warning...

This is meant to be about my Journey through life. It may sometimes be funny, crazy, sad, lonely, ugly, pretty. It will always be explicit in its totality. I will hold nothing back. If you don't like what you read, please move on to the rest of Your Journey, and make it as good as it can be.
This Emergence Ocurred at , 1:45 PM | link | 0 comments |