Can't Turn to The Left or to The Right (Not Even After A Good Shower)

What is it about a shower..........that lures us in and keeps us captivated under it's cascading spell...........when we have the BEST of intentions that we'll only be there for a quick five?  As we can all attest, that quick five very QUICKLY turns into ten, then twenty, then thirty.............. easily.  It happened to me just now........... and of course, I had to write about it. Alguien mas a quien yo conozco, a quien yo amo tambien se aprovecho de una ducha bien larga.  Porque fue su primera ducha como persona libre....... pues, libre en cuerpo

A lo largo del dia de reencuentro con mi muchacho-ya suelto de su detencion (yes, and PLEASE don't ask me how it happened because the ONLY thing I will be able to tell you is "It was a STRAIGHT UP MIRACLE")-todas las mujeres de su vida logramos iniciarlo en su limpieza mas grande-el de su espiritu y mente que llevaban aparentemente anos enjaulados mucho mas antes que su cuerpo would folllow suit.

Yes, you read it right.  Mi muchacho is out.  OUT.  At least his body is.  His mind............. sheesh........... where do I begin?  I thought I would stop being sad when this day came-because I always had faith that it would (ojo-la guerra no se ha ganado por completo-pero batalla por batalla avanzamos, SEGURO).  But not two days after his release did the GA legislature get to work holding a "hearing" for one of a several anti-immigrant/immigration bills.  Colleagues and I tweeted the hearing throughout the proceedings,they proved to be nothing more than sham proceedings......kangaroo proceeding. Take the comment made by one of these legislators which my colleague overheard: "this is what I overheard outside of the CLOB 506 when arriving at the first and only 'open' House 'hearing' on HB 72 (English Only Driver License Testing Proposed Bill): 'We are just waiting to make sure there are enough Republican's to pass this today'."

WTF??? Herein lies the newest cage for my boy...........  Soooooo telling-when each of the women around the table asked our nene what plans he has for moving forward, la unica cosa that he kept repeating over and over again was, "I'm just gonna not even go out.  I'm not gonna drive.  I'm not gonna drive."  Let's park there for a second.

Se trata de.  Un nene.  De SOLO 19 anos.  Y ya sus planes mayores son quedarse escondiito en la sombra.  Para que no lo detecten.  Nunca mas.  Esta resignado a NO volver.  Tras rejas.  Detenido por indocumentado............ Una condicion que descubri que habia experimentado una vez anterior.....  En su vida tan corta.  (en otra ocasion les digo)

Can you imagine living a life where you fear even going out of your front door?  Upon pulling up to his family's residence I had him on the phone orienting me to the right door, and I noted a cop patrolling the vecindario.  I remember exclaiming, "Diantreee, nene!  Hay policia por to's la'os!"  And he said, "Miss, why you think I been staying in here since I got out?  I told (really pronounced like "toll", lol) you that the police-they everywhere."  He was right.  And I was confronted.

With another realization.  My boy's freedom of movement for all practical purposes ended the day he graduated high school.  And he most assuredly feels that his freedom to dream ended the day he watched the Senate of the United States of America so callously VOTE HIS FUTURE DOWN THE DRAIN.  I liked meeting his aunt VERY MUCH.......una mujer sabia y con cojones e iniciativa (fue ella quien llamo a los Georgia DREAMERs al leer un articulo sobre un muchacho en la misma que el nuestro)-she insists that este muchacho think positively.  Que empiece a visualizar de como es que quiere que sea su vida.  Que no deje por mas que pueda que alguien ajeno determine su destino.  All things I, also, have been beating him over the head with.  I felt good that I wasn't the only one close to him insisting on his tapping into his own personal power.

But HOW do you tell a boy who KNOWS what the GOP in this state is up to and who told me during one of our visits at Stewart, "Obama aint gone do nothing.  He just wants our votes" that it's ok to begin to dream again WHEN HE DOESN'T FEEL LIKE IT IS EVEN SAFE ENOUGH FOR HIM TO MOVE ABOUT HIS OWN NEIGHBORHOOD???  GA's version of AZ's SB 1070 hasn't even made it out of public hearings yet, and he feels his freedom of movement restricted as if it has already been passed and signed into law.  This is so sad.  This is so sad! 

Let me put it to you shockingly, and for some, blashpemingly.  THIS is this child's foremost expectation..... to hear..... His foremost thought as to what will happen si piensa poner un pie fuera de su casa:

And when ye turn to the right hand or when ye turn to the left, thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the police, freeze.

El Amor de Un Papa....Sofocador y Salvador a la Vez

AAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!! He tratado por  varias maneras de empezar esta escritura.......... La empece primero grabando.  Luego la contemple de forma bilingue.  Finalmente escogio mi corazon escribir en su lengua natal.  Y asi es como se la presentare esta noche........... porque se trata del unico lenguaje que siempre ha hablado mi corazon.......... el del amor..........

Esta manana empece mi dia con esto: http://www.pba.org/programming/programs/storycorps_atl/4944/

Featured Story

• February 2, 2011antonio & maru gonzález
  A conversation between a father and a daughter. 56-year-old Antonio González grew up in Puerto Rico and then moved to Georgia to raise his family — including daughter Maru González. These days, Maru is a student far from home, but on a recent visit back, she invited her dad to StoryCorps, because she wanted to make a confession to him.

No es un secreto cuanto amo a mi papa.  Tengo su nombre, su caracter, su manera de ver al mundo.......... hasta llevo su inabilidad de quedarse quieto en un sitio por buen tiempo.  Pero lo que si he llevado como secreto por todos estos anos es que como la hija presentada en el audio, yo tambien tenia mis batallas con control y casi llegue a jugar con el fuego de lo que en mi caso hubiera sido la anorexia.  E igual a la perfilada en esta historia, fue mi papa-siendo en mi mente juvenil y sub-desarrollada la causa en parte por mi trastorno-resulto a ser mas que nada el que me desvio arrastrando con el poder de su amor paternal de un camino que seguramente me llevaria a un infiernito.

Mi papa es un hombre Gomez desde su cabeza hasta las unitas de los deditos pequenos de sus pies-cosa que he ido comprobando con los anos al hablar con mis primas sobre sus experiencias con los otros papas Gomez.  La vena que ha recorrido por todas nuestras comparaciones de "notas" sobre nuestros papas es la del aspeto protector de TODOS.  Algunos han sido protectores mas suaves, pero la verdad es que la mayoria han sido de lo mas estrictos-no obstante el mio.  Salio a los suyos.  

PERO, realmente no creo que conto con re-crear su propia personalidad en forma femenina al concebirme a mi.  Pero eso es exactamente lo que le toco.  AND BOY, DID HE CATCH IT!  Suffice it to say, there was ALWAAAAAAAAAAYS a battle of wills going on in the Gomez home entre padre e hija mayor.  Y yo estaba que NADIE me iba a quitar el poder personal.  NADIE.  Y como se dice que nuestras sombras esperan hasta la hora perfecta para sabotearnos cuando menos lo esperamos, eso es lo que me hizo mi rebeldia ciega y enrabiada................. me espero.................

Mi primer ano en la universidad tuve a un noviecito.  El cual no le caia bien a mi papa.  Ya pueden imaginarse la friccion, no?  Estamos hablando de un papa boricua mas tradicional de que se da cuenta a pesar de criarse en el continente y su hija obstinante y terquisima.  Pues, a este paso dirian, "pues, si se estuvo quedando en el dormitorio, cual habra sido el problema ya que seguramente no se habrian visto mucho?"-bueno, quizas personas que desconozcan nuestra cultura diran eso.................. pero yo se que estoy striking a real chord con muchas otras latinas que hicieron lo que yo hice en la universidad:  casi sali de mi casa, jeje.  Aunque ese ano vivi en el dormitorio, toditos los fines de semana me fui para casa.........toditos.  Y mas que eso, mi papa era mi profesor ese ano.................... so there was no way I wasn't gonna see him.  

Para hacer una larga historia un poco mas corta, the battle of wills ensued over whether I was gonna keep this boyfriend or not.  And I was not about to lose.  Pero una cosa que se revelo a traves de la duracion de esta batalla fue que subconcientemente yo habia empezado a acutar en maneras peligrosas para exigir y expresar mi voluntad................ para ejercer control sobre lo que yo queria............................... habia dejado de comer.

Como el papa perfilado en el audio, creo-aunque nunca me ha hablado de esto-que mi papa habia llegado a desesperarse.  El sabia que este muchacho no era nada bueno para mi, y sabia que habia empezado a coquetear con la destruccion de mi cuerpo y salud.  Que hizo?  Bueno............. no se si lo hizo a proposito o paso como uno de esos momentos serendipitous..................... pero ocasiono que durante una de nuestras clases la lectura tuvo que ver con una muchacha con anorexia.  Todas las muchachas de la clase estaban bien interesadas en el tema, que realmente la platica se enriquecio increiblemente que todas beneficiamos del exercise in delineation of facts and cause and effect.  Pero llego un momento en que alguien saco el punto de que la anorexia tiene TODO que ver con CONTROL y no con comida que mi papa y yo intercambiamos una mirada............ bien brevemente................

But it was enough to turn the light on, get me eating again, and ultimately what (among all the other times he has come to my rescue) saved my life.

Esta noche, le dedico mis gracias, como ha hecho la muchacha del audio-a un papa exigiente que sigue queriendo lo mejor para su hija.  Toda mi vida EL ha sido mi bendicion........................

Whether on the Frontside or Flipside, We Always Choose

Feeling pretty good on the way to belly dance class tonight I made the mistake of intonizando esta cancion del amor de mi vida (y el boricua negro MAS BELLO de to'l mundo-might I add).  And while I usually hit the zone while singing this song to the TOP of my lungs, the resonance it had with my heart was at an octave that I usually don't take the time to listen to very much.  It's the same chord that is struck when you look in the mirror towel drying your hair and you see your abuela in your cachetes.  Yes, it's the same one that rings clear when you see la mirada dura de tu pae in your own ojitos as you frustratingly examine the chichas  that always appear in the wrong places at the wrong time of the month and take their time marchandose no matter how many dance classes a day you take.  It's the same note that you hear when your niece who was born with the famous family caracter gives you a look of defiance they said YOU used to give people........... and you let her give it to you because the last thing you will ever let yourself do is clip her pretty little wings................. This is the note, the octave, the chord of truth and realization that TRULY what we have is what we have asked for-or in my case, ORDERED of the universe.

In my case, my truth is that I've always put my freedom at a higher premium than any relationship.  Up until recently my vision of freedom sat in stark oposicion a what I thought a loving relationship could only look like for me (basically someone trying to tell me what to do and constantly trying to clip my pretty wings).  Never could conceive of a nuturing love affair w a man who could have the capacity to respect my need to be libreeeeeeeeeeeeee.  Hasta hace poco.  Y ya ese conflicto de intereses lo tengo resuelto.  Acepto que donde estoy es donde le dije al universo que me hubicara.  Y ya es tiempo de mirar hacia otro horizonte.

Enter the real epiphany of the night:

Now this one, I gotta say, me tumbo....................... But, again as I was belting out in my most angelic of voices this, one of my fav's from Alicia Keys, it HIT me!  I THINK I WANT/AM BUILT FOR/NEED A KINDA DIFFICULT MAN.  When the thought hit me I immediately went through my rolodex of relationship history and quickly realized that the dudes who were on the not-so-peligroso side were the ones I was BORED TO TEARS WITH and the ones I tolerated until they ended up asking me if I liked them anymore.  Psshhh, but the ones who had a 'tude, a chip, an unresolved issue-which they were clearly aware of and struggling in their own ways to overcome-were the ones I was most attracted to.  Not talking addictions, here, but just plain humanness.  These men had a realness that entailed a vulnerability that I clearly find irresistible.  I think I love a man who needs a little work.  I gotta say that I had a conversation with a man today who was giving me advice in another arena and I started to chide him on the appearance of his tough exterior.  Of course I made him try to convince me of how nice he really is (just to f_ck with him, porque soy mujer y PUEDO), pero la sangana fui yo que horas mas tarde soy YO la que esta pensando en EL.  And the reason for that, this song provided.

I believe that whether on the frontside (before we were born) or on the flipside (during this, our earthly experience) we've told the universe numerous times what to deliver to our front doorsteps in a myriad of ways.  Sometimes it takes some of us longer to understand just what we've ordered than others.  But I think I understand my order and why I've been served up what I have been.............. And now I how to recognize what the goddess in me is saying she came here to handle.

It'll be interesting to see how right this spiritual self-assesment turns out to be, but I think what the Divine in me has always wanted and needed is a man w a little bit of an edge who needs una mujer de hierro to lock all his secrets up in her heart of gold.

For The Good Of Them...........

"nosotros nacimos de la noche, en ella vivimos, moriremos en ella. Pero la luz será mañana para los más, para todos aquellos que hoy lloran la noche, para quienes se niega el día. Para todos la luz para todos todo. Para nosotros la dignidad insurrecta, para nosotros el futuro negado, para nosotros nada" Lest we fail to understand & acknowledge Ali's dark night........ I'm here to remind....

Tonight I told a beloved amiga that all things would work out for her good because she is called according and submitted to her Divine purpose. Happy thought-Aren't we all promised that much? That things will work out for the good of those who are llamados segun Su proposito?

In the cruel wake of the AZ massacre, lied-about cross-hairs, and the colossal foul-up of the intended shaming behind the usage of the term "blood libel", I can't help but feel like no one outside of my very brown twittershere is talking about the particular calling Gabrielle Giffords was answering when God, Himself was put in a position to make good on His promise-to make ALL THINGS work together for this woman who was ALSO moving according to a purpose. Has anyone in your twittersphere raised cane about that calling? Chances are if you are one of my blog-followers, then, si...... Se ha alzado la voz grandemente -como diria mi prima. But if you are new here, chances are the info you've received has only danced around this purpose. Que pena. Y que falta de respeto, y horrible homenaje al legado vivo de la Congresista Giffords..........
Folks, it's plain and simple. But let me shock, rather than ease you down the path of understanding what we're really talking about here. See here this comment-submitted by an impassioned, and in my eyes VERY CORRECT Facebook friend of another impassioned and, in my eyes, also always VERY CORRECT Facebook friend of my own, during the POTUS' speech tonight in Tuscon:
"You can't talk against hatred and violence, when you are the U.S. president who has deported more Brown indigenous families than any other president in history, or when you promote laws intended to racial profiling." Carlos A Quiroz
If you need proof, allow me: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/07/us/07immig.html, http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/18/opinion/18wed3.html
The truth of the matter is that the Congresswoman was hurt and six others killed because of her dedication to the plight of her brethren of the darker hue. She fought for immigrants(http://t.co/2rld0HO). And she almost died for them. And now that just tonight not only did she give another squeeze of her husband's hand, but so also did she open her eyes, I've got Sign ENOUGH that God is INTENT upon keeping His Word to make all THESE things SOMEHOW work out for the good of this lady......... who is called according to His purpose...............

But I am reading this BOOK, see-that talks about he inter-connectedness of all of mankind to SOME traceable degree. And not only does just the first chapter convince me of the UNDOUBTED influence over Loughner's behavior Ms. BL, with her sanctimonious self, had, but it also leaves me with a question on my heart that only the Lord can answer................
If Giffords' getting her stuff worked out, because she's called according to this purpose, and this PARTICULAR purpose for which she was targeted WOULD NOT EXIST if it weren't for undocumented residents like Ali, then doesn't that mean that by just being who he is and traversing the path that was laid out for him, through no choice of his own............... that's he and the millions like him are ALSO called to the flipside of he same purpose Giffords is? And doesn't that mean God HAS to help my muchacho??????? Doesn't it????? Things have to work.........
..............out...........,,
para su bien (yes, God, right? My boy counts, too!?)...................
.........porque el TAMBIEN tiene un proposito....... He DOES, God!! You'll find it on the dirty side of the coin they will mint one day with Giffords' face on it...........

"sometimes you may have to cry...". Yep, tonight would be that night........ tu sabes por que, Papa....
"and sometimes, you may have to walk alone" thanks to immigration law that's EXACTLY what it is for MILLIONS like my Ali.


*disclaimer:  I mean no disrespect to the Jewish community by speaking of Blood Libel, nor do I mean any disrespect toward Congresswoman Giffords in my attempt to draw a correlation between her and the community she serves.

We SHALL be free!

(Just pretend like you see an image of a brown woman instead.  Trust me, it'll be ooooo-kaaayyyyy)  See, there it goes again.  Rude and unapologetic cynicism.  I really don't even care if I just offended anyone with my tone, either.  Aint THAT sumthin?????
It's my birthday.  And thanks to some EVIL do-gooder I didn't get what I wanted.  So, I gave myself a haircut, instead.  Four inches. Gone.  Just like that.  But the pain?  Hah! THAT shit is still stickin around.  ON MY BIRTHDAY, TOO!!!
The BFF and I were happily on our way down the Brown Paved Road to Steward about 40 minutes outside of Atlanta cuando entro una llamada de la mai de Ali.  She told me some woman from an advocacy organization had already been there to see him and that he was sending word that this quack job had probably already used up his ONE visit a week he is allowed.  We pulled off the road as I called the center to check, and sure enough the idiota on the other end of the line helped my apparently illiterate ass understand what WAS NOT written nor sufficiently implied that "each detainee can only receive ONE visit every seven days, NOT several different visits on one day."
respiro profundo
We turn around and head back....... a bit relieved that we were spared the remaining 2 hours of the drive that would have resulted in just being turned away, but with increasing resolve with every inch of ground gained on the retreat to hacer algo about what we were finding out as we got the details from Ali's mom was really a total and complete violation of basic human dignity and rights...................
Apparently a detainee can be MADE to receive a visitor even though he or she makes it CLEAR a particular visitor is not desired.  Please tell me how this is in any way RIGHT, FAIR, or even SAFE???  As the BFF pointed out, what if a visitor came with untoward intentions toward a detainee?  The detainee would have to sit there and feel threatened?  I fail to understand the humanity in obliging a detainee to receive an unwanted visit after he has made it CLEAR that he not only did not want to entertain that person, but that he, in fact, WAS WAITING for a specific visit from someone ELSE.  This is a 19-year old KID who is not able to see his immediate family and who COUNTS on seeing the next closest thing-ME-keeping my word to visit him regularly.  We are talking about alimentando espiritus, here.  And not just Ali's, but my own, and that of the BFF, as well.
We don't go to see this boy out of some insatiable need to quiet any voices from the past blaring messages of insufficiency at us.  We do not go to bed early on Saturday nights in order to be refreshed for our Sunday journeys as bleeding heart, guilt-ridden Americanitas who unbenounced to them, are really just patronizing with our presence the victim of a system of Western Hemispheric imperialism, domination, and economic decimation by this great land we happened to be born in and to where he happen to be brought as a child.  We go out of love.  That's it...........................

Tonight my boy will go to sleep on a hard slab of a mattress in a cruel, love-less cell.  I will sleep on an expensive mattress, after having been showered all the live-long day with love.  Mi muchacho may not have seen the snow falling all over Georgia tonight, but he will feel the frigid cold that made those flurries possible as he sleeps IN A MERE THIN COTTON SHIRT AND PANTS (because we can't bring him any warm clothes, nor do they issue the detainees any!) on what will surely be a COLD hard slab of a mattress in that cruel, love-less cell in a detention center he probably never thought he would ever be sent to.  I, on the other hand already have my snug nighties on, and the heat is pumpin just fine-I am warm.  And he is not.
If he is uncomfortable, then I, too, shall be...........  If he is humiliated, then so will I be.............. If he has to do without, then so must I.
So, even though I loved my long, lovely locks, away they went.  My hair will represent my solidarity with my muchacho.  If he must struggle to be free, and that freedom is what he wants, then I will struggle symbolically in some way (even though the suffering in my heart is VERY real and struggle ENOUGH when one has at least ONE GOOD CRY A DAY) to regain the vanity and beauty that I want.  I think it's a fair enough exchange........ Besides, I WANT people to look at me and see something so different they have to ask me why I did it.

Then I can tell them about my Ali.  And hope that one more person cares..................................
http://immigration.change.org/petitions/view/free_alisson_hernndez_snchez_he_belongs_in_school_not_detention

IF My People

My two Christian cents on the matter of US world policy....
https://vr.shapeservices.com/play.php?id=83808

The Love That Loved Me That I Refused to See

One week from today marks a month ago that Spelman College's 2010 Homecoming festivities began.................. without me............. like they have every year since my graduation.  However, this year I was actually planning on showing up!  At least that's what I intended to do when I excitedly and proudly clicked "I'm attending" on the Facebook invitation to the opening night party.  I was READY!
But, of course, some other tantalizing alternative reared its head somewhere between the clicking and the intending and I never made it.  I failed, yet again, to don the hallowed halls of the place that nurtured for four years my truest, purest, and highest self in a way that came in second only to the care of my loving parents.  I turned my back on the love that loved me.  You could say I had forgotten...................................
But you would be wrong if you had been living inside my body when I walked it through those doors to the building I practically lived in the last two years of matriculation-Cosby.   It all came back.  In an instant I lost 15 pounds, my step turned into the leap it always was before I hit my 30's, and I was innocent, new, unspoiled by life's disappointments, and full of potential.  The word "no" lost all meaning and the Spelman Woman's expectation to never have that word uttered in her direction even ONCE settled upon my heart and mind yet again-nestling itself deep in my chest with its own intention of never being dislodged ever again.

I also in that moment became visible again................ Ah, yesssssssss.  And so enter the men.............

I didn't realize it while I was at Spelman, but several years later while gathered together with other alumnus, one of my male friends said, "Sony, you just don't realize how many of us thought you were just such a pretty young thang.  A lot of dudes wanted to date you."............................. Errr, QUE?????????  You mean to tell me that on a college campus FULL of BEAUTIFUL woman of African descent, people (in the PLURAL??) stopped to notice brown little me?  WHY?????  I thought that was the most preposterous waste of energy any member of the opposite sex could engage in at the time.  After all, I used to say at Spelman there was too much beauty to choose from, so I was happy to settle, okay, fade into the background.

Today no quiero el background de nadie.  But apparently, I was the only one who relegated my little happy ass back there in the first place.  For, as I was minding my own damned business, felizmente getting my punch and licking the peanut butter icing off my perfect mini chocolate brownie, another delicious and quite familiar sensation came over me................ that of the realization of admiration from afar.  Picking my head up, I noticed my girl's newly acquired networking contact giving me the ojo.  A lo largo de la conversacion when he whipped out his card and nearly crushed my arm to be in a picture next to me,  I suddenly got it-this dude is trying to mack old school style!  And he's trying it on ME!  
Now, that is not in and of itself much to shout about.  But it seemed right at the point when C and I decided to leave that a steady stream of fine young brothas poured into the lobby where the reception was being held for the program we attended.  And it feels MIGHTY NICE to say that I got more than a couple of second glances from those guys!!!!  And, I'm sorry, but that IS something that does make a negra feel good.......................... Why did I wait all these years to allow myself to feel worthy of feeling this good by these men?  Who said I was unnoticeable?  And WHY THE HELL did I believe that shit?????  In the most venerated haven for the healthy development of the African-descended female persona-mine took to the shadows.  Perhaps my Spelman education did not end until today.  Or perhaps it will never end because a place like that always has a lesson for its daughters when they finally decide to come home and visit.  When they finally decide to love the love that loved them all this time........... she was waiting for me and had not forgotten me.  As I really have never forgotten her..................

I say all that to say that there may be things that all of us have COMPLETELY missed out on because we convinced ourselves that there was no way we could have/partake in/enjoy those things.  I have definitely eaten the fruit of the tree of self-sabotage on more than one unhappy occasion.  And to think now that I missed out on four years of adoration from black men that I convinced myself I was supposedly too "unnoticeable" to garner is just sad and ridiculous.  I think the one interesting thing here is that in all of this, the attention today was familiar.  Which means that on some level, while outwardly rejecting it, my subconscious was registering it.  And that ultimately means that somehow the love got through!  I take comfort in this proof that even as we act as the agents of our own undermining, there are fail-safes to thwart our evil-doings!

THIS time when I smell, sense, hear, taste, feel that delicious FAMILIAR sensation of adoration, I'm TAKING it and running with it.  Why?  Because no one ever sees well or is seen well from the back.  EVER.