Wednesday, August 19, 2009

-Rosalilia Mendoza

We are wombyn

We are one with each other

We are one with the earth

Our tierra madre

We are born to a universal womb

The umbilical cord of

stars and galaxies

is attached to our belly buttons

when our hearts first beat

it beats as one

can you feel it?

The moon guides our fertility cycle

The ocean heals our broken bones

The sun gives us our creativity

And the dirt feeds our babies

With riquezas de frutas y vegetales

Maíz, frijol, granada

We are one

Our tierra madre

Can you see her?

She is crying

When it rains

She is dying

When there's flames

on her greens

right now, our cycle is broken

its dry and hot in January

the flowers stop blooming

in may

because there were no

april showers

it snows in august

how could this happen?

No one hears our mother cry

As they silently but violently

Rape her with skyscrapers

Roads, bridges, cars, planes

Sweatshops, maquiladoras

Every night, she hurts

Every day, we do nothing

Our mother is silently crying

Our mother is silently fighting

Our mother is silently dying

What are we doing

To defend her?


Quiero una huelga donde vayamos todos.
Una huelga de brazos, de piernas, de cabellos,
Una huelga nacido en cada cuerpo.

Quiero una huelga
de obreros de palomas
de choferes de flores
de tecnicos de ninos
de medicos de mujeres

Quiero una huelga grande
que hasta al amor alance
Una huelga donde todo se detenga,
el reloj las fabricas
el plantel los colegios
el bus los hospitales
el carretera los puertos

Una huelga de ojos, de manos y de besos.
Una huelga donde respirar so sea permitido
Una huelga donde nazca el silencio
para oir los pasos
del tirano que se marcha.

I want a strike where we all go out.
A strike of shoulders, legs, hair,
a strike born in every body.

I want a strike
of workers of doves
of drivers of flowers
of technicians of children
of doctors of women

I want a great strike
that includes even love.
A strike where everything is shut down.

the clock the factories
the nursery the schools
the bus the hospitals
the highway the harbors

A strike of eyes, hands, and kisses.
A strike where breathing is banned,
a strike where silence is born
in order to hear
the departing footsteps of the tyrant.

-- Gioconda Belli

Xicana Feminism as "Theory in the Flesh" (1981)

"A theory in the flesh means one where the physical realities of our lives-our skin color, the land or concrete we grew up on, our sexual longings-all fuse to create a politic born out of necessity. Here, we attempt to bridge the contradictions in our experience.
We are the colored in a white feminist movement.
We are the feminists among the people of our culture.
We are often the lesbians among the straight.
We do this bridging by naming our selves and by telling our stories in our own words."

From Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua, This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color San Francisco: Aunt Lute Press, 1981.