Coro del Amanecer: Day 8

I immediately adapt to natural life. Eastern Towhees join the Alba/Dawn Chorus here every morning… y me llaman papi 😉

This was made during a Zoom guided self-acupuncture workshop by metaDEN. The red boxes denote a book “Creative learning healing spaces for YoC;” the Orange peel has musical notes and “sex” written in the center; the yellow flower reads: I FIGHT FOR US; the forest-heart has 3 vales that read: material support, physical tenderness, and openly – under the heart reads “reciprocally” and on the heart reads something I forgot; under the shell are the words “I like telling Pachamama and you hearing; “PLACE” is stitched in a blue-marker microscope; and an indigo part of a Smoky Mountains postcard piece was cut for the corner with the words “Inspiration” written on top.The self care moments together today enlivened me. I have been mindfully noting that when I am surrounded by women and nonbinary PoC, I feel cared for, nurtured, in solidarity and joyfulness. After the chat I ventured for a walk in the forest I look at each morning (instead of driving about to look for spots).
Ground view: I took a lot of photos yesterday but was drained ALL day (depressed?). It’s been tough figuring out what is it I mourn about anymore. Clarita passed in Ecuador on Sunday from respiratory problems which were complicated by contracting COVID. I was going to surprise the family by going home earlier than I stated previously but I added a few days here, scared of sickening my parents and or niblings. I kept trying to document the sounds and tried figuring out the F#s or Eb in the chirpings and tree rustlings. I reminded myself the way I sometimes busy my mind on the road – calculating the distance between cars moving at various speeds. Math, my sister and father taught me, distracts my anxieties, helps me breathe deeper and calms me.
Feelings emerged when I saw that some twigs came home with me. I wanted to keep the twigs on my hat for a while… then I had an amazing shower where I re-massaged my body the way the metaDEN folxs showed me. Body part by part, intentionally being mindful, paying attention to my breathing and my singing of Yo Perreo Sola (on loop) again – this may be the song of the week or month. I took some nudes (hopefully to use in art someday with my other x-rated art).
Today was the Action day of our NYCoRE ItAG… it felt incredible to be full of the ideas of our group members. I love rethinking schools with people. This brings me validation in terms of my life goals. These are the people that make me feel whole. Then, at the end there was an amazing closing practice in which we showered with praise each individual. It felt awkward. I connect that the fuckin humility we “are supposed to be” just frightens me now. Why does receiving compliments feel so uncomfortable? I was the only one that intercepted a compliment to say Idon’tevenfuckinknowwhat. WTF. I’m working on showing gratitude instead of trying to evade praise. I’m also being cognizant of how I’ve acted in the past in withholding praise (to the right people not the ones who seek praise – I still find those people effin annoying) …. also how much I fuckin hate(d) lack of acknowledgement,

There are memories I have that I cannot shake.

this is T-R-A-U-M-A

In one memory I sent a heartfelt email to a professor who, in turn, ghosted me. They were nasty to me the whole semester as though I had done them wrong. YOU GOT BEEF? I DO NOT EVEN KNOW YOU, BITCH!! #haterzgonnahate. That same professor was the asshole who told me all the Ecuadorians they know “identified as White.” That was one of the most ignorant and unprofessional things I’ve heard a person utter. With everything that their fuckin PhD is supposed to be about – the complicated mess that is colonialism – this dumbFUCK (and I’ll tell it to their face) decides that they know enough of “my people” to tell me that I am neither Afro-decedent or Indigenous. How many Manabas do you know? Oh you happen to know a few Ecuas from your childhood? STFU. Ooooh that felt just as gross as being called a beaner or spic or the ‘n’ word. I was so close to them when they spoke these words that I was tempted to just uppercut their mouth to shut it. You wanna see ratchet Brooklyn come out? Try me.

That same professor was “sick” at some point (they made it a point to tell us how tough they were about lateness and grading for a week or two until the prized brown nosers missed days and then I said fuck it and landed myself in the hospital – i’m annoyed at myself for being courteous to them – cause I DO NOT OWE YOU A GODDAMN THING. So, they sent their spouse to play for us a documentary about my childhood neighborhood, which supposedly was the prof’s too. I rose my hand in tears to express gratitude and praise, feeling happiness…. that cold fucker just looked at me, said nothing at all for a moment and then asked if “anyone else has something to say.” I did not even want “a thank you” or “appreciate that”…. claro que me pica! Your fuckin tool of a spouse also just takes your chismes and applies them to people he doesn’t know shit about?

I remind myself constantly to not be a cold, asshole professor like these “young scholars” (my fuckin age) who behave this way. How is it you treat a student like this?

Despicable.. YALL IS GROSS. Nasty. I hope for no students ever feel like yall made me feel.

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Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Live and R.E.M. were my favorite bands for a long time. I’ve mostly fluctuated between Hip Hop and Rock music. In the past few years I’ve been intentional about listening to more women and non-binary people. I’m also doing this with my reading and in a lot of what I do. It has altered my reality, my perceptions drastically. For one, it’s nice to hear my politics come out eloquently by Delpit, hooks or Hills-Collins, for example. Also, I’ve been intentionally divesting in capitalism not just theoretically, like most people I know. we haven’t been taught better. But I have. I cannot say that the last decade of my life hasn’t been full of a wide array of knowledges and ontologies that directly interrupt colonialism. I literally do my best not to participate in capitalism and racism and other isms. It’s tough as fuck. I say real dumb shit real often. Not only was I raised hood but I also got a lotta redneck in me.

All of this:

Throughout this article, you’ll read the occasional “goddamn” and “fuck you” and other choice cuss words. They’re not always meant to shock, but to make a point, or because I’m angry, or to keep you awake.Profanity is subjective, anyways. What’s profane to me is not someone who says “fuck.” What’s profane to me is what happened to the people trapped in the World Trade Center on 9/11. What’s profane to me is big business CEOs makin’ millions of dollars in salary perks while their minimum-wage workers is livin’ off food stamps. What’s profane to me is all the racist, sexist, legislative bullshit happenin’ in states like Arizona, North Carolina, and Texas. Profanity, to me, is not what someone says. Profanity is what people do to each other that hurts or kills. I really doubt that me sayin’ one “goddamn” is as profane or offensive as the thousands if not millions of folks in Africa dyin’ from AIDS right now. So, keep my cussin’ in perspective, OK? If you got problems with my profane voice, then fuck you—go read somethin’ else. Let the people with balls on ’em keep readin’.(Granted, “fuck you” is not the most sophisticated of retorts, but when it’s said by me, at least you know it’s heartfelt and sincere (Saldaña, 977).

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