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SPRING 2014

Dejando Huellas

A lua ascendiaSímbolos patrios de México

A Cry for VenezuelaHome Away from Home

Letters from Russia“Spanish is for Casa”

I am a Transient ChildRestos de outono

Speak ItUna plática con mi mamá

Equipo

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Nanette NunuCatalina RamosAndrea TreusRebeca LiberbaumSergio LabraIsaac BlancasMelissa JimenezJohan ZambranoAlyssa KennedyGionni PonceRebeca LiberbaumGionni PonceDanny GutierrezGiovanna Pineda

TABLE of CONTENTS

ISAAC BLANCAS

DANNY GUTIERREZJOHAN ZAMBRANO

MONICA CASTILLO

GLEESON RYAN

Editor-in-Chief:

Acquisitions Editors:

Business Manager:

Layout Editor:

Special thanks to:

La Casa LatinaThe Latino Coalition

Student Activities CouncilArt Communications Systems, Inc.

Penn Publications Cooperative

Staff Editors:Emmanuel Cordova

Yessenia GutierrezAndres De Los Ríos

Note about the cover:The first image shown is a German map of the Americas, 1540.The second is a map of the trolley system in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1944.

The beginning of any endeavor is always the most difficult. Like many say, “The first step is always the hardest.” I kept that in the back of my mind as I became the new Editor-in-Chief for La Vida Maga-zine. I had very big shoes to fill after the wonderful job done by our previous Editor-in-Chief, Tiffany, and it was honestly quite a challenge to keep the same mo-mentum that she had provided for La Vida throughout her tenure. I wanted to continue La Vida for what it was created for, which was spread our voices as stu-dents of Latino heritage here at Penn. My time here at Penn has shown me a lot, especially with activities I take part in. With a typical day consisting of work-ing in the International Relations department, writing political op-pieces, hanging out in La Casa Latina with Johnny, coordinating my event in European music for the Russian department, and in four languages daily, I have come to understand the idea of living between different worlds, and what that means not only as an individual, but also as a Latino student at Penn. Taking up the position has been my opportunity to reconnect with the wider community. In that regard, as member being between worlds, the theme has resonated a lot with me. I want-ed to give voice to people who have felt this way be-fore. With that in mind, our theme coincided with the grand theme of Festival Latino, “Entre Mundos” or “Between Worlds.” This same theme greatly resonates across the Latino and Penn community because of our powerful mixed heritage, diversity and the experiences, the memories, both good and bad, that we, of Latino descent, have. As we received submissions, it struck me that we also have unique aspects in our commonality as our experiences paint more of a mosaic of what our lives represent. Over the last couple of weeks, I was amazed at the creativity and the power of emo-tions that I saw in many of the pieces we received. I could relate, and yet be opened to a new paradigm that I never thought about before. I was simply in awe of what the power of words had through any medium whether it was prose, poem, or other pieces of litera-

ture and art. Despite our ethnic diversity and different experiences, living “entre mundos” has created a sense of empowerment, unity, and family within the Latino community. “Entre Mundos” contains a multitude of connotations and in that brings together our diversity as an ethnic group. As an ethnic group we stretch from the tip of La Patagonia to Chicago and New York, we can draw on those experiences. Are we in between dif-ferent linguistic forces living in our countries of ori-gin? Is our frame of mind stretched between worlds and across space and time? What does it mean to us? Does it matter in the end? All these questions are com-plicated in their own regard, and we aim to answer some of those questions through our general theme. Ultimately it is the decisions of individuals in their per-sonal paths that bring them closer to these answers. I have learned much, as Editor-in-Chief, about the amount of work that goes into a publication, but I’ve had an amazing experience in creating a piece that reflects the voice of the student body. As I write this during a week of many excited events and prepa-ration for Festival Latino, I take pride in the work that each piece represents in the wider Latino perspective that transcends borders, time, and cultural and linguis-tic divide. I am honored to have read the pieces which you are about the read. Ultimately, I am happy to con-tribute something to the Latino community, and most importantly, give students the opportunity to share their work and express their own personal vignettes in life. I want to thank the people that made it pos-sible, Johan, Danny, Monica, and Gleeson as well as all the editors. Without you guys, we couldn’t have our Spring Edition 2014! It is my great honor to officially present La Vida Spring 2014 Edition! You will feel the emotion and artistry that happens on every page. We are united as students of Latino heritage and also as students of the wider Penn community. Sincerely,

LETTER from the EDITORDear Reader:

Isaac Andres Blancas Editor-in-Chief

ISAAC BLANCAS

DANNY GUTIERREZJOHAN ZAMBRANO

MONICA CASTILLO

GLEESON RYAN

Carolina, it has been an amazing four years, who would have known that it would all go by so quickly. Our friendship goes back to freshman year when we all ended up on the same hall, not because of our love of the Communications Residen-tial Program we all got into in Fisher, but be-cause we were all told that that living in the Quad was the best way to have an awesome time at fling and sneak in alcohol. Shhh. As it turned out, the friends we made in our hall would be the strongest friendships we had all through college. Freshmen year, 3rd Floor Baldwin-Mckean, aka McBallers, aka The Foyer, saw plenty of good times, some that we remember and most that we don’t. We were busy joining Greek life, trying a million clubs, and attempt-ing (usually failing) to juggle frat parties with our studies. Sophomore year we buckled down, got serious about school and found our niches in our most important extracurriculars. Then junior year came and we were devastated to be spending a whole semester apart as we all trav-elled abroad. But coming back to the States, we developed a new outlook on life and school especially. Our friendship grew closer as we ex-perienced feelings of being so over everything while trying to face the idea of life after col-lege. As we wrap up our senior year, there’s no doubting the fact that this journey wouldn’t have been the same without you. We have been so proud to call you our best friend, not only because of your kindness and loyalty, but also because of all the great things you’ve accom-plished on Penn’s campus. It has been so great to see you grow as a leader within every facet of SPEC and your strong presence within the Latino community. You have accomplished so much in the face of adversity. The opportunities you’ve created for yourself during your time here will

con-t i n u e to in-spire us long after g r a d u a t i o n . You are ground-ed, hardworking and unwaveringly disciplined. Penn will be losing a shining star come May. However, our friendship will stand the test of time as we navigate the next phase of our lives. Wherever we each end up, it will have been the highlight of our young lives to have met such a beautiful spirit. We love you so much, Carolina. If we’re not bridesmaids in your wedding, we’ll post ev-ery crazy, drunk, big-haired photo we have of you…there are hundreds. -Nanette Nunu

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A new year marks new beginnings. New beginnings mean change. Every year, a new La Vida board takes over the retiring board. This year was a big change for La Vida since three essential board members neared the end of their college careers. Their mentorship and inspiration has been essential for this issue, so the new LV board decided to create this segment of “Dejando Huellas” in order to thank our lovely graduating seniors as well as to celebrate their time here at Penn.

DEJANDO HUELLAS...

I am so honored to be the person writing your senior send off for La Vida Magazine. Moments like these are so bittersweet. Although graduation means we are leaving college, it also means that you are going to continue to make a huge impact on other people’s lives and change the world.

La Vida would not be where it is right now if it wasn’t for all of your hard work and dedication for the past two years. From finally making it into a magazine to spreading awareness throughout campus, you have made great strides for La Vida. I have personally seen you invest a bunch of all-nighters to make sure it comes out perfect and it has all been worth it. Your passion is contagious to everyone around you, especially to those doing La Vida now. I want you to know that you are one in a million. You have so much to offer and I can’t wait to see what you are going to accomplish in the future so I can support you every step of the way. I am so lucky to have found my other half (two bodies, one soul) in college and I’m so excited for our friendship to keep growing throughout the years (even though I doubt it can get any better than this). Love you!!!! From your best friend, Andrea Treus

Adan Aries Juarez Cordova is one of the most incredible individuals that you will meet during your

time at Penn and I’m not just saying this because he is my best

friend. Adan is known as an outgoing,

i n s p i r a t i o n a l leader on

c a m p u s , but many

w h o know

him

well realize how multifaceted and thoughtful he is. In his sophomore year, Adan dove into the deep end of the Latino community and became involved in more groups than seemed possible. Adan is special in that he is able to give passion, energy, and commitment to every single one of his involvements, something not every person is able to do. When serving on a board, Adan is always an invaluable resource. Adan’s widely known talent for design was polished during his time on the La Vida board. As a two time layout editor Adan, has brought brilliant and creative design to the magazine as it made its transition from a ***DP insert to an independently printed publication. Additionally, he has gone above and beyond by writing numerous pieces about events in the community and commissioning pieces from all his friends. Each of the La Vida “hell weekends” he was on staff, he would message me throughout the weekend complaining about being locked in a high-rise computer lab until late at night, but I know he loved the company. Adan, Carolina, and Tiffany are great friends and incredible La Vida staff members, and I’m not just saying this because I’ve been on the cover. -Catalina Ramos

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DEJANDO HUELLAS...

Tiffany,

Photograph by Austin Bream

A lua ascendia por cima da baía, em seu esplendor amarelo e raro O homem com sua dor, de barba mal-feita, procurava na lua Companhia. Frente a ela enxergou sua própria fragilidade, Por ser sempre escravo da vida, incurável servo da morte.

E a lua nascente, redonda e viva, tinha a sorteDe passar os anos mantendo seu segredo, brilho e idade. Em passos pesados, desconsolados, carregava sua mágoa pela rua. Cada dia, um a menos. O silêncio de seu sorriso era seu infindo desamparo.

A rua deserta, até a noite já dormia. Seus sapatos Cochichavam no asfalto segredos de namorados que um dia Se beijaram na esquina daquela rua vazia. E que agora, já olvidados E finados, não tinham placa. Que diferença faria não terem existido?

Suas mãos fracas, espessas, de trabalhador desvalido,Não tinham aliança. E sua última lembrança dos dois casados Era numa noite fria, sem lua. Ela de vestido, ou calça, ou nua, ria De qualquer piada sem graça. E ele era vivo, liberto, como um ser humano nato.

A lua ascendiaby Rebeca Liberbaum

6 Terrill Warrenburg

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by Sergio Labra

Símbolos patrios de México

Los símbolos patrios,de la tuya nación,esos iconos laicos,de tu identificación.

Esta la bandera,De los tres ardientes,Poderosa y atenta,Ella está siempre.

De belleza inmensa,El verde, blanco y rojo,Con su sola presencia,Enorgullece a todos.

Adentro de esta,Se encuentra al escudo,La valiosa pieza,De nuestro orgullos.

Consiste en un águila,Devorando una serpiente,Posada en un nopal,Sosteniéndola imponente.

El Himno Nacional,La música y letra,De grandeza mundial,Del genio Bocanegra.

El coro y las estrofas,El que oiga admirará,Y su música de tropas,Por siempre sonora.

Andres De Los Ríos

Terrill Warrenburg

Over the last couple of weeks you have heard, on every major news channel, about the missing Malaysian flight, the Crimean crisis, and the Ukrainian Revolution, but these events have been overshadowing events in Latin America. Specifically, I am talking about the Venezuelan protests that have erupted and effectively crippled the capitol, Caracas, and the countryside since early January. The protests have largely erupted in response to the high levels of violence, inflation, and the scarcity of basic goods largely caused by the national government. News outlets have been scant with information. However, not acknowl-edging the inherent risk the Venezuelan people face on the streets would be belittling and a disser-vice to the importance that these protests play in global politics and the domestic context in which its citizens live and participate. Let’s start with some background infor-mation. The protests were largely provoked by two events early in the year: the murder of former Miss Venezuela, Monica Spear, and her husband as well as the attempted rape of a young student on a university campus in San Cristobal. The pro-test initially started with student groups largely fighting to make the government address these criminal issues. Unfortunately, internal security within Venezuela has devolved, changing the na-tion into a dangerous, violent place to live. De-spite the violent environment, the protests were

largely peaceful. Still, the harsh response from police resulted in several students being abused and detained. This caused more students to join in these protests. Eventually the outcry spread to the capital and other cities from San Cristobal, with protests leaders going against Nicholas Maduro, the current president of Venezuela, after Hugo Chavez’s death over a year ago. Although these are the immediate reasons for the protests, there has been growing discontent and disillusion with the government. Economically speaking, the nation has seen better days, despite having massive oil re-serves that rival those in the Middle East. Re-cently, the national government has rescinded its payments to international corporations, especially with national infrastructure projects. The govern-ment has been running out of foreign reserves to meet its obligations. What also does not help is the level of inflation, which has been a source of misguided economic decisions. For instance, the official rate of inflation from the Central Bank of Venezuela has been listed as 59% from May 2013 to January 2014; however, the implied inflation rate may be as high as 330% which makes filling economic obligations, both abroad and domesti-cally, much harder. This inflation rate is also an issue because it severely diminishes the purchas-ing power citizens have in their own nation. This is compounded even more by the lack of goods

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A Cry for Venezuela

-Isaac Blancas

throughout the nation, which seems contradic-tory if the nation has been receiving a boom in its economy from the selling of petroleum world-wide. It manifests itself as the “Dutch disease” with regards to petroleum. It has allowed the gov-ernment to make “easy money” in a sense since it has a commodity that is valued worldwide. The influx of oil money is great since it means massive profits for the state, but if not regulated, it can lead to runaway inflation. We see that in Venezu-ela right now, competitive advantage has become a crack in the economic health of the nation. Additionally, the legacy of Chavez in Venezuela has created a divide within the popu-lace. There is a view that the protesters are largely students from the middle class, encouraged by opposition members against the Maduro regime. Within the poor and other disadvantaged people, these protests are seen as unnecessary and not represented of the true composition of the citi-zens of the nation. The disadvantaged believe that the government has given them a voice that they did not have before Chavez took power in 2002. They repute the demands by the student protest-ers that believe there is a scarcity of basic goods. For analysts, this is described as a “class war” in which public opinion has become divided be-tween the possibilities in a change of government. Interestingly, however, the citizens in support of Maduro do believe that crime, corruption, and the

economy should be addressed but disagree in the methods that are being used. In the large scale of Venezuela with its regional partners, there is disagreement as to whom to support: the protest groups or the government. Governments like Ar-gentina, Bolivia, Cuba, and Nicaragua have been in support of Maduro’s regime. Other governments like Panama, Peru, and Chile have largely support-ed the measures and risks taken by the protesters. Yet they all call for an end to the violence that has swept the nation and seek a dialogue between the government and the protesters. In this we see the divide that not only divides the citizens of Ven-ezuela, but also the responses from all over Latin America. In the end, the call for better security, bet-ter economic health, and a better life is not just limited to one nation-state. It’s a human need that Maduro needs to address soon. If he does not, he risks facing the same fate in the pages of his-tory as Ukraine’s Yanukovich, Egypt’s Mubarak, or even Libya’s Gaddafi. In conclusion, both the protesters and the supporters of the government want a better life for the next generation and for the future, though the methods will greatly vary. We should be keenly aware of this issue, or we risk alienating what possibly could be a new, better Venezuela.

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A Cry for Venezuela

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Home Away from Home

Visiting my family in the Domini-can Republic makes me feel fortunate for the things that I have. On the other hand, being at a place like Penn makes me think about how much more others have around me. There are many places to be at, and if you’re not on the bottom end, you’ll probably be better off. It wasn’t until a few years ago that the area that my family lives in got roads made of gravel as opposed to the dirt roads that were there before. Wi-Fi has now become something that people can afford to have as a luxury. Most of the things that my family members own hap-pen to come from the US from other fam-ily members who go and visit and either leave them with money or gifts. When I was younger, it used to be that they would be content with anything that they got, but now with social media, it seems as though everyone wants all of the latest things. Many of the people in the

country, at least many of the ones that live in the area where my parents are from, are trying their hardest to find their way out of the country to seek better opportuni-ties. Because of this, policies for leaving the country are getting stricter with time. It is the case, even with some of my family members, that some will marry a citizen of the US just to get a visa into the country. My parents came here at a time when there weren’t many Latinos in the states to begin with, so they had options for low end jobs, but those low end jobs pay a lot more than low end jobs in DR. Being on the lower end of the spectrum financially at Penn is a bit difficult because I have to worry not just about my academics, but also about mak-ing sure that I work so that I don’t have to feel like I’m being a burden on my parents. On the other hand, I can see the many op-portunities that I otherwise wouldn’t have if I weren’t here.

by Melissa Jimenez

Johan Zambrano

Melissa Jimenez

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It was 90 degrees, I had been traveling for five hours, and to say the least I was cranky. I had to wait for five hours in JFK to receive my passport along with three of my fellow peers. Once we got our passports, I immediately flipped its pages to look for the Visa. On the ninth page, there it was, written in bright Cyrillic “Visa for entrance to the Russian Federation.” Clearly, I was excited. I was anxious to live abroad with a fam-ily of strangers. I thought my experiences as a wanderer and the preparation from the program I was going with would have prepared me for any sort of culture shock, but I soon learned that my experience would be different from that of my peers. After a nine hour flight over the Atlantic and most of Europe, I finally arrived in Saint Petersburg, Russia. The air lacked the humidity of a Northeastern summer, it was filled with pukh (pollen from a tree that resembles snow), and I could barely under-stand anything. I was dropped off along with my roommate at our host family’s apart-ment. Our host mother and father were excited to know us. They sat us down promptly and asked us to describe ourselves over tea and bliny (Russian pancakes). I introduced myself with all the common formalities and told my host parents that I was Colombian. Initially, they thought Colombia was a state within the US. They asked me where it was in the states, whether it was warm and what big notable cities were in the state of Co-lombia. I explained that Colombia was a separate country in South America with both warm and cold climates. They were very interested about my origins, but I didn’t realize yet that this interest would foreshadow my unique experience. My excitement to explore Saint Petersburg was bigger than ever. As soon as I could, I met up with a few friends and explored the city during its infamous white nights (Beliy Nochi). We ventured into bars, parks and landmarks and took endless selfies with statues of Karl Marx. Before we knew it, it was past midnight and the night life was just starting. Music could be heard blasting down the main avenue. My friends entered the club with no problem; however, once it was my turn, I was the only one asked to pres-ent my passport. The guard thought I was Chechen. It was disheartening at first, but once I showed him my passport he quickly became interested. He asked to speak to me, and asked me what I was doing in Russia as well as many questions about Colombia. I soon learned that my different appearance gave me a unique opportunity. I was being perceived as different from others in my group but this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. People were interested in hearing about my culture, and what set me apart from my group. Although it was frustrating getting pulled aside at times, it was also an opportu-nity for me to showcase my heritage and it was a topic that connected me further to my host family and new friends. it helped me see through the Russian coldness and see the affection and interests that the people around me held. My intercultural experience not only helped me absorb my culture but it allowed others to absorb a little bit of mine. In there lies my “entre mundos” experience, or as the Russians would say “mezhdu mirami.”

by Johan Zambrano

Letters from Russia

Johan Zambrano

“Spanish is for Casa”

If you saw me walk down Locust you would think: just another ordinary American girl. Maybe I am just another “ordinary American girl,” but I’m a lot more multifaceted. If you see my name you think you know me: an Irish-American girl. Yes, people are right for thinking I’m Irish; my last name is Kennedy, after all. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really proud to be Irish, but I’m also Spanish and I am equally proud. My mother emigrated from Spain with the rest of her immediate family when she was a teenager. She has taught me to love my unique “Black Irish” background (half Spanish, half Irish). If you hear me talk you think: English was definitely her first language. But people are very wrong to assume this. The first word out of my mouth, at three months, was cheche, a varia-tion of leche. I did not even utter my first English word until much later. You think: she’s never been stuck in between two worlds. You’re wrong. When I was very young I never thought I would be stuck in between worlds. If anything, I thought having a dad who spoke English and a mom who spoke Spanish was a common thing, nothing out of the ordinary. It was not until I started a new elementary school that I realized being a member of both worlds would be a problem.

*** I grew up in a very Hispanic neighborhood in northern New Jersey. All the kids in my elementary school came from households where Spanish was the main language, just like mine. It was great! I was included in this world. It was comfortable. It was fun. It was home for me. I went to school in my neighborhood for about eight years. It soon changed. When I turned nine, I got accepted to a newer, more “prestigious” school. My parents felt that going to la escuela de lujo would bring me more opportunities than my current school and so they told me that I would have to leave my old school.

By Alyssa Kennedy

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Terrill Warrenburg

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I was really nervous about leaving all of my friends and a place that felt like home. I cried to my best friend on my last day and said, “¡No quiero ir! ¡Voy a run away de mi casa!” My friend Sara looked at me and cried herself, “Va a ser bien. Vamos a ver each other todos los días después de school.” That gave me hope. My new school was very different from what I was used to. I didn’t hear the romantic flow of Spanish; instead I heard harsh Germanic sounds. It sounded foreign. Granted, I did speak some English at home because of my dad, but not so often that I would get used to hearing it all the time. As I walked into the third grade classroom, the teacher introduced me to the rest of the class. “Class, this is Alyssa Kennedy. She’s new this year. Make her feel at home.” Everyone in the class was excited to have a new classmate. They bombarded me with questions and I was excited to answer them. I started answering all their questions, one right after the other. But gradually everyone’s expressions changed from excitement to utter confusion and disgust. I too became confused. I thought, “¿Hice algo malo?” The teacher marched right over to me, looked me square in the face, and said, “Spanish is for caaaasssaaaa.” It was at that moment that I realized I was answer-ing all of my classmate’s questions in Spanglish. All the kids roared with laugher. I hung my head for the rest of the day.

*** After that experience, I was embarrassed to speak and be Spanish. I wanted to be like everyone else in my new school. I started to act and speak like all of the other kids, and soon I was one of them. But I paid a great price to be part of their world. One day, after school, Sara came to my house to visit me. She spoke Span-ish to me, and I replied only in English. She was confused and often had some dif-ficulty understanding me. She would push me to speak Spanish over and over until I finally snapped. “SPANISH IS UGLY! NO ONE LIKES IT! IT’S FOR STUPID PEOPLE THAT DON’T KNOW ENGLISH!” She cried so loud for hours that my mom had to take her back to her house. From that day on, I tried my hardest to separate myself from my neighborhood and my past.

*** It was only until I was fourteen that I realized how much I loved being Spanish. I tried to reintegrate myself into my old neighborhood, but it was too late. People would not take me seriously because I now spoke Spanish like a gringa and I barely knew any of the pop-culture or current events. I remember the day Sara came up to me and said, “Yo sé que puedes entender español, así que escucha bien: ser española es un privilegio y tú, gringa, lo perdiste. No te queremos aquí nunca más.” My neighborhood once felt like an extension of my home, but now it felt like a new country: a distant and unwelcoming place.

*** I made a horrible mistake: I threw away one world to be part of another. I am now trying to make my way back in by taking Spanish classes, keeping up with current events and pop-culture, and slowly gaining the approval of other Hispanics. But by doing this, I am now slowly falling out of the other world I tried so hard to be a part of when I was nine. I now feel that I will always be forever trapped in this limbo, entre mundos.

Terrill Warrenburg

I am a transient child.

I move from place to place without really root-ing for anyone or any place. I haven’t stayed in one state for longer than 9 months since I was 5 years old. But my drifting isn’t unique. Thou-sands of children travel between two families. We share characteristics. How can you recognize us?

We’re not particularly attached to physical places. A space here or there doesn’t matter. One day, we’ll leave our family in one home and the next time we see them, they have a different house.

We choose where we come from. When asked, we can bend into what you want us to be. Oh, your parents are from Colorado? I was born in Arizona. You grew up in Ohio? I am from Michigan. We will say whatever relates best to you.

We don’t easily get homesick. Leaving our families for months on end is nothing new to us. Once we’re past a certain mileage, the distance doesn’t really matter.

We’re watchful. After years of trying to drop into a home that is supposed to be ours, we’ve learned how to adapt to the rules, sense of hu-mor, and general sentiment of a place.

We’re used to the idea of FOMO. We miss birth-days, holidays, recitals, and sporting events. We send presents by standard mail and watch them opened on a computer screen.

Most people don’t know. Most people don’t care. Most people won’t ask. They will never think about what it means to come from two families—to live two separate lives: Confusion, Tension, Isolation, Sadness.

Our lives and important moments are defined by uncomfortable family politics. The choices we should be making for ourselves become about others. Will you move closer to us for college? When will you make time for us? Who will you eat dinner with after your graduation? Where will you get married? Who will walk you down the aisle? Who will you name your children after?

Questions like those make me dread the future. They make me restless. Moving has been condi-tioned into my nature. My dad once said, “I’ve always known that you wouldn’t stick around. As soon as you were old enough, I knew you’d be gone.”

I go back. But I’m never sure if it’s the returning or the leaving that brings relief. I am a transient child. I never chose this.

I am a Transient Childby Gionni Ponce

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Kelly Jiang

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Restos de outono caídos secos na calçadaHomens de preto e frio carregam folhas velhas que outrora eram verdes de vida

Restos de outono assoprados Por brisas levesHá calmaria nas calçadas Há flores na memória

Restos de um outono Que fora vermelho, laranja, amareloUm outono de chuva que escorreu pelas minhas bochechasnas calçadaschuva doloridachuva colorida

Virá neve, virá sol e restos desse outono serão esquecidos como as cores, como a vida, que também deixamos de lado nas calçadas, com passos apressados, de olhos fechadosDeixando as estações passarem despercebidasPara só lembrar-nos delasquando homens de preto jogam fora os restos desse tempo.

by Rebeca LiberbaumRestos de outono

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Kelly Jiang

Cynthia Ding

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Speak ItShe does not think evil but she speaks it. I went to an event for Latino students. A friend said to me, “Why didn’t I know about this event?” The evil popped out before I knew what was happening. “Because you’re half Egyptian. We only wanted true Latinos there.” I struggle with my Latinidad but I shamed someone else?

She laughed. I laughed. It wasn’t funny.

Don’t think the evil. Don’t speak it.

I went to dinner with some friends. Someone said, “I think he’s the most queer person at this table.” I asked “How does one define queerness?”Someone who refuses the evil said, “You can’t rate queerness. You know better than that.”

We know better than that. But I still speak it. I still hear it.

How can you not know Ramón Ayala? Mexicans don’t cook it that way. Come on, every Mexican can dance cumbia.Now you’re just starting to sound like a white lady.Are you even Mexican?

We are bonded. But we are not the same.

You cannot rate Chicano-ness. You cannot rate queerness. To rate you must define.

Define for me Chicano.

Spanish-speaking, English-lacking, undereducated. Spicy, hot-headed, abusive. Sexy, exotic, erotic, whorish.

Boxed definitions lead to accepted clichés.

I don’t think the evil. I won’t speak it. She does not think evil… but she speaks it.

by Gionni Ponce

Una plática con mi mamáby Danny Gutierrez

Cuando llegué a los Estados Unidos por la primera vez, vivía con Tío Juan. Tenía que es-tar de escondidas en su apartamento porque la dueña no permitía que haiga personas extras, y estábamos encerradas por casi un mes. (She was accompanied by other women) ¿Qué hacíamos? Mirando la tele, haciendo la comidita. Obvio, buscábamos trabajo de casa por medio del radio. Además de eso no podíamos abrir la ventana, no podíamos dar una vuelta, porque si nos encon-traría los dueños, multarían a Tío Juan. Estábamos encerraditas, y aunque tenía mi hermana Susi con-migo, sentí solita.

*** En ese tiempo, no busqué a Dios. Aunque tenía un deseo en mi corazón, no pude. ¿Por qué? Pues ¡porque estaba en un país nuevo, diferente, extraño! No conocía nadie, no podía salir, no con-ocía nadie, no busqué a nadie hasta que salí de ese apartamento. (She sighs) Ese apartamento…

*** Mi hermana Susi fue por mí por una se-mana. Ella vivía en Los Angeles. No me acostum-bré, porque mi hermana iba al trabajo e yo me quedaba en su apartamento. ¡Lo mismito! Volver a encerrar y no quería eso. Quería trabajar en casa, estar libre, moviendo, subiendo, bajando, traba-jando y no estar encerrada. Y ella me llevó unos dos o tres días a trabajar en la fábrica. No me gustó el trabajo. Todo lo que hacía fue cortar los hilitos de las ropas que no se cortaban bien por las

máquinas. En pocas palabras, me aburrí, regresé a San Bernardino, y allí fue donde encontré trabajo con Don Alfonso Oropeza en Perris.

*** Llegué a Perris, un pueblo, en un rancho, y me gustó. Recordé de mi pueblo de Santa Ana del Valle, recordé de mi pueblo. Allí fui más feliz porque me hizo recordar de Santa Ana. Tenía bor-regos, animales, perros. Me hizo sentir cómoda porque estuve en aire libre, andando como si es-tuviera en mi pueblo. No batallé. No sentí encer-rada.

*** Cuando me hablaron de ir a la iglesia, dije “Esto. Esto es lo que yo necesito.” Primeramente Dios. Me enamoré de tu Papi, tenía yo a ustedes...ya no sentía sola. Sentí completa mi familia. Ya sentí que era lo que hacía falta: me hacía falta a Dios, mi pareja, mis hijos, mi hogar.

*** Regresando a mi pueblo, estoy sola. No tengo a mis hijos, mi esposo. Y aunque es mi pueblo, donde nací, donde crecí, donde está mi mamá, sentí totalmente diferente. Pero mi familia, mi esposo, mis hijos, no están conmigo. Es volver a acomodarme en mi pueblo, y no como soltera, sino como una mujer casada, pero sin su familia. Yo sé que es algo bonito regresar a mi pueblo, porque yo sé que es más saludable comer la comi-da de aquí, respirar el aire del aquí, pero como me acostumbré de estar con mi familia fue dife-rente mi experiencia de acomodarme de nuevo a mi pueblo. Ya no sentí completa. Mi refugio es en Dios, eso es primero. Pero la carne es débil, y extraño a ustedes, mi familia. Por eso, hay veces cuando siento triste.

*** Con la ayuda de Dios, me ha ayudado vivir una nueva vida aquí. Aceptar adonde estoy viviendo. Es bonita la vida. Tienes que valorar

On February 1st, 2013, my mom, Bernardina Gutierrez, was deported to Tijuana, Mexico after fighting in immigration courts for seven years. Horrified by the idea of my mom living in Tijuana by herself, my family hastily ar-ranged her flight back to her home in the state of Oaxaca, a place she had not seen in ten years. An entire year has passed, and I asked her in our latest conversation what living entre mundos means to her. These are her pensamientos.

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todo lo que es hermoso en este mundo. La belleza, la naturaleza, los árboles, las mon-tañas - todo. Cuando me entra algo, digo, “Wow, vivir es algo hermoso.” Toda la vida es difícil, no todo ha sido bonita, pero es por medio de Dios que aprendemos disfrutar de la vida. Agradezco a Dios porque día a día es una nueva vida, y ahora es cosa de apr-ovecharlo.

*** Ahora que estoy aquí, fíjate, es muy raro, casi a ustedes no los sueño. Sueño más que estoy aquí en el pueblo. De vez en cuan-do sueño a papi. A ustedes, mis hijos, cinco veces. Él es el que sueño más seguido. Ando con alguien de la casa. Incluso, he soñado a mi padre que está muerto, pero yo sé que no es que está aquí, sino que...le da tanto gusto de mirarme, pero allí nomás, no me platica.

*** Mientras que yo estoy sanita, yo miro la gente contenta, feliz, mi casa. Me siento bien. Pero, cuando me ataca cualquier enfermedad, (pause) cómo me hace falta mi familia, que son ustedes, de verdad. Por dos semanas, cuando papi vino al pueblo, aunque él estaba aquí no sentí feliz, porque me en-fermé. Lo reconozco, y le pedí perdón a Dios, pero...tuve temor, tuve miedo, tuve un desánimo en me, no me gusto a mí mismo. No tuve ganas de orar, de ir al doctor. Hasta de comer, tuve algo en el boca del estómago, bajé de peso. Me sentía mala de verdad.

*** Quería yo salir de la puerta, de respi-rar el aire libre, que es lo mejor. Me sentí encerrada. No era normal. Pero doy gracias a Dios, porque al sentir esas síntomas, dije, “¡En el nombre de Jesucristo! Tengo al Señor en mí, y ¡todo esto va a pasar!” Al momen-to que se me iba el hambre, mis manos me veían pálidas, mi cara pálida, yo decía “¡en Tu Nombre Señor, sea reprendido, en Tu Nom-bre Señor, en Tu Nombre!”

*** En final, la lucha era entre el espíritu y la carne, el espíritu y la carne, el espíritu y en la carne. Yo soy una mujer victoriosa, una mujer triunfadora, por medio de Dios.

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So you sweat, and I sweat,but it’s not the same.No, we’re on completely different planes.You kick back after you kick the ball, while I’m trying not to fall back on my studies, ‘cause I’m giving it my all.You look at me as if I were an alien,but, in fact, I am one of your ownpeople, the people who labor, the people who yearn,the people who work so hard for the little money they earn.You come into this locker room andtalk dirty about boys, yet dirty about girls;best part is you think you know the world.

Well, guess what, honeys?If you treat the rest of the world the way you treat me, You better expect some reciprocity.You may think that my skin and your skin are too different,but, girls, the only difference is the pigment. I’m sorry that I do my homework, and that I use correct grammar…I’m sorry that I’m on this soccer team…did I stammer?

I’m sorry that you think that difference is skin deep, because that’s actually beauty, but, you know, maybe you’re a beast.A beast, who creates schisms in teams and holes in racial unity, a beast who failsto understand why we’ve gotta stand up against the man,the man who thinks we’re all the same, and has apparently convinced you that no one is to blame. I hate to be accusatory, but this pain just gets so boring, so dull, so disap-pointing. I’d hear it if you had a reason, a reason for this discrimination you adore.

I can’t be your friend because I’m too light for you?Because I’m too bright for you?Because you think that position would be too tight for you?Like those dresses you girls wear when you go out, Like those fists that you clench during fights, when you shout.Like those joints that you roll instead of going to tutorials.Girls, what do I gotta do?To prove that I can be a friend to you?

Do I gotta wear lots of makeup?Do I gotta wake up, and change my personality?How do I come to terms with this alleged “melt-ing pot” duality?I’m too Latina for the whites, too white for the Latinas.What do I gotta do, formarme en tu fila?Pues no. No lo haré. I won’t do it.I won’t jump through it, that monopoly hoop you think you hold.

Because on this team, only one person truly speaks to me.Only one person wants to geek with me - only one person’s willing to be my friend. You know, she’s the only one who makes this a safe place for me - The team where not all Latinos have community.The team where I go and kick it alone, the team where I loathe the insolence that I’ve been shown.

Sometimes, we gotta break out of these suffocat-ing situations,even though when we leave, our hearts bleed like carnations.But you know what? That’s fine,because equipo, “team,” may have an “I,”but not this team, ‘cause this team ain’t mine.

Equipoby Giovanna Pineda

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Cynthia Ding