These Waters Run Deep

Come join me at Word Up Books for a special reading of selections from my first book, “Hija De Mi Madre”, as well as poetry from “Odas De La Mujer De Miel”. I will also be sharing new poetry and prose in progress that continues the story I began to tell in 2007 when I sat down and began to put together the experience of an Afro-Latina from my own life.

Copies of the 1st edition will be on sale =)

When: May 17th, 2012
Where: Word Up Books – 4157 Broadway @ 176 Street, Washington Heights, NYC
Time: 7pm – 9pm
How: No Cover!

See you there!

*originally published on Circus Books

The first time I experienced an overzealous desire from some folks to rub my head was two years ago. I came back from a trip to Puerto Rico with a bald head, having taken clippers and a razor to my former Afro. I did not enjoy having my head touched without being asked. There are a lot of different emotions and thoughts that come with it. It seems peculiar to me – I consider my head an intimate space unto myself and anyone I allow to be so close. It hadn’t been the first time I cut my hair off. In December 2004, I freed myself of years spent chemically treating my hair. I had embarked on a journey in learning and reconnecting to my African roots. It was a mark of transformation and transition from complying with colonization to actively challenging and rejecting it, particularly colonization of the mind, body, and spirit.

Since I can remember, hair has been a concern in my life, most markedly when I got my first relaxer at age six. For thirteen years, I visited beauty salons at least once or twice a month to straighten my hair chemically. I was upholding the standard of beauty for womyn of color – a strict regimen of making sure the nappy hair was invisible. After ending that part of my life, I came across research on natural African hair that grounded me in the significance of head and hair beyond the history we are familiar with.

Before Africans were enslaved, African hair was worn natural and was very important in West African societies. The Wolof, Mende, Mandingo, Ibo and Yoruba people were the bulk of the enslaved people in the trans-Atlantic trade, which was focused in West Africa. In African cultures, the grooming and styling of hair have long been important social rituals. Elaborate hair designs, reflecting tribal affiliation, status, sex, age, occupation and the like, were common (White 49). The Afro in West Africa was a distinct, feminine trait. In the Mende nation, this type of hair was called “Kpotongo”, meaning “it is much abundant and plentiful.” The root word “Kpoto” means long and thick hair that grows like the forest, and reflects the Mende identification of women with the Great Mother Earth and the female principle of God (Ferrell 5). A person’s spirit was believed to be nestled in their hair.

I internalized this information as a source of pride in my natural beauty and a connection to my ancestors. This became deeper when I was studying the Yoruba tradition; the notion that the spirit was connected to the head further impressed on me. I learned that ori resided in a person’s head and so the importance of keeping the head spiritually, emotionally, and energetically cleared was deeply ingrained. In addition to the spiritual aspect of my head, there is of course a socio-political perspective to my stance.

People of the African Diaspora are often still perceived as less than human, being treated as objects and dispensable since the African Holocaust began. It goes then that a person of a darker hue’s body is somehow on display and public property, reminiscent of the years in which my ancestors spent being gawked and poked at on auction blocks, particularly in the Western Hemisphere. As a womyn of color, I have felt that the society around me acts as though my body is available to them whenever and however they’d like. This has also pushed me to be further protective of my head – in a world that has lost respect for personal space and the sanctity of a human’s body.

Works Cited

Ferrell, Pamela, and Carmen Lattimore. Where Beauty Touches Me: Natural Hair Care & Beauty Book. Washington, D.C: Cornrows & Co. Publications, 1993.

White, Graham, and Shane White. “Slave Hair & African American Culture In The Eighteenth & Nineteenth Centuries.” The Journal of Southern History 61 (1995): 45-76. JSTOR.

My trip to Quisqueya was quite insightful, on many levels. I went to go reconnect with my family, do some investigative work on how the inherent racism in the culture is being written about and hearing people’s thoughts on the subject and to make connections for future trips. I can’t help but to make a socio-political analysis of things I see and experience when I’m in my daily life here in the United States; being out of the country is no different. Patriarchy reared its ugly head of course and I, of course, have some thoughts on it.

The presidential elections are coming up in the next month for the country. The two candidates, Danilo Medina for the Partido de la Liberación Dominicana (PLD) and Hipólito Mejía for the Partido Revolucionario Dominicano (PRD), are hard at work campaigning and gaining support respectively for what looks like a close race to the presidential office. I wasn’t familiar with Medina but had some knowledge of Mejia from his previous presidency in 2000, the biggest critique of him being the lack of tact and eloquence in the way he expressed his ideas. I’m not going to discuss his character or anything about who I think should win (I am bias though; the PRD is left-leaning and I am very sympathetic to left-leaning politics). I will though comment on his campaign and the patriarchal undertone of it.

So, presidential campaigns have slogans as we all know. Part of the PLD’s slogan is “El Cambio Seguro” (A Secure Change). The PRD’s slogan is two-fold; one is “Un Mejor Pais, Pero Para Todos,” (A Better Country, But For Everyone) and the most popular one is, “Llego Papa” (Daddy Has Arrived). Now, before I go into why I have an issue with this, PAPA is an acronym for the values of the campaign, candidate and the PRD. From the research I’ve done on what the PRD is proposing, I can be supportive of him assuming the presidency this year. That’s not what this is about though.

The first time I saw the “Llego Papa” commercial, my first response was, “I have a father already.” The slogan annoys me. It is the perpetuation of the idea that we as people should revere and honor the masculine energy as savior. It is a reflection of the belief in a male God and the continued negation of the goddess. It conveys this idea that a man is our sole protector, and with the added paternal layer, and we as a people would do good to obey and listen to him. Using the slogan “Llego Papa,” is a play on the machismo that already exists in the country and in the world, pulling on familial heart strings of people to see Mejia as a paternal figure. This is no different than here in the United States and our favorite term of endearment for the system, Uncle Sam. It’s a psychological game calling forth the brainwashed subconscious in which we value a male leader much more than competent and able female ones. It creates this idealized vision of finally having the father that is often absent, especially in communities of marginalized folks who have missing fathers due to the trauma and systemic methods of breaking families apart.

Futhermore, the term “daddy” as it is used in a sexual context a la Usher’s “Daddy’s Home” song is problematic. That word appears way too often as a request that a womyn call a man that word, further highlighting how so often womyn look for a male figure in their life that resembles a father (I been there). What ends up happening is that we have a situation where little girls are manipulated into sexual experiences far before they should be engaged in them. The term “Daddy” out of context is alarming and actually gross. I find nothing sexy about calling a lover “Daddy”. That doesn’t even make sense. Now, I do understand the use of “mami” and “papi” as terms of endearment; it is very common in the Latino culture. Still, there is a sexualization of it that is not okay and indicative of this idea that our psyche craves this omnipotent father-eque savior in all aspects of our lives.

Mejia, I do wish you much success with your campaign and there is a part of me that is rooting for you because of my left-leaning/humanist values. You are not my father. Back up.

The image that comes to mind when we hear the words, “sorority girl” is one of a college girl desperate for friends who was humiliated by other girls she calls her sisters after crossing over into the organization. Our stereotypical sorority girl parties and drinks too much, and is, of course, promiscuous and far from intelligent. This is the idea I went to college with and it was the last thing I wanted to be associated with. Today, I am a proud sister of Mu Sigma Upsilon Sorority, Inc. This is my 8th year as a sister and in reflecting on the lessons I have learned from my sisterhood and maturing into an older women, I wish to offer a preliminary analysis of the impact of multicultural and Afro-Diasporic sororities on modern feminist discourse.

My introduction to sorority life was attending programs hosted by Latina and African American sororities on campus. I was a freshman and had no idea what sororities were about and yet was intrigued. The stereotype I mentioned was immediately shattered and replaced by reality: educated, well-articulated and insightful womyn of color answered my questions and flexed their intellectual muscles at programs their organizations hosted.  I began to ask questions of the upperclassmen affiliated with both sororities and fraternities. Later, these inquires led to researching the sororities on my campus on the Internet. I would read their mission statements and check out what they stood for. I was inspired to seriously consider sorority life and was presented with the opportunity to help establish a chapter of a multicultural organization (Mu Sigma Upsilon Sorority, Inc.)

I was attracted initially to the multicultural aspect of Mu. As a Latina, it was strange to feel out of place with the Latina sororities. I did not feel that focusing on just the Latino culture encompassed my identity. I needed the space to be in dialogue about having a multicultural mindset while living the life of an Afro-Latina. My experience as a sister of MSU and being in conversation with my own sisters and also with sisters from Omega Phi Beta, Sigma Iota Alpha and Sigma Gamma Rho made it clear how important our respective stances in regards to culture are.   In the bigger picture, multicultural and Afro-Diasporic sororities are abundant platforms from which to bridge cultural gaps and understandings amongst women. This particular feature of both independent sororities and conversation with other organizations echoes what womyn of color have been demanding from Feminist Theory and other arenas in the last couple of decades. The need for multiple voices of womyn cross-culturally to be represented in the sociopolitical arena gave birth to Black & Latina Feminist Theory in the 1960s and 1970s. Before that, African American sororities were established, and the late seventies saw the advent of Latina & multicultural sororities, forged out of the Black Liberation Movement, the activity of the Black Panthers and Young Lords and the wave of immigrants from the Caribbean to the United States. These are the missing voices that we are powerfully taking a stand for.

My experience with sorority and “Greek” life on campus  and beyond became instrumental in the leadership I went on to take in my post-college career.  The strength, diligence and self-determination of sisters in my sorority and other sororities has always astounded me.  It speaks to the inherent authority that womyn possess that our patriarchal system strives to rob us of. As womyn of color, the struggle to assert ourselves is three-fold; in addition to sexism from both white and men of color, we are confronted with racism and subsequently are more than likely to experience economic struggle due to the institutionalization of these ideologies. When womyn of color take positions of power, we change the livelihood of our families, communities and the global community of womyn. Furthermore, to be in a multicultural and Afro-Diasporic sorority and lead by example, on various college executive boards and in our lives is a revolutionary act. By practice, running a chapter teaches womyn how to, essentially, administer and run their own business endeavor. It is a hands-on training for public speaking due to the amount of programming our national governing boards and mission statement require of us. My involvement with Mu has had a huge influence on my career as a writer and lecturer. I honed my ability to take a topic and make it presentable from hours of planning programs with my chapter sisters.

My favorite part of sorority life is the sisterhood. In a world that strives for womyn of color to be at odds with each other, I have enjoyed 8-year sistern bonds with powerful womyn who have made huge contributions to my growth as a person. In her essay, “Scratching the Surface: Some Notes on Barriers to Women and Loving,” Audre Lorde speaks of the forces at play that keep womyn of color apart. Lorde speaks about how womyn of color are often discouraged from building sisterhood, with accusations that women being intimate with each other means they are sexually involved. The lesbian-baiting has obscured the true face of racism/sexism, absolving the society of having to take responsibility for their ideologies. There is the projection of the fear what occurs in safe women spaces – self-definition and empowerment. Simply put, many women buy into this because we have been programmed to seek validation from the attention of men, thus driving us away from each other.

Multicultural and Afro-Diasporic sororities possess the perfect conditions with which to produce and cultivate the growing number of womyn of color in leadership. We are part of the dialogue on visibility in modern feminist discourse, particularly on college campuses. The more awareness we as sisters of strong and capable sisterhoods have about the potential our organizations have socially and politically, the more abundance our involvement with each other will produce.

Mujer Negra: The Afro-Latina Identity

What is an Afro Latina? This workshop explains the Afro Latina identity and the history of how it came to be. The workshop focuses on the emotional and psychological experience of the Afro-Latina, putting the issue of racism in the Latino community under a microscope. This also serves as a platform for sharing common experiences and voicing what it means to live in the Latino world with undeniable African ancestry. I will be using my own story as a way to relate to my audience on all aforementioned topics.

I am pro-life. Meaning, I believe in the sanctity of life, from the unborn to the dying. War and excessive violence in all forms makes me extremely upset. This belief is very much influenced not only by my own heart but also by my Catholic upbringing. I no longer identify as Catholic and am aware that my morals stem from that religious system. I am also pro-choice. Meaning, I believe in every human being’s right to make choices that they feel best suit their life regardless of my convictions or disagreement.

When it comes to abortion, I have an emotional reaction to it when I think of having to make that choice for myself. I know this feeling might be subject to change and that one day I may be put in a position where having a child would be considered unwise. However, I deeply feel I cannot emotionally, mentally or spiritually survive it. I know myself well enough to know that it would take a very long time to recover from it, if ever at all. I neatly tuck my personal feelings about it away as well as I can when it comes to other womyn and their choices. I truly feel that it is a choice that some womyn need to make for themselves for a multitude of reasons. I have seen this choice prevent womyn from being in abusive relationships for longer than necessary, financial instability, loss of educational/career opportunities, and other reasons. I once served as an abortion doula last year. It was hard to do, and necessary. My emotions came secondary to her needing a compassionate and grounded womyn by her side to get her home and make sure she was okay the days after. I would do it again if it was asked of me because at the end of the day, I am committed to womyn, their health and their right to choose what happens to their bodies. Period.

The word pro-choice also applies to womyn who choose to carry their fetus to full term. I have my own personal feelings about birthing and the way it is done in this world, and again, my emotions come secondary to what a birthing womyn’s needs and wishes are at that moment. As a birth doula, it is my charge to hold the space for a womyn and support her choices. Unfortunately, womyn, doulas, midwives and birth activists are constantly under attack by a system that seperates womyn from their right to choose. A system more concerned with the “welfare” of the child than the womyn. We have come to a point in the reproductive health movement where keeping abortion rights and childbearing rights apart is no longer conducive for the simple fact that at the end of the day, it is about womyn and her rights. To make abortion illegal because a womyn is “killing” a child and she can get fired and be disrespected in her workplace if she is pregnant makes no sense. To eliminate birth control methods and coerce womyn into unnecessary Caesarean sections, induction of labor and ignoring their inner wisdom all falls under the fight for the right to choose what happens to our bodies.

This was all made abundantly clear to me after I had the pleasure of sitting at a meeting with the National Advocates for Pregnant Women yesterday morning. As a womyn on my way to becoming a certified nurse-midwife, it is important for me to know the legal discourse around childbirth. At this meeting, I also met sisters from Mexico with an organization called GIRE, who works on reproductive rights with a focus on abortion. What I loved about the meeting was that GIRE was there to learn more about childbearing rights because they wanted to expand their work to pregnant womyn and their rights. I heard about how in this country and abroad, womyn are in court because of having miscarriages, abortions and refusing to go along with doctors with matters in their pregnancies. What I came away with was this piece I have written.

To save children is not to call in child services, prohibit abortion or demand pregnant womyn follow doctors blindly. To save childern, hell, to save this world, our womyn must be respected. Their right to their bodies, to express their nurturing energy in any way that is not just biological must be upheld and protect.

Save the womyn.

I still remember the first time my charge as a healer became part of my trip to Ayiti. I was meeting the core collective (Angelique, Beatrice & Naima) in Brooklyn. When I first sent them my information, I mentioned my doula work and knowledge of womyn’s reproductive system but mentally had become focused on how I would translate my skills with plaster and gauze to make casts. At the meeting in Brooklyn, the health and wellness clinic was spoken about. I had gotten my first attunement in reiki and shared with the group that I was available to offer that as a service. I remember that another sister was going to offer that service but became unavailable for the trip, so my healing abilities were god-sent.

To be honest, even after this conversation, it didn’t register for me the magnitude of work that I would be doing while out there. I wasn’t present to it until the unfolding of my path in Ayiti. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my plaster was confiscated at the airport. I was upset by this, feeling that I had arrived in Ayiti and was not going to be able to contribute the way I wanted to. I still felt reluctant to do hands on healing work. Despite this, the environment and energy that existed in my delegation helped me embrace my charge.

In my life, I help alleviate muscle tension for folks I know with my hands via massage and more recently reiki. On the last day before our workshops began, I remember walking into the hotel and was told that Hyacinth had come with them from Cormier for a massage from me. I was surprised that my team was already so confident in my skills as a healer when I had my doubts. Hyacinth Judith Laratte is an elder in Cormier. Her ethnic background was Jamaican and she has been living in Ayiti for the last 16 years. She was my co-facilitator and was very excited to meet me. She is one of the warmest people I’ve met in life. With the knowledge she has from having worked with Save the Children and educating herself with books, she serves as a healer in her community, especially for the womyn. She had attended 4 births in Cormier and womyn often come to her with concerns and questions. Our first meeting to talk about our work together for the delegation was awesome – she was just as excited to meet me. I was honored by the way she listened and spoke with me. She treated me as an authority on the subject we both were engaged in – womyn’s reproductive health. It was the first glimmer I got at what was coming for me.

I gave her a massage and was able to help some of her discomforts. I was able to help change her energy and she felt so good when I was done. I looked at my hands and began to realize truly the power I had in them.

Monday morning, the health and wellness clinic was under way.  I was the youngest of the healers at 26 years old; all the others were well over 30s, most in their 50s and 60s. I felt intimidated by this but set out to do my work as it was intended. These were my partners for the 3 mornings:

Dr. Robert Francois: Plant Medicine and Massage, Facilitator of Herbal Medicine Walk

Madame Wilner: Plant Medicine and Massage, Facilitator of Herbal Medicine Walk

Hyacinth Judith Laratte: Reproductive and Women’s Health

Dubois “Pastor” Edmin: Nurse and Plant Medicine Specialist

Iya Anoa: Reflexology, Reproductive and Women’s Health – Breastfeeding

That first morning, I saw about 10 folks. Majority were womyn and a couple were pregnant womyn. I began to feel present to my work as I massaged the lower backs of the pregnant womyn – a common discomfort for pregnant womyn. Hyacinth translated for me and also spoke with folks about what was going on with them. Together, her and I provided immediate relief for them and referred them to Dr. Robert, Madam Wilner and Pastor for long term relief with their knowledge of plant medicine. I couldn’t communicate with them due to my language barrier but I felt a deep sense of appreciation and acknowledgment for our respective work. The next mornings, our work became seamless. Iya Anoa joined us with reflexology and her, Hyacinth and myself worked as a team.

It was quite extraordinary, magical even, to work with Iya Anoa in tandem. We had an unspoken way of communicating. We would know with our hands what was going on with our folks and before she would say anything, when a pressure point she touched released energy, I felt it. She was also able to assist a young mother with her breastfeeding while I gave the infant a belly massage. Hyacinth would also speak to womyn about their health and provide advice as well. It wasn’t until the last day that I began to truly feel the power of what I was doing.

That day, I came in with no doubts, completely present. I cleaned my space intentfully, meditated and prepared for the day. That morning was slower than the rest but the work was still powerful. I did a lot more reiki that day and was able to intuitively ask what was going on emotionally with folks. One brother was really anxious and was short of breath. As I massaged him and did reiki, I felt the impulse to repeat a mantra in my mind, “You are okay. You are safe.” I communicated that to Hyacinth and asked her to talk to him a bit after he expressed his desire to speak. I found out that I was right on – he had anxieties around his education and emotions he was holding from the earthquake.

I felt so connected. I felt grounded in my purpose as a healer. My gratitude for the elders I worked with is insurmountable. They respected my skills and I was their equal; never once did I feel inferior or as though my age had anything to do with my healing abilities. We worked so seamlessly together; it felt like we were communicating a lot of the time without words. Divinely guided by my ancestors on an island shared by two countries close to my heart, my doubts about my charge have melted away. I was able to serve folks on a level I had not planned for but did with all the faith in the Universe that my heart contains.