Coming to terms with the mujer I have chosen to become has been a journey. Constantly, I find that my identity builds upon the emotions and images I share in this poem.
Every time I realize that something within my physique has evolved, I think back to the moment I wrote this poema and reflect on how much it still reflects to my persona. I chose to include the image of the soldaderas to go with this poem because when I digest the qualities that make me a Chicana-Feminist, I think of Las Soldaderas Mexicanas.
From one day to another, these mujeres were caught in the tumult of La Revolución Mexicana and they had to find their place within the revolution without the help of anyone. They had to dig within their flesh to construct their identity based on the commotion of la revolución.
I believe it has also taken me time, tears, fears, and joys to find my identity. I had to embark on my own journey to discover my Chicana-Feminist identity. Las Soldaderas were and continue to be part of my inspiración of self-identity. Que vivan las mujeres! Whether you’re a Latina, Chicana, Chicana-Feminist, or a Xicana.
Disfigured 90 degree angle lime-dark in this pillar.
A plum mollifying my India lips–
Releases the tears of the grape pickers.
Stuck between the figure I expose
The mainstream of my superfluous angle begins weeping.
The words are harmonized,
Resucito, Aleluya, Resucito, Aleluya….
The twinge quenches in the shackles of my mainstream, más y más.
My corneas dissolve into the cavern of Soledad.
“Silencio”, Whisper the voices.
“Do not Rise”,
“Caya your Fear”.
The redolence of Plum is all around me.
Coyolxauhqui is here.
My goddess de La Luna.
The wombyn of maíz vortex my body.
I’m the lost espíritu interpolated in Aztlan and America, the great.
They can’t sustain my engraved pain.
Arise mi Xicana
Find the strength in the chrome and callow wires jutting behind your pate.
There lies la ponderosa: Tu.
There lies la Xicana without barriers: you.
There is la hija de Malinalli: yo y Tú.