Spring 2016 | La Vida NUEVA

LA VIDA

NUEVA

Table of Contents Cover Letter from the Staff lx vidx nuevx Latinx Heritage Month Presents: An Interview with Julie Chavez Rodriguez Escuchas Plaza de La Cultura from Pura Vida Advice for Latinx Students and Allies United Minorities Council Presents: Junot Diaz Possibilities of Youth O caderno de um centavo: A felicidade de espontaneidade Quechua Penn Saqsaywaman: Third Stage of Inti Raymi from Sitio de Inca Caminante Maypitaq wasiy?

Towards the Sun Gate from Sitio de Inca Joseqa ch’askakunata ñawinchan Millaray katari makikunawan rimanku INCAROCA from Sitio de Inca Don’t Translate La falta de reconocimiento de la diversidad española Homunculi—small, brown men Perpetuate Mi México This is what a Latinx looks like Festival Latinx: Reclamando Nuestras Voces Reclaiming Our Voices Minorities in the Media Ese trapo en tu cabeza vida seca On Appropriation & Culture Latinx Spotlights Uncertainty can be a gift Becoming Greek La identidad que llevo museum visits (or 1.4.14) Teatro Nacional de Costa Rica from Pura Vida In the slip of the tongue Mercado de San Pedro from Sitio de Inca I Live in a Spanglish Kind of Place Calles de San José from Pura Vida first and last optics

3 6 7 10 12 13 16

Javier García Tafoya La Vida Magazine Rogelio Caro Juan Cabrera Sara Ramirez & Enrique Montoya — Ana Barrera Lorenzo, Leya & Fran — Wing Dyana So Alba Disla Christina Roldan

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Abigail Graham & Juan Cabrera — Jordi Rivera Prince

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Andrea Alvarado Urbina Juan Cabrera — Jordi Rivera Prince Juan Cabrera Andrea Alvarado Urbina — Jordi Rivera Prince Angelo Matos Katie Ramirez Juan Cabrera Sara Ramirez Javier García Tafoya La Vida Magazine Various Contributors

20 21 22 24 26 28 29 37 38 40 41 44 45 48 50 52 54 57 58 60

Karina Miranda & Uriel Baez Suhaly Bautista-Carolina — Juan Cabrera Lorenzo, Leya & Fran Celeste Diaz & Juan Cabrera Melissa Jimenez Carol Quezada Olivo — Ileana Santos-Gonzalez Marco Herndon — Ana Barrera Flora Bahri Carniero —Jordi Rivera Prince Juan Cabrera — Ana Barrera Marco Herndon — Juan Cabrera

The Staff Editor-in-Chief Management Director Financial Director Creative Directors

Juan Cabrera Sara Ramirez Samuel Mu単eton Ivana Kohut Gleeson Ryan Digital Design Director Brailinson Disla Marketing Team Enrique Montoya Ana Barrera Karina Miranda Angelo Matos Acquisitions Manager Destiny Bingham Editors Uriel Baez Oscar Hernandez Murillo Flora Bahri Carniero Abigail Graham Columnists DaLia Hughes Rogelio Caro Marcella Marquez Spotlights Celeste Diaz

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Destiny Bingham

Sara Ramirez

Juan Cabrera

Letter from the Staff

As La Vida has renewed its commitment to be a platform for speaking against injustice in the Latinx community, giving people the opportunity to discuss these issues, and to celebrate the talents of Latinx students, we as La Vida Magazine’s Staff have dedicated ourselves to facilitate this. What does it mean to talk about “novelty”?

To talk about what was before but no longer there, or what could be there in the future. It is about how we use our culture and our voices to express this change. We add our experiences, our mentalities, our upbringings to challenge damaging political discourses, to negate notions of a homogenous Latinx culture, and to repair the divisive actions that we in our own communities create. We are not a discontinuous people—we are the bridge towards the future, to bring each other to a disremembered past that was once a place of cohesion. We as a collective staff, Latinx and non-Latinx, are reshaping the idea of what la vida means to us and to our allies—we are not only creating discussions about Latinx bodies, but of Latinx minds, souls and spirits.

And we, therefore, take this and give it all to La Nueva Vida.

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Angelo Matos

Ana Barrera

Enrique Montoya

Brailinson Disla

4 | La Vida Nueva Karina Miranda

Samuel Mu単eton

Ivana Kohut

Gleeson Ryan

Marcella Marquez

Rogelio Caro

DaLia Hughes

Celeste Diaz

Abigail Graham

Oscar Hernandez Murillo

Flora Bahri Carniero

Uriel Baez

lx vidx nuevx Written by Rogelio Caro

Many who grew up speaking Spanish at home understand that it is a very gendered language. We don’t go to “the” escuela, we go to la escuela, we don’t eat “the” frijoles, we eat los frijoles. Therefore, it is only natural that people are gendered as well. From this we were given two classifications by which we refer to people who come from Latin America: Latino and Latina. If we are referring to the community as a whole, we default to using Latino. Through the years people became aware of the problematic, androcentric nature of using “Latino” to refer to the entire community. From this, Latin@ was born. Now, although I’m not sure how people would even pronounce it, people had a term that didn’t shut women out of the community. We had finally achieved gender neutrality! Or so we thought…

Latinx is a term that has been used increasingly in the past few years or so as a way to be more inclusive of the community by removing the gendered “Latino/Latina” classification. Since gender is socially constructed, it cannot be limited to a binary; it is a spectrum. There are people who do not identify completely with either male or female, and there are people who identify as both male and female. These people are known as genderqueer.

They are a group that is gravely underrepresented.

I’m sure that even now there are readers who had no idea that they existed. While transgender people, people whose gender identity and sex do not match, have recently gained a lot of visibility in the mainstream, genderqueer people continue to be left out.

How can a community be inclusive if the term used to describe all of their members is androcentric? How can a community claim to be inclusive of all genders, if it subscribes to the idea of a gender binary? It is this that led to the birth of Latinx.

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Latinx thus represents a new way of thinking: ◊ To embrace Latinx is to be conscious of people who may not fall in the gender binary. ◊ To embrace Latinx is to denounce the androcentric patriarchal nature of our society. ◊ To embrace Latinx is to embrace one of the most beautiful things about our community: the vast amount of diversity.

Does this mean that Spanish is at risk? That the one thing that unites most of the members in the Latinx community is on the road to changing forever? That we’ll start calling cazuelas, cazuelxs or La Casa Latina, Lx Casx Latinx. To think that this in any way will change the Spanish language is fallacious. Changing one word does not change a language, but it does have the potential to change something much greater. It changes a system that for so long has marginalized a community. It opens dialogues, debates, and conversations about gender identity and feminism. It makes political statements about inclusivity and acceptance.

Latinx is power, it is voice, and it is a new state of mind.

Latinx Heritage Month Presents:

An interview with

Julie Chavez Rodriguez

Written La

by Juan Vida Cabrera Nueva | 7

How do you think your voice has been a new and important one for The White House to listen to?

First, as a Latina, I bring a unique perspective to my work in the White House.

It benefits public policy in general to have individuals from all different backgrounds working together. The reality is that Latinos are one of the fastest growing demographics in the country, and we have a unique approach to policymaking. We also have unique experiences that shape how we view the biggest issues our country is facing. We know how people feel when their immigration status is in flux, when they have to move constantly because their parents are migrant workers, or when they have to work multiple jobs just to put some food on the table for their children.

I remember you mentioning that you never imagined yourself working in The White House. What would you say to the voices yet to be heard who share the same feelings you once did?

I believe that anything is possible with hard work and commitment. There will always be challenges along the way, and that’s why it’s important to have a strong support network of family, friends, and peers. But in the long run, I really believe that if you feel compelled to make a difference in your community, then you will do amazing things.

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Second, as a community organizer, I think differently about how change happens.

When I was little, instead of having family picnics, we would go out and organize or join a protest in support of farm workers’ rights. I believe that lasting change can only come when people around this country work together to create it. And over the last few years, by working with inspiring people in cities and towns across the country, I have had a tremendous opportunity to do just that. As President Obama said just a few weeks ago at the annual Congressional Hispanic Caucus Institute Gala, “[W]hat we together have shown and proven is that when we stick together and put our shoulders to the wheel of history, not only is change possible—change is inevitable.”

I would also say that I think that there are many different ways of engaging in public service. When I was five, I got my first volunteer job at the farm workers’ credit union. Alongside my grandmother, Helen Chavez, I did what I could do to help farm workers acquire the funds they needed to build a home and to make investments in their children. So to me, it’s really important to have young people finding out what they are passionate about and what they are good at. It’s important to break molds and stereotypes, to try new things, to explore new ways of thinking. That will help you figure out what you want to do and where your talent lies, which leads so many of us to work that leave us happy and fulfilled—and that leave the world a better place.

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Escuchas

Written by Sara Ramirez & Enrique Montoya Escuchas mijo?

Escucha ese movimiento.

Ese ritmo creado por el viento que empuja la tierra.

El movimiento del cambio.

Escuchas?

I want to sleep Forget consciousness Slip out deep No thought of consequence Forget my metropolis

I’m tired of the upkeep

Where is your ID? How eliciting Slowly walking Eyes cast down I lose my hope for you Where is your ID? You ask again Escuchas?

El cambio que pulsa entre tus venas?

Debajo de la piel de tus padres, Y de los padres de tus padres anterior?

Esa sangre que no es tuya, Si no prestada de la tierra.

La vida, también es prestada.

La decisión de tu ser no fue tuya: Tu sangre no te pertenece, Tu piel te la dieron, Tu lengua la copiaste de la cultura, Tu vida nunca ha sido tuya.

My life hard My people’s life hard I’m floating Falling Sinking Realizing there is no floor I’m soaring Reaching Rising Finding there is a storm I am tired of looking Tu capacidad para el cambio No está envuelto en tu cuerpo, Ni en la decisión de tu ser, si no, Crece de ti.

Tu cuerpo es una semilla, tu alma nutrientes.

Creado de Creado para La tierra.

Tu capacidad para el cambio crece como un árbol Las frutas son la conexión Que le dan sabor a la vida Tu tronco y tus hojas para dar un descanso para los Pasajeros de un país extraño cuando el sol no los Deja descansar.

But Where is yours?

You always feel the right to ask for mine, But I never get to see yours Your rectangular plastic never sees the light

You do not like me White and Brown should not mean anything But You do not like me

Does your ID legitimize You walking down the street?

Does your ID allow You to roam the street without fear of prosecution?

You need my ID

Does your ID also function as your shield?

Blue suit, tight fist I do not need to see more to know you want to make

Yours is your skin Mine is plastic Because my skin is offensive

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And the offensive cannot possibly live here, right?

So Let me pull out the plastic so you can forget my offensiveness So you can feel less alarm So you can look at me different Yet still find me repulsive Because I am brown And you inevitably were white And for some reason this world, this society Decided white was good And I was repulsive Where is your ID? Esta tierra que da, Esta tierra que quita, Amor.

La tierra respira Adentro Y afuera.

Igual a como tu estas respirando Tu vida no té pertenece a ti Si no a el bosque uno apoyando al otro Un árbol igual al otro Respirando juntos Adentro Y afuera La capacidad más grande del ser humano Es el amor Es tan necesario para la vida Que unos intenta a mantener solo inhalando, Nunca exhalando Pero pronto aprenden Que esa es una buena manera para morir.

My skin burns with the need to leave; Emerging in the want to sink deeper in.

But I am tired.

I do not want to fight any longer.

Because I remember I always have to swim against The current.

What is that fear Why do you fear My people is what you fear El bosque toma y suelta aire Dándole vida al mundo Y el bosque nunca piensa dos veces en soltar el

Amor que ha recibido.

Tu sangre, tu piel Y tu vida son las semillas de este bosque Eso es la capacidad del cambio que tú tienes.

Mi vida, is it mine Yours?

Tuyo y mio De nosotros Ours Los arboles hablan They tell me, no dejes tu pasado Respira con la tierra Allow your life to be inside and out and all over Toma el aire que se a soltado The forest is filled con sangre prestada Confía en tu sangre prestada Envelop your life en los amores de la vida Listen to the land, to los nutrientes que dan vida a tu alma Take love to the forest Toma amor de los cuerpos So that the forest can make Las semillas que dan vida When did I allow You To define what I am worth?

Let my people go Let my people leave Let my people decide What world they want to be Let my people be Let my people be your people Tu vida es prestada, La decisión de tu ser no fue tuya Pero el amor que recibes lo tienes Que dar como tus padres Y los padres de tus padres anteriores.

Dime, Si escuchas hijo?

Plaza de La Cultura from Pura Vida by Ana Barrera

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Advice for Latinx Students & Allies

student, what What does it look like to be an Are there mental health reQ: Asstepsa doLatinx Q: Q: you recommend that ally for the Latinx community sources of interest to Minority I take to get more involved with the Latino community?

The Latinx community is full of people with very different backgrounds, personalities, interests, etc. If you are new to the community, I suggest the following: ◊ Begin going to La Casa Latina more regularly. Even if you stop there between classes, going to La Casa can be a great way to meet new people. ◊ Go to a Latin@ Coalition meeting. At LC GBMs there are usually representatives from every constituent group and you can go there to see which constituent groups spark your interest. Furthermore, you get an idea about what initiative the LC is putting forward to better the Latinx Community at Penn. ◊ Join a constituent group. Once you get an idea for what the constituent groups are all about, join one! Go to their GBMs, attend their events, and introduce yourself to the members. Most of the groups are very welcoming of every student. ◊ Pursue leadership opportunities (if you’re really interested).

Think about joining the board of a constituent group or, if you’re interested in the macro perspective, consider running for the LC. You can even start your own student group if you feel there’s a place for it.

So, while it may seem scary, getting involved with the Latinx community will surely be a fun, exciting, and enlightening experience that you will not regret. ◊ Lorenzo

A:

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at Penn? And at large?

The struggle for equality cannot be made alone. For communities of color, allies are an important part of spreading the word about the struggles that some groups face. The role of an ally can be tricky sometimes, because you are not a part of that cultural or ethnic group, you must be careful.

Throughout your time as an ally don’t be afraid to make mistakes, but apologize if you overstep your boundaries. The first step any ally should take is to do their research.

Listen thoughtfully to the stories of those around you, read articles, watch the news, and learn about the issues that are important to the groups you are being an ally for.

You must also look at your own situation—understand your privilege and pay attention to the rights you have that others do not. Spread this information to the spaces that you frequent: your family, friends, clubs, or classes. This might make people uncomfortable, but it is important to start these conversations and bring people’s attention to the issues at hand. My last piece of advice is that your actions must speak for themselves, don’t claim the title of “ally” without taking on the responsibilities that come with it, put in work for the groups that need it so that we can all say that we are finally equal.

Students at Penn?

Latinx at Penn don’t have very many choices when it comes to finding mental health resources tailored to us. CAPS has a very small number of staff members who identify as minorities, let alone as Latinx.

Penn’s new program, “Penn Wellness Partners,” helps you identify Penn faculty who will listen to your concerns about mental health and refer you to helpful resources. All faculty members who participate in this program have a sticker on, or near, their door that reads “Penn Wellness Partner.” However, since Penn does not have a significant number of Latinx faculty members this can not be considered a valuable mental health resource for Latinxs on campus. Penn has a lot of work to do when it comes to diversifying its professor and faculty population. One thing Penn has done well is having cultural centers.

Sometimes these spaces, and the relationships built there, serve to benefit our mental health. Frequently a source of anxiety, and depression, for college students is homesickness.

Moving hundreds of miles away from friends and family can be very difficult. This change is especially difficult when you move to a state that does not have as big of a Puerto Rican, Peruvian, Mexican, or other Latinx community as your home state does. Therefore, having a cultural center where you can find people who share your common language and culture, who will know exactly what “In the End, we will remember not it is you are missing about home, and the words of our enemies, but the si- those who will understand the struglence of our friends”. gles you are facing on campus can be ~Martin Luther King, Jr. extremely valuable. ◊ Leya ◊ Fran

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United Minorities Council Presents:

Junot Diaz Possibilties of Youth “

You have the possibilities of youth…

The out of control passions of youth…

”

Written by Alba Disla Images by Wing Dyana So

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When Junot Diaz visited campus as the keynote speaker for the United Minorities Council’s Unity Week, I revisited and challenged my notions of youth power. How often do you think of the power you possess as a young person? By the nature of the institution we belong to, I am inclined to think that many of the students on campus have thought of power in one form or another. At an Ivy League university, there exists an immense amount of power in its long history, world-renowned professors, and successful alumni. People want to come to places like Penn because of its prestige and endless resources—some might say a Penn student is an inherently powerful student. Even if not thought about directly, the pre-professional atmosphere that we all know too well exists because people are seeking power. However, this power is

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usually closely related to getting a high paying job.

Granted, this relationship isn’t necessarily negative. At the end of the day, money does make the world go ‘round and we need to pay the bills in order to have a somewhat enjoyable existence. However, why don’t we spend more time talking about the power we already possess as young students uninhibited by the realities of mid-life adulthood?

As a young person, I am idealistic, ambitious, and endlessly curious about the world around me. The “out of control passions” that I possess as a young social activist are a result of not knowing enough about how systems/institutions/people work. I see this ignorance as a means that allows me to dream big and outside the constraints of the present. What applies as a rule today may not apply as a rule tomorrow if enough people come together to challenge it. Take today’s social activism as an example. Every day, youths are at the forefront of social movements changing the way we approach racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and countless more injustices that plague our society today. They know that there is power in coming

together and putting on a united front for greater do much until we reach an age or status-level rechange. I am passionate about youth activism and spected by adults. Our passions may be dismissed believe in mentoring younger students to tap into as outlandish or useless but the joke’s on whoever their own passions whether they be creating art, claims such things. Diaz’s talk reminded me that changing the world, or both at the same time. my passions are valid, that fear should not drive

At Penn, we are this generation. Our paslucky to have several stusions and innovations dent-led groups and initiaOur passions and innovations are the future; the possitives that work toward the bilities are endless. are the future; the possibilities betterment of life at this university and the greater ¡Viva la juventud! are endless.

West Philadelphia community. Too many times, ageism and general feelings of inadequacy cause us to feel powerless and passionless to the point of being discouraged to do any more than what is asked of us as students. A lot of us stay in the lines and do what we are told because we are told we cannot

“

”

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O caderno de um centavo: A felicidade de espontaneidade Written by Christina Roldan Muitas vezes esperamos por um evento magnânimo, de alta significância, para sentir-nos felizes. É um sentimento comum que provavelmente tanto eu quanto você passamos, inclusive nessa época de festas de final de ano.

Porém, será que esta mesma ansiedade por alegrias futuras pode nos roubar a possibilidade de uma alegria presente?

Este semestre, no dia em que eu voltei para a Penn, estava preparada para comprar um novo caderno para minhas anotações. Estava com um pouco de pressa, pois ainda tinha de fechar a mala antes de correr pro aeroporto.

Olhando e olhando eu já estava pronta para desistir da minha busca, quando o dirigente da loja se aproximou, rapidamente buscou o nome do caderno estilo híbrido, e logo pegou o último destes que estava escondido na estante. O preço deste tesouro?

Apenas um centavo! Eu não acreditava! Até procurei duas vezes. Porém era a pura verdade – e até o atendente se surpreendeu. Eu lhe respondi: "está sim é a compra mais engraçada que já fiz!" e saí rapidinho da loja. Quando teria eu esperado por este presente? Nunca!

Enfim, eu já estava com a mente ligada na viagem, nas expectativas que a volta às aulas sempre traz, pensando no reencontro com os amigos e o caderno era apenas um detalhe. Porém, o momento em que eu paguei aquele centavo pela minha compra ficou como um incidente espontâneo pois não estava no meu radar Passou até a se transformar no momento mais feliz do meu dia.

O mais importante foi que através desta pequena comédia eu me lembrei da moral da história; há felicidade disponível para ser curtida a qualquer momento. Basta estarmos dispostos a recebê-la e abertos para que seja numa hora inoportuna.

Com isso podemos então passar a encontrar a felicidade na espontaneidade.

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Quechua at Penn Written by Abigail Graham & Juan Cabrera

Runasimi (language of the people), or better known as Quechua, is the most widely spoken American Indigenous Language in the Andes with about 8 million speakers. Penn is one of the very few institutions that teaches this language. Américo Mendoza-Mori is the professor of Quechua, and has been working to engage people in studying the language as well as the culture. Américo has been active in creating events and cultural nights that celebrate not only Quechua, but also other American Indigenous Languages such as Nahuatl and Zapotec.

Through various spoken word, cultural, and scholarly events, the Quechua Initiative has been a huge success. As the only American Indigenous Language taught at Penn, it has a unique place at Penn which spans multiple departments, like the Latin

American and Latino Studies and Anthropology departments. This miski (sweet) language is full of suffixes, expressiveness, and honesty. Here is a taste of what Quechua is actually like: Runasimita ashka miski simi kan. Sumaq sumaqmi!

Quechua is a very sweet language. It’s beautiful (and I am sure of it)!

For translations of the following pieces visit: lavidapenn.wordpress.com

Saqsaywaman: Third Stage of Inti Raymi from Sitio de Inca

by Jordi Rivera Prince

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Caminante Written by Andrea Alvarado Urbina

Watakunayoq kunanqa puriq kashani.

Oqe llaqtapi noqa paqarani, orqokuna neqhpi ichaqa utqaylla mamay taytay noqata chinchaman hakuranku Chay noqa purun mamaqochapas reqsiyrani Chaymanta llaqtaman kutipurani, Noqa puriq kasharani Unaymanta ñankunapi purirani hatun riyta qallarinin Qhapaq Ñanpi noqa urpichayta mink’arani p’achata llikllawan qhepirani chaymanta noqayku ripurashayku

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llikllaykuwan, alqochaykuwan, mosqoykuwan Kunan p’unchay noqayku puriyta qatirikushayku Qhapaq Ñanpi purishayku Tukuy ll’impikuna runakuna reqsirashayku Teqsimuyuqmanta runakuna Huk p’unchay noqa paqarinaman kutipusaq Mama qochaman, purunman, orqokunaman Noqa wiñaylla risaq Ñawpaq pacha chimpapi Qhepay pacha qhepapi Kawsarunakunawan wañuyrunakunawanpas K’ikllukunapi purishani Kutimunaykama!

Maypitaq wasiy?

Written by Juan Cabrera

Maypitaq wasiy?

Llinpikunapichu?

Yuraqrí?

Payrí?

Wakcha yanarí?

Pitaq pensashan kay?

Yanaqa yuraq hina allillan kashan.

Hina cheqana.

Taytamamapapas wasin.

Maypitaq wasiy?

Wasiy pukapi yawarchu?

Pukapi mamapa yawarchu?

Pukapi yawar simichu?

Rarqrakunapi yuraq tulluychu?

Tullukunapi nanashankuchu?

Tullukunapi puñuypuñuychu?

Ichaqa chunpi aycha kara wasiy tiyani?

Maypitaq wasiy?

Manan yuyanichu.

Manan yuyayta munankichu.

Manan yacharanichu.

Towards the Sun Gate from Sitio de Inca

by Jordi Rivera Prince

Joseqa ch’askakunata ñawinchan Written by Juan Cabrera

Huk kuti, huch’uy llaqtapi, huk umasapa wayna kasqa. Chunkalla watakunayoq karan, Jose sutin. Payqa librukuna ñawinchayta aswan munan. Sapa p’unchaypi Jose iskay librukunata ñawincharan. Payqa wiñay tukuy yachayta munan. Wiñay payqa ashka tapukunata kamaran.

Huk p’unchay, llaqtanehpi purisqan.

Chaymanta orqoman puriran, kunanqa tuta kan.

Jose manan yachanchu maypi karan. Aswan chinkakuran, manan imataq ruwayta yacharanchu.

Chaymanta Jose huk paqocha qhawaran. Payqa usqay usqay phawaran! Chaymanta paqochaman

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phawaran ichaqa manan karanchu, paqocha chinkaran!

Jose hanan pacha qhawaran. Sonqochan usqay phatatatarashan. Waranqa ch’askakuna qhawaran chaymanta Jose chayqata yuyaran librukunamanta. Payqa yuyaran, librukunan nisqa kutichikuna ch’askakunapi kasqan.

Joseqa hanan pacha qhawaran, paqocha tariranmá! Joseq wasinman phawaran! Hayk’aq wasinman chayaran, chaypilla paypa taytamaman mark’aran. Josepaq yachan paqocha ayllunhina.

Millaray Katari makikunawan rimanku Written by Andrea Alvarado Urbina

Huk kuti, karu karupi, Qollasuyomanta aswan karu, huk warmi wawa aylluwan tiyaran.

Payqa Millaray sutiran. Millaraypa ayllun Mapuche karanku, Millaraypas. Huk p’unchay, Millaraypa taytan niran: noqayku, sumaq ayllu, Chinchasuyota reqsiyta necesishayku! Runakuna ninku, sumaq sumaqmi pacha Chinchasuyoneqhpi kasqan, wiñay ruphay kasqan!

Kay p’unchaypi, Millaray aylluwan Chinchasuyoman riranku, chakiwan kawalluwan ima.

Millaray ashka kusisqa karan! Payqa niran: Taytay, watukuy ashka munani!

Paykuna kinsa semanakunapi puriranku, chaymanta Millaray ayllun Qosqosuyupi chayakuranku. Chaypi, Qosqollaqtapi, paykuna huk qhari wawa reqsiranku.

Payqa niran: “Allillanchu, imaynallan

kashanki?”, ichaqa Millaray ayllun manan Runasimita yacharankuchu. Millaray niran: “Mari mari lamngen!”

Chay qhari wawa Qosqomanta karan, payqa Katari sutiran. Katari manan Mapuchedungun yacharanchu, ichaqa Katari Millaray ima makikunawan rimayta atiranku. Pisi pisi manta, paykuna rimariranku. Millaray sutinqa Katarita yachachiran, chayqa payqa t’ika rikuchiran.

Chaymanta, Katari sutinqa Millarayta yachachiran, chayqa payqa amaru rikuchiran.

Ashka horaskuna paykuna pukllaranku, hanaq pachapi antawara qhawaranku. Chaymanta, Millaraypa taytan paypaq waqllaran: Ususi, watukuyta tukuran! Wawakuna ashka llakisqa karanku paykuna manan pukllayta atishankuchu, ichaqa paykuna allin kumpaykuna wiñay karanku.

INCAROCA from Sitio de Inca by Jordi Rivera Prince

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Don’t Translate Written by Angelo Matos

“Bienvenidos a los Estados Unidos” Translation “Welcome to the United States” Appropriation Unexpected Exploitation, ethical abuse Mice sat at the dinner table too “Mijo no lo mire en los ojos, ese hombre no es bueno” Translation “Son don’t look him in the eye” Appropriation “Son, he’s in a waltz with Lucifer. Your innocence can provoke his Satan” So do not look “The American Dream” Translation Work hard and bleed sweat to perpetually regret believing the bullshit Culture is a language not translated.

Lucifer fluttered in the clouds Until the wings could not mask the horns The class separation and achievement gap Are no longer covered by the aesthetics of snow, or leaves changing in the fall “Bleed so the one percent can be fed” 41.3 million Immigrants reminiscing on accepting a subpar condition From healthy to being prescribed pills by a physician Side effects equal heart failure The symptom simply a headache 22 | La Vida Nueva

It isn’t as simple as Google translate “No me gusta eso” Translation “ I don’t like that” Appropriation She’s cute, I’ll keep going she’s just saying that She’s Spanish, sex is something they all do No one told me the American Dream was plagued with rapes too Teachers know that no one understands Tongues like bricks, petrified with cement Cement drips to trachea Employers ensure that it hardens.

The sword that is language can now only be wielded by one The system silences Latino voices.

Translation There is people suffering Their pain wasn’t picked up on google translate We must advocate Why do we appropriate?

Assimilation slides within culture Culture is targeted by vultures Assimilation is hegemonic The killer of solidarity Translation Something must be done to halt the exploitation

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La falta de reconocimiento de la diversidad española Written by Katie Ramirez Los temas de la historia y las formas en las que se expresan han demostrado ser polémicos. Cuando leemos textos de historia, casi nunca pensamos en los tipos de personas que han escrito estos reportes. Confíamos en que sus palabras son exactas porque eventos como las colonizaciones y los imperialismos son cruciales en nuestra comprensión del mundo. En realidad, los historiadores, como seres humanos, tienen sus propias perspectivas sobre estos períodos importantes y quieren que sus puntos de vista sean conocidos. Es por esto que hay una división en la percepción de la composición de España. Porque a pesar de que España experimentó siglo tras siglo el dominio de diferentes países, lo que resultó en varios idiomas, infraestructuras y religiones, todavía hay personas que concuerdan que España siempre ha sido una nación homogénea. Lo que existe en España y en las lecturas “supuestamente” precisas es la exclusión cultural. Es decir, que algunos elementos culturales de España son expuestos, pero otros son despreciados y no mencionados. Estos elementos ignorados, pero esenciales

para la historia española, hacen al país diverso, no homogéneo.

La lucha para conquistar la Península Ibérica comenzó en el año 2000 a.C. cuando llegaron tribus ibéricas, juntos con sus idiomas propios, desde África1. Desde ese momento, grupos de diferentes pueblos penetraron la península, uno tras otro. Evidentemente, cada uno de ellos dejó su marca en lo que nosotros ahora conocemos como España y la lengua castellana.

Por ejemplo, cerca de 8 mil palabras del castellano tienen parentesco con el árabe. Sustantivos comunes como “azafrán” y “granada” son derivados del árabe. Estos orígenes han sido largamente olvidados y perdidos entre la gente común en España, y la mayoría de las personas no se da cuenta de que está utilizando palabras de diversos orígenes. En la historia se excluyen a veces estos detalles.

Uno de los aspectos más prominentes que muestran la heterogeneidad de España es la arquitectura. Solo al ver los edificios de Granada y Córdoba, sabemos que existe o existía una diversidad cultural. Las diferencias entre estos edificios y aquellos de otras “The Iberians in Spain.” Spain Then and Now.

1

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zonas de España son obvias. Los azulejos vibrantes y los amplios arcos de las mezquitas y de los palacios fueron hechos por manos musulmanas. Aun así, existe una falta de conocimiento al respecto. Es una pena que los turistas no sepan que las tierras que visitan fueron recorridas por los árabes, o que esos edificios se fundaron sobre la base de la religión islámica. La historia se modifica contra la diversidad.

A la vista los arcos y columnas de la mezquita de Córdoba nos recuerdan que era un lugar de adoración para los musulmanes. En la actualidad, la mezquita—también catedral—es el sitio de las misas católicas de Córdoba. Es más, los musulmanes han tratado de recuperar la mezquita para rezar allí de nuevo, pero los católicos españoles no lo han permitido2. Esta es otra manera en la que algunos grupos experimentan inferioridad y la heterogeneidad de España es desdeñada.

En relación con el tema de la arquitectura religiosa, las religiones han variado y todavía varían en España. El país ha sido habitado por judíos, musulmanes, arrianos, católicos y otros más. Parecería que con cada rey que dominaba el territorio, había un cambio en la fe de la región. En el lapso de unos pocos años, Recaredo I, rey visigodo de España, trasladó la fe del arrianismo al catolicismo. En el año 589, la religión oficial llegó a ser el 2

“Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba.” Wikipedia.

catolicismo. Años después, la Península Ibérica fue musulmana3. Cambio tras cambio, España por fin encontró su religión central, el catolicismo romano. En la España de hoy en día, la religión católica se mantiene estable.

Es decir que no ocurren esfuerzos, como los de antes, para derrocar a otra religión.

En resumen, es difícil llamar a un país completamente uniforme, y no diverso. La gente ha emigrado hacia y desde distintos lugares durante siglos, llevando todas sus religiones, lenguas, saberes, artesanías, etc. Cuando hablamos de un país que es homogéneo, inconsciente o conscientemente negamos algunas partes de la historia y, por lo tanto, algunas partes del presente. En el caso de los historiadores que mencioné al inicio de este texto, es una decisión consciente.

3

“Visigoths or Invisigoths!” Spain Then and Now.

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Homunculi—small, brown men Written by Juan Cabrera

He said, “Homunculus.” We are homunculi—small, brown men.

The Hegemonies—tall, white men tell us We are not of intelligence, but some see possibilities in us to craft.

Aristotle handed him the sickle— Crusted over with Our cursed skin, our devil blood, our pointed tongues— So here’s to Just War. Then, Darwin in the womb, penciled the ways Creatures of creature kin have survived in my cradle.

But thank you, For imposing the good faith— We never knew suffering.

We never bore the bloodstained cross of our neighbors.

Thank you for being Pilate.

Thank you for being Simon.

You crucified our marrow to eat of it.

And the scourge of your justice— Suffocating sermons used by whet tongued preachers— Made rude men bleed.

You, Our lighter kin, Thought we were composed of rotting cells and dead bones, We were bark-stained— Decomposed shreds of humanity, But your skin was atonement.

You would lead us to our salvation— Purge us of our self-worth, Because you only see possibilities in us to craft.

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We molded our pots— Then you broke our bodies— My hands are shattered— I never learned to thank my master!

And we wove our blankets sewing crafted stitch, You stabbed my sister’s corpse because she bore the cosmic race— Spanish needles sew penchant stitch.

So we drowned you in rivers to test your mortality, And the noose is loose for my brother— Hang him on his severed spine.

Poisons that taste of Bitter roots, Locked jaws, and Acid throats— We take care of our own.

And that Spanish appetite, Covetous and deprived of Indian blood— You were emaciated and rattleboned.

You were hungry.

Hungry for our flesh, So you hunted.

You trickled grains of salt on our skinned muscles, You chewed on our sinews, Devoured torn fat, Spit up dry tissue.

You made our body modifications for us.

Our piercings were not our piercings.

Our tattoos were branded flesh that turned a different color, But God forbid our scars darken, Because then we really were homunculi—small brown men, Made of demon glass and broken skin, But you saw possibilities in us to craft.

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Perpetuate Written and Sculpted by Sara Ramirez

Quitapena dolls are commonly bought in Guatemala for three purposes. In the Mayan indigenous culture, it is said to be used as a wishing doll where you can make a wish, prayer, request, and then, depending on what belief system you follow, you either burn or bury the doll, in a way discarding what you do not want. For the Ladino population (Westernized Mayans or mixed race people), the dolls mean having a stock of gifts to give to people when you don’t have a “proper” gift. For tourists, which is now the most common use and market for the dolls, it is a way to purchase a novelty to take home to remember the cultural experience and beauty of the indigenous populations.

This sculpture attempts to capture the historical uses of the doll, focusing primarily on their contemporary use. The dolls symbolize both the beauty in the textiles so commonly seen in the Mayan indigenous cultures, as they create the circular thread of color, and the beauty of the cultural traditions as well as the literal bodies of the indig-

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enous populations. Bundled together, the dolls create this experience from a top view. Pattern. Bold Colors. Circular serenity. An unconscious feeling and experience of beauty. However, placed on top of glass, one sees the body of the indigenous woman in a new light. It still holds its beauty, but they no longer look bundled but strung. A thick string is seen, represented by yarn, around the necks of the dolls. Their faces no longer hold the simulation of a smile but an expression of pain. They no longer are a beautiful pattern but a multitude of oppressed bodies.

The dolls become defined.

“Make (something, typically an undesirable situation or an unfounded belief) continue indefinitely.

Preserve (something valued) from oblivion.”

Perpetuate.

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Mi México by Javier García Tafoya

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Festival Latinx

Reclamando Nuestras Voces “Reclaiming Our Voices” th February 21–27

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Sancocho Festival Latinx & QPenn Written by Gabriela Goitía Vázquez We kicked-off Festival Latinx 2016 with Sancocho, and the event set the tone for the rest of the week.

This year’s Sancocho was a celebration of Latinx and LGBT+ identities. The evening began with words from the chairs of QPenn and myself, and continued with a spectacular buffet from Taqueria La Veracruzana. The most memorable part of the night was a performance by “Interminable”, a Philadelphia band that combines traditional South American and alternative-music.

Personally, my favorite part of the night was listening to their cover of “Todo Cambia” by Mercedes Sosa. The combination of great food, great music and great company made for a night worth remembering!

Mextasy at Penn:

Cyborg Chicanos, Virtual Latinas, Smartphones & Digital Culturas MEChA de Penn, Mex@Penn, Society of Hispanic Professional Engineers Written by Heriberto Mendoza

Presenting at this event was Dr. William A. Nericcio, a professor of Literature at San Diego State University. Flying across the country, he gave a presentation on Latinx stereotypes in American culture and showed how these stereotypes have been influenced by Hollywood and the internet. Dr. Nericcio is, amongst other things, also an artist. He presented part of his exhibition “Mextasy”: a collection of visual art consisting of juxtapositions of depictions of Latinx individuals with images of mainstream American culture. In presenting his research and decorating the room with his posters, Nericcio attempts to illustrate the ridiculousness of such stereotypes, such as the association of Mexicans with being “bandits” or the sexualization of Latinas and how the internet fuels and spreads these ideas. In exploring and debunking these stereotypes, Dr. Nericcio speaks up and disputes these stereotypes about our community and uses his voice to ensure that we are represented in a manner closer to the truth.

Latinx Political Identity and Presidential Elections Latin American & Latino Studies Written by Fernando Fernandez

Dr. Rodolfo de La Garza, professor in Columbia University’s Department of Political Science, joined us to speak about the importance of the Latinx vote in the 2016 elections. Analyzing different states around the country with varying statistics, Dr. de La Garza was able to highlight how Latinxs influenced particular states to vote for one candidate over another. In these states, Latinxs were considered the deciding faction. To a lesser extent but still prominent, the Latinx faction was a part of the dominating party. This accentuated the idea that the Latinx vote pushed a party to a wider margin of victory than otherwise would have been expected throughout an election. Questions brought up and answered by Professor de La Garza included how to understand the campaigns of each candidate, the possibilities of swaying opinion, and a more biased election if a Latinx candidate were to win the Republican Primary. Quick to answer, Dr. de La Garza affirmed that Latinxs were misunderstanding much of the political platforms that the candidates were running. When at times it seems that Latinxs are being ignored or overlooked, the reality is that there are other contentious factions in the states that could also contribute to the loss of a state to another candidate. Answering the idea of racial bias in the presidential atmosphere, our guest speaker answered that due to the maturity of the Latinx voter as well as the lack of real Latinx identity among the candidates, this problem would be very unlikely to occur. We as Latinxs should understand our importance in these elections and exactly how and why we should be voting for the ideal candidate. It is time that we take the power that we are given as a community and show the United States that we can take action and have our voices heard in deciding the next President.

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Minorities in the Media

La Vida Magazine, Señoritas Latinas Unidats, Inc., Queer People of Color Written by Karina Miranda & Uriel Baez

Do we still see a significant lack of diversity in the media today? Alicia Maule and Suhaly Bautista-Carolina traveled to Penn to engage with students to explore the intersection of different identities and the perceptions of women, the LGBT+ community, and people of color in the media. Immediately, they asserted that change in society will not be seen until there are minorities moving into positions of power and decision-making. Both have strived to break into those power roles and be present in the room where decisions are made.

The mediator of the event Abby Cacho, a Junior in the College of Arts and Sciences, asked how both of panelists had managed to reach such a large audience. With the growing global audience present on Twitter and Facebook, Suhaly stressed the importance of also always being accepting of all information and narratives. With access to social media comes privilege, asserted Suhaly, which she says gives her the ability to craft her own story and speak

out. When asked about the role and responsibilities of celebrities in activist movements, Suhaly and Alicia both agreed that while celebrities have such a large audience and could make a huge impact, it’s not in their job description, and at the end of the day no one can force them to take on that responsibility.

Later, an audience member seeking advice asked how activists working in the media could avoid pigeonholing their careers by only writing about certain activist topics. Alicia suggested diversifying right now in order to have access to opportunities. “Once in the workplace, you will have to surprise people with your versatility and work tentimes harder than your peers to get ahead,” asserted Alicia. Suhaly added that in the workplace, you have to learn to ask questions and make suggestions in a smart way, because not everyone will have the same values that you do. “We must always be prepared with facts, answers, and alternatives”, said Suhaly, “so that we can continue to rise above.”

Ese trapo en tu cabeza Written by Suhaly Bautista-Carolina, The Earth Warrior My mother called me today to tell me que se soño con “mama,” su mama, mi abuela.

In the dream, my grandmother is wearing a scarf on her head. This scarf is something we have in common, my grandmother and I: the covering of our heads. This is what my mother has always told me.

Beyond breath and time, we are connected.

In the dream, my mother tells mama how beautiful her headwrap is, the same way she tells me; she wishes she could wear one like I do. She wishes. I am filled with the knowledge of my mother wishing. She always asks me how I do it; how I can tie the fabric so creatively, so confidently into a glorious crown.

I always assure her that she can do it to herself too.

I promise to teach her, but I haven’t.

My mom begins to recount the dream over the phone. This is something we always do. Tradition. Habit. The way we speak to each other without getting too deep.

I try to envision mama—the only way I can imagine her, from the black and white photo of a photo that I own where she is dancing with my uncle–the only one of my uncles I call “tio.”

She is dressed in all white, her sainthood demanding my complete attention. I obsess over the parts of her face that evidence my mother. I think about the way mama would have loved me, with the same stern love my mother coated me in from birth, or from before birth. I can’t remember, but I know.

In the dream, mama tells my mother to “wait right there” or probably, “esperame ahi.”

I move mama in my mind, the way I want her to move, floating.

Mama comes back to the same spot where she left my mother. In her hand is the delicate, pear–colored scarf that I bought for my mother in Verona last summer. She ties it effortlessly onto my mother’s head, producing the glorious crown my mother has been longing for.

vida seca by Juan Cabrera

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Undocumented Students

in Higher Education

Keynote:

Sonia “ Maria” Manzano

Latin American Graduate & Professional Student Assembly

Festival Latinx, UPenn V-Day Campaign & Penn Women's Center

Written by Devon Hernandez

Written by Tito Sandoval

Guest speakers Angie Ocampo, Pamela Fuente Rodriguez, Erick Silva, and Stephanie Brown were invited to discuss the challenges undocumented students face in attempting to pursue higher education in the United States. The goal was to raise awareness of the impediments undocumented students face, while creating discourse on potential solutions to this education crisis. Topics included the preliminary injunction originally filled by a federal Texas judge, which creates further barriers for those who would qualify for Deferred Action for Parents of Americans and Lawful Permanent Residents (DAPA) and expanded Deferred Action of Childhood Arrivals (DACA). Participants expressed the importance of such policy initiatives as there are vital social and economic benefits that support the greater community. Student participants personally highlighted how DACA has allowed them to work and attend the university without the fear of deportation.

In addition, participants emphasized the importance of community programs that assist the undocumented community with navigating institutions such as Penn, as policies are not always clear and make it challenging to understand. Furthermore, participants described the importance of working as a collective and having greater support from universities to assist undocumented students within higher education.

This year’s Festival Latinx keynote speaking engagement featured Sonia Manzano, an actress and writer of Puerto Rican descent, best known for her role as Maria on Sesame Street (where she won 15 Emmy Awards for her writing) and as a member of original Broadway hit The Vagina Monologues. Before beginning her speech, a brief video chronicling Sonia’s (or Maria’s) forty-four year run on Sesame Street played for the audience. The video documented her on-show marriage, pregnancy, and other adventures during her time on Plaza Sésamo. After taking the stage, Sonia remarked that we had all just witnessed 40 years of her life, an on-air life deeply intertwined with her real one.

That is to say, Maria’s life was a reflection of Sonia’s; when Sonia got married or pregnant, so did Maria. Sonia went on to discuss how producers recruited her to Sesame Street with the goal of “educating underserved African-American and Latinx kids in an environment that looked like the place they were growing up in.”

Throughout her speech, Sonia seamlessly transitioned through topics like politics (she is not a fan of Donald Trump), growing up in the South Bronx, and her passion for early childhood education—her experience as a storyteller shined brighter with every word she spoke.

Her clarity of speech and humorous approach towards discussing any topic, including her troubled childhood in the South Bronx, brought a unique sense of warmth and comfort to the Amado Recital Hall. Even a few days after her speech, I am still left reflecting upon Sonia’s parting words regarding her own struggles in life and the struggles many disadvantaged students who make it to a place like Penn face, “We are who we are because of our struggles, not in spite of them.”

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El Sabor Latino:

Open Mic Night

Onda Latina & Grupo Quisqueyano

La Unidad Latina, Inc., Lambda Theta Alpha, Latin Sorirty, Inc., Active Cross-Cultural Training in Our Neighborhoods

Bachata and Merengue Edition Written by Anonymous Dancer

Walking into Arch 208 to the smell of pastelitos (both chicken and cheese) and the excitement of many people to learn a new bachata dance was fun.

Counting down by the second to the start of the lesson, my uncoordinated hips were not ready to take on a lesson. Nicole and Julian, Onda members, taught us a few combos and then I tried to imitate. Little did I know that I would trip on my feet and mess up the combo a few times. However, I persevered. I had to get these moves down in order to prep for the social dancing session of the night. Everyone around me started to dance, from pros to people who are rhythmically challenged, like myself. I thought it was perfect. We got the chance to rotate with different partners allowing me to feel better of myself when my friend and I laughed as we messed up. GQ really made the Dominican culture feel alive by playing Romeo and Aventura. (Little did they know that I am Dominican, so I was the first one singing along in the corner.) The board members always talked to us and made sure that we got anything that we needed. Onda also made a great appearance. It was amazing to see how Onda had about 20 dancers all making moves left and right. I thought I knew how to dance, and I do know now a little more. But I aspire to be able to show my Dominican culture soon through GQ and through Onda.

Written byJonathan Paz

The closing event of Festival Latinx was nothing short of an authentic expression of undergraduate creativity and vulnerability. The diversity of performances truly encompassed the complexity in the Latinx identity not just through the course of hxstory but also, through its integration into the globalized microcosm that is the United States. The energy and content of the performances varied greatly. Some performances analyzed critical issues regarding identity across space and time. For example, there was spoken work shared detailing the complexities of maintaining an Arab identity in a mixed-heritage family. Additionally, an Hermano of La Unidad Latina, Lambda Upsilon Lambda, Fraternity Inc. shared a poem describing the many factors that make up our Latinidad in the 21st century. It was the Hermano’s position that Latinxs should not romanticize their past but instead, celebrate our resilience as a people and race. Of course, there were the performances lightened the mood of the event.

A talented undergraduate flawlessly beat-boxed for a few minutes and followed his performance with a rap song discussing the need to remain true to his broke and nerdy self. Shortly after, another student did justice to Frank Ocean. The last performer synchronized his passion for mathematics into a love poem detailing his commitment and love for his partner of 7 years.

Overall, the night was an emotional roller-coaster in a supportive environment where artistic expression and honesty reigned free.

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On Culture & Appropriation La Casa es tu Casa

I officially consider myself a “La Casa regular” now. I go there in between classes, whether it is to nap, make casual conversation, or get a snack. I go there when I have no classes at all, because I know there will always be people there or, if not, couches I can lie comfortably on for as long as it takes for people to show up.

It definitely wasn’t always this way though. I remember being terrified to go there as a freshman, because I wouldn’t know anyone. I could never put myself through the anxiety of being that freshman. It shouldn’t be this way, though. Cultural centers are open to anyone, not just the extroverted few.

I suggest the following strategies to navigate cultural centers:

◊ Go with a friend. Even just for a few minutes, going with a friend can be a way to get an idea of how people interact at the center. ◊ Introduce yourself (especially if you’re a freshman). No sane person would expect a freshman to not be curious, so introducing yourself as one can be a great way to receive a warm welcome. ◊ Be friendly. Most people will not ignore you if you make an effort to get to know them, so trying never hurts. You may even run across people who will be friendly first and welcome you with open arms (like me).

Cultural centers, while intimidating, are a great resource on campus that should be utilized. Never let your fears get the best of you, because what you can gain from a cultural center like La Casa definitely outweighs any fears you may have.

◊ Lorenzo

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Appropriation Check

I was raised in Arizona, I’m majoring in Spanish, I write for La Vida, I listen to Romeo Santos, I dance bachata and I have primas and tías.

But guess what? I’m African American. Sometimes I have to check myself to make sure I don’t step from the realm of appreciation into the realm of appropriation; the line is thin, it’s blurred, but it’s there. Appropriation occurs most frequently when a dominant group takes the cultural expressions of a minority group for their own gain or entertainment, without understanding or respecting the history behind these expressions. However, it can happen between minority groups—yes Beyoncé I’m talking to you. The issue can be confusing to some, which is why we need to open up conversations about the effects of appropriation. The caricatures of culture that occur in mainstream media—when Katy Perry dresses up like an “Egyptian”, football mascots are called “Red Skins”, thug and cholo costumes are still sold and worn every Halloween with a smile— are damaging. It leads to a world where the features that are praised on white women are disparaged on Latina and Black women, stereotypes run rampant, and the accomplishments and beautiful cultural aspects of a minority group are not appreciated until they’re seen on Kylie Jenner. This is the year to really dig into the deeper issues of this practice, because in a social media world we’re going to continue seeing more and more of it and Twitter is not going to let it slide. Have that conversation with someone from a different culture, check yourself when you have to, and please learn the difference between appreciation and appropriation.

◊ Leya

Misdirected Aid

We don’t need your help, we need your support. Yes, going to a different country should be eye-opening, but not simply because you finally realized that not all people live in six-bedroom houses, drive BMW’s, and wear Canada Goose jackets. As college students, most of us have the great privilege of fully immersing ourselves in our education without having to worry about where we will sleep at night or if our water is safe to drink.

Therefore, it is important that our universities promote the need for us to be civically engaged, and aware of what is happening in the world around us.

Furthermore, it is of great importance that we concern ourselves with learning about how people outside of our small, highly privileged, Eurocentric college bubble are living. It is wonderful if you want to help the less fortunate and less privileged people of Latin America, but you must do so conscientiously. It is of no help if you go build houses in a town that does not need them but is in dire need of clean water, and could have benefited greatly from the building of freshwater wells. Going to Colombia for spring break and helping build a school can help a town get on the path to offering a better education to its children, however those children might later be forced to dropout and work because their family cannot make ends meet.

Don’t forget to look at the big picture when you are in Latin American, and when you come back to the States as well.

◊ Fran

Elissa Lopez

Nicolas Garcia

Sandra Andino

Kareli Lizรกrraga

Latinx Spotlights

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The New Latinx Voice:

Old Voice, New Song:

Written by Celeste Diaz

Written by Celeste Diaz

Sandra Andino, Associate Director of the Latin American and Latino Studies program at the University of Pennsylvania, was born in New York and raised in Puerto Rico. She delved into this field after transitioning into the US and gaining a stronger consciousness of her Afro-Latinidad. After joining Taller Puertoriqueño and building friendships through the association, open mindedness and awareness of her own roots and their contributions to the world became a conversation. It was exposure to Latinx communities, their links and history, through participation in community settings, the sharing of experiences, that allowed her to see the similarities other communities experience and instilled a drive to learn more about her own history and the greater international community through this lense. “It is a journey because everyday you learn something new that affects varying communities,” she says.

The topics of race and racial identity, including the denial of African ancestry, need to happen more often. There are misconceptions about Afro-Latinx heritage and the importance of its recognition. Historically, Afro-communities have been pushed aside and isolated due to subconscious prejudice on what African heritage entails that has been passed down in the community, consequently urging the heritage’s rejection. Through her work and influence here at Penn, Andino hopes to play a role in increasing spaces to talk about Afro-Latinidad, however, not in a divisive way. “Ask questions, become richer culturally,” she says. To students who want to be enlightened into this new paradigm she says, we tend not to “approach new things or new people because we are afraid of what types of topics they may shed light on.” Sandra Andino is the new Afro-Latinx voice because she aims to enlighten the Penn community through education and participation.

College was an expectation for Karelí Lizárraga that both her parents and her school had of her. As college transitioned from an aspiration into something tangible, her undocumented status seemed to pose an obstacle.When her senior year approached, she confided her undocumented status to a teacher after being asked about her college plans. Her teachers became her advocates and a great support system throughout the college process. Entering Penn, she was introduced to the Latinx community through La Casa Latina and La Vida Magazine. When Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals was introduced to “DREAMers” like Karelí, she became one of two undocumented teachers in a pilot program for Teach for America, and through this opportunity she was determined in creating a different narrative for herself. Returning to Penn, allowed her the possibility of leading those pursuing a fulfilling career in education, and like her previously may be discouraged due to their status. There was a comment in particular made by one of her students that has motivated her work; “Why are you still here?” they asked, genuinely confused as to why someone with an Ivy league degree would “settle” for a teaching job. She wants teachers to reflect the classroom and believes kids of all backgrounds deserve qualified and passionate educators. At Penn, many people are full of potential to go where they are needed and make an impact. One of her goals while back at Penn is to start a conversation about the lack of education and lack of access in the system. In the Latinx community, it is important to be a leader by creating pathways for higher education and undocumented students.

There are many leadership positions in the field of education that have yet to be filled, there is no reason Latinxs shouldn’t be the ones to fill them.

Sandra Andino

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Kareli Lizárraga

A Giving Voice:

Elissa Lopez Written by Celeste Diaz

Elissa Lopez is a passionate graduate student studying Social Work. However, Elissa started her college journey as a nursing student. After spending time in a hospital, and seeing a nurse and a social worker in the same room, she realized that social work was how she wanted to help others.

Elissa grew up in a predominantly mexican community in Dalton, Georgia. Her background offers a different perspective. Her experience striving to be an “ exception and not an example”, in terms of her success and education, is a notion many Latinx students can relate to. She has worked with the Latinx community through internships and especially with Latina women by helping them feel empowered despite their circumstances. Currently, she is working with a clinic in the Philadelphia area, and with all the possibilities that the social work field has, Elissa will act as an advocate for a community that has struggled to be heard. Her goals in her work are to make sure her clients get the care they need, motivate social justice, and to expose the fact that many people are not privileged and lack basic needs. Currently, there are not enough programs that cater and target all Latinxs. A necessary conversation about empowerment of the Latinx community and our accomplishments needs to happen. Elissa hopes that one day her work won’t be necessary, that people of all backgrounds and in her community will be able to have their own voice be heard. Until this day, she wants to be where she is needed and serve as an advocate for Latinxs and those who need her help.

New Voice in Politics:

Nicolas Garcia Written by Juan Cabrera

Nicolas Garcia, a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences studying political science, has been running for office for a position as a representative of Florida. He has been hard at work with his campaign, and plans to impact his home state to reform education and help minority and disadvantaged communities. He wants to actually be “a voice for people, a voice for those who think they have no say in politics because of the communities they come from”. He has lived in a low-income household and understands the issues that citizens struggle today; he is relatable unlike most politicians who come from privilege. Nicolas has worked to support his family from a young age and understands the hardships that families with unemployed parents face, so he is running so that “government actually represents the people and not some other interests.” When asked about his role models, Nicolas expressed the motivational support and encouragement he has received from Johnny Irizarry from La Casa Latina at Penn, but notes that there aren’t many strong Latinx leaders who have made their mark, which he thinks is something that needs more progress, like getting Latinxs more involved in politics. Nicolas also says that it is, “important for more Latinx voices to be heard, and more Latinxs should run for office in all levels of government to actually be decision makers and be at the table.” The support and love that the Latinx community has shown Nicolas is why he is running for office; he is becoming a new voice in government because he wants to serve the community that has guided him.

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Uncertainty can be a gift Written by Melissa Jimenez I will never forget how you made me feel Especially on the days when I could not find the strength to get out of bed You saw me at my lowest But even then, I refused to let you get the best of me My unwavering nature would not allow it You brought me the greatest of gifts, but also some of the worst I spent too much time in darkness all because I doubted myself You made me doubt my abilities You made me think I wasn’t good enough But now, the light at the end of the tunnel has finally appeared in my line of vision And now I say to you Thank you You allowed me the chance and space to grow into who I am today Presented me with the realization that I let myself be alone but I didn’t have to be You have granted me the opportunity to understand the meaning of a love-hate relationship You thought it was a guy didn’t you?

Don’t be silly You shouldn’t dwell too much in the past Things can be replaced with time and only make you stronger Life experiences, growth and development, on the other hand, can’t be replaced When moving into new stages in life, make the most of the uncertain, for it can be a gift Remember all that has come before you and how you ended up where you are Be grateful for everything that has happened along the way Any slight change in the trajectory of your life, may have led you down a different path Penn, I am grateful and owe it all to being allowed the chance to grow through discomfort

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Life happens in stages. As I prepare for the newest stage, I have yet to understand what’s really to come. My entire life has been school. Now that that chapter of my life has ended, a new one has begun. From engineering, to economics, to criminology, the levels of anxiety over uncertainty were far too high. And now the uncertainty has decreased as I begin the newest chapter of my life; all this to say that things do eventually fall into place.

I’ve now graduated Penn after 4.5 years, having searched long and hard for the meaning of all things (who am I, where do I see myself in 1, 2, 5, 10 years, etc.). Penn has brought me heartache, true happiness, confidence, new skill sets, new visions for myself, doubts, fears, time of exploration, and disappointment. Most importantly, it has allowed me to cross paths with a family that has served as the support system that I needed to succeed, to be there for me no matter what, to share the good, the bad and the ugly, to push me through the times I didn’t think I could take a step further for the fear of not maintaining my balance. For some time, I couldn’t see what was in front of me and needed guidance. For some time, I didn’t believe in myself enough to succeed. For some time, all I needed was for someone else to realize my truest potential before I could realize it for myself. When I needed the strength, I found it. When I needed the first and last push, there it was. When I was on the verge of graduating and had to apply and interview for jobs, I had already been equipped with the tools. When I landed the job that I wanted at the start of this year, I just knew that all things were coming together for me. Now, I embark on this new journey in helping others fulfill their short and long term goals in life.

You will never be certain about the new, and that is okay. You’re not expected to know what’s coming next, but it’s how you receive it and react to it that shows you whether or not you are prepared to move into your next stage. Be confident in your next step, even if you can’t see what’s in front of you. Be open to asking for help and receiving it with open arms. Trust yourself, for only you know your true intentions. Look deep inside yourself and search for the things that will be worthwhile. If you find yourself in a stage of uncertainty, turn it into something beautiful, for later on in life, all that will be left are memories of the past stages and visions for the new ones.

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Becoming Greek Written by Carol Quezada Olivo

When I came to the University of Pennsylvania, becoming Greek was never the plan. I was turned off by everything I was reading about rape at frat parties, and tragic hazing deaths and accidents and didn’t want to be involved in any of that.

I wasn’t concerned about being popular or “buying” hundreds of friends. All I wanted was to go to an institution where I would flourish, not only intellectually, but also emotionally, and physically. Even though, I didn’t think I was up to the task given and I didn’t think I was smart enough, or socially conscious enough to be a part of anything so much greater than myself, I wanted to be challenged and pushed past my limits to see what I could accomplish amongst the brightest and most privileged students in the nation. To be 100% honest, I almost didn’t even come to Penn because I didn’t think I would be accepted, but that’s a different story. I’m here now and that’s all that matters, right?

Eh, not really! I made it past my first semester with quite a few scratches, granted I survived, but not completely unscathed.

Despite having attended the PENNCAP’s Pre-Freshman Program for a month before school started, I still didn’t feel prepared for what Penn had to offer. Yes, I knew a hundred people before anyone else had any friends and yes I knew about all the support and resources on campus. But I wasn’t mentally or physically capable to navigate

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Penn’s social or academic spheres. I wasn’t prepared to be up against some of the brightest people on campus for grades. I wasn’t prepared to set aside my family time in order to “Succeed” at Penn. I wasn’t prepared to spend tons of money going to formals, or down towns, or on lulu lemon tights.

If you put it into perspective, I think I failed my first semester at Penn. Not academically—I did just fine, but personally.

I hadn’t achieved anything I had originally set my mind to. I was nowhere near my goal of being an active leader on campus; I was nowhere near learning what students needed on campus. After the first semester, I was right where I had originally started.

Bruised, unhappy and verging on depression. Granted, I had friends I loved and still love to this day, but I stayed with the same group of people, I didn’t push past my safe zone. I did end up joining the Volleyball Team as the manager and loved it because I was so close to living my high school dream and the girls were great, but at the end of the day I didn’t feel like I fit in. After my first semester at Penn, my roommate at the time returned to campus early to rush the PanHellenic organizations and almost convinced me to join her in the process. I chose not to pursue it because—again, I didn’t want to just be raising money and having social events. I wanted to associate myself with the organizations that would get me to be where I wanted to be, be someone peo-

ple looked up to. I wanted to do something to help me make that happen. with meaning. I wanted to be talking about That’s the organization I was looking things that weren’t normally talked about. for, the one that I was waiting for, and the I wanted to shake things up. Turn Penn up- one that would allow me to be myself unside down and I personally felt that other apologetically. I proceeded to get to know organizations weren’t going to do it for me. other women who wanted the same thing

As my roommate became more in- for themselves; they were also interested volved in the rush process, I became closer in becoming Hermanas. These were womwith another group of friends who intro- en who were willing to push themselves to duced me to the Multicultural Greek life be leaders on campus and everything just— at Penn. I attended a Meet the Greeks that clicked. Those women made me more consemester and met my would-be-Hermanas fident, more true to myself, more honest, and I knew instantly that that was where I and most importantly they challenged me. wanted to be. I had briefly looked into the They pointed out my mistakes and made it other organizations as a a learning process. way to learn about them I knew that I had made the right They became my and make up my mind. best friends and choice.

I saw women who not only However, when I tried to my family. Evenfind myself within them looked like me (could be my long tually, I embarked I couldn’t. After attend- lost cousins or siblings or some- on a journey with ing an Informal Tea (an thing), but I also saw women that I three of them to informational session to wanted to be like. Saw women that become Hermanas learn about the organizaof Sigma Lambda were trying to do something imtion), I knew that I had Upsilon/Señoritas made the right choice. I portant; women who were trying Latinas Unidas Sosaw women who not only to become professionals; women rority, Inc. and here looked like me (could be who were eloquent, confident, and we are. my long lost cousins or

I’m not gomost importantly themselves. siblings or something), ing to lie and say I but I also saw women that didn’t have doubts.

I wanted to be like. Saw women that were I had literally NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT trying to do something important; women I WAS GETTING MYSELF INTO! I didn’t who were trying to become professionals; know what pledging meant or what it looked women who were eloquent, confident, and like, all I knew was that I wanted to be like most importantly themselves. I was with a the women at the Tea, like the Hermanas. group of women whom I could be around And honestly, it was extremely challenging and feel like I was not putting up a front. and even before doing it, I was worried that I felt like they were taking me at face val- I was just convincing myself into believing ue and they liked what they saw, they saw that this was for me, and that it wasn’t rewhat I wanted for myself and were willing ally what I thought it was, that I was being

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pulled into some sort of illusion. However, I have decent grades and am still at Penn, after deep thought I knew I would regret there is so much more that I have not yet not attempting it, so I just did it. At the end done. I still want to empower other young of the day I thoroughly enjoyed every sin- women like myself to make a difference on gle moment, all the challenges, all the re- campus, I still want to see some improvelationships I built, everything that I earned ment in the way Greek life and Multicultural because I earned it for myself and for the Greek life is viewed as a whole, I still want person I wanted to become. My Line Sis- to see the Latinx community come together ters supported me and I was able to support with all other minority communities, I still them. It would not have worked without want to see the Penn community as a whole them. We crossed and we have our letters support minority issues, I still want Penn to and I couldn’t be more proud. Plus I got a be more inclusive of my AfroLatinx body 3.5 GPA that semester and I could not have and I still want students to not feel they have been any happier! to commit suicide to escape the anxiety and

But there is more to the story, it wasn’t depression that Penn brings them. That, is just about how or why I became Greek or why I became Greek, that is the reason why the fact that I I earned my am now Greek. letters, so that I still want to see the Penn community as I could find a It was always about what I a whole support minority issues, I still want way to provide would do once Penn to be more inclusive of my AfroLatinx some sister/ I earned my brotherhood in body and I still want students to not feel they letters, what I our community have to commit suicide to escape the anxiety would do for to avoid these myself and issues so that I and depression that Penn brings them. what I would do could be a catafor others and lyst for change. my community and honestly I can say that I I am not speaking for all people who befeel that I have achieved so much more than come Greek, I am only speaking for myI would have thought I did, but I still think self. I am only speaking of my journey. I there is so much more to be done. Although joined Sigma Lambda Upsilon/Señoritas I am currently the Vice President for our Latinas Unidas Sorority Inc. so that I could Gamma Chapter here at Penn, I am a Res- challenge myself and in turn become the ident Advisor for Harnwell College House, amazing woman that I saw I could be. The I am a proud V-Day Warrior in the Vagina woman I thought I could never be on my Monologues, I am the Festival Latinx 2016 own. I’m not saying I couldn’t do it on my Management Chair, Co-president for Grupo own, but it definitely helped to have women Quisqueyano and a Big Sister for Big Broth- who believed in me guide me to where I am. ers Big Sisters, while also working at the Whether I am there now, I still don’t know.

PENNCAP office as a front desk assistant, I kind of have high standards, but I will not

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let anything stop me from getting there.

Whether that is the lack of something here at Penn or something else, I will persist and continue to strive to be my greatest self and make some sort of difference on campus. I am just thankful to have had the opportunity to grow so much after becoming Greek and cannot wait to see what else I can do in my next and last year at Penn.

To put everything into perspective, I have never felt so much passion or fulfillment from the things that I do, than when I am doing something for SLU or for the Penn community. I love planning and making things that I didn’t think possible, possible. I love meeting other women with the same drive that I do. I love getting to know women who are seeking to be in the same

place that I am and I love getting to build that bond. I want to tell you that if you are considering Greek life, take the time to seek out all your options; you may never really know what’s out there until you take the time to look. Additionally, it may surprise you that something you thought you could never do, would become something that brings you so much joy. Take advantages of all opportunities and seek out new ones, because you won’t get another shot at life.

This is my story, what will be yours?

La identidad que llevo by Ileana Santos-Gonzalez

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museum visits (or 1.4.14) Written by Marco Herndon

By the time abuelito took an afternoon siesta, father had saved from second hand shops, desperately the light that shined through the patio of my grand- hoping they’d provide her the ideal intellectual space. parents’ home darkened to a visible amber. The play- On Saturday mornings before we left home ful sound of my cousins talking during lunch would to the museum, my dad would make omelets. He die down and our emerald-colored parrot followed whipped them together with white, round mushrooms, suit, quieting his calls for fresh choclo. Not every- sliced onions, and thin, green peppers. He’d add milk one respected the silence; knife-sharpeners that cy- to the simmering yolk to make it distinctly creamy. cled throughout the neighborhood loudly announced Later I would discover in one of our many hundreds their arrival with a universally recognized quack-like of books that I was lactose intolerant due to my “intune. Luckily, the noise blended with pigeons reliably ferior ethnicity.” While my father slightly browned the humming in the background; slowly, old men like my eggs, I made toast on a pan. He was frustrated with me abuelito succumbed to el sueño. since I refused to use the toaster. My grandparents’ had

I refused to sleep while he napped and used the always used a pan, and it didn’t make much sense to time to my advantage. Abuelita’s wardrobe closet repre- stop the tradition. Back Home, they heavily buttered sented a life rooted in the past and not yet taken by the French bread, placed it sliced and face down on a pan, ephemeral present of memory loss. The family would and burnt it to give it extra crunch. open the wardrobe only when abuelita left the house. If Cooking always helped my parents–especialthese outings coincided with a visit from my mom or ly on museum days–avoid conflict. The toast evoked aunt, they would dress her much like she would have memories that distracted my mother, letting go of preferred. While abuelito slept, I peered into the dark, self-control just enough to tolerate my father’s rote mahogany wardrobe and carefully sifted through old marital gestures. So my dad would scramble the creamy blazers and soft, brightly omelet and spread it evenly colored shawls. Old photoon each piece of burnt toast, graphs portrayed a largely Those mornings locked inside, pairing it with carton-stored different abuelita, yet one orange juice we had conwith the same tenacity. Her I longed to escape Back Home like vinced ourselves was like the smile was less innocent— the airplanes, flying into thin air. ripe juice Back Home. not yet released from the We had been trapped weight of memory—but it in a cycle of arguments. My was no less sincere. Most striking was her dark, red lip- parents thought I woke up too late on weekends, since stick. Its color and the ease with which she displayed it I only opened my door around noon. Unbeknownst to gave the impression that the photograph afforded her them were the four hours before I emerged. They alsought-after elegance. Yet her brow spoke of a differ- ways began to argue in the morning, and I began to ent reality; the odyssey of marriage, humility (poverty), assume this was their time for (and style of) introspecand children had instilled abuelita a ceaseless worrying tion. To block entry to my room, I built a wall against that would transform into unbearable anxiety. At some the door with my chair, books, and stuffed animals. I point, someone took off the lipstick and returned the dreamt of the future, pulling out a small notebook to now neatly-folded shawls into the wardrobe. Whoev- draw out my plans to be a pilot. Back Home, military er it was resigned themselves to the expectation that planes flew past my grandparents’ apartment building. death, or something like that, was imminent. Elegance Like a pair of migrating birds, they passed before my wasn’t relevant to death. house unnoticed; the sound of their engines rocketing

I’d remember these afternoons later, during the against the air announced their arrival. They seemed winter, when my mother started taking me to muse- to lack a precise destination. Those mornings locked ums. She wasn’t as enthralled by our small, 1950s era inside, I longed to escape Back Home like the airplanes, house as I was and perused the hundreds of books my flying into thin air.

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”

By the time my mother began taking me to museums, we rarely spoke at breakfast. It was the only meal we still shared. They had met cooking. She had worn a luxury waitress’ black apron, while he a white one, a plain cook’s uniform dotted with spots of oil that also sometimes managed to burn his hands. I had an idyllic image of them sitting under the deigned lights of a closing restaurant, sipping the last drops of cheap wine no customer dared to order. “We would go see a film after, your father always took me to see foreign ones – anything foreign could comfort me back then…” She never finished these stories, but I would finish them myself.

Sometimes, during their fights, my father let on more details about their first encounter. He’d say my mom, Mirasol, wasn’t someone you typically approached. Her eyes were dark brown and oddly calming. But she had a vibe, he’d say, the “I’m dealing with shit vibe.” Were her hands rough? I wondered. Once, I asked why her hands were hardened. Ice cubes. The restaurant was a steakhouse. The raw meat arrived in a cooler each morning. By the time it arrived to the restaurant, the ice would turn a bloody, maroon-colored red. Her hands, she said, were frequently red-colored and felt frozen afterward. This didn’t make her uneasy.

What made my mom squirm was how much her hands would then resemble the wealthy, white women’s hands that beckoned her. How much she’d lost by coming Here. Later, after work, my mom and dad held hands on the subway ride home. Poorly slept nights and overworked days had worn them down. The kitchen sweat they accumulated never perspired completely from their bodies, even after a shower. Their white uniforms were decorated with spots of spattered oil. At least they no longer had to stare at equally miserable strangers. They now had each other.

Now, hand-holding was less frequent and we didn’t live near any subway stations. The romance I once imagined between them had disappeared. It had been a rough introduction, after all. I had heard the phrase “We got off on the wrong foot” in a movie with Julia Roberts around this time. Maybe that was it. In my room those mornings my parents thought I was sleeping, I would imagine how it all came apart. Tensions

spread through the kitchen like fire. She cleaned quickly; he took a break. My sister from Back Home would call after work, followed by my grandmother’s premonitions of the impending tragedy of our American life.

My dad was persistent and my mom evasive, weary of yet more misguided male intentions. Her unwashed hair smelled like pieces of roasted garlic left behind on dirty tables and cleaned up bit by bit. He charmed her anyway. “I saw a picture in National Geographic of That Place Back in your Home.” She lied, say she visited, embarrassed to admit Home had never granted her Its Beauties. She could be a dreamer with him, and he the cosmopolitan Oil Stains never afforded him.

I had lunch at school. At dinner time, my dad would call home, letting us know he’d be in the kitchen late. My mom would take me to a restaurant, too frustrated to cook. We would end up ordering three, four appetizers and an entrée, anything to lessen her pain. The restaurants were a stage, and a script sweetened our conversations. My mother always asked me to listen to my dad’s voicemails afterward, at Home. She avoided heartbreak if he hadn’t left any, and if he had, at least he could maintain a decent image as a father. Back then, cell phones lacked a speaker, so when my dad left a message filled with curses and accusations, I would look at my expectant mother, grin a fake smile, and say, “Dad’s on his way home.”

When rage overtook her, she’d listen to the messages herself. Sometimes there were good ones, but she ignored these. They said nothing different from before.

She’d quickly press “Delete” right before he said, “I miss you both.”

I finished breakfast last, hoping my father had gotten the nerve to offer us a ride to the city in the car.

He kissed me on the forehead as he took my plate to the kitchen, muttering the errands he had put off for the week. Mami grinned and looked at me through the corners of her eyes. He had failed. I never said anything to him. I’d say, “Ok, well goodbye…” It was hard to call him Dad.

On the train we’d forget about all that. My mother beamed with delight while I trembled with fear. The assistant sweeping throughout the train would eventually notice we switched cars to avoid the fare. She insisted on saving money. Back Home these things were

Teatro Nacional de Costa Rica from Pura Vida by Ana Barrera

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easy. “A mother wouldn’t be questioned, ever. You have

Rushing out of the train to the station was my to understand, I already sacrificed a lot for you. The favorite part. All the passengers prepared themselves, least I deserve is a free ride to the city.” buttoning their coats, zipping leather boots, and orna And so she did: running from car to car like a mentally wrapping their scarves around their necks. young girl, laughing each time we discreetly made it My eyes were glued to the bright scarves, the colors past another train assistant, and glaring at passengers symbolizing their last drops of individuality. Up on the who would have corrected our injustice had they cared platform I stared at the engraved constellations of the enough. I wanted to join them, embarrassed by our in- station’s ceiling. They resembled the stars Back Home, decency. To convince them I wasn’t the child they imag- in the mountains. Set against a dark turquoise, they abined. “I am better than this,” I would say. But I never sorbed the dreams below that only rarely captured the did. Wasn’t she right? Hadn’t she sacrificed enough for light above. Maybe that’s why I want to be a pilot. My me? I’d just stare reluctantly into the woods, no longer mother’s voice appeared. “You’ve seen it many times angry but desperate for a distraction. and it never changes. You’ll lose yourself staring at that

The train sped through the suburbs, eventually sky. Stay focused, or else someone might just steal you reaching the city’s gateway: a series of brick buildings away.” The sky seemed like the safest place to be. Only that from afar resembled a rich engineer’s imagination when she grabbed me by the arm would the ground of poverty. “We don’t live there like your cousins back catch me. home.” Hers was an odd humility, as she was bitter the

The museum was shaped like an endless upward buildings were still and had ever been a possibility. spiral. There were no constellations on the ceiling, just Usually I looked away, staring back at the buildings un- a small inlet where the sun made an appearance every til we disappeared undernow and then. The spiral ground and were soon beresembled my parents. As She insisted on saving money. conflict became acute, they neath the city’s pyramids of wealth. reached a breaking point.

Back Home these things were easy.

“A Sometimes, my A breakfast. A memory. If mother’s comments filled mother wouldn’t be questioned, ever. I twisted my body in cirme with rage. I slowly You have to understand, I already cles, would the dizziness be pounded my head against a better sensation than the the doubly plated win- sacrificed a lot for you. The least I rage I felt since leaving the dow, screaming out to the train? buildings behind us and deserve is a free ride to the city.”

Disoriented, I looked at hoping they’d see me like I my mom sitting on a marunknowingly saw them. My mother was wrong. I wasn’t ble-stone bench. grateful for my father’s hundreds of unread books, for “Off you go,” she said when she noticed me. I the creak of the stairs everyone heard because no one never asked what she did while I visited the galleries. was ever talking, or for the creamy eggs that made me I just thanked her, pretending not to notice her visibly sick and the toast my father found strange but was nec- dried tears. On the way home, I wouldn’t pound my essary to keep the peace. I didn’t want to run from the head on the train’s windows. Instead I held her hand brick buildings. I’d rather they hook me, instead of feel- while describing a picture of the church decorated with ing like a dried-out fish, succumbed to land. What was round fruit from Barcelona. the point of sacrifice if it meant it was impossible to

The maroon colored brick buildings were breathe? The cousins Back Home never ran away. They now darkened by the night. Darkness was unnerving couldn’t. They weren’t as lucky. But they thrived differ- to me; there could be mountains aside, like along the ently. The world was theirs to traverse, translated in a cross-country bus rides Back Home. On the buses, language they understood. In people that shared their people pleaded and prayed forgiveness for all their sins cariño. to avoid the ten thousand foot drop from the moun She’d never look at me while I pounded my tain’s edge to the roaring rivers below. The buildings, head at the window. I wouldn’t look at her either, afraid like the mountains, never responded to my prayers. My she’d guess at my thoughts and expose them for what mother, shaking her head and telling me of Barcelona, they were: fantasies I was too weak to realize. was Home, lost in abuelita’s elegance.

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In the slip of the tongue Written by Flora Bahri Carniero

My first contact with arepas goes back to 2003. I was by then living in Manaus, a concrete jungle in the jungle up-north of Brazil. Its relative closeness—and by that I mean a 10 hour car ride to reach the border—to Venezuela became our excuse for long road-trips across La Gran Sabana. We were considered crazy for « adventuring » into the latent danger of these sumptuous natural landscapes. But we ended up going there three times. And it never got old.

I can still remember how it felt. Each bite was tender, soft, gentle. Trying to put it into words what best comes to my mind is a « thick, flat, round, little corn cake ». Arepas are subtle in flavor, somehow moist but still crunchy—and overall deliciously enticing.

I remember how comforting the warmth of those freshly fried/grilled/baked little beauties felt, especially vis-à-vis our improvised camping food.

It was not until last year that my path led me to them again, but this time in a different setting. I was a newly arrived stranger in the capital of French gastronomy—most commonly known as Lyon —.

I was in search of comfort.

At one of those loud social neighbor events, I met Lore and Ricky, both Venezuelans and both from Caracas—Caraqueños if you want to sound local. We talked about our student residence, how serious and cold French people can be, we talked about the weather and how cold it was about to get, we talked family, we talked life.

I told them about my trips to their beloved country. I told them about our nights sleeping in a tent under the stars and about washing our dishes in the river. I told them about Mérida and this ice cream place that has crazy odd flavors. I told them about our stay, depicting all the sweet—sometimes bitter anecdotes that overall made it special.

But when I told them how much I missed arepas I saw a bright sparkle lighting up in their eyes. Venezuelans seem to share a nation-

al love for arepas. And when abroad, this love speaks even louder. Arepas become adored, venerated—almost comparable to goddesses.

If you ever find yourself side–to–side with one of these fellows—on a late Saturday-night subway car driving beery teenagers straight to the effervescent neighborhoods, let’s say—you know how to break the ice. You can never really go wrong with arepas…

So we agreed on organizing an « arepada » throughout the year we had ahead of us.

But time flew by. All of a sudden I found myself trapped in my little attic apartment, behind countless boxes. I had only a few more days to spend in Lyon. It was a question of « now or never ». And then, there we were, sitting around this polished wooden table, surrounded by cozy lighting. There we were, slicing arepas in two, gently folding them with a creamy shredded chicken preparation topped with thinly cut avocados. « Reina Pepiada » as they call it—a must. And there we were doing it all over again, one more time, until our stomachs called for reprieve.

I remember how it perfectly matched the memories I had kept in mind for all those years.

We were in one of those moments when you can feel the latent harmony. We were in tune, sharing our devote passion for arepas. And in that moment I wasn’t even thinking about those boxes I had to finish packing or the plane in which I would hop on sooner than expected.

Now I am in a different place and those have become memories. But every now and then I still see arepas—at an eclectic contemporary café in Washington D.C. or at one of Market Street’s food trucks. And everytime I see them I can’t help but relapse into those good old days.

Maybe this is why arepas are so significant to me: they work as a chance to unfold past times, and be there again.

Mercado San Pedro from Sitio de Inca by Jordi Rivera Prince

La Vida Nueva | 57

I live in a Spanglish Kind of Place Written by Juan Cabrera

I live in a Spanglish kind of place Where the people live in confidence Porque mi raza no es de crianza artificial, We are not artificial people.

I hear en mi gente The soft sounds of Spanish Latin lovers only know; Latin phrases that could make A girl say, “Ay Papi.”

Pero no me digas que el chico Doesn’t know English?

Mami’s got to know How to reject a boy once he’s had the chance, Can’t make a man unless he speaks Spanglish.

How does a cholo keep up?

He has to learn, Keep up with his chola.

Any man can speak Spanish but His mujer has to know English.

She has to Tener cuidado with lo que dice Porqué girls don’t turn into women Until they’ve flirted with la ley.

And what about our little ones?

Our mocosos who Know the struggle.

He knows not to get her pregnant Porque Bendita María forbid Their lives get any harder.

58 | La Vida Nueva

We go to la misa on Sunday, And the first thing you see Es El Flaco hanging there.

We go to the ones with Prayer beads indented in little vieja’s fingertips, With gritones Fed up with their padrenuestros and Their fathers’ absence.

Mi madre tan ridícula, Prays four times a day, For my dog to get better.

She hates animals, pero That mutt got her twisted.

Every prayer starts with ave María full of grace, And this is where I learned in Spanish that No one is going to teach me how To love a woman As much as mi ave María.

No one will teach me, How to call a Latin woman Or make her mine, Because My father taught me my manners.

Pero una pregunta got me questioning If I can ever really love In Spanish.

Living en Inglés: Not much Spanish going on, But short, Spanish girls and Rican rice.

Never tagging along with

Mi gente makes me feel some sort of way.

You know?

Right after her divorce with The Other Only Chico in her life.

Y mi padre me dice that If you’ve got rice and beans Written all over your face and Your name’s José You have no business not Knowing Spanish.

And there were some Amor Prohibidos En el barrio, but I never paid attention, Selena was some kind of anthem And of course our lives were full of Gasolina, Because Daddy Yankee could never forget his people Y Marc Anthony and su gente, Always blasting next door, had The plátanos jumping On the table.

But I never mind, because I loved living in that Spanglish kind of place.

But I lived in a Spanglish kind of place.

Where I heard that Becky-who-hasn’t-even-had-her-Quinceañera-yet Was living it up with Julio from down the block.

And I’ve met those groseras-who-like-to-gossip, Chismosas tan grandes That they’d make you believe you Had a child out of wedlock, a little Chuito on the way.

Some have la cocina and Others have those cochinas Playing dominoes all day, But who am I to judge.

And I’ve known those Brendas.

You know, The Brenda-with-too-many-kids.

And the Brenda-with-the-hair-that-drank-likeKool-aid.

And the other Brenda-who-converted-to-Islam, for the Only Chico in her life,

Calles de San José from Pura Vida by Ana Barrera

La Vida Nueva | 59

first and last Written by Marco Herndon

dim fire announces the past requiring a glance, like an unnoticed exchange our language meets my breath, you always say can you hear i doubt I ever will. an unfamiliar mirror greets me the light behind overtakes, guiding me around the closed walls first goodbyes were always the last ones. but like his song, it’s nothing except Loss, at least now we stopped the burning.

60 | La Vida Nueva

optics by Juan Cabrera