Hermana Resist

moved

2008-02-25T10:29:00.000-08:00

migrated

2007-10-09T07:08:00.000-07:00

I have migrated here:
http://www.hermanaresist.com/wp/

TCRP Condemns Anti-Hispanic Slur

2007-10-06T15:19:00.000-07:00

TCRP Condemns Anti-Hispanic Slur in Georgetown Car Dealership Advertisement
2nd Major Public Use of Racial Epithet in Williamson County in a Year

The Texas Civil Rights Project has condemned the use of a racial slur in advertising by the Mac Haik Ford Lincoln Mercury dealership in Georgetown.

On September 26, Mac Haik general manager sent out an e-mail ad for luxury air-conditioned seats, with the lead "Tired of the Wet Backs????" The ad caused great consternation in the central Texas Hispanic community.

"It is stunning in this day and age a major business would use a cute flip of such a derogatory term that people historically have used to demean Hispanics," said TCRP Director Jim Harrington. "It is especially insulting to the growing Hispanic communities in Williamson County, and reinforces the negative image the County's political, judicial, and business leadership already has toward the County's minority communities."

"Even though the dealership moved fast to limit damage to its public image and business, the question remains as to how it could so cavalierly use this racist slur -- and the extent to which it is commonly used by community leaders toward Hispanics in Williamson County," said Harrington.

"This is not the first time this has happened in recent times. The Round Rock municipal court bailiff, a former police officer, was fired last year when he used the same derogatory racial phrase during the arraignment of Hispanic high school students, who and been arrested for their part in the nationwide immigration protests," he concluded.

http://www.texascivilrightsproject.org/

another name for next year's vigil

2007-10-03T08:07:00.001-07:00

this article not only puts blame on the woman, how dare she even consider abortion,
but seems to justify the murder.
How do we know she claimed this? How do we know it was to make him mad?
The article continues with such victim blaming language:
" But her lie may have pushed him over the edge."

"Investigators believe Zamora, 33, discovered Garcia, 44, was having an affair and confronted him about it at their Pharr apartment late Sunday."

Articles like this are nothing new to this area, it seems every week a man has killed or burned his lover, wife, exwife, girlfriend. Whatever the reason, it seems that she was always asking for it. Whether it be because she was cheating on him, was considering a divorce, was not allowing him to see the kids...It's always the same and never putting the blame and responsibility on the person who took the life.

distance from heart

2007-10-01T14:55:00.001-07:00

i was born under the sign of the dragon,
a survivor
not a victim, or a number
to accompany your article.
Not a stat, or a percentage
or data to formulate your scientific opinion.
My definition is not up for debate.

These are the truths-
verbal abuse is Not
freedom of speech.
Sticks and stones
do not apply
in adult conversations
and how simple minded to tell me
it would apply
in such a situation,
that words carry no weight
and words are just empty.
What position have you been in
and what scars do I have to show
to make you go away with
your fucked up ideas
on what is not
abuse
and what is not
abuse by your
definitions
if bruises show up
on skin
to what degree
do you weigh them?
Do you measure width, tone?
Distance from heart?
Sit there and tell me what
abuse is and what
abuse is not
and all I can do
is not leap up
at your words
and strike
with what you believe is
the only form of abuse,
my fists.

Maybe it's a defense
mechanism
because you see
yourself behind
the mask,
flinging words
at your lovers
and it was not abuse,
no it was empty.
It was not meant
to hurt, no
it was empty.
but I am not trying
to get inside your
head, it was
never my intention
to empathize with
abusers.
And another thing,
defender of free speech man,
why must
we chant, like children
"sticks and stones"
why not say mantras
like that
are not needed in
exchanges between
lovers.
See it's clear to me
what the definition of
abuse is,
it's clear to me
when words are meant to hurt
it's clear to me,
what side of the table
you sit.

Words leave scars
that your pri-vile-ged
self can't realize,
or see
or understand.
and words can carve
out niches in hearts
and thighs
and words
are daggers
meant to kill,
caress lightly &
leave imprints
reminders,
repetitious,
don't always form
calluses.
I leave you to
live in your
free speech state
with your rose-colored
glasses,
born under
the perfect son.

a moment of silence

2007-09-24T08:04:00.001-07:00

A MOMENT OF SILENCE
BEFORE I START THIS POEM

Before I start this poem, I'd like to ask you to join me
In a moment of silence
In honour of those who died in the World Trade Center and the Pentagon last September 11th. I would also like to ask you To offer up a moment of silence For all of those who have been harassed, imprisoned, disappeared,
tortured, raped, or killed in retaliation for those strikes, For the victims in both Afghanistan and the US

And if I could just add one more thing...

A full day of silence
For the tens of thousands of Palestinians who have died at the hands of US-backed Israeli forces over decades of occupation. Six months of silence for the million and-a-half Iraqi people, mostly children, who have died of malnourishment or starvation as a result of an 11-year US embargo against the country.

Before I begin this poem,

Two months of silence for the Blacks under Apartheid in South Africa, Where homeland security made them aliens in their own country. Nine months of silence for the dead in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Where death rained down and peeled back every layer of concrete, steel, earth and skin And the survivors went on as if alive. A year of silence for the millions of dead in Vietnam - a people, not a war - for those who know a thing or two about the scent of burning fuel, their relatives' bones buried in it, their babies born of it. A year of silence for the dead in Cambodia and Laos, victims of a secret war .... ssssshhhhh.... Say nothing ... we don't want them to learn that they are dead. Two months of silence for the decades of dead in Colombia, Whose names, like the corpses they once represented, have piled up and slipped off our tongues.

Before I begin this poem.

An hour of silence for El Salvador ...
An afternoon of silence for Nicaragua ...
Two days of silence for the Guatemaltecos ...
None of whom ever knew a moment of peace in their living years. 45 seconds of silence for the 45 dead at Acteal, Chiapas 25 years of silence for the hundred million Africans who found their graves far deeper in the ocean than any building could poke into the sky. There will be no DNA testing or dental records to identify their remains. And for those who were strung and swung from the heights of sycamore trees in the south, the north, the east, and the west...

100 years of silence...

For the hundreds of millions of indigenous peoples from this half of right here,
Whose land and lives were stolen,
In postcard-perfect plots like Pine Ridge, Wounded Knee, Sand Creek, Fallen Timbers, or the Trail of Tears. Names now reduced to innocuous magnetic poetry on the refrigerator of our consciousness ...

So you want a moment of silence?
And we are all left speechless
Our tongues snatched from our mouths
Our eyes stapled shut
A moment of silence
And the poets have all been laid to rest
The drums disintegrating into dust.

Before I begin this poem,
You want a moment of silence
You mourn now as if the world will never be the same
And the rest of us hope to hell it won't be.
Not like it always has been.

Because this is not a 9/11 poem.
This is a 9/10 poem,
It is a 9/9 poem,
A 9/8 poem,
A 9/7 poem
This is a 1492 poem.

This is a poem about what causes poems like this to be written. And if this is a 9/11 poem, then: This is a September 11th poem for Chile, 1971. This is a September 12th poem for Steven Biko in South Africa, 1977. This is a September 13th poem for the brothers at Attica Prison, New York, 1971.

This is a September 14th poem for Somalia, 1992.

This is a poem for every date that falls to the ground in ashes This is a poem for the 110 stories that were never told The 110 stories that history chose not to write in textbooks The 110 stories that CNN, BBC, The New York Times, and Newsweek ignored. This is a poem for interrupting this program.

And still you want a moment of silence for your dead?
We could give you lifetimes of empty:
The unmarked graves
The lost languages
The uprooted trees and histories
The dead stares on the faces of nameless children
Before I start this poem we could be silent forever
Or just long enough to hunger,
For the dust to bury us
And you would still ask us
For more of our silence.

If you want a moment of silence
Then stop the oil pumps
Turn off the engines and the televisions
Sink the cruise ships
Crash the stock markets
Unplug the marquee lights,
Delete the instant messages,
Derail the trains, the light rail transit.

If you want a moment of silence, put a brick through the window of Taco Bell, And pay the workers for wages lost. Tear down the liquor stores, The townhouses, the White Houses, the jailhouses, the Penthouses and the Playboys.

If you want a moment of silence,
Then take it
On Super Bowl Sunday,
The Fourth of July
During Dayton's 13 hour sale
Or the next time your white guilt fills the room where my beautiful
people have gathered.

You want a moment of silence
Then take it NOW,
Before this poem begins.
Here, in the echo of my voice,
In the pause between goosesteps of the second hand,
In the space between bodies in embrace,
Here is your silence.
Take it.
But take it all... Don't cut in line.
Let your silence begin at the beginning of crime. But we, Tonight we will keep right on singing... For our dead.

EMMANUEL ORTIZ, 11 Sep 2002

--

Chicanas on poetry

2007-09-06T14:36:00.001-07:00

A Chicana trying to find a mentor is like sand blowing in the wind.

via here: http://sherylluna.blogspot.com/

Gloria

2007-08-31T13:31:00.003-07:00

Dear Gloria,

You left the valley with so much work to be done.
I understand, some of us leave and some of us stay.

Con Cariño,
Noemi

limon agrio

2007-08-31T13:31:00.001-07:00

change my name to limon
small, efficient
sour to the taste
pick me when green
not ripened on the tree
change my name
black limon,
boiled
let me become

Beat a Woman? Play On! Beat a Dog? You're Gone

2007-08-29T12:19:00.001-07:00

http://www.alternet.org/story/60488/
Beat a Woman? Play On! Beat a Dog? You're Gone
By Sandra Kobrin, Women's eNews

National Football League superstar Michael Vick is in trouble, serious
trouble. Federal prosecutors charged the Atlanta Falcons' quarterback
with animal
abuse for his role as the alleged leader of a dog-fighting ring and, after
denying it for months, Vick pleaded guilty on Monday. He faces stiff sentencing.

He's in big trouble with the NFL too, which has said he might never play
professionally again. According to Gene Upshaw, executive director of the NFL's
Player Association, "the practice of dog-fighting is offensive and completely
unacceptable."

I just wish the NFL had the same outrage toward spousal abuse and other forms
of domestic violence. But they don't. Not by a long shot.

Scores of NFL players as well as players from the National Basketball
Association and Major League Baseball have been convicted of domestic
abuse, yet they
play on with no fear of losing their careers. Most pay small fines, if that,
and are back on the field immediately.

The message is clear. Beat a woman? Play on. Beat a dog? You're gone.

What could possibly account for this bizarre situation?

Part of it is that it's the dog days of August -- the notoriously silly
season for news -- so the Vick story has attracted tremendous press
attention. But
it's been all over TV as well during the past four months, since Vick's
indictment in April.

Animal Lobby Attacks
The anti-animal abuse lobby, meanwhile, is going after Vick with all four
paws.

PETA, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, which received almost $30
million in contributions last year, according to its Web site, and other
animal rights organizations are demanding a boycott of companies that
continue to
sponsor Vick and are bombarding the NFL with letters demanding a no-tolerance
policy when it comes to cruelty to animals by football players.

On blogs, the outrage continues on sackvick.net and other sites, with
comments like "lets give #7, 7 to life," or "lets make Michael Vick
into dog food."

A cottage industry of anti-Vick merchandise is out there. You can buy a chew
toy for your dog in with a likeness of Vick, a "hang Vick" hat or even an
eye-for-eye justice T-shirt that says "Stick Vick in the Pit."

Vick has already lost most of his sponsorship deals worth millions of dollars
and he deserves to lose a whole lot more.

But the disproportionate punishment of Vick -- while athletes who commit
violence against women are let off the hook -- has to be wondered at.

Might it be that domestic violence and spousal abuse is so pervasive in
sports that it's simply too costly for leagues to suspend so many men?
What would
happen after all if those poor dear teams couldn't fill their rosters?

Numbers Are Astounding
The number of athletes arrested for domestic violence or spousal abuse is
astounding.

A three-year study published in 1995 by researchers at Northwestern
University found that while male student-athletes are 3 percent of the
population, they
represent 19 percent of sexual assault perpetrators and 35 percent of
domestic violence perpetrators.

There are even Web site chronicles that treat the steady stream of offenders
as if it were a joke. Check out badjocks.com or playersbehavingbadly.com.
Maybe then again, don't. It's enough to make you sick.

Roger Goodell, the new NFL commissioner, has made it his mandate to crack
down on athletes who misbehave.

In April Goodell introduced a new conduct policy that stiffens penalties and
holds franchises responsible when their players get into trouble.

Just recently Goodell suspended the Tennessee Titans' troubled player Adam
"Pacman" Jones for the 2007 season.

Jones had been arrested five times since he was drafted by the NFL in 2005
and has been involved in 11 separate police investigations. Most recently,
during what amounted to a brawl at a strip club, he grabbed a stripper
and banged
her head into the ground. He will not be paid during his suspension and must
apply for reinstatement.

Spousal Abuse Gets a Pass
But no one has been suspended in the NFL for spouse abuse or domestic
violence, even though they've been arrested and convicted.

The NFL Players Association's Upshaw said in a statement: "We believe the
criminal conduct to which Mr. Vick has pled guilty today cannot be
condoned under
any circumstances."

I say the NFL's indifference to the acts of domestic violence by other
players cannot be condoned under any circumstances.

Major League Baseball, meanwhile, isn't any better in punishing spousal
abusers.

Last summer Philadelphia Phillies' pitcher Brett Myers assaulted his wife on
a public Boston street and was charged with assault and battery. Major League
Baseball did not penalize him, shrugging it off as an off-field incident. Are
they saying a player needs to abuse his spouse during a game to get
sanctioned? If so, just how does that work?

Don't expect anything better from the National Basketball Association.

Jason Kidd of the NBA's New Jersey Nets pleaded guilty to spousal abuse in
2001.

Was he punished by the NBA? No.

The Sacramento Kings' Ron Artest was suspended last season for 72 games for
fighting in the stands. In March he was arrested for domestic violence. For
that he got what amounted to a hand slap; an immediate two-game suspension and a
$600 fine for a player who makes several million a year.

Artest pled no contest to the domestic violence charge and was sentenced 100
hours of community service, a 10-day work project and mandated extensive
counseling. The NBA did nothing here too. Maybe if he had committed the
transgression on national TV -- as with the fan brawl -- more would
have happened.

Maybe if he'd hurt a dog he would have been benched for the season.

Sandra Kobrin is a Los Angeles based writer and columnist.

(c) 2007 Independent Media Institute. All rights reserved.
View this story online at: http://www.alternet.org/story/60488/

--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

Writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

still crazy

2007-08-28T21:34:00.001-07:00

I am still crazy
still alive
it was not you, black shoe
you with your hechizos
and your hexes
el trabajo
no trabajó

-pues aqui estoy.

I am still crazy, creative, fine
here, your daggered words don't find me.
Here, I've dyed my hair red again.
Here, we are alive, fed, well.
I am still here,
words still loud, breathing.

The words flow now,
they are not stagnant
pooled, like unchanged water
around the black hole that you are.
They are not afraid to be written
They are not struggling
for breath, or bruised
not on the floor, under your shoe
they flow like a river
happy, with tears
laughing with friends
they are not hidden
behind pursed lips,
they are not words
pounded out by fists.
After Winter,
reborn, renewed.
I am still crazy
sane, here.

¡Gloria Presente! UTPA Library Display

2007-08-24T15:41:00.000-07:00

Contact: Noemi Martinez noemi@hermanaresist.com

Location: The University of Texas - Pan American; Library Lobby; 1201
University Dr; Edinburg, TX

When: September 15th-October 19th.

Stay tuned for details on a special reading of Gloria's work on
September 26th, the anniversary of her birth.

Join us as the Gloria Anzaldua Legacy Project present a display
honoring the life and writing of Gloria Anzaldua, critically acclaimed
international writer who passed away in 2004. Gloria was born and
raised in the Rio Grande Valley. She received her BA from Pan American
University in Edinburg and then went on to become one of the best
cultural theorist and social activist of her generation, drawing
always from her Chicano/Mestiza roots. Her work continues to be read
and studied in universities world wide and continues to be the
foundation for writers and activists today.

Gloria's cultural children, Lina Suarez, Noemi Martinez and Daniel
Garcia Ordaz, invite community members to learn, discover & pay
homage to Gloria Anzaldua, an icon in Chicana and feminist literature
-born & raised in the Rio Grande Valley. Anzaldua is an
internationally acclaimed cultural theorist and writer who inspired
generations of writers to blend their words with activism and
redefined feminist, queer and Chicana/o writings.

As the author of Borderlands/ La Frontera: The New Mestiza, Anzaldúa
played a major role in shaping contemporary Chicano/a and
lesbian/queer identities. And as editor or co-editor of three
multicultural anthologies, she played an equally vital role in
developing an inclusionary, multicultural feminist movement.
Anzaldúa's writings have been included in over 100 anthologies to
date. Her works greatly impacted a wide variety of academic
disciplines, including (but not limited to) American studies,
Chicano/a studies, composition studies, cultural studies, ethnic
studies, feminism and feminist theory, literary studies, queer theory,
and women's studies. (bio by Ana Louise Keating)

Location: The University of Texas - Pan American; Library Lobby; 1201
University Dr; Edinburg, TX

When: September 15th-October 19th.

Stay tuned for details on a special reading of Gloria's work on
September 26th, the anniversary of her birth.

Also available will be the zine "This Bridge we Call Home: Finding
Gloria" dedicated and inspired by Gloria. The first zine devoted to La
Mera Nepantera, created by the folks she influenced, from the place
she grew up in-the borderlands.

If you would like to read some of her work or a piece inspired by La
Mera Nepantlera, or would like to lend an item or art piece for the
display, get in touch with Noemi at noemi@hermanaresist.com or Lina at
lina.suapri@gmail.com.

For ideas on the the Gloria display visit the inventory page of the
Gloria Anzaldua Altares Collection that is housed by the Special
Collections and Archives, University of California Santa Cruz ---

visit this page.

The Gloria Anzaldua Legacy Project promotes the writing and life of
Gloria- it is the brainchild of and directed by Lina Suarez and part
of CAFE Revolucion.
--

Hermana, Resist: The Poetry Collection

2007-08-22T08:47:00.000-07:00

I will be self-publishing my first collection of poetry in September of this year. It'll be a a collection of poems from 2000-2007. Here is a sample of the cover, done by the talented artist Nicole Licea.

I am accepting donations for the printing costs and pre-orders with donations too!
It'll cost $6-7 plus $1.50 shipping in the US.

If you donate, let me know if you'd like a copy (I'm sure you will).
Ya'll can email me if you have any questions -
noemi.mtz (a) gmaildotcom.

Dinner For Two

2007-08-20T14:59:00.001-07:00

I have not tried one recipe
from the cookbook you gave me.
I finger through it some days.
The foods- elaborate experiments
you thought I'd make
when I became a vegetarian.

It's just like you
to give me something
of little use,
like flowers that die
when I needed seeds
to take root,
plants in soft dirt,
clay to form words.

Time-the residual effect
can't measured by scientific methods
and can't be seen but
we are as one
even now
when I sense your
brooding thoughts
100 miles away
when I haven't seen you
in ten years.

Walk Your Way to Enlightenment

2007-08-13T12:33:00.001-07:00

Walk Your Way to Enlightenment

In walking meditation, the primary object of attention is the process
of walking itself. In other words, to sharpen awareness and train the
mind to concentrate, you pay close attention to the physical act of
walking, the way you take one step after another.

Practicing walking meditation encourages the development of
mindfulness in ordinary daily life. If you can learn to establish
awareness during walking meditation—that is, while you are physically
moving with your eyes open—then it won't be difficult to arouse that
same wakeful quality during other activities, such as eating, washing
dishes, driving, or, of course, practicing yoga. Your meditation will
begin to permeate your entire life.

If, while walking, you become aware that your mind has wandered away,
clearly note the distraction and gently but firmly bring your
attention back to your steps. Experiencing the simplicity and peace of
being with one step at a time—with nothing else to do and nowhere to
go—can be liberating.

Mindful Nature Walking (One Step at a Time)
http://www.yogajournal.com/meditation/773_1.cfm?ctsrc=nldn

Meditation Finder
http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/toc_9_static.cfm?ctsrc=nldn

--
-

zines & AMC

2007-08-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

When I went to the AMC this year, I meet up with a few women from ABUNTU, (http://iambecauseweare.wordpress.com) a women of color and survivor led collective. They "generate strategies and actions that prevent, disrupt, transform and heal sexual violence." I attended the Caucus of Women of Color Bloggers and they were in attendance, and along with the other mujeres there, it was awesome and inspiring while we learned the different forms of media we were using to not only change ourselves, but change the world, as Gloria Anzaldua says. Alexis and Lex also run brokeandbeautiful press (http://brokenbeautiful.wordpress.com), where they have zines available for free on the subjects of survivors, domestic violence, sexual assault. Their press, according to their site, is based on the basic assumption that love, knowledge and inspiration are renewable resources for revolution that we produce together everyday. When I first started wanting to do writing to heal workshops in my community I came across their site and their super helpful and one of a kind worksheets and zines that are available in PDF format to download. Others are available for a small donation. Ones to check out are: Wrong is Not My Name: A Tribute to Survival Via June Jordan; Wishful Thinking (because you make the world so much brighter); Emergency Broadcast a workbook on creative activism and Moral Revolution:A Zine on Creating an Ethical World Together created by Kriti Sharma and inspired by Sarah Hoagland.

At the AMC, Johanna who writes the zine Sisu, Nadia who writes the zine No Snow Here and I (I write the zine Hermana, Resist) led a panel on Women of Color Zinesters. It was an intimate and small group and I have to thank the AMC for making it possible and all the strangers who donated so that the WOC zinesters and bloggers could travel to Detroit. The group was mostly comprised of people who had never done a zine and hopefully they left enthusiastic on having their voices heard and using zines as the medium. While there, I forgot to mention a comp zine that I had put on the back burner because of the few entries. Afterwards, we talked about those attending could submit to The MAIZ Chronicles (http://www.hermanaresist.com/maiz.html) and we'll give it another shot. Interestedly, Alexis from brokeandbeautiful press said she had been putting out zines before she knew they were called zines, so their zines are not well known in the zine community because she mostly gave them away for free in her area, Durham and the Triangle area, North Carolina. I run a distro for zines by women of color and have had it "closed" for some time now because of the lack of zines being put out by WOC. Maybe, just maybe I'll see some new zines trickle in.

I've also been trying to give exposure to zines in my local community. I have these two suitcases I got at the thrift store for about $3 each and I've packed them tight with about 200 zines. This is my traveling zine library. I have shoe boxes here and there filled with another 100 or so zines and might get a third suit case. Suddenly there's an interest in zines here, with folks wanting me to speak to their classes on zines and collaborations between different community groups and how to make zines to reach a wider audience. Hortencia Armendariz (horticulturelandia@gmail.com) is putting out a zine, Domingo Siete, and she is on her fourth issue. In it, she interviews locals who are community building on the grassroots level. In it you'll read about the local community supported agriculture, the Critical Mass we have in our area and the run ins they've had with cops and cars, who tried to run over them and intimidate bike riders, and a group of young punk activist kids called the Valley Peace Alliance. All in all, the zine community is changing, growing and leads me to believe there is still some hope for zines. What I like about zines, and we discussed this at the WOC making zines panel, is that they are low cost, accessible and how they can be used as a revolutionary tool.

creation

2007-08-04T15:30:00.000-07:00

the silence started at 8
right when the sun was setting
it grew from the yellow dusk
tasting the edges
growing black.
18 degrees below the horizon
there were no words
smelled like spilled beer,
sewing skin together
a piece from 2002,
with no color.

Further back,
sundown at 5, 1981
light started scattering
bouncing off dirt and smoke
left no words
that a five year old would understand.

Fast forward it's 1985
learning to trip on forbidden words
learning to stay quiet,
learning not to speak.

To the Judge...

2007-07-07T21:00:00.000-07:00

To the Judge who Let the man go "sort his affairs" after he killed woman

She could not turn into a fierce dog
to fight off her attackers
she could not jump the cliff
at her own accord
She could not give away her plants
write her goodbyes, pay her last bills,
kiss her babies goodbye.
She could not, was not given the
option of putting her makeup on.
Her heart never mended, the
bruises never healed.
No one held her hand
drove her to meet death
no one stopped death for her

A LITANY FOR SURVIVAL

2007-06-28T12:40:00.001-07:00

For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children's mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother's milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive

- Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn

AMC

2007-06-28T09:36:00.000-07:00

I haven't written anything about my experience about the AMC because I've been super busy w/ a grant that we're trying to get for Voices Against Violence, with my daughter's birthday-which was yesterday, Winter turned 4. But I have to echo what everyone else is saying.
http://nosnowhere.wordpress.com Nadia has kept me up on everyone who were there.

--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez

Failed Mission

2007-06-01T13:34:00.001-07:00

Failed Mission: abort rescue and restore

what could I change of you

if your heart

was a synonym for ugly

a synonym for hate.

Veins of a dead.

Deposits of life.

A sick dog with heartworms.

Excuses

Justifying your hate.

Under my wing I thought

what could be salvaged if

the ship was wrecked with

oil, sank

in the sea

slick, slippery

a dead fish.

You poisoned the birds

And they all died.

what was the victory cry/what was the prize

in the end,

shipwrecked

to AMC they go

2007-05-31T09:40:00.000-07:00

Hello Everybody!
As you all may know, Women of Color Blog (brownfemipower.com) is currently directing readers and supporters to the blogs (and pay pal buttons) of some really great feminists of color media makers. These amazing women are raising money so that they can attend the Allied Media Conference being held in Detroit on June 22-24th. While there, they will have the opportunity to participate in the women of color track that is being sponsored by Incite! Women of Color Against Violence.

I strongly encourage you to dig a little into your piggy banks, sofas and sock drawers-cash in your pop bottles, pick up pennies off the sidewalk-and donate it to one of the amazing bloggers on this list. You will be helping to support ground breaking and necessary feminist action-ending violence against women of color and their communities in all it’s manifestations through the use of media technology.

To get more information and see a list of the bloggers who are accepting donations, please visit: http://brownfemipower.com/?p=1440.

And be sure to repost this notice at your own blog, post a bulletin on MySpace, share the link on Facebook, and email it to your contacts.

I thank you so much for your constant support, help and friendship. Much love to all of you!
brownfemipower
brownfemipower.com

passage of time when lost in thoughts

2007-05-08T07:06:00.000-07:00

coffee brewed alone
Lukewarm, trace magic stayed.
Moment gone, want lost.

2007-05-04T07:59:00.001-07:00

"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the
words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become
visible."
Vladimir Nabokov

Reality

2007-04-26T23:31:00.000-07:00

The browning of America they say
but it's not evident
until you see who's cooking
your zen garden bowl of noodles
when we see brown brothers
working in snazzy yuppie catering
establishments on congress and sixth.
The browning of this meat
can't be seen in the strawberries,
grapes, oranges, onions, radishes-that
we consume with no
second though on the thumbs that blacken
and burn.

the browning in el paso sand
where voiceless bones are bleached,
the sun tenderly loving the already dead.

tell me when
when this fucking new dawn
age of revolution will come
tell me when this fucking take over
is scheduled to appear
cuz we've been waiting
for 500 fucking years
with no release in sight.
i've seen too many too many
raza, the brown folks,
killed, scalped, beheaded, handcuffed, raped, gutted.
Too many of us sent, trained to kill
kill ourselves with lies
of a better tomorrow
a steady paycheck
and we have fucking killed ourselves,
killed each other, misled
signed up for a rich man's war.
We have this history in our blood
of assimilation, acculturation, murder and revelations
cultural genocide, ethnocide, hegemony,
riding on three white horses
yet we repeat the process
ingest, repeat
ingest, repeat

when will this browning of amerikka
be here
because I am so tired
so fucking tired of
having to reteach to my seven year old
who Christopher Columbus really was
and what happened to the "indians"
and how being brown is not wrong.
and there being one black history month
and one "hispanic" month
but i'm trying to teach him
to be proud chicano
12 months out of the fucking year.

Calma, Mimi, Calma.
cuz i'm trying to teach him
to be nonviolent, nonsexist, unmacho
in this fucked up society
where our voice is constantly
being silenced,
repressed,
oppressed.
when the color lines became apparent
to him at two, the class lines at four.
Reality

Rose Colored Thread

2007-04-13T09:28:00.001-07:00

I grew in love with you
around the table
stalking flowers we
couldn't afford to plant.
We laughed and you let me sleep
instead of touching my hand.
We could have mended
each other's
bloody noses with
slow nights.

Next spring, they'll be time
to tend to this garden
to wake me up,
tell my stories
that make the edges of your
mouth crinkle into a smile.

Sabor a Mi

2007-04-13T09:27:00.001-07:00

I'm thinking of a day in March
to write you a poem,
a letter to you, thinking of
adverbs I'll impose and say.
where we'll hear laughter in the halls.
Winter is passing us by
did you notice?

I do not feel lighter or brighter
though there was no slush or ice
to defrost
the edges were frayed.
you've forgotten the
verbs to use with me.
We live in different time
zones, eras, different definitions for the
same colors, same emotions.
My day was rough,
but I'll write you in March.

Pasarán mas de mil años
quizas mas.
I hope you fit in.

--

programmed cell death

2007-04-13T09:25:00.001-07:00

The reason why we die is
the layers don't peel as easily
the answers are longer
and we don't hear the notes as clearly.
We stop creating at the age of 5
start coloring inside the lines.
We learn to stop asking why,
styled for black 6am coffee.
Packed away the journals
to make room for organizers.
here's the thing, cells die without oxygen
routed for nuero-preservation.
Dead words travel in veins
leading to heart.

--

poetry

2007-04-13T09:23:00.001-07:00

fuck you
rejection slips
but you won't
be the death of me.

'til we meet again

--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

revolution::art::poetry::zines::mujerfest
http://www.caferevolucion.org

Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted. Martin Luther King Jr.

failed haiku

2006-12-10T21:41:00.000-08:00

december, the holidays
depression sets in
by default

we are not writing poetry for the fuck of it

2006-10-23T21:36:00.000-07:00

you are becoming a fickle disease
cracked and yellowed words with no definition
empty, the glossiness has gone
tarnished spoiled catheter

I heard you were writing a letter to a friend
will you explain how roses can be grown
out of asphalt?
will you explain the excitement of a dream,
of bars, of silhouettes and shadows
you once tasted, fought & photographed?

you have weathered well I guess
and I have not been kind
(but I do not apologize).
your kind never saw & blurred
the beauty and significance
of life transferred carbon to graphite.

bring me a smile and hold your mug from the bottom

2006-09-23T12:23:00.000-07:00

I dropped him off at his apartment after a night of drinking, the office was celebrating-one of our co-workers got sworn in. As he was about to open his door he looks at me and says, Do you feel it too? I look at him and ask,

Feel what? He gets out and I stay there with the engine still running as he fumbles with his keys. He opens his front door and I say to myself, Yeah, I feel it too.

For months I have been dropping him at his apartment. After our Friday meetings, after we have our shots at work and pretend the week went by smoothly, when we pretend we won't think about our work on the weekend, the people we meet and those we can't help. The rides home are always silent. Even though we've talked and joked and shared moments of intense clarity when we could not deny the feelings when we look at each other in a room full of coworkers and acquaintances. After a night of tequila shots and Coronas, we are always quiet when alone. Each one afraid to say what we know we are both thinking.

Do you want me to wait till you get inside? I ask him. The answer is always no. So I drive off and he walks away and we are left alone to our thoughts.

a poem constructed with the help of the definition of ink

2006-09-23T12:21:00.000-07:00

a poem constructed with the help of the definition of ink

you came in different pigments
I theorized you would always be the same image,
rendered out of sweat but always love.
you were an ink made of metal,
complexities dyed into your viens.
tight cell walls that I couldn't swallow
bruised
y tambien yo nunca vi la diferencia
en las palabras y los hechos.
the definitions become blurred

iron salt
is a fitting name for the dilemma that was simmered,
This binding agent.
--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

revolution::art::poetry::zines
http://www.csdistro.com

writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

que no me encuentres una noche como esta

2006-09-23T12:20:00.001-07:00

que no me encuentres una noche como esta

the now

of chasers and bottles and too cheap whiskey
of reciting time tables at the top of our lungs
listening to violins and apreciando el dia que se fue
el dia que dije, por eso toman
y por ese se van y dejan a
cinco o tres o dos
devuelven los envases en nueve meses

of heart shaped truths that don't fit
misshapen ones
en sueños y pensado asi, en Español
no hay hielo que se vea,
y pensando en el doble ll

it's foolish to think of intanglibles
in these times of war
to think of balls unraveling when we cannot define
love or peace
to think we can overlook
lo que la historia nos dice
en pensar que nacimos
en diferentes siglos
de diferente tiempos, familias
me gustaria haberte conocido
al pricipio, cuando tuve
noches
noches que el aire del tiempo no tocada, la luz siempre estaba-

la cama sin tender, el espacio esperandote.
Yo se que no debo penser asi, porque los dias son cortos
el trabajo no se acaba.
se que no debo soñar contigo,
palabras que nunca me has dirigido.
se que no debo pensar en ir,
ir a un refugio que te tenga a ti.
estoy perdida aqui, con botellas que no debo beber,

palabras que no me atrevo a decirte,
canciones que te quiero cantar.
que no me encuentres una noche como esta

--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

revolution::art::poetry::zines
http://www.csdistro.com

writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

driven

2006-09-23T12:20:00.000-07:00

now that you're gone I dream about you. I can think about the stolen minutes.
when I'd drive you home and then how the hours would go by. We never
lied to ourselves, never called it anything that it wasn't. And there
were encores. I never let myself think about you till now. It just
happened. You didn't know anything about me outside what you saw from
9 to 5. And it was the way we wanted it.

Now, since you've been gone, I have this acidic feeling to my stomach,
like when you drink too much coffee and it fucks with your system. The
mornings don't feel like mornings- just a continuous part of the
previous day. And I'm tired of the routine of the days now that you're
gone. Like a part of me wants to scream as the day runs in patterns,
the next 100 will be like the previous 100, before you came. There is
a difference between the now of here without you. We reached the end,
you bit my lip y asi fue.

*legalese: this piece is a work of fiction.

the soul from purgatory springs

2006-09-23T12:19:00.001-07:00

i need to use your name
taste your wet breath,
steal part of your soul,
run my tongue on your white teeth

feel the revolution through your fingertips
feel the urgency you sleep, blink, write
need to useyour bright eyes focus
on the real deal, the brave new world, the promised land
shape the right words
to formulate orgasms with three minute limits.
share the excitement of your thighs-to feel liberated.
I have not learned this art self salvation,
this art of writing, this art of achieving, this art of being

i have learned acceptance-hard on the line
I have learned lived hunger
I have lived desperation-hard on the line.
i have learned my work is not art

take these venial and mortal lines
full of blasphemy, fornication, masturbation
as my act of contrition
--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

revolution::art::poetry::zines
http://www.csdistro.com

writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

conjugating system

2006-09-23T12:19:00.000-07:00

In time we will see

Peace; war and abuse- old storms

Justice in verb form

--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

revolution::art::poetry::zines
http://www.csdistro.com

writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

The Tao of regret

2006-05-18T18:12:00.000-07:00

make damn sure you
take everything that's yours
plant the flowers in the springtime
like you promised.
when you eat your flower meals
reread the scenes of yesteryear
when the universe settles
with your tongue stuck in your jaw
like my friend says.
Spread your legs
its your god given right
and raise your voice
at me, through me
when you reread the lines
the ink dried
the flow, the ebb of life
the rhythm of your choices
will echo on deaf ears.
--

2006-05-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

pressed between
musty yellowed paper
you'll find verbs
waiting to react

--
Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

new blog site

2006-05-08T11:37:00.000-07:00

I took off the old blog that I had because it was mostly call outs for myself and reminders for self. I'll still have the link somewhere on my site in case someone was paying attention to those posts. This will be, well I don't really know. Probably the same poems I post on my myspace page and stuff.

Noemi "hermana, resist" Martinez
http://www.hermanaresist.com

writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence-
Alice Walker

test

2006-05-08T10:40:00.000-07:00

test

Hermana Resist

moved

migrated

TCRP Condemns Anti-Hispanic Slur

another name for next year's vigil

distance from heart

a moment of silence

A MOMENT OF SILENCE BEFORE I START THIS POEM

Chicanas on poetry

Gloria

limon agrio

Beat a Woman? Play On! Beat a Dog? You're Gone

still crazy

¡Gloria Presente! UTPA Library Display

Hermana, Resist: The Poetry Collection

Dinner For Two

Walk Your Way to Enlightenment

zines & AMC

creation

To the Judge...

A LITANY FOR SURVIVAL

AMC

Failed Mission

to AMC they go

passage of time when lost in thoughts

Reality

Rose Colored Thread

Sabor a Mi

programmed cell death

poetry

failed haiku

we are not writing poetry for the fuck of it

bring me a smile and hold your mug from the bottom

a poem constructed with the help of the definition of ink

que no me encuentres una noche como esta

driven

the soul from purgatory springs

conjugating system

The Tao of regret

new blog site

test

A MOMENT OF SILENCE
BEFORE I START THIS POEM