Poetry (thoughts) in Motion

My acts of self-love
are tools of resistance
used to counter
hegemonic ways
that beauty is constructed
this act of love is no
small action
it is monumental,
significant,
and necessary.

With Courage,
Rebel P.

Yohan's "Freedom"

in a few hours my little brother will be a "free" man
after nine months of federal prison
he will return to a  "normal" life
in a society that has already
stamped him as a felon
who is worthless
"there is no hope for him" they will say
he has a criminal record
but others, like my mom and sister, say he
will beat the odds
i worry that he might return to doing the same thing he did
that got him locked up in the first place
i'm not sure how i feel
shit, i'm not sure how he feels
i pray he gets a second chance
i pray his 8 month old son
warrants the love and affection of his father
i don't think i can write anymore 
the feeling is too much to bear

black and latino men and women continue to
overpopulate the prison walls
we live in a culture where second chances are not
afforded to everyone
especially not for people of color
i hope my brother chooses the path
out of the drug game
we all deserve a second chance....

wake up call

today, i have become my alter ego negative nancy

she is not who you want to meet

she worries every minute of every day

she drives her friends and loved ones crazy

nancy is not able to see

nancy is not able to feel

nancy is not able to love

she is consumed by fear

false evidence appearing real

for nancy fear is as real as it feels

but this feeling while temporary

can have the power to keep me in this place

but i will not allow it

i cannot allow it

nancy is not going to get the best of me

this is why i sent her home

a few hours ago

once she realized that i was willing to walk through the fear

she was ready to pack her bags

fear did not seem so bad once i walked through it

if you ever feel your negative nancy, negative nick or negative _____

let them know you are ready to confront your fear and walk through it..

ask yourself: why do i feel this way? what am i scared of?

in a blank sheet of paper list the fears that come to mind (always work in the NOW)

do not worry about the order of fears

read them aloud

think about the ways you would like to confront at least one of your fears

then commit yourself to doing them

throw the list out.

i continue to remind myself that we have the power to control our thoughts and behaviors

and the power to confront our fears.

With Courage,

Rebel

The Negrita Chronicles Series: Me Llaman (They Call Me) La Otra (Other)

As women of color, we deal with silence and invisibility on a daily basis. We experience it from whites, non whites, and especially folks we call "our people." I experience silence and invisibility at retail stores, school, church, work, social circles and even in my own family. "You are not Dominican enough. Wow!? I didn't know you were Dominican!? I thought you were African American." Even in our own communities we try to divide ourselves. We buy into these neocolonial constructions of identity. We begin to see ourselves in the eyes of the oppressor rather than seeing ourselves through the historical lens of what we had to experience as slaves and indentured servants. Or even looking at ourselves through an ethic of loving action and intention. Due to this white supremacist capitalist (i.e. neoliberal and neocolonial)patriarchal society that we live in, the ways in which we communicate and relate to human beings precludes our ability to organize a collective struggle around injustice due to the traumas that continue to haunt our lives. This does not mean that we are helpless victims and that there is nothing we can do to stop these forms of oppression. To live in a world where health care, education, housing, food, shelter are universal rights not commodities that only the rich can afford. A world where communities of color are not seen as disposable. WE do have power to change our situation. Yet, many of us walk around, zombie-like, unaware of the realities or choosing to deny the truth of our oppression.

Growing up in the South Bronx, in a predominantly African American (not West Indian mainly African American and a few African Immigrants) and Puerto Rican neighborhood I had to consistently deal with being an outsider in a neighborhood where folks did not understand or know Dominicans. Of course I felt alienation, isolation, and totally misunderstood by peers and neighbors. As a child, I found comfort in my journals and books. I gave up on trying to fit in with peers and embraced my uniqueness. I spent more time with my family and as I got older these same peers accepted me and my "difference." And then in high school, they began to resent me (which is another story.) I learned early on to embrace my uniqueness and see it as a precious characteristic that made me special. I reflect on this experience and I am grateful that early on I honed the skills to navigate this form of invisibility when I went to college and graduate school.

The poems below capture countless experiences where other people of color used the master's tools to deny my physical presence. There were times where I spoke up and others where my silence became a source of strength for me.

Que Disfruten! Enjoy!

Present Absence
I'm right here.
why don't they see me.
i am waving my hand as high as i can.
standing on my toes. trying to find. seeking to find. visibility.
but why can't they see me?
i mean, how can they NOT see me?
afro-mile high-caramel skinned tone.
thick bilingual via south bronx accent.
don't-mess-with-me attitude.
i know they know.
they must know.
don't they know.
that i am really one of them.


untitled/unfinished
does she speak Spanish?
is she African American?
where are you from?
i'm so sick of the pronouns.
i am right here.
in front of you.
looking right at you.
why don't you see me?

With Courage,

Rebel

Poetry in Motion Series

Welcome to the Poetry in Motion Series!!

Since I was a little girl, my mami taught me to read and write at the tender age of 3. As my first teacher, she taught me the love of reading and writing. I read every book she brought from her native country, Dominican Republic. So she introduced me to the library at the age of 4 while my brother started kindergarten my mami and I would spend hours in the library. I reflect on that period in my life as one of the best memories of my childhood. Today, I can't live without my books and I am nothing without my writings. I write everywhere. I write on little notebooks, scrap paper, the walls (yes, I have been known to tag up a wall once or twice), my 40+ journals I own, and ofcourse on midnight (my laptop). And actually there is a place that I can't help but write in..that is my blackberry..The poetry in motion series is inspired by the poems and thoughts I write on the go..

Empty
in an empty place i lie
unfamiliar to this world i
was born and raised in
surrounded by long time strangers
who i call kin, friend, ally
they do not know me
i do not know me
i'm sinking
deeper and deeper
into an abyss
that is shrinking
my soul is withering away
i am not dying
it is worst
i am alone

Untitled/unfinished

i'm immersed into the mysteries of solitude
in search of the truth of my sadness
wondering if it is at all possible to seek joy
melancholic rage leads me to...
this emptiness
that seeps into my skin..
like the vampire that sucks the blood,
the life out of me

Metamorphosis

i think it is time
to [i must] crack open
the cocoon
to become
the butterfly
that i always dreamed of
called transformation

Audre Lorde

For those who know me, Sister Audre Lorde, is an instrumental force in my writing life. I am indebted to her for shaping my socio-political, feminist consciousness. This blog is dedicated to her and inspired by her wise words in one of her most courageous books, The Cancer Journals. She died on November 17, 1992 in St. Croix, after a 14-year struggle with breast cancer. She was 58. Rest In Peace, Sister Lorde!!

She wrote with a truthfulness that pierced our hearts and opened our eyes to the realities we hoped to long deny. Lorde was a fearless warrior and one of the firsts to write about her experiences as a Black Lesbian Feminist living with Breast Cancer. In fact, she was one of the first women in the U.S. to write about living with Breast Cancer. Ofcourse, in this white supremacist capitalist patriarchal society she is not regarded for this. But we know the truth.

Below is an excerpt from The Cancer Journals.

"Sometimes fear stalks me like another malignancy, sapping energy and power and attention from my work. A cold becomes sinister: a cough, lung cancer; a bruise leukemia. Those fears are most powerful when they are not given voice, and close upon their heels comes the fury that I cannot shake them. I am learning to live beyond fear by living through it, and in the process learning to turn fury at my own limitations into some more creative energy. I realize that if I wait until I am no longer afraid to act, write, speak, be, I'll be sending messages on a Ouija board, cryptic complaints from the other side. When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less important whether or not I am unafraid." pp.13

first day: wishing

a simple negrita

wishing to be heard

she screams

she yells

she moves

she dances

no sign of life out there

a lonely negrita

wishing to be seen

she moves

she grooves

she talks

she listens

but still no sign of life out there

a daring negrita

she walks

she talks

she moves

but still no sign of life out there

she knows that if there were life out there

they will know

that she is no simple negrita

but a rebel negrita...

who is in fact human.