Read More“If people don't vote, everything stays the same. You can protest until the sky turns yellow or the moon turns blue, and it's not going to change anything if you don't vote.”
Delores Huerta
Latina American labor leader and civil rights activist
Read MoreConditioned against healing the systems oppressing us, I sit here, too. The spice hits my tongue. I love its hotness, the dare of trying more on the next taco.
Unwavering in my tiredness, delight, anger, angst. The bigness of feelings, embraced. Familiarity with oppression is normalized, to where I am chastised for any attempt to bring relief to mi gente by asking those in power to remove their heavy feet off our necks. But we keep asking, demanding, resisting, and flying.
Read MoreLike Edmund, we ate the Turkish delight offered by the system, relying on their forms, processes, hoping thier procedural laws built to oppress us would do something other. Our stories cemented in stones, the scars on our skin, un-dead, and un-done.
Read MoreThere is no reason for my children, whether in Spanish or English, to find it necessary to use words meant to depict the power over another with their historical context of 400 years (because the majority Africans were trafficked to Latin America as well). Therefore, there are words that we know, within their historically significant context, but don’t speak directed at other humans.
Please take me, amor.
We dancing to bone rhyms.
Somos los mismos - lots of spice
It’s dark, now. We watch one another,
Breathe, make up, argue, laugh
pass through borders
Cultures argue for which lives count mas
You, my love,
Mi amor, I’ll be here
I’m sorry I let you down sometimes,
My country and place take dirty shots at your beautiful face.
Perdoname mi amor y yo
Tambien te perdono porque– tu eres el hombre que quiero.
You are perfecto for me because you aren’t perfect.
Mil gracias amor.
Your only,
Daniela
Read MoreOn one hand hope fuels me to meet creative deadlines, stirred by the notion that my words will fall on ears to hear and eyes to see. Hope ignites passion to sit with clients who are filled with rumblings of despair as they look over the debris of trauma in their lives. Hope gives birth to desire and longing for repaired relationships.
Read MoreI hope you would see me
Before a hashtag precedes my name
Before my face is a mural on a brick façade
I hope you would see me
Read MoreI love words
I have none
Tell me,
How do you create without a brush?
I live, do I?
I’m real, am I?
I’m living in a middle space
There are words, drinks, business, and laughs
But also I’m alone
dedicated to the essential workers who didn’t ask to be front-liners without the care they need.
how do essential mental health workers make space in our privilege for those who need the physical connection? These are curiosities, doubts, feelings, spaces I am battling and thinking through.
(majority vs. the other)
Read MoreJesus is late, and in His failure to show up, death has taken what we know He could have healed if only He had been present.
Read MoreI buy them weekly, maybe multiple times a week, for sure many times a month.
We cook dry pinto beans in the pressure cooker. They get refried. They are put into soups. They go into tacos.
Sometimes, nachos.
I go to my local market. I go to the dry food, bulk section. There are a selection of pinto beans.
Read MoreEl Coronavirus, Ansiedad, Aislación, y Trauma
El virus ahora, ha integrado en nuestras vidas, nuestras conversaciones, y está viviendo en nuestros pensamientos. Tal vez tienes o no tienes los síntomas físicos que califican en el mundo de los médicos para un diagnosis que tienes el coronavirus, de todos modos, estas infectado.
Read MoreThe Coronavirus has by now, integrated its way into our daily lives, our conversations, and is residing in our second by second thoughts. Whether or not you are exhibiting the physical symptoms that would medically qualify for a diagnosis as sick with the Novel Coronavirus, you are infected.
Read MoreWe have always been infected.
Spaces of dissonance with the life I was coerced into living broke apart. My body screamed, “STOP!”
Friends rushed in. Perhaps they held goodwill in their hearts. Perhaps not. What is clear is that my mind and body were craving validation, and the freedom to express the truth.
Read MoreThe future is unknown, my plans follow a trail map. It goes off the grid. I haven’t traveled this terrain before, so I’ll be trusting my gut, relying on the witness of others, and orienting myself to Jesus. You’ll find me “way-finding.”
Read MoreRead MoreIn the age of consent and the church, I walked through the door of lying to myself, so I could tell the truth about Jesus and love. The truth about my past wasn’t the truth about Jesus. They did not mix.
There is no predictable season for the PTSD flu, no vaccine to prevent it.
Read MoreThe post-traumatic stress disorder influenza symptomology: chills, fever, body aches, pain in joints, night sweats, trouble breathing, congestion, and restless sleep.