I will be going tonight to see this reading and I will let you know how it went. Until then here is a poem I wrote about the women of Juarez after a trip I I took to El Paso-Ciudad Juarez in 2004.
Ni Una Mas
Mi querido 24th and mission
Conjunto on a Tuesday night
Mostly men gathered around to listen, to the upright bass
Acoustic guitar, drum and of course-- the accordion
Harmonizing. reminding stocky brown skinned men of home
They will be home soon they think,
no need to do anything permanent here
And the bar on the corner always a
pop song, ballad, cumbia
salsita BLARING
The music sometimes draws me near
but the Men spilling out to the street ...ssst sst mamacita
Some reason I know to walk away, (hurried hips, not swaying)
Even though I’ve never considered myself especially decente
and Even though my father says
I sometimes talk like one of those women in those bars
And we automatically know what one of those women are.
Or maybe they find freedom in tight jeans and
A stretchy v-neck that shows every bump every movement
Dripping ornaments dangle teasing
gold hoops lasso your eyes
You will see me!
Only Nacas do that!"
She thought it looked fine,
hurls back: " the bra is pink and is close enough to my skin!"
as she changes to a darker shirt
They say don’t walk alone at night because something
might happen to you
And if it does, well then you shouldn’t have been alone
so you don't have to take any responsibility
What if you don’t have someone to walk with?
Lock yourself inside until someone comes for you?
Until the world changes?
But how are we supposed to change things?
It will always just be dangerous for women to be alone.
Some men will always rape some women."
right?
Fear,
the ultimate power over a woman.
Confidence busted
Trust gone disgusted
Picked up from a black top smack down
Sub standard practices
Negative in the place of a positive
Accusatory sin and no redemption in sight.
That is why I am connected to my hermanas on the border.
I know what it is to fear to have body of mujer
"Be careful! I hear they are killing women over there"
My 1st world status means nothing?
legs disconnected from hips
Her laugh not heard anew
The last her mother saw of her was bone. She didn’t get to say good-bye.
Bone. No flesh to be ogled wounded.
What she most wants to hug her daughter again.
This line that is not a bridge, not a line, it ‘s a ditch a hole an open wound,
Like the
Not just one wall
But several, cement, iron gate, barbed wire
Keeping us out Keeping you in.
Men with guns protecting who again?
Whose interests?
Eerie walls of silence
So we March, mourn,
Remember
write letters, make speeches
hold discussions
Looking up from fear
and hopelessness
raising awareness
no longer complicit
refusing silence
daring to be powerful
in twos, twentys or two hundreds.
Ni una mas!
Ineptitude bungling of local authorities,
Ni una mas!
she must have run off with a boyfriend
maybe your precious daughter lead a double life.
Ni una mas!
Yes la madre de las tierras is helping hide our naughty dirty laundry
Out in the dessert, only half hidden,
So you know what happens to women who step out of line,
Out of the house
NAFTA’s neglected, unprotected, migration survival,
maquila women earning 4 dollars a day
working on electronics, working on clothes she could never afford.
Explosion of exploitation!
Is only the half of it
Representing the condition
of women across the planet
Tener cuerpo de mujer es ser
amenazado de muerte
Her only crime was being a woman
Crimes against all our humanity
Pero sabes Que?
No Estan Solas.
No Estan Solas.
No Estan Solas!
WE ARE NOT ALONE