La Gente Newsmagazine, Fall Print 2019, Volume 48, Issue 1

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR W

hen I was first accepted to La Gente, I was not expecting to one day become editor-in-chief. I never came into this space seeking power, rather I entered this space to explore creative avenues to voice my opinions while making room for more Latinx and marginalized Bruins on campus to voice their thoughts. This remains necessary on a campus that capitalizes on its “diversity�, but continuously fails to supports its Black, Brown, Indigenous, undocumented, and LGBTQIA+ students.

In this issue, we explore what power looks like and those who do not have it in the traditional sense. We ask the question: who is disempowered and why? We break down what it means to be disempowered and the multiple layers of disempowerment.

We look at how home ownership, whilst a capitalist tool, creates a sense of security and provides a safe space (p.12). We also explore the many ways in which UCLA students find empowerment and navigate the realm of power in academia and in their personal lives (p.4).

I have had the privilege to work with an incredibly talented staff that inspire and empower me each time they walk through our tiny but welcoming office in Kerckhoff Hall. This print would not have been possible without my staff. It is that staff I celebrate, support, and advocate for on the daily and whose stories you will read here today. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed putting it together!

Cheers!

Myrka Celeste Vega La Gente EIC

STAFF Editor in Chief Myrka Vega

Spanish Editor Ashley Huendo

Managing Editor Angela Vargas

Layout Design Editor Daisy Soto

Content Editors Melissa Diaz Alexxa Vasquez

Visual Editor Jessica Martinez

Copy Editor Rebecca Gutierrez 2

INTERNS

Visual Team Alvaro Hernandez Jason Gonzalez

Social Media Co-Coordinators Melissa Diaz Xochitl Chavez Radio Jessica Martinez Alvaro Hernandez Jason Gonzalez

Mariana Orozco-Berber Haven Morales Brian Jimenez-Luna Carlos Cadena Daniel Ponce Kevin Bernal-Rivera Jennifer Arriaga

contents WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL POWERFUL AT UCLA

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A FEW TIPS ON RECLAIMING YOUR PAST

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THE UNSTOPPABLE PLAYLIST

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A LETTER TO ESPERANZA CORDERO

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POWERLESS, POWERFUL

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MUJERES

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TABLA DE LOTERIA

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OUR MISSION: La Gente Newsmagazine is a platform for underrepresented voices in mainstream media. Our stories focus on Latinx communities in and around the Los Angeles area. La Gente is a space where creatives can grow and crticially engage with issues that affect the Latinx community.

La Gente Newsmagazine is published and copyrighted by the ASUCLA Communications Board. All rights are reserved. Reprinting of any material in this publication without the written permission of the Communications Board is strictly prohibited. The ASUCLA Communications Board fully supports the University of California’s policy on non-discrimination. The student media reserve the right to reject or modify advertising whose content discriminates on the basis of ancestry, color, national origin, race, religion, disability, age, sex or sexual orientation. The ASUCLA Communications Board has a media grievance procedure for resolving complaints against any of its publications. For a copy of the complete procedure, contact the publications office at 118 Kerckhoff Hall @ 310-825-9898

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L

What makes you feel

a Gente writer, Rebecca Gutierrez, spoke to three current UCLA students to get to the bottom of the ever-present question, what makes you feel powerful?

“Intimidating, yet exhilarating, seeing yourself stand out compared to the majority at UCLA and knowing that I am standing right beside you despite having different starting points,” said third-year, Biology major and Chicanx minor, Melissa Najera.

In an institution like UCLA, it is easy to feel powerless amongst other students. Najera often feels inadequate and has to constantly remind herself that she belongs here. Throughout the years, she developed a sense of belonging in and out of the classroom. She learned more about herself and with this came awareness of how unprepared she was leaving high school, making the path at UCLA difficult.

Najera did not allow herself to drown in self-pity, she recognized that she did not have the same science background as her peers, which only became a motivator to work harder. She tries to teach herself the material after class because often, she does not understand what is going on in lecture. This confusion used to bother her and make her feel low. However, Najera learned that just because she needs to work harder, or does not always understand what is happening in class, this only made her stronger. After a long day, she has the strength to go to her room and research things she did not understand, making her feel powerful and dedicated.

“You hear these things online that say these institutions aren’t made for people like us, and yet here I am doing the damn thing,” states Najera.

Melissa’s high school experience was nothing like UCLA. Throughout her years of high school, she never felt weak, never questioned whether she

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confidence helps her feel powerful, a feeling she didn’t realize she needed.

She would never invalidate someone’s right to be at UCLA, thus she will not stand by and allow herself to feel like she doesn’t have that same right. There is power in being confident and although Najera has some days where she struggles to find this confidence, her parents’ support and love allow her to feel powerful in and out of the classroom.

“Looking back at high school I was a big fish in a small pond and now I’m in the ocean and there’s so many more fishes,” states second-year Chicanx and English double major with a concentration in Creative Writing Julissa Banuelos.

Banuelos did not recognize the feeling of being powerless in the classroom. In high school, she was top of her class and was always recognized as a great writer and student. Despite being praised in high school, she remained humble here at UCLA. She did not think she was the best writer but she knew she deserved to be here.

The little confidence she had in herself vanished as she began attending her classes. She found herself second-guessing herself and questioning whether her input was valuable. Her classmates used fancy words that she would secretly google in order to keep up with their conversations. She was already shy to begin with, now adding the whispers of insecurity made things worse.

Classroom dynamics allowed Banuelos to understand a lot of educational disparities.

“UCLA is always bragging about their support of diversity and yet my classes were dominated by whites,” she argues.

Especially in the English department, Banuelos found herself overwhelmed and annoyed by the lack of POC students in her classrooms and

POWERFUL at UCLA

by Rebecca Gutierrez should apply to college. It was always known that she would go to a university, and UCLA was her top choice.

However, as she applied to the Biology major, she did not take into consideration the cultural imbalance in the major. Being that her high school was 95% Hispanic, she faced a culture shock when she entered her first life science class.

Intimidated by the class size and lack of familiar faces, she said, “I went from a school where I knew everyone’s name and favorite color to a classroom that can seat more students than 400 kids. My high school enrolled 390 kids total.”

Not only did Najera face cultural shocks, she also faced new challenges. Her small high school allowed her to develop personal friendships and relationships with her teachers, something that is not possible in a 400-student lecture. Najera’s first class was Life Science 30A, in Moore 100, a huge classroom which is very different from her average classroom experience.

There were no peers to lean on and no teachers that could understand her. She experienced indifference, and realized that it is possible to feel powerless in the classroom.

Attending UCLA as a Latina STEM major opened her eyes to the inequalities in the major, the curriculum, and the experience as a student.

She also realized the lack of foundation she received as a high school student.

As she progresses with her studies, Najera is slowly becoming confident in claiming her space. This

What is it like being a student at UCLA?

“Looking back at high school, I was a big fish in a small pond and now I’m in the ocean and there’s so many more fishes.”

Julissa Banuelos

“Challenging, I stop thinking about the label or the title. I’m not concerned with being at the number one public university.

I just go through the motions.”

Maryna Sanchez

When do you feel powerful at UCLA?

“When I overcome obstacles, as a first-gen student, things get difficult when I’m on my own. I also find comfort in remembering how I was chosen over someone else. I deserve to be here. I’m here for my community and my family.”

Julissa Banuelos 5

Photos by Jason Gonzalez representation in the curriculum. Her public education did not extend her the same resources that her classmates received. The district, teachers, and curriculum all kept information from her, which ultimately put her at a disadvantage when she came to UCLA. Overall as a UCLA student, Banuelos feels underrepresented and unprepared, but she continues to fight. As a second-year, she feels more confident in her decisions and when she decides to speak up, she does it with pride.

“When I overcome obstacles, as a firstgen student, things get difficult when I’m on my own. I also find comfort in remembering how I was chosen over someone else. I deserve to be here. I’m here for my community and my family,” states Banuelos.

Banuelos feels powerful when she remembers that she belongs and deserves to be here as much as the next person. She enjoys her major but it can

be intimidating hearing the same narrative from different white men. A lot of her English readings have followed the same pattern. This cycle led her to seek out classes that would appeal more to her. Classes that she can relate to,

When enrolling in classes she found the lack of Chicanx Literature irritating, being that all English classes centralize white authors and literature. The few that don’t are not advertised as much as the typical English classes. Thus, she finds it empowering when she discovers new classes and new authors who have similar backgrounds to her own.

Banuelos recalls her freshman year, when she took her first English course as a prerequisite for her major.

Filled with anxiety and nerves, the night before, she and her roommates went looking for all their classrooms. They did not want to be lost or have to walk in after the class started. She entered her first class and the desks were set in a square leaving nowhere to hide.

“I knew I was not a professional writer, I expected to get a nice feel of what to expect for the rest of my classes.” she recalls.

Banuelos remembers class discussions being led by the guys in the classroom and how they left little room for actual conversation. They used large words that intimidated her. After submitting her first paper, she went to office hours in hopes of understanding how to be a better writer. She found herself constantly comparing herself to others and decided to get some reassurance by visiting the professor. Banuelos talked about the next assignment which was meant to be a creative piece.

“She seemed genuinely impressed and interested. Then, Maryna Sanchez I expressed my interest in the creative writing concentration.

And that’s when things went downhill.

She underestimated me and belittled my capabilities. ‘The program is very difficult to get into. It’s highly competitive.’

I felt like she had the undertones of ‘Are you sure?’ She was more discouraging than encouraging,” recalls Banuelos.

After trusting her professor with her aspirations and being immediately

“The most annoying thing I have to deal with, and I feel it’s pretty common with POC, or just people who come from low-income communities is when professors assume we all have the same background...”

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classes that are not always advertised.

After her first quarter, she realized she wanted to continue reading about stories that related to her family and ancestry.

She describes, “I like breaking down the Western white storyline. I came here and was given the opportunity to uncover the truth and see colonialism from a different perspective.”

shot down she felt more self-conscious than when she first walked in. She did not let this discourage her, she still took the chance and decided to apply to the concentration.

“I was really happy, I was scared, but I pushed through my fear and I was rewarded. I was one out of a selected few chosen to participate,” states Banuelos.

Looking back, Banuelos feels power when she beats the odds. She now considers herself a writer and this makes her feel powerful.

When asked what it’s like bieng a student at UCLA, Maryna Sanchez, second-year American Literature major with a minor in Professional Writing stated, “Challenging, I stop thinking about the label or the title. I’m not concerned with being at the number one public university. I just go through the motions.”

Sanchez does not see her challenges as a power issue. She recognizes that there definitely is unequal power dynamics at UCLA but she tends to internalize these issues.

Sanchez finds power in struggling on her own, she understands that she has support from her friends and family. However, her support from her family only went so far, they would not understand her personal feelings displacement and inadequacy. During those times, she reminds herself how fortunate she is to attend a university. She thinks about where she came from and remembers what a difference she is making in her community by pursuing higher education.

In ignoring the fact that she is a UCLA student, and all the pressure that comes with being one, it helps ease the stress. She takes her assignments as they are. She tries to lessen the pressure that comes with being a student at a prestigious university and pictures herself as the student she was in Calexico.

Sanchez discovered a power dynamic within her classrooms, not only with the professors but also with

we all know the same thing, and when they realize that we don’t, they are shocked and sometimes even rude.”

She remembers recently that her professor only gave her negative feedback on her recent writing assignment. She knew it was not her best work, but she also felt ashamed and embarrassed to ask for help after tore her paper apart. There is a difference between, “Maryna you really need to work on this grammar. It is unacceptable,” versus a “Nice job but let’s clean up the grammar.” Receiving a compliment would have helped boost her confidence. Ironically, another professor had just mentioned that grammar is just a restriction placed by white people to make low-income people feel as if they weren’t intelligent enough.

Overall, Sanchez finds herself feeling powerless when she is reprimanded instead of being taught ways to improve.

Do you remember a time where you felt powerful ?

Despite some professors being rude and inconsiderate, Sanchez has established relationships with other professors. She Melissa Najera particularly enjoys when she is allowed the opportunity to take a class with a professor have to deal with, and I feel it’s pretty that she has previously taken a class common with POC, or just people with. who come from low-income commu“Right now, I’m taking an English class nities is when professors assume we with the same professor from last quarall have the same background. When ter, and she knows me and she’s really they say, ‘you should’ve read this in sweet and awesome!” high school,’ I would sit there think Sanchez developed a relationing ‘I don’t even know who wrote that ship with the professor and underbook,’” states Sanchez. stands her teaching skills, allowing her

When professors make these to be more present and confident in general assumptions, Sanchez feels the classroom. When she feels confiinadequate and it reminds her that the professors are not concerned with what dent in the classroom it gives her a rush of power that helps her feel as if she their students know. Most professors can do anything. Sanchez feels that in just want their paycheck, they’re not concerned with their teaching methods order to feel powerful at a school like UCLA, it is important to build relaor whether students are understanding tionships. There is power in numbers, the material. She cannot help but feel and the more friendly faces you meet, powerless during every lecture. the more comfortable you are in claim “Their communication skills ing your space. are awful,” says Sanchez, “They assume the students. Her peers had a different foundation set up for them, more resources which helped them succeed and consequently, caused Sanchez to question her abilities.

As soon as she stepped on campus during the Freshman Summer Program, her FSP instructor Bobby told her “UCLA isn’t trying to see people like you, people of color succeed.

They’re hoping you fail.”

Similar to Najera and Banuelos, Sanchez remembers this phrase when times get tough and it allows her to push through that much harder.

She recognizes the difference in her academic background compared to her peers, especially when her professors make assumptions that all students come from the same backgrounds and have the same academic foundation.

“The most annoying thing I

“You hear these things online that say these institutions aren’t made for people like us, and yet here I am doing the damn thing.”

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A FEW TIPS ON

RECLAIMING YOUR PAST

by Ashley Huendo

Here we go again, Lizzo keeps telling you all about that time that she took a DNA test and how she found out

that she’s 100% that bitch. And maybe you finally gave in and decided to spit in a tube? Or maybe you fell down the rabbithole and went on an Ancestry.com binge and found a few obscure family connections? Regardless of why you got the details, the modern boom of new services has made getting information about one’s heritage relatively accessible. But with the access to information about our identity comes the opportunity to connect to aspects of our culture and traditions.

Reclaiming one’s history can take many shapes and forms. There is power in reconciling parts of your identity with each other and understanding where they come from. As a student at UCLA, there are a bunch of ways that you can reclaim your past and incorporate aspects into your daily life. Here are some tips on where to start:

2. Learn an indigenous language 1. Take courses that focus on other historical points of view Let’s be completely honest, we usually learn things from a very white point of view. So by taking back the historical narrative, we can reclaim our past and write history to include someone other than the white man. The UCLA Institute of American Cultures (IAC) offers a space to do just that and it makes information about the campus’s ethnic studies centers accessible and inclusive. The very formation of UCLA’s ethnic studies programs comes as a direct result of the socio-political movements of the 1960s that sought to reclaim ethnic heritage. The IAC and the ethnic studies programs - American Indian Studies Center, Asian American Studies Center, Ralph J. Bunche Center for African American Studies, and Chicano Studies Research Center - support scholarship that not only “push our communities forward and promote equal opportunity” but they also create spaces where our history is acknowledged rather than overlooked. Taking courses that are offered by these centers can help us learn new perspectives and help show us that our history is valid.

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As UCLA students, we have a plethora of language options available to us and we can take part in the recent revitalist movement of indigenous languages.

At UCLA, the Graduate School of Education and Information Studies (GSE&IS) is part of the recent boom in academic scholarship that has created more opportunities to learn about Indigenous communities combined with other disciplines. UCLA students also have access to indigenous languages through courses that offer Nahuatl- the indigenous language of the Aztecs. This academic endeavor is headed by Professor Kevin Terraciano, the director of the Latin American Institute. Professor Terraciano states that learning Nahuatl is “more of a way to rediscover their [Indigneous students] history and coming full circle in a way” from the imperial narratives that people are taught- even in the Nahuatl communities in Mexico through basic primary school education. Many other options are available on campus, from a Nahuatl club to a trilingual annual spring conference with presentation in Nahuatl, Spanish, and English. Even non-Indigenous students participate in these revitalization efforts, but should respectfully acknowledge that these are spaces created for and by Indigenous people. For Indigenous students, engaging in the revitalisation of Indigenous languages is a form of reclaiming history and culture which was dismissed through colonization and as students, now have more access to.

Illustration by Alvaro Hernandez

3. Pick up some traditional recipes They say food is the way to the heart and in this situation, it’s also a way to reclaim our heritage. The ancient traditions that come with food and its preparation are crucial connections to the power of their cultural past. Chef Abigail Mendoza is a prime example of the power that ancient traditions hold when it comes to food. A part of the Zapotecs from Oaxaca, Mexico, Abigail Mendoza is a chef that makes her dishes using methods that ancient Zapotecs used thousands of years ago before the advent of Spanish colonization. Mendoza states in an interview with A Great Big Story, “the food is us and we are the food. You cook with your soul and your spirit.” Traditional methods of cooking remain an important connection to reclaiming the past and helping preserve tradition. Incorporating recipes that hold cultural importance into your everyday life can help strengthen bonds to your heritage. You don’t have to make a drastic change to your lifestyle in terms of cooking but sometimes even the little things can make a meaningful impact.

4. explore new music

5. Take part of some cultural holidays

Even adding some new songs to your playlists can be a way to reclaim your cultural past. Many artists are incorporating traditional aspects of their culture into genres like hip hop and even covering songs in indigenous languages. Renata Flores, known for her covers of English songs in Quechua, is an example of an artist who is bending genres and blending aspects of her culture.

Her latest song, “Qam hina,” is sung in Quechua over a hip hop beat and addresses issues of social justice. Other artists like Kuna Revolution from Panama use music to push for the revival of indigenous languages among the youth. Sung in Guna, Kuna Revolution’s “An Gabdasa / Tuve un Sueño” makes an appeal to reclaim cultural knowledge and heritage. Music and traditions can intersect to create links that allow us to reclaim the power of our past.

After a little research, important cultural dates and traditions attached to them might start popping up. Some cultures like the Mayans of the Yucatan Peninsula use cultural traditions to maintain a connection to their ancestors. The Mayan tradition of celebrating Hanal Pixán reflects a way that people honor and celebrate their ancestors. Hanal Pixán, which translates to “food for the souls,” shares similarities to the Aztec tradition of Día de Los Muertos. Latinx cultural celebrations and traditions like these emphasize how people and their legacies continue to live on through remembrance. Reclaiming your heritage through traditions that highlight remembrance is important because it shows that you’re never really alone and that there’s power in numbers, especially if those numbers are your ancestors.

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THE UNSTOPPABLE PLAYLIST A playlist curated by UCLA students for UCLA students

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Illustration by Jessica Martinez

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AA LETTER LETTER TO ESPERAN TO ESPERANZA CORDERO

by Angela Vargas

between buying and renting a home.

I didn’t realize that it meant so much to my parents that we were buying a home that finally had enough room for our growing family. Everything fell into place. My Mexican family was going to buy their first home.

Our house was beautiful and big. It was painted white, so me and my brother jokingly coined it “the White House”. This home carries most of my childhood memories. I loved it and felt loved by it. It saw me laugh when my cousins and I would play in the backyard pretending we were ghost busters in our “haunted house”.

It saw me cry as I went through the wonders of puberty. However, most importantly, it made me inherit the dream that a lot of undocumented parents have: to own a house in the United States.

It may seem materialistic to say that owning a home is one of the few dreams that I hold. However, home ownership goes beyond a house’s monetary value. It is about the power it can give someone. The pride in knowing that a place is entirely yours.

It is about letting your children play in a yard that is theirs. It’s about letting them paint their room crazy colors without having to ask your landlord for permission.

Dear Esperanza, I remember the confusion I felt when my mom told me she was pregnant, and that soon enough I was going to have a baby sister. I was mostly confused because my mom, dad, brother, and I were already sleeping in a tiny one room apartment. Where the hell

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was this baby going to go? I mean, I know they’re small but they take up space.

The news of my mother’s pregnancy was then followed by the news that my parents would be purchasing our first home, clearly needing the space.

I was ecstatic! I was eight years old and didn’t understand the difference

It’s about security.

I understand why the house on Mango Street gave you mixed feelings. I understand the bittersweet feeling of having a home that’s yours but didn’t fit the image of the extravagant homes we saw in telenovelas. I understand how freeing it must have been for your parents to own their first home. I

NZA CORDERO know what it means to inherit that dream with us.

Like you, my home was like another family member that guided my sense of what it meant to be Mexican-American. My home was a safe space, one that defined my childhood. We began to feel like the house actually belongs to our families and not the landlord we used to pay every month. I see myself in you, I too, went through a lot of changes in my first home.

Even if the house on Mango Street wasn’t the most luxurious place and brought you slight feelings of shame, at the end of the day, your family had a place they could call their own. This is something not a lot of families have the privilege of saying.

Similar to you, seeing my parents buy their first home was a large push towards shaping my future aspirations and how I feel about home ownership now. It has become a defining goal for my life.

Our story is not uncommon. Owning a home is still a large part of the American dream. The idea that one can have a place that is entirely theirs is both enticing and a root of pride. However, owning a home as immigrant parents in the United States is a symbol of much more: comfort, freedom, and success.

Buying a home gave my parents a feeling of ease, knowing that our family had built a home away from their original home.

Home ownership is something that society perceives as a benefit for families, providing both economic opportuni-

Photos by Jessica Martinez

ty and social mobility. Latinx home ownership in particular has always fallen behind White home ownership. The gap is even larger when compared to undocumented Latinx home ownership. According to Gary Painter, they found that when comparing home ownership rates in the last three to four decades, “there is a striking difference in the last decade as the home ownership rate of Latino immigrants increased, while the home ownership rate of Latino natives declined after the housing crisis.” Something so important, is something that is so difficult for our people to achieve. My parents went through so many hurdles in purchasing our home.These barriers that come with trying to buy a home

in the U.S. as a person of color, even more when you’re undocumented intercept the chances of achieving such an important goal.

Overall, the U.S. Census Bureau reported that in 2018, Hispanic homeownership went up to 47.1%. However, home ownership isn’t always pretty. You and I know this best. Your story starts off with the disappointment that came with the house on Mango Street. The ideas we think about when we think home ownership are pretty, suburban homes that weren’t ever a reality for either of us. It doesn’t include the beaten up conditions we can’t afford to fix. It doesn’t include the upkeep that comes with owning a home. It doesn’t include the environmental problems that come with buying a home in a low-income community.

It also fails to include the heartbreak that comes with losing your home.

I hope that your legacy lives on. I hope that your story continued, thriving in a house you can call home. A house that you bought and is entirely yours. I hope you feel like getting out of the house on Mango Street was everything you’d thought it’d be. I hope the dreams you inherited from your parents are becoming achievable.

I hope the best for you, in hopes that I’d see the same fate.

Con Amor, Angela

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POWERLESS, POWERFUL

by Melissa Diaz

Illustration by Jessica Martinez

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i am a girl.

i am a woman. i am not a materialistic tool. i am not a tool. i am a person. a person with the same amount of feelings as a newborn.

I have goals and aspirations. and no, I will not do what you wish of me. you might think your words and opinions are sweet like cotton candy; in reality, they are shards of glass slowly cutting into my soul. slowly, slowly, slowly draining my sense of vitality and life being. your wishes and what you constantly ask of me don’t nourish me. i will not be who you want me to be. i will be who I want to be. i am a person. i am my own individual. i am alive. now, if only I could tell them that - the men. the men before me, with fire in their eyes and smoke in their ears. with words like piercing glass, they say “tu deber es estar en la cocina.� my entire existence belittled to a grain of salt; a rock on the pavement. in their shallow and vapid eyes, i am minuscule; i am tiny. the powerful breeze stings the pulsing wound on my skin of such past words spoken; the echoing and ringing in my ears cloud my mind. amidst the chaos and amongst the drowning of the voices that seek to bury me whole fully-clothed and all i rise, with the same warmth and willpower of the sun. they say to play fire with fire so with fire in my eyes and fire in my ears and fire upon my fingertips and fire in every nerve of my being i rise.

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MUJERES

by Alexxa Vasquez

My house stands stout and steady.

She has housed three generations of hope and heartache; she has seen one generation of first steps, two generations of adolescence, and three generations of persistence.

She has housed many bilingual tongues within her walls, witnessed potholes in sentences where translations fell short, wept at ballads that could be felt before they could be understood.

My home is women run, women tainted, women upheld.

She is white stucco and red brick; wet soil in the macetas beside the front door; rancheras on a Sunday morning and canela before bed.

My home is perfume, and windex, and ivory soap, and the rasp of drying chiles.

She is bendiciones before I sleep and “ya me percinaste?” before I leave.

My house is too many tamales and never enough recuentos.

And I am the developing polaroid photo of memories that last as long as you care for them.

I am more my mother’s than my father’s.

My face that still bears his resemblance holds no power over my spirit, fostered by the legacy of my mujeres, fostered by the legacy of her mujeres.

You don’t feel a hole when your heart -- and stomach -was filled with twice as much love.

She was never He -my White House was never a patriarchy.

My home has and always will be a matriarchy, loud and bright and in color.

The precedence set before me consisted of immigration stories instead of bans; language barriers instead of walls; and spice shelves more diverse than any cabinet.

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Illustration by Haven Morales But my precedence will never compare to such strong existing mujeres.

There are days where I realize I can never fill their shoes, because how can I possibly navigate the world the way my grandmother navigated a new country?

The hobbies I inherited out of joy were the skills my abuelita developed for survival.

Did teaching me to crochet remind her of the nights she spent by the light of a stove, manteles draped across her lap, waiting for my grandpa to come back from el campo?

Does unraveling each stiff stitch of mine remind her of each stitch that held her through her grief when her family was fifteen hundred miles away?

And how can my muscles ever compare to the strong shoulders of my single Latina mother?

My mother’s hands can hold up both worlds, can juggle two experiences at once, back and forth and back and forth between here and Mexico, And me, I can barely hold hands with the Spanish language without clamming up.

My words still have two left feet, as if every sentence is my first dance, But mis mujeres tuck my mistakes into their pocket And stick me into their photo album with care

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Illustration by Haven Morales

Zodiac signs may seem trivial but they are a way for people to identify with something that goes beyond them-

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selves. They can be a tool that helps us discover ourselves through new lenses. Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of our signs allow us to reflect and find those qualities within ourselves. It helps build a community with people who share an interest in astrology. Allowing individuals to view themselves from a new perspective, the signs help people feel empowered.

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