Se me olvidaron
Haiku de mi madre
… inspirado por sus coloridos dichos.
Vete mucho a
la tisnada. Hija de
Nunca le dijeron
que calladito se ve
No habla desde
que el ratón le mordió
a Pepito, ni a la
Me: ¡Mami! Casi se me olvida. Les voy a borrar a las tarjetas el precio.
Mom: A sí, porque sino van a ver que son de la 99.
Me: No pero atrás dice que costaron tres dólares.
Mom: Ah no, entonces déjales el precio para que piensen que son de catego.
Sharing the hilarious convos I have with my fam. They’re too good to keep them all to myself.
I am tired. I am angry. And quite honestly, I’m done. I’m tired of staying quiet. I am tired of being the “better” person. I am damn tired of being denied the right to walk down the street as I please. Tired of being robbed of the opportunity to claim my space.
I have the right to walk to work, walk home, walk to school without feeling uncomfortable, without feeling harassed. Without being treated like an object, a worthless toy, a dispensable, disposable piece of nothing.
I am done. I cannot do it. I can no longer allow it to happen because I deserve more than that and because my future daughters, my sisters, my friends, my mother and every woman that has ever felt objectified deserves more than that.
In this ever sexually violent society, I do not have that luxury. I can not and will not look down as I walk down the street and a passerby crafts me and weaves me into every imaginable sexual fantasy he or she has ever desired.
I do not want to feel scared, helpless. I no longer want to hope that I am left alone, that they disappear and I am left unharmed, clothed, unraped.
I will not. Because I have felt afraid. Because for too long I have feared rape. I have feared the day when I would be raped and any action action that could lead up to that, that could end in that.
I have feared the day when the catcalls would not simply be catcalls or whistles or kisses blown into the air. The day when that would no longer satisfy them and instead they would come get me.
And perhaps more than that, I feared that when this day came, I would be “caught off guard,” “unprepared,” unable to react, to escape, to run, to fight, to bite, to flee, to scream, to cry, to do whatever would be needed to get the perpetrator off me. To keep my vagina safe, to protect her and myself, to keep us both from harm’s way.
And that is bullshit. That is outrageous. Street harassment is not funny, it is not a compliment, it is not casual, ordinary, normal, irrevocable. And the feelings I get from it are not trivial or exaggerations of an overly sensitive woman.
If ever my younger sisters told me they felt and believed what I do, what I did, I would be infuriated. I would be livid. But I will not wait until that day to act because there is plenty of reason to be mad now.
And so, I am livid, I am mad because I am sure I am not the only one who feels or has felt this way before, as crazy or unimaginable as it may sound.
Ya. Me cansé. Estoy harta, enfadada y no puedo más. Ya basta.
Déjenme en paz. Déjennos en paz.
"I am honored and excited to represent both the United States and Mexico by earning this silver”- Leo Manzano.