I am mezclado, what used to be called mestizo. I am a product of colonialism and this is the history I inherited. With that said, the few bits of Tonantzin Coatlicue and her children that have been able to survive, by passing the stories down through the generation or receiving miracles, I am glad for she is still with us.
Death is abstracted, turned into graphs and metrics of government efficacy, and we are prescribed a plethora of ways of avoid it, and in exchange for mere survival. We do not live for the pursuits of life, rather we live to avoid death and those in death.
Why do the dead keep dying? Read More »
Blog, Death, Family, Recto
Then I started thinking about the color red. Red; red like the blood on the street or the red on their necks, the soot on their denim and the dust in their eyes. Red, red, red.
Do Rednecks Wear White on Labor Day? Read More »
Blog, Labor History, Verso