Xicana with an X
She lifted up the back of her shirt slowly. She had forgotten all about it since the day the mirror broke. She reached as far as she could up her back with her finger and found it. There it was.
She lifted up the back of her shirt slowly. She had forgotten all about it since the day the mirror broke. She reached as far as she could up her back with her finger and found it. There it was.
Receive from us a blessed greeting, we are mothers with our children detained at Karnes Detention Center in the state of Texas...
Here is a link to 20+ handwritten (and now digitized, shareable) letters, written and drawn by imprisoned mothers and children, for your review. Please take a moment to read them, they were written just for you...
I've learned a lot of things in my time here in Mexico. I learned how to wash clothes by hand, was reminded of the sacredness of water (clean water), and many other things.
Once there was a little girl somewhere around the age of four in a city in the land whose name had been forgotten but that they now called "San Antonio."…
I want to tell you a secret: Back when I was an undergrad at UT Austin, I knew I was walking in the great white halls of good ole southern…
I come from Texas. I am indigenous. I am Xicana. I am Nican Tlaca. We might not remember her indian names any more but Texas was and is holy land.
Somewhere inside a prison cell in Texas a little girl, her two younger sisters and their mother sit in isolation and fear wondering if the prison guards will come for…
Every smile and every tear I've shed has embedded itself deeply in the follicles of the hairs on my head. Cana nation rising spewing forth warriors by the dozens. …
Dolores, today I am angry. Angry at my blind assumption, believing what the news tells me, making you just a face, and your city, even though I travel by it everyday, just a local blurb on the 10 o’clock news.