“No acumules silencios, grita de vez en cuando” – filosofía digital y anónima
I love exploring words, creative ways to weave desires and pain into words, dreams into projects, and poems into inspiration. I love the way words are flexible and ever-changing but also impressively precise. This love is probably born out of with my own cosmovisión and sociopolitical life perspectives. We’re asked all the time: “Why did you choose to study X?” or “Why have you chosen to pursue Y?” “Why are you organizing with Z?” These questions, sometimes innocently posited for the purpose of small talk, welcome us to share sublime and lucid insight on our life experiences. For me, it comes down to the bareness of words and meanings. Much of what I am inspired by are words and palabras: spoken, written, silenced, protested.
Ultimately, I think our passions as writers, singers, dancers, lovers, actors, and travelers arise from a conjunction of life experiences and encounters. We are products of the millions of intersections and encuentros that mark our minds and spirits and memory. Personally, I associate social justice with writing, with communication and voice, with power through spoken and written word, with palabra. Born and raised in Boyle Heights, the move to Santa Cruz at age 18, graduation at age 21: through the constant movement, I have seen how my transnational transbarrio and translocal communities oscillate between silence and voice. It’s difficult to pinpoint exact experiences but I remember growing up, witnessing the subtle discrimination imposed against my father, a very well spoken and elegant man with dark brown skin; being pulled over on a California highway by a highway patrol car, my father’s speechlessness and inability to respond to the police officers aggressive questions and inquiry. The – quickly shattering – silence of thousands of undocumented Latin American migrants in the U.S., my mother’s constant struggle to learn English, to communicate eloquently with a physician. I have felt a rabid, lingering desperation to scream this silence into extinction. I’ve felt a desperation tugging at my vocal cords, pleading to articulate the injustices my communities has faced for years, decades and certainly even centuries.