24yo bi Xicana. There's always more to write about, in more interesting ways than white men. Follow me @arte.con.ariana, all tips will go to @openyrpurse, both on Instagram.
The first time someone used me, I thought I was a ship on the horizon, helplessly waiting to be tossed as I saw a storm coming in. I thought I was sailing out at sea, a place I had chosen to be, but getting to a point where not even my wits could help me. It was not until the thunder was rattling my bones and the lightning was blinding my eyes, that I knew that I was not a helpless ship - I was the kraken.
Black Bird Wine, Blackberry Kiss
“You look the same,” she said. I can’t help but hear the accusation of the years in between our sightings. We had dated in college. Well, “dated” is a strong word - we had slept together and spent a few meals together for a couple of months while I was in college, but we never actually went out on a date. She’s my best friend’s sister, and my best friend, Sarai, still doesn’t know about it.
Lala Y El Vaquero
I’ve been a cowgirl for 12 years, standing my post on the porch of the living room everyday, waiting to warn off delivery men who might want to infiltrate. It was perfect for me as I basked in the sun, but that all changed when El Vaquero joined our band.
Headbangers for Headaches
As one does in their formative years, I stole vintage things from my parents, since the styles from three decades ago were coming back, much like the ‘90s now (I know, I freaked out too). In my case, I stole ‘70s rock music from my dad, in that I was the one who exclusively used his iPod (throwback to the 5th generation). My teenage rebel soul, housed in a small body that’s been 5-foot-even since 8th grade, fell in love with the guitar riffs and headbanging of many bands like AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, The Clash, and Cream. ‘70s rock is now Classic Rock, but it was a gateway to my love of alternative rock. The guitar riffs, the yelling, the highway to hell for our misdeeds, wraps me in nostalgia, angst, and the kind of cool that I want to exude. The kind where men are afraid to approach my 5 foot self while I walk alone.
Perfect Foundation vs The History of Mexico
My skin is the color of Mexican nationalism. I am a product of (at least) Indigenous and Spanish roots on both sides of my family, from Northern and Southern Mexico, from flour and corn tortillas. Mexico was one of the first colonized countries that advocated for miscegenation, because it would “whiten” the entire country, and the mixed race people could be known as La Raza, as foretold and advocated by José Vasconcelos. I grew up saying “Para La Raza!” (for the race) without knowing the originally racist implications - now I say “para la gente!” (for the people). Because being Latinx is an ethnicity and not a race, then people of many races are Latinx. You don’t even have to speak Spanish to be Latinx, as Brazil and Haiti are Latin American countries. However, having been raised in the Southwestern US, I grew up with the understanding that I looked like the stereotypical Latina. I’m brown with brown eyes, black hair, and short with a round face, and when I talk quickly or with strong emotion, my Chicana accent comes out. Now, I know that not all Latinx people have to look or be like me, even other Mexicans don’t look like me, since I have been trying to surpass the anti-Blackness and anti-Indigeneity taught in Mexican culture.
Think Cult Classics, but Female Friendships
Once I started buying my own DVDs, it felt like a step into adulthood that I didn’t know was there. My brother makes fun and speaks truth of my collection that is comprised of my choices and my choices only: I love movies with homoerotic undertones. Seeing Oceans 8, Ghostbusters (2016), Incredibles 2, and Captain Marvel on my shelf, I can’t deny my sensibilities.
The Epitome of Evolution
Many look to the skies to reflect on our place in the universe, looking up at whole galaxies that seem like twinkling stars to us, but that may have already extinguished themselves. Looking at the sky means looking at the past, and the illusion of time can fade away, with the past and present converging in merely perceiving. As much as we like to think about our place in the universe, we tend to forget to reflect on our place in an environment much closer to home, because it is our home - Earth.
The Paradoxical Principles of Minimalism
I thought minimalism was about getting rid of enough stuff that you could move yourself by yourself. I am so tempted to become an extreme minimalist, so that I can pack up all of my belongings and move to a new place in 30 minutes or less. (I hadn’t even thought about this idea until I listened to Goodbye, Things by Fumio Sasaki.) My friends who helped me pack my room in the last 24 hours of my junior year would laugh at me. So would the family friends who stored my stuff over the summers. So would anyone who has ever seen one of my living spaces. But I am still tempted.