tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-260749252024-03-13T14:01:29.410-07:00Tigera ConscienteBrown Eye Vision Street Photography. Sick Poetry and Prose. Tigera Consciente Style. Ya Tu Sabes.Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-67953928612443883982009-09-09T00:42:00.000-07:002009-09-09T17:30:24.194-07:00Persisting to Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsE4yVVTRn75KO3-Re9F1b5OrhyphenhyphenZBP5VXZcm9Ftd0DD01YeTaXtbV88hDgceEkf4DCASEHKL4D2abM1pYCpB0e4rJvlkpEKnB2DUek31sHfSdRvo395zGBaPz5oJ9_VvnvYlyxtw/s1600-h/odon_lg.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsE4yVVTRn75KO3-Re9F1b5OrhyphenhyphenZBP5VXZcm9Ftd0DD01YeTaXtbV88hDgceEkf4DCASEHKL4D2abM1pYCpB0e4rJvlkpEKnB2DUek31sHfSdRvo395zGBaPz5oJ9_VvnvYlyxtw/s400/odon_lg.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379375177692492034" border="0" /></a><br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">A dulled light of day was shining into our bedroom, matching the sullen mood, enhanced by caresses, with a heavy mixture of love and pain. Car alarms rang off rhythm to the sad bachata blasting from someone’s car stereo. Our bed sat by the half open window, at level with the sill, and as I laid belly down with child, sprawled over his body, I could see the littered concrete dotted with idle, middle aged Dominican men singing along, and round bodied brown mothers, grocery bags and children in hand, walking to the slow, constant beat of despair. I became aware of the miracle we were – imperfect but persistently, striving to become ourselves, striving to know love. Baldwin states, “Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” Loving can be a painful process. These masks exist as a defense or shield from environments of terror and numbness. We mistake false identities for ourselves. Removing masks would make us susceptible to become vulnerable to these fatal environments, and so we sleep and wake and bathe with our masks on and forget there was once a bright face looking back in the mirror at the innocence of our early youth, however long that might have lasted – for some, 10 years, for others, possibly 3. We become a colony of preconstructed characters, blind to the concept of a community consisting of honest individuals. The fear of removing these masks contribute further to the poison latent in our fatal environments. </span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"> <span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">In today's time, loving can be a painful process because loving means we come to accept that the world does affect us; that the constant grilling, the sight of children being frisked by authorities, the smell of piss on every wall of each abandoned building we walk by, the idleness of life or the moral ease of those who end it, their own or others', all have the ability to make us weep and become filled with true anguish, or loose our minds completely. But without coming to accept and understand this, we would have no incentive to want to exist in a different kind of world, or exist at all. And if we cannot exist as ourselves, outside of these masks, in our environments then we are left with two options – to change our environments or run away from it, and the spaces where oppression does not exist at some level are becoming endangered, quickly. Part of our attempt to change society must be to develop ourselves and offer the people we were meant to be to each other..</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> We laid there, two lovers, both tainted by the terror of this world, trying to understand the answer to this question – how can love become an oasis where realizing our highest selves will not be compromised? This, for us is a new concept, for we both come from histories where loving has taken us through moments of deceit, anguish, and pain, often times by attempting to love others who have not had the courage to notice, no less, remove their own masks. Yet still, we laid in our humble bedroom – a paradox, hope fighting to exist among week-old laundry thrown in corners, each clothing piece a removal of some weight picked up by our interaction with the shaken world, the walls scented of day old incense burned to center ourselves within what parts of ourselves we’ve come to know, mixed with whiffs of spiced meats and fried platanos carried by the cool draft of a new autumn in that old fifth floor apartment where our lives as a new family is to begin. I imagine we were both at some point in our internal conversations, wondering how this miracle is supposed to unfold with a lack of known references of liberated love. A dear friend once asked me, “Is it possible to imagine or know freedom if our legacies have never truly experienced it within the last 500 years of oppression?” What must it be like to live with no masks, and love with no limits? We can try to imagine what this oasis might look like, but even our imaginations are tainted with the pain that has held our true identities hostage. We try to caress and kiss away the false illusions we’ve acquired over time, but we cannot pretend that the world does not enter our attempts to love. </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> One night I was under the false illusion that my body was dirty and worthless. It was difficult to be held and for parts of my body to become exposed outside of our bed sheets.. That day, a young boy had violated my right to have my body protected from unwanted touch or exposure. He was no older than 12, with the face of a terrified child. The world had put in his mind that it was okay to violate women to his own pleasing or for his own curiosities. It was probably the first time he had tried to pull down a woman’s shirt, for his body language and his eyes were so full of fear of his own actions. His environment had placed the mask of “sexual assailant” on such a young face. His toxic environment had shaped the emotional state of my body. A hot shower could not wash away the filth and anguish that sat like silt upon my pregnant belly, naked breasts, and reoccurring memory. All throughout that night, whenever I became aware of my body, it only existed within those short moments of feeling violated and humiliated.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> Being a woman of color who has cracked her mask in this world makes one become even more deeply connected to the pain that exists in these war zones. We become exposed to the efforts of a white world trying to erase our existence, but we also become exposed to a dystopic patriarchal society – even among our brothers of color – that also seek to null our true power and beauty, either because they do not understand it or are intimidated by it (therefore the need to control or undermine it). The product of males of color feeling powerless in a white society is the sexually violated woman of color. When boys and men of color are given no spaces with which to experience or understand authentic power, they take up the white man’s illusion of power – to conquer and control- and turn it on their own women (and in other ways, on each other). This results in communities of masks laden with false power and bodies with limited abilities to feel love and security, communities of unknown or lost identities.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> The perseverance of love between my lover and I, consists of a lifetime series of attempts to know ourselves, discover true power, and share our unfolding selves with each other. One element of our love is essential if it is to survive in a world where freedom is an alien concept, and that is – our love must have the ability to overcome oppression – oppression embedded within ourselves, oppression perpetuated in society. We are left with no tools but our own developing imaginations and the courage to take on this challenge, and courage is essential if we are to walk and love and speak without masks. It takes an enormous amount of trust amongst ourselves to take on this task. We are still in the process of fully understanding and realizing love, although our imperfect attempts are miracles because against the weighty odds, we persistently choose to exist, to find our highest selves within ourselves and between each other, to love, in the context of deliberate numbness and inadvertent hate.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-71515191315616850262009-08-22T15:38:00.000-07:002009-08-22T17:00:02.668-07:00Self-Portait: Portadora de VidaSo here is my first completed photomontage self-portrait. I'd like to decode all of the symbols I've incorporated and explain why I've decided to add specific details, but I think I'll leave it for viewers to interpret. I'll just say this piece reflects the array of changes and emotions I've experienced since learning I was carrying a life inside me. <br /><br />I'm considering working on a series of these of other pregnant women. If you're interested in modeling and living in/near the NYC area, shoot me an email: RosaDominicana at gmail dot com.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLB3tEFa5v8xonsYpqkJXNWV5OJj1i4O-KLvNfYcYFJ-SiERCrFd591mJlDWcCwNPi0iPx5FFkJhMMu9NJmIGXy9Jbfw5m3eRdoHfzOdKibPGcAxbXQbPebBoNvtvMrPJ9WCvMw/s1600-h/1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCLB3tEFa5v8xonsYpqkJXNWV5OJj1i4O-KLvNfYcYFJ-SiERCrFd591mJlDWcCwNPi0iPx5FFkJhMMu9NJmIGXy9Jbfw5m3eRdoHfzOdKibPGcAxbXQbPebBoNvtvMrPJ9WCvMw/s400/1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372922399292632802" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Nj4E4kqtona1G4jbBJAxK9Nqwk4nnlD1aCNVHcZlBK3wY7LPDa-e9IVWTg2_gC01PfdXieoGLUyW-6fD8vUbMmBWZdJZnB6kBPBuuHYTX2_4pHnvRXcPOIPW2J1ilowhRwq3ig/s1600-h/4.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Nj4E4kqtona1G4jbBJAxK9Nqwk4nnlD1aCNVHcZlBK3wY7LPDa-e9IVWTg2_gC01PfdXieoGLUyW-6fD8vUbMmBWZdJZnB6kBPBuuHYTX2_4pHnvRXcPOIPW2J1ilowhRwq3ig/s400/4.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372923570085491810" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FIdBZ3OJ98Xj-Ld1PrUllergGWUEQ7p3txyjTyy_9KAd_FL2TMyGwOyQQT8HlbdrP7Il9aA0W-vFoNV7RJutzjwqt2ylubXVCZEjhL0AZqq62vZP7rJzqvw9GpPnkADU-68nsQ/s1600-h/7.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 341px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4FIdBZ3OJ98Xj-Ld1PrUllergGWUEQ7p3txyjTyy_9KAd_FL2TMyGwOyQQT8HlbdrP7Il9aA0W-vFoNV7RJutzjwqt2ylubXVCZEjhL0AZqq62vZP7rJzqvw9GpPnkADU-68nsQ/s400/7.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372923915758863794" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXLgazUXvreyMa5oNQnZOnCzXOVwVI-CwWKE7E24vLfAN6arAGLEzGRb0WgRBqBBnKtQ9F17Mm_t4dHS_9C3dYsISodeOGXpefpb9cPI6EqcvBFGdCm_sCxKT5EUrw2c3IndpUNA/s1600-h/3.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXLgazUXvreyMa5oNQnZOnCzXOVwVI-CwWKE7E24vLfAN6arAGLEzGRb0WgRBqBBnKtQ9F17Mm_t4dHS_9C3dYsISodeOGXpefpb9cPI6EqcvBFGdCm_sCxKT5EUrw2c3IndpUNA/s400/3.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372924389703335666" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRi713s5QlWJNjPPI2znJwxAkaowuhFGbeWFsuzqq_6t93K93fSV3Ed-vldWDLceXJJGgOXCLmkSxGLEB5o52DmKorYBhUXHYtNsBQ-ZbkPOrX-qpr76HyUMFNZ4wyMb6jI9ppQ/s1600-h/6.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRi713s5QlWJNjPPI2znJwxAkaowuhFGbeWFsuzqq_6t93K93fSV3Ed-vldWDLceXJJGgOXCLmkSxGLEB5o52DmKorYBhUXHYtNsBQ-ZbkPOrX-qpr76HyUMFNZ4wyMb6jI9ppQ/s400/6.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372925010913353602" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6q0lW0PQtyv_9Xhi-bsy-AC4doLdlz_1KaAV0S7yb6BXQC089022YF30BbKpoBbdKeNAkfwlv1ZA9wEyLKGLYp2y1XUqXfhJPpEY4yAxJB5LB-_ywaNpoAQwpNbzayvmhj1F3_g/s1600-h/2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6q0lW0PQtyv_9Xhi-bsy-AC4doLdlz_1KaAV0S7yb6BXQC089022YF30BbKpoBbdKeNAkfwlv1ZA9wEyLKGLYp2y1XUqXfhJPpEY4yAxJB5LB-_ywaNpoAQwpNbzayvmhj1F3_g/s400/2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5372925575004514754" /></a><br /><br />Photomontage on wood with acrylics and mounted copper, mirror pieces, and painted conch shells. 18" x 48".<br /><br />Photomontage method was taught to me by Keba Konte. Check out his work at <a href="http://www.kebakonte.com">www.kebakonte.com</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-15814970348023659632009-05-10T19:01:00.000-07:002009-05-10T19:04:46.650-07:00Crafting the Journey of Radical Brown Motherhood<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBn3CNodmBuAe5KBkpxkv9Utw2uMxnh5f_r_dK2ykz_EM7PN-wwVZe0hQaWPDeD62kP-wRSVVxsv2SyD_c1TDd95-iySoXHmP2nGU42C_iJjM6GvI96nSzbtV11t2wD9VGRBWLVA/s1600-h/baby2facedowncropped.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBn3CNodmBuAe5KBkpxkv9Utw2uMxnh5f_r_dK2ykz_EM7PN-wwVZe0hQaWPDeD62kP-wRSVVxsv2SyD_c1TDd95-iySoXHmP2nGU42C_iJjM6GvI96nSzbtV11t2wD9VGRBWLVA/s320/baby2facedowncropped.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334381385767444466" /></a><br />On this mother’s day of 2009, one day away from 20 weeks of carrying a life inside of me, I ponder the journey set before me as a Latina mother that has chosen to walk with the guidance of truth by her side. I did not choose to be brown, but I do choose to engage in the meaning of what it means to be an individual in a society that strives to erase us into the blank page of conformity. In a world that attempts to numb our spirits and mute our hearts, I choose to dig deep into the female instinct, that is a warrior instinct, one that is drawn to protect life and uncover its meaning buried underneath the fallacies of heteronormativity and patriarchy- diseases that affect the lives of all genders and the threaten the foundation of life itself. As I came to make these choices, it was no surprise that I came to understand the meaning of struggle- a journey full of sacrifices, misunderstanding by those close to me as well as those I expect misunderstanding from, but also the blessing to have met others who have also chosen their own paths of warriorships of love and truth, although often times it does become an isolated path.<br /><br />It is not easy choosing what one must do over what one <i>wants</i> to do, but this is the journey of radical brown motherhood, and it is a journey full of love as it is full of struggle. Choosing to walk with truth does not give one the option to disappear into non-existence. I believe everyone comes to this planet with some gift, some contribution to humanity, some great feat or goal to accomplish that sets us apart from solely eating, shitting, sleeping animals. Walking with truth means loving ourselves enough to know what that feat is, to authentically know our identities. To stray away from this path is to never have known ourselves, our potential, to have never really existed in this world. As a warrior of life, seeker of truth, and soon to be mother, I ponder whether there is any distinction between the first two and the last.<br /><br />There are those that try to distance the act of motherhood from warriorhood, while I believe that one cannot exist without the other. The work of motherhood must engage in also shaping the world her children will come to know themselves in. A radical mother, a self-aware mother also becomes an advocate for truth-knowing among others as she must advocate with her own child. We live in a society of individuals who have had their highest selves hidden from them. It is a toxic environment. No radical mother, or no loving mother wants her children to be exposed to toxicity. The work to provide others with the opportunity to know themselves is parallel to the work of mothers who nurture their daughters and sons with the opportunities to see truth.<br />I believe that this life inside my womb is closer to knowing truth in its most fundamental form than it will ever be before it passes on to life after flesh. His early growth is a nine-month prayer. He is vulnerable but does not know fear. He learns, remembers, dreams, discovers, and I believe is in constant connection with a divine life-giving force, growing and moving in unison with the will of Most High, as if singing in perfect pitch with the wavelength of the universe. His obstruction from the oppressive world outside the perfect womb is limited. My challenge will be that when he does enter this world, that he will continue to learn, dream, and discover in unison with this divine force without self-doubt or fear; that he will continue to sing in unison with Most High by distinguishing truth from the fallacies of our world and find his own authentic journey through the world carefully perceived by the womb of his heart and critical mind. These challenges I take on for my own son cannot be distinct from carving the world he will come to know himself in. And so I do choose a more difficult, less luxurious path, but a path that recognizes my own existence; a path that refuses to have my life, the life of my son, and the lives of others dissolve into the dangerous waters of complacency and self-negation.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-88915360985135911062008-11-02T13:09:00.000-08:002009-05-17T11:08:54.044-07:00Red Wine<span style="font-style:italic;">A flash fiction story I had written a while ago and just remembered as I was grading my students' short stories. Sure this piece still calls for serious improvement, but I think it's worth sharing anyway...</span><br /><br /> How much time does it take to get from point A to point B? She was in disbelief. It just didn’t feel like point B. This is not what she had imagined. There were supposed to be fireworks, popping champagne bottles, people-filled rooms and festivities. But there were no voices speaking. The fading light bulb lit up an empty living room. Each day, the walk into the kitchen, the setting of keys on the table, made the yellowing walls come over her. Daily experiences were drab like the tablecloths that folded onto her lap as she had her lone celebratory dinner. <br /><br /><br /> Finally the world had caught up. The Chinese take-out sat opened and yet to be served on the one, empty plate, placed at the single candle-lit table. Always the one too busy for opening movie nights, birthday parties, or dinners with the girls. The wine. Nobody else chilled their dry red wine. She did. Remembering where she placed it, she grabbed it feeling almost accompanied by it. Stabbing the top of its mouth, each rough and slow unscrew became a step closer to herself. It’s alright, she doesn’t need recognition. It has always been about the work, or rather, the purpose of the work. It was never about who noticed. It was more about it getting done. Getting it done meant the work would speak for itself.<br /><br /><br /> After popping the cork, the cool smoky air rose from the bottle as it angled over the glass. A nice slow gulp with eyes closed. Exhale. Eyes open. Suddenly that meal became the festive occasion it was meant to be. She heaped her plate with vegetable fried rice, sechzuan eggplant, and spicy bean curd, and dug in. <br /><br /> <br /> The work should speak to her kin. If they only cared to listen. But perhaps the work just speaks a different language. It was a book. Not everyone speaks “book.” Her chewing slowed. The glass of wine was half-empty. Most of her closest loved ones didn’t speak it. How did it come to this? Who was she? What was point A? This eggplant sure tastes good. How long has she been here? <br /><br /><br /> Another gulp of the chilled red wine. The glass rested between her slender fingers. She would see her mom picking it up and reading her name on the cover, proud and filled with joy. But what good is it if she won’t crack the book open, or try the first few lines and then let it sit, like a trophy, next to pictures of loved ones both alive and in the spirit world? Her brother would ask her for the title, call it “interesting,” and congratulate her, moving on to the next mundane topic. He wouldn’t even ask her for a copy, one she had already signed for him. “Con Amor, Juana.” Then there were the childhood friends. They called her “the scholar.” But she’d like to see herself as more like them than they allowed her to. In fact, the “scholars” that would read and recognize her work would consider it authentic, or in “non-book talk,” ghetto. <br /><br /> The grip around the long cool bottle tipped its mouth over the wine glass. The window. She leaned at the edge of its pane. The sun moved quickly towards the horizon. On the sidewalk was her past sprawled out before her eyes. Pedestrians would intrude onto children’s hopscotch and scooter chasing games. Dads would slam domino pieces over crate balanced wood boards, while moms would huddle into groups and share the latest, occasionally screaming at children that moved too close to traffic. She looked back at her half eaten dinner spread on the single chaired table. Where had point B gone?<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-11463504599694001282008-11-02T10:33:00.000-08:002008-11-02T10:59:44.283-08:00Still Black - A Portrait of Black Transmen<object height="344" width="425"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/sV7jeDqu55M&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />I finally met Kortney Ryan Ziegler in person (after years of knowing her solely in the blogsphere) during the showing of her film, <a href="http://www.stillblackfilm.org/"><span style="font-style:italic;">Still Black,</span></a> for the <a href="http://www.festival.queerblackcinema.org/">Black Queer Film Festival</a> in NYC. The above is a piece from my fave interview in the film. What I loved most about the film is the exposure of the juxtapositioning of those who are attempting to redefine gender identities in a world where identities are pre-constructed and shoved down our throats through mainstream media. I find this process parallel to all other forms of self-actualization, where folks who try to authentically exist in the world are faced with the pressures of pre-constructed fallacies of today's society. What I heard echoed throughout the film were Black men challenging others to be true to themselves. This in itself takes courage, because the world pushes us to participate in living lies, to deny our own freedom and help perpetuate and build our own psychological, emotional, spiritual, as well as physical prisons. The Black men in this film expose the process of decolonizing the concept of humanity in a world that dehumanizes. <br /><br />Thanks Kortney for your brilliant work.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-61300974006507817022008-09-14T20:07:00.000-07:002008-11-09T16:39:07.862-08:00Broken Body Lyrics - Tigera ConscienteI wrote this today on the train ride home after looking for an apartment for my mom outside of NYC to get her out of a battered women's shelter, after a break up with someone I love and care about, after two straight weeks of my first year as a full time maestra, after having just moved back home to NYC and in Wash Heights, after 7 years of metamorphosis...<br /><br />Broken Body by Tigera Consciente (Beats by Beatnuts, feat. Dead Prez)<br /><br />My stomach turned and produced anxiety<br />running up my esophagus into my heart<br />connected to some long distant artery,<br />an umbilical cord running into yours.<br />My thoughts,<br />mingled with your uncensored emotion,<br />exploding into my eyes, I cannot see<br />past where I've been and who I am<br />when it was you and me.<br />How can I profess this to be or not to be,<br />life has me questioning, asking, pleading,<br />crying, breaking,<br />tearing out of this enclosed space I call safety,<br />only to build a new one I like to call clarity,<br />but the membranes are too thick for me to see through,<br />feel through, stuffy inside I cannot breathe truth,<br />I must bust open and fly out into uncertainty,<br />ask a million questions why-<br />why am I me, and who am I to be,<br />in this, in us, alone,<br />stripped down<br />beneath the bone marrow my spirit sticks to<br />the earthly matter it is repelled to.<br />Stationing itself in perpetual complacency<br />or is it latency, dormancy,<br />does it not know what its capable of,<br />or are my bones unable to soothe<br />the aching screams of a speaking spirit?<br /><br />What do they not want to hear?<br /><br />Do they not want to carry the image of its destruction?<br /><br />Who am I to be? What do I fear?<br />I run with the soles of my feet<br />numbed and calloused,<br />no longer feeling the lost breath,<br />the running heartbeat,<br />a race to death with a faint vision of life,<br />because all I can see is the concrete in front of me,<br />sun up and sun down,<br />hoping one day I would reach myself,<br />not knowing I might be carrying the object of my wealth<br />behind my eyes,<br />open and closed,<br />sometimes<br />catching a glimpse of life, sometimes<br />of its distorted reflection.<br />10 years,<br />15 years,<br />20 years later<br />my knees collapse,<br />shattered bones within tightened skin<br />sprawled across the pavement.<br />Perhaps that day I will feel the light speed<br />of my spirit,<br />light years behind my thoughts<br />yet over the finished line.<br />Perhaps then I would see<br />truth waiting for my arms to crawl<br />this broken body<br />back home.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-30598605490635309572008-07-24T05:44:00.000-07:002008-11-09T16:39:48.449-08:00Transitions...Transitions are exciting and difficult. Since I last posted a lot has gone down.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Moving from Rochester to NYC.</span><br /> <blockquote>Foundation is very important to me. I'm a homebody, a double Capricorn, and a real hostess. When planing gatherings or work sessions, I tend to always insist that I host them. When my foundation gets shook, everything else becomes more difficult to focus on. I went from a temporary home to couch surfing, and in the midst of that there is so much I've had to and still need to accomplish: completing online English courses, finishing up final projects and papers for my grad program (including my end-of-year portfolio, which is still in progress), applying for food stamps, medicaid, and a second B.A. in Art, helping my mom find work and stable housing, and looking for work, for examples. So all of these things add to the foundation-shaking factor, especially with my life locked in a u-haul storage box.<br /><br />But what has been interesting and confusing about this shift is that its the first time in 7 years that NYC is technically my home. I'm a drastically different human today compared to 7 years ago, and gentrification has done a lot to change my "home" in those 7 years as well. My first moments here have been a mixed process of mourning, reflection, and celebration: mourning those aspects of the city I created memories in that are no longer there; reflecting on who I was 7 years ago and why I left NYC and how my current relationship to this city is, and will be different- a process of facing my past and healing, a process of constructing a new self.<br /><br />Something automatically shifted in all this foundation-shaking that allowed me to stay focused. There was a shift from being rooted in my physical space to being rooted in faith. I remembered what life had taught me in my 6 years in the Bay Area, and that's that intuition is the voice of Most High within us, and that when we are on the path that She has set before us the Universe will provide - always. So my intuition has been my closest companion in all of this, and even in the midst of all these challenges I've been feeling like the most blessed person on earth! </blockquote><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Shifting from University Student mode to Educating Artist / Family Member / Friend </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">mode.</span><br /><blockquote>This is going to be a process of unlearning. There are so many hidden emotional, physical, spiritual, and intellectual habits I've acquired as a University Student. As an unhealthy workaholic, I've let myself neglect my own humanity. A lot of my creative energy has been stifled; for the most part, my relationships with others, including family, have been put into the back-burner; my physical well-being has gone down significantly in the past 7 years; and although I know I've been walking down the right path, I've been consciously in and out of touch with my connection to Most High - I've been so focused on cultivating my intellectual growth that at times I've neglected the rest of me. That's gonna change.<br /><br />Balance is going to be significant in my continuing process of self-actualization. I have to remember or learn what it means to be a complete human being. Working for social justice has to include developing healthy and holistic selves, there is no movement without a people. It has to be a part of what I'm working towards, what I'm building (not just trying to take down and destruct). And I can't guide others in doing the same if I'm not there myself. A "movement" of people who neglect their own humanity is a dehumanizing movement. And although I can't say I've neglected <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> other parts of myself <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> the time, I know I can do better at strengthening my consciousness of all aspects that make me a complete spiritual and human being.<br /><br /></blockquote><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Goals and Blessings.</span><br /><br />I have a commitment to stay true to my vision and my path in this life. I've been recently blessed with the opportunity to teach at the <a href="http://www.thejamesbaldwinschool.org/home.aspx">James Baldwin School</a>. It was at the top of the list of schools to teach in. I didn't get the position right away. My commitment to my vision was tested and strengthened by Most High, and in that work She provided the perfect opportunity. As far as I've studied and witnessed, this school will support, respond to, and value my work and my vision.<br /><br />My emotional, spiritual, and intellectual well-being depends on my growth as an artist, at least partly. I'm going to be working towards a second B.A. in Art at City College of NY. This way I'll be present and attentive to this process, while working towards getting credentialed as an Art Teacher in addition to my English credential. I don't see this as "extra work" but as necessary work for my own spiritual existence. I also plan to cultivate my work as a fiction and non-fiction writer.<br /><br />I have faith that the harder I focus on and walk down my chosen and spiritually inspired journey, the more the blessings will continue to come.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-88868206995449986692008-06-22T07:56:00.000-07:002008-11-09T16:40:20.639-08:00Freedom Time- Lauryn Hill<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"><br />Freedom</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Time</span></span><br /><br /><embed src="http://odeo.com/flash/audio_player_tiny_gray.swf" quality="high" name="audio_player_tiny_gray" allowscriptaccess="always" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="audio_id=16529863&audio_duration=299.259&valid_sample_rate=true&external_url=http://media.odeo.com/9/8/2/07_Freedom_Time.mp3" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" align="middle" height="25" width="145"></embed><br /><a style="font-size: 9px; padding-left: 35px; color: rgb(106, 153, 254); letter-spacing: -1px; text-decoration: none;" href="http://odeo.com/audio/16529863/view">powered by <strong>ODEO</strong></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">[Selected Verses]</span><br /><br />What's got 'em<br />Drunk off the spirits<br /><span style=";font-family:lucida grande;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">Truth comes,</span></span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">we can't hear it</span><br />When <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >you've been, programmed to fear it</span><br /><br />....<span style="font-size:130%;">..</span>.<span style="font-size:180%;">...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">How can</span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 0); font-weight: bold;">dominant wisdom</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Be recognized in the</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">system</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);">Of Anti-Christ</span>, <span style="font-size:85%;">the majority rules<br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Intelligent fools</span><br />PhD's in <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);">illusion</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0); font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Masters of mass confusion</span><br />Bacholors in<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"> past illusion</span></span><br /><br />....<span style="font-size:130%;">..</span>.<span style="font-size:180%;">...<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;">Hungry and thirsty</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For good meat we would eat</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">And still,</span> dined at the <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">table of deceit</span><br />How incomplete<br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">From confrontation to retreat</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-family:lucida grande;font-size:180%;" >We prolong the true enemies defeat</span><br /><u><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Destitute a necessity</span></span></u><br />Causin' desperation to get the best of me<br />Punishment 'til there was <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:85%;" >nothing left of me</span><br />Realizin' the <span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);">unescapable death of me</span><br />No options in the valley of decision<br /><br />....<span style="font-size:130%;">..</span>.<span style="font-size:180%;">...<br /><br /></span>How can we <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">show up for</span><br />An<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 102, 51);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;"> invisible war</span></span><br />Preoccupied with a shadow, makin' love with a whore<br />Achin' in sores<br />Babylon, the <span style="font-style: italic;">great mystery</span><br />Mother of human history<br />System of social sorcery<br />Our present condition<br />Needs <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">serious recognition</span><br />Where there's <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" >no repentance</span> there can be <span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" >no remission</span><br /><br />....<span style="font-size:130%;">..</span>.<span style="font-size:180%;">...<br /><br /></span>What's goin' on, what's the priority to you<span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">by what authority do we do</span></span><br />the majority <span style="font-weight: bold;">hasn't a clue</span><br />We majored in curses<br />Search the chapters, check the verses<br />Recapture the land<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Remove the mark from off of our hands</span><br />So we can stand<br />In agreement with his command<br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Everything else is damned</span></span><br />Let them with ears understand<br />Everything else is damned, <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 51, 102); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >let them with ears understand</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-58880180698477017862008-06-21T15:02:00.000-07:002008-11-09T16:40:41.575-08:00Feeling Homesick...<a href="http://s123.photobucket.com/albums/o284/tigeraconsciente/?action=view¤t=riversidecostco.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i123.photobucket.com/albums/o284/tigeraconsciente/riversidecostco.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-63905072435769282382008-04-23T18:55:00.000-07:002008-04-23T19:39:32.195-07:00Reflections #3I'm grateful for this space. Its sort of like a time capsule. It serves as a reminder of who I am becoming, and lessons I've forgotten. After re-reading my reflections series <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.blogspot.com/2007/06/reflections-1.html">#1</a> and <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.blogspot.com/2007/06/reflections-2_24.html">#2</a>, I realized how much more relevant these realizations have become over a short period of time, and how important it is that I keep these in mind as I make my major transition back home to New York City in July.<br /><br />Recently, I've been hit with a blessed humbling experience. I came down to NYC from Rochester and met up with a homie I haven't kicked it with in 8 years. Imagine that. This was the cat that turned me on to the Bay Area, and now he's turning me on to myself. During these 8 years I've completed a Bachelors degree, and now I'm finishing up my Masters. The Bay Area had turned me out to some new critical eyes for looking at the world. I learned that I had been living a life of systematic power indifferences. What trips me out though, is that this shouldn't have been news. I guess I was taught to not look at my own life experiences as sources of knowledge, truth. So, I came to understand the value of my perspective through theory, politics, and academia.<br /><br />Seeing my homie made me realize how much I've become immersed in the language of academia and lost touch with the language of my self. The balanced had been tipped, and I became this thinking potato that seems to have forgotten where I came from. I'm grateful for him caring enough to challenge me on my shit. Grounding me in my own dirt. I came back to the East Coast thinking I had to be accountable to the community I left behind. What I'm realizing now is that I've got to become accountable to myself... first. There's this piece of me I've been unaware of. And its something I need to battle and be conscious of as I'm reorienting myself back into my old stompin grounds. Again, the lesson of humility is worth remembering here. Its time for me to reconnect.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-47288102230528793722008-04-02T05:41:00.000-07:002008-04-02T05:57:19.344-07:00The Courage to WriteI've decided to highlight one of my <a href="http://sotablogs.blogspot.com/">students' assignments</a> on my own blog because of <a href="http://xxarabianpunkxx.blogspot.com/">her</a> ability to do what is most difficult for writers to do: to take risks. Once we settle into ourselves and realize that the places from which we must write from are our most vulnerable and painful ones, we've become self actualized writers. Here, a 9th grade student, early in her writing, establishes this inherent ability in her writing.<br /><br /><a href="http://xxarabianpunkxx.blogspot.com/2008/03/outcast.html">Amane,</a> a practicing Muslim, focuses on how the social experience of 9/11 and the "war on terror" has affected her personal experiences in day to day life. She begins by establishing her experiences as a young citizen in the U.S.:<br /><blockquote>I practically lived in the United States my entire life. I stood up and and put my hand over my heart and recited the pledge of [allegiance] every day in elementary school. I watched the [superbowl] and sang the national anthem, every time, just like every one else in the U.S. does....</blockquote> She goes on to describe how this has changed after 9/11:<br /><blockquote>After 9/11 occured every thing changed. I would go places and get insulted. "Terrorist, go back to your own country. We don't need more of you here." They would say things like that and even worse sometimes. I didn't understand, this is my country....<br /><br />Do you have any idea what it's like for me to go for a ride in a car and role my window down. I get middle fingers, I get called names, I get spit at, things get thrown at me, and again I also get shouted at. Like other kids my age, i go to the mall to go for a walk and go shopping. But i wish i could do this with out being stared at, gawked at, laughed at, talked about, threatened, and again "Go back to your country."<br /><br /></blockquote>What is most compelling about this account is that after having been targeted and dehumanized on numerous accounts, still alive in her is the courage to imagine and hope for a world where difference is not a threat and empathy is the norm:<br /><blockquote>I believe that away from here, a place for rebels, outcasts, untouchables, and uncomfortables to be free. To become their own society. That way they would all be normal, and they would all keep their pasts in the present to think before they hurt or cause hurt the way people bestowed it on them. We, outcasts, we can all be a family. A real and true 'free country'. An outcast is someone who is ostracized by society. An out cast... is me.</blockquote>I would like to invite Amane to extend that hope to the people of the very land we stand on. With persistence and a struggle rooted in love, justice will prevail. To read her complete post visit her at <a href="http://xxarabianpunkxx.blogspot.com/2008/03/outcast.html">http://xxarabianpunkxx.blogspot.com/2008/03/outcast.html.</a><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-75784031575515192412008-03-30T08:03:00.000-07:002008-04-23T19:45:53.813-07:00A New Companion<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVhYEy7qXDf6tYnDb3KwzdiTm-3czxEI8xuYkalM2W5BOF4EH9EU4ny-_L969qPyz5PEcumXJOEEGPtKadXJgtq6t5ZVomoeFkKlGumDnxdzaIe1eH28Q0hakeY9xWPq9atgzQw/s1600-h/Photo+103.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVhYEy7qXDf6tYnDb3KwzdiTm-3czxEI8xuYkalM2W5BOF4EH9EU4ny-_L969qPyz5PEcumXJOEEGPtKadXJgtq6t5ZVomoeFkKlGumDnxdzaIe1eH28Q0hakeY9xWPq9atgzQw/s400/Photo+103.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183551444165986162" border="0" /></a><br />She was my friend's cat, and couldn't afford to pay the pet security and extra rent that landlords love to charge. Her name is Sofie. If it were up to me I'd call her Shadow because she loves to follow people around. Especially my mom. She thinks she owns my mom. She loves to talk and be spoken to, and she's her liveliest in the morning and takes constant cat naps throughout the day. She's earned nickname "Meowmona" because she will meow until she gets what she wants. A true fighter, perhaps.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">UPDATE: Sofie had to go back to her old mami, because she was driving my mami nuts... I miss her dearly and I know she misses me too. I mean, she peed on her old mami's rug and walked back into her carrier, which she usually fights not to get into... trip.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-25088771957677403542008-03-22T15:55:00.000-07:002008-03-22T15:58:56.882-07:00Winter Soldier Mike Prysner TestimonyVia <a href="http://brownfemipower.com/?p=2490">La Chola</a> and <a href="http://fluxrostrum.blogspot.com/2008/03/winter-soldier-mike-prysner.html">Flux</a><br /><br /><br />Part One:<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4i5ZUfpxnV0&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4i5ZUfpxnV0&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />Part Two:<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-iTdxBECos8&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-iTdxBECos8&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-77402142863950747742008-03-19T19:50:00.000-07:002008-03-19T19:52:14.392-07:00I <3 Sudy!<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6lNLNFxIL-s&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6lNLNFxIL-s&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-40906745638164391942008-03-16T13:35:00.000-07:002008-11-09T16:45:05.833-08:00M.O.V.E.: Challenging U.S. Hegemony<embed src='http://www.brightcove.tv/playerswf' bgcolor='#FFFFFF' flashVars='initVideoId=428944249&servicesURL=http://www.brightcove.tv&viewerSecureGatewayURL=https://www.brightcove.tv&cdnURL=http://admin.brightcove.com&autoStart=false' base='http://admin.brightcove.com' name='bcPlayer' width='486' height='412' allowFullScreen='true' allowScriptAccess='always' seamlesstabbing='false' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' swLiveConnect='true' pluginspage='http://www.macromedia.com/shockwave/download/index.cgi?P1_Prod_Version=ShockwaveFlash'></embed><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-78642641060718582892008-03-12T00:35:00.000-07:002008-03-12T00:51:53.819-07:00Conquest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.southendpress.org/images/cms/581_popup.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.southendpress.org/images/cms/581_popup.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Come over to <a href="http://wearespeaking.blogspot.com/">SPEAK</a> and check out our read-a-thon in support of <a href="http://brownfemipower.com/?p=2361">Andrea Smith's tenure case at U of Mich. </a> Andrea Smith is one of the most revolutionary thinkers in exploring the intersections of oppression of people of color, women, survivors of sexual assault, and writes from an indigenous perspective. She's also a co-founder of <a href="http://www.incite-national.org/">Incite!</a>. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Conquest</span> is a <span style="font-style:italic;">must read</span> for folks who are working for social change in any setting, and a <span style="font-style:italic;">must read</span> for folks who are trying to understand how to reflect on their own process of decolonization.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-41299957573892775902008-02-24T21:37:00.000-08:002008-11-09T16:45:42.134-08:00Transforming Silence into Theory<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">What are the words you do not yet have? What do you need to say? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you sicken and die of them, still in silence? -Audre Lorde</span><br /><br />On my venture to discover an epistemological framework that stems from experiences like my own, I've started to read and re-read some authors by radical women of color. First on my list is Audre Lorde's "Sister Outsider." I've only read a number of selected essays, including "Transformation of Silence into Language and Action," "Scratching the Surface: Some Notes on Barriers to Women and Loving," Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power," "Sexism, An American Disease in Blackface," "The Master's Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master's House," and "Age, Race, Class, and Sex: Women Redefining Difference." (Whew!)<br /><br />While I took more extensive notes relating to very specific moments and influential people in my life, I am choosing (at least for now) to focus on some broader themes. Below I've listed a few quotes that I think should be considered on this venture. The quotes I chose are focused more on initiating self-reflection and understanding the context of myself in society and myself in the movement. Definition and redefinition.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 51, 0);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-style: italic;">The future of our earth may depend upon the ability of all women to identify and develop new definitions of power and new patterns of relating across difference... For we have, built into all of us, old blueprints of expectation and response, old structures of oppression, and these must be altered at the same time as we alter the living conditions which are a result of those structures. For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. (123)</span></span><br />As I reflect on my responses to oppression, it seems that a lot of my inspirational drive is rooted in anger and destruction. I don't attempt to invalidate the existence of anger and the desire to destroy oppressive systems within society and within myself. I believe this drive comes from the desire to eradicate with urgency the injustices we survive each day. Every day is filled with negation- institutional driven negation, self-negation under the guise of self-regulation. But at what point and in what spaces do I really get to experience and understand an authentic self outside of "the master's house"? How am I to build a new "blueprint" for living if what I <span style="font-style: italic;">seem</span> to have at my disposal are the master's tools?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-style: italic;">[The master's tools] may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master's house as their only source of support. (112)<br /></span>To what extent have I been working under the influence of competition? Has my response to oppression been locked in a set of behaviors that perpetuate stagnation?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0); font-style: italic;">It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for acting. -Simone de Beauvoir quoted by Audre Lorde (113)<br /></span><br />What are the sources of knowledge I have not yet tapped into that stem from my own experiences? How have I been forced/trained/pressured to silence those places where knowledge has been forbidden? If I haven't been reaching into these spaces, where have my sources of knowledge been coming from and what are these other sources rooted in?<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-52466716318582764422008-02-19T19:11:00.000-08:002008-03-01T13:52:52.654-08:00Wishful Thinking: Reflection and (Re)VisionMy body has spoken. One of the best words of advice I have recently received was from a fellow blogger hermana, <a href="http://myecdysis.blogspot.com/">Sudy</a>, who said, "your body never lies." This is probably the most honest blog entry I've written in a long time. <br /><br />Lately I've been insulated by the "go, go, go" motion of daily living. My body is tired, unmotivated, and unwilling to invest energy in situations I have in the past been able to sustain. I've only recently stopped to think, reflect, and scratch the surface of this ongoing depression. My mind took me to the one place I've been scared to go: <span style="font-style:italic;">What if the goal I've set for myself is not conducive to my role in inciting the change I want to incite?</span> As a go-getter, strong willed (read: stubborn), goal oriented individual I was frightened by this prospect. Often times though, our bodies will take us to places our minds will not allow us to wander.<br /><br />So I entertained this possibility. I had to reexamine my vision and its clarity. I had to reevaluate the course I was on. I had to rethink what epistemology I was working with. How much of my theoretical framework is male-centered? Has my vision been co-opted? An even worse fear came upon this reflection: Have I been unknowingly functioning through a framework that negates me and others like me (i.e. woc, queer, survivors of sexual and domestic violence, etc)? <br /><br /><a href="http://brokenbeautiful.wordpress.com/">Lex</a> calls these silenced spaces. After talking to Lex, another blog hermana, I was surprised to find that someone else understood so clearly what I was experiencing. <a href="http://ashleysjoy.blogspot.com/">Ashley</a>, another hermana I know from the world of educational institutions has experienced the exact same process of self examination. I am so blessed to share words with these amazing women.<br /><br />Some of the questions I've begun to consider are:<br />How much do schooling institutions limit the way I want to reach my community? What was my vision before I became inspired to work in schools? What is my vision now, after working my way into that goal? How have others worked to inspire that goal and is this a vision that I truly encompass? Is this truly <i>my</i> vision? How effective is this vision in addressing and working through the issues that are important to me and those in my community? Do schools offer the authentic spaces for healing, decolonization, and self/community -actualization? Am I most productive in spaces of actualization vs. infiltration? Which one, if not both, or is there some other framework that is more conducive to epistemologies that reflect experiences like my own as a queer woman of color and a survivor? What <b>DOES</b> a queer/woman of color/survivor epistemological framework look like???<br /> <br />As part of trying to explore these questions, I decided to start by using a tool I've come across (sort of serendipitously on several occasions) through others' blogs. Its called a wishful thinking list. I sighted it first in <a href="http://brokenbeautiful.wordpress.com/category/love-poems/">Lex's blog</a> and then <a href="http://obadike.tripod.com/Adiallo2.html">mendi lewis obadike's website</a>. I'm using it as a tool to clarify for myself what my experience is, what my vision is, and what my community is. This list is dedicated to my mother, myself, and other survivors of domestic and sexual violence. The number of items, 39, represents the number of years my mother has survived an abusive marriage with my father. The list is a work in progress and I could probably make other lists dedicated to other groups. This particular group or issue is one that stands in the forefront of my experience right now. It is the issue my body is working through, and the one my mother is working through in everything she does. Its a public issue that tends to get only personal attention:<br /><br />1) People are attracted what you say before what you wear.<br />2) Your lovers respect you out of love and admiration.<br />3) When looking for work, building friendships, or making love, there is equal balance in power on all sides.<br />4) When you speak, your accent always enhances the profundity of your words.<br />5) At all learning institutions, teachers and instructors are aware of your presence and the learning needs of others like yourself.<br />6) Others do not see you as up for game as you walk to the corner store and any man that comes to close proximity is not a threat.<br />7) If you feel that the fire has burnt out, your lover will not manipulate you into staying.<br />8) Your body is unscarred and holds memories of only love.<br />9) Your heart is unscarred and unafraid to love.<br />10) You control who has access to your body.<br />11) Your lovers remind you that they are blown away by your keen insight and intelligence.<br />12) Male leaders in your community are genuine, consistent, and acknowledge your skills as necessary assets to your community.<br />13) The female leaders in your community are plentiful and draw from their experiences as women; they are a reflection of you.<br />14) Financial difficulties have never been a factor in deciding whether to bear children or not.<br />15) You feel alive, healthy, and strong in your body, all the time, everywhere.<br />16) What, how, and where you worship has never incited fear or violence.<br />17) All human touch you experience from others will come out of love.<br />18) You are calm, comfortable, sociable, and happy around others you don’t know.<br />19) No one will try to isolate you from the people you love. <br />20) You know where you came from, what your name is, and where you want to go.<br />21) You have memories of your father guiding and loving you with words of encouragement, inspiration, wisdom, and love.<br />22) Your cultural practices are valued by those different than you.<br />23) There is no dominant culture; the only thing dominant is diversity and love.<br />24) Nobody takes you for granted.<br />25) Your children are safe wherever they are, whomever they are with, and whatever they are doing.<br />26) Any country you choose to travel to acknowledges the strength, value, and inner-beauty of all women.<br />27) You can acquire clothing and other goods without wondering if other women and children were abused in the process of its creation.<br />28) When you speak, others listen.<br />29) Every opportunity for intellectual, physical, and spiritual growth is available to you just when you need it.<br />30) When others use your name in conversation, you are assured that they refer to your greatness and talent.<br />31) When you dream, you smile in your sleep.<br />32) When I smell your scent in a piece of garment, I am reminded of memories of you as always happy, free, and loved.<br />33) Your children admire your strength.<br />34) There is always time to pursue what your heart desires.<br />35) You know what your heart desires.<br />36) Your stories are considered anecdotes for wisdom.<br />37) You consume food without guilt.<br />38) Every tear your have shed has been out of joy.<br />39) Every moment you spend alone is done with self-love and out of choice.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UUO56yO_KCzoj9LBWE9tzmIclcM_Qn9bCszCXE8tSBP51ts4x44ORoyXcXYf5WPbGmuKBak2dwYti5JN86fiufmGvt82ooYN8eNVhoOzr7MAf2rgit6TJAO-m2w-IE5fuNTbPQ/s1600-h/mamisluvsmall.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7UUO56yO_KCzoj9LBWE9tzmIclcM_Qn9bCszCXE8tSBP51ts4x44ORoyXcXYf5WPbGmuKBak2dwYti5JN86fiufmGvt82ooYN8eNVhoOzr7MAf2rgit6TJAO-m2w-IE5fuNTbPQ/s200/mamisluvsmall.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168933229702260754" /></a><br /><br /><br />Much like BFP's <a href="http://brownfemipower.com/?p=2297">40 Days of Contemplation</a> I've decided to embark on a journey to define my epistemological framework by reading works by other radical women of color, queer woc, and works by woc on survival. Audre Lorde, Sandra Cisneros, Andrea Smith, Patricia Collins, and Anzaldua are among those in my list. If you could recommend any please share. Also, if you've got a list to share of your own, please link it here, as I am continually inspired by others who are exploring their visions as well.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-26411779928920574772008-02-02T09:16:00.000-08:002008-02-02T09:23:49.574-08:00Friday MydaySo in the practice of getting into the rhythm of full time teaching, I've finally decided to designate a block of time to myself. I call it Friday Mydays! (Corny enough?) Since the roads were too dangerous with ice, sleet, and snow, to drive to the bar to shoot pool, I found myself creating a website with googlepages. Although it doesn't allow enough flexibility to get too creative, I don't think it came out too bad. See for yourself: <a href="http://rosadominicana.googlepages.com/home"> The Examined Life. </a><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-6034312871014111992008-01-05T10:26:00.000-08:002008-01-05T10:27:17.182-08:00ZEITGEISTAn interesting must see movie...<br /><embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=5547481422995115331&hl=en" flashvars=""> </embed><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-31022918111140928522007-12-26T08:01:00.000-08:002007-12-26T08:13:15.896-08:00Just like old times...Made it to NYC and I'm really feeling in my element! Although I'm still trying to finish up some grad school work, I'm taking the necessary time out here and there to see fam and celebrate my sister's birthday. Yesterday was prob the best umm... Dec 25th I've had yet! I got to spend it with lil sis in her neighborhood taking some ameture model photos in the Bronx. It was just like old times, when we would make the best of our imaginations with what little we had, except now our play tools have upgraded to digital cams and play spaces to anywhere on the block we please to roam. Check out a few images below and if you wanna see more, click on the little flickr badge to your left.<br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tigeraconsciente/2136700340/" title="DSC_0713 by TigeraConsciente, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2070/2136700340_fab404599f.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="DSC_0713" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tigeraconsciente/2135930283/" title="DSC_0823 by TigeraConsciente, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2001/2135930283_af5e64caef.jpg" width="500" height="335" alt="DSC_0823" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tigeraconsciente/2135924907/" title="DSC_0739 by TigeraConsciente, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2095/2135924907_ca78367024.jpg" width="335" height="500" alt="DSC_0739" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-91117756712407192472007-12-10T18:09:00.000-08:002007-12-14T15:54:54.428-08:00Fem Watch Episode 1: Say It Ain't So FeminismCommentary on "feminist" blogging. Hilariously serious!<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/O8UEGMvuxGc&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/O8UEGMvuxGc&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />Sudy ROCKS yall!<br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w8qu8sdjfnQ&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w8qu8sdjfnQ&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-82187321700576863872007-12-03T23:35:00.000-08:002007-12-10T18:11:02.759-08:00Forbidden Dream #2I saw you come up towards me<br />I, smirking<br />You, curious<br />Wanting to know what you <br />Wanted to find out<br /><br />I had a secret<br /><br />You<br />Full of repressed joy<br />Took my receptive <br />Body<br />Picked up your exhilarated thoughts<br />Sat me down onto some bed<br />Inside some strangely familiar room<br /><br />What's the secret?<br /><br />Oh,<br />Its not what you were hoping<br /><br />Notwithstanding<br />You took me into your bold arms<br />Choosing the forbidden<br />Fuck the conventions<br />Attempting to <br />Steal a kiss<br /><br />I was still<br />Taken aback<br />My teeth lock-jawed <br />Over your finger<br />Over the moment<br /><br />What came of your desire<br />That now became mine?<br /><br />A common<br />Forbidden<br />Desire<br /><br />12/4 2am EST<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-70286502145770093482007-12-01T05:48:00.000-08:002007-12-02T08:31:22.023-08:00Staceyann Chin- The One Who Started the Fire<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1ofsVwH4O_k&rel=1&border=0"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1ofsVwH4O_k&rel=1&border=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />This miraculous woman, was the first model I had that exemplified the powerful ability of queer, women of color to move audiences. She was a guest in my English class in high school back in '99 (I think) and I walked in late not knowing that day I was going to finally learn something about myself, something relative. <br /><br />She was uncensored, raw, full of fire, and redefined sexy... seriously- at least for me as a high school student in those days. I followed her to the final slam at the Nuyorican Poet's Cafe, and even though she had lost to Kirk Nugent, she captivated my spirit. For those of you who had been to the Nuyorican, you know how small the space is- the place was packed and spilling over with bodies squatting on floors, filling up stair cases, after having paid their 10 bucks with no complaints- they were there for the holy ghost subsumed in these poets' words. This was the first day of the rest of my life.<br /><br />Afterwards, my writing become charged and took on a more sophisticated character, knowing then I wanted to write for others to be validated by my words, and in turn validating my own humanity. I joined a spoken word workshop with Youth Speaks, and this helped me begin the process of developing my voice, not just in poetry but everywhere else in my life as well. <br /><br />But when the spirit came down... damn. It was my first performance at the Nuyorican. I was furious that day. That day I had deeply upset my mother on her birthday- and I was raging, fumin'! I was conflicted as to whether to allow her to come witness this side of me she hadn't known. I was scared, either I'd fuck up and she'd think "oh how cute" or I'd do a great job and she'd judge or misunderstand me and the whole performance aspect. So I left her, and that fed the fire. I only brought my little sister with me. Throughout the whole train ride from Harlem down to the Lower East Side, my thoughts kept kindling the fire. When I got up on stage I was a dragon with fire blowing out of me, and everyone I looked at was connected, people were nodding their heads, yelling out "Yes!", shouting- they were right here with me, almost inside me, burning in the flames. It was my first standing ovation. I had finally come to myself.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26074925.post-64296737214779817932007-11-26T18:37:00.000-08:002007-11-26T18:57:49.498-08:00Because the Zapatistas are a role model for hope<span style="font-style:italic;">Break the silence</span><br />by way of <a href="http://detodos-paratodos.blogspot.com/2007/10/government-intends-to-dismantle.html">Necalli Olin Tonatiuh</a> via <a href="http://zapagringo.blogspot.com/2006/07/other-campaign.html">Zapagringo</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3139/3373/1600/Mujeres2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3139/3373/1600/Mujeres2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />A few selections from <a href="http://detodos-paratodos.blogspot.com/2007/10/government-intends-to-dismantle.html">Necalli Olin Tonatiuh's</a> article. Please visit link for full text- this is crucial.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">The Government intends to dismantle Zapatista autonomous municipalities</span><br /><br /><br />In an offensive of a ferocity unprecedented in the last 9 years - since the<br />government of Roberto Albores Aguillen and Ernesto Zedillo Ponce de Leo'n<br />ordered the dismantling of the Zapatista autonomous municipalities - the<br />autonomous Zapatista communities are suffering a brutal attack on the part<br />of the Mexican State through their agrarian institutions, "Public Security"<br />instances, the Mexican Federal Army and the formation of paramilitary<br />groups. The increase of aggressions and the intents of land seizures and<br />forced evictions are getting alarmingly worse.<br /><br />....<br /><br /><br />Subtotal of hectares designed for seizures and evictions: 10.544 hectares.<br /><br />The present list of populations subjected to and threatened by being robbed<br />and violently displaced from their lands and territories totals less than a<br />half of the threatened communities; this enumeration is only partial.<br /><br />The threats of seizures and evictions are accompanied by daily aggressions<br />against Zapatista support bases of the types: threats, arbitrary detentions,<br />damages of private property, lesions, injuries under the use of prohibited<br />arms, robberies, abuses of office, etc. In a particularly shameful and<br />selective form, federal and state authorities adopt political prisoners to<br />use them in illegal and illegitimate negotiations, attempting to trade<br />releases for evictions.<div class="blogger-post-footer">... read more at <a href="http://tigeraconsciente.com">Tigera Consciente</a></div>Tigera Conscientehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05092507003024830786noreply@blogger.com0