DSST College View Speaks Vol. 6 Cafe Cultura Community Speaks Project #47 Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
DSST College View Speaks Vol. 6 Copyright Š 2017 by Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
To the incredibly insightful and powerful students in our Spoken Word elective: You have the potential to be great. Believe it‌ achieve it! #CafeCultura #XpressYourself #TellingOurStories
Acknowledgments Thank you to the staff at DSST College View HS for another opportunity to partner as we guide students to be powerful. Special thank you to the poets in our class for pushing yourself to go deep and find your voice. Remember: “It is our responsibility and choice to express ourselves and lift our voice, together building unity, leaders in our community. This is how we tell our stooorrrryyyy!�
Foreword It was a pleasure for Café Cultura to continue our partnership with DSST College View HS. We utilized our “Telling Our Stories” curriculum to teaching a spoken word elective for 9th and 10th graders. We were truly impressed with the level of intelligence and creativity students displayed as they wrote and shared their stories. They created profound poems that paint a picture of their reality and hopes for the future. We look forward to staying connected, as they develop into the leaders we need. Enjoy and share their words! For those who do not know about our organization: Café Cultura is an award-winning arts, culture, and youth development organization in Denver that promotes unity and healing among Indigenous peoples through creative expression while empowering youth to find their voice, reclaim oral and written traditions, and become leaders in their communities. Café Cultura has been providing positive, creative, and engaging community spaces for the Denver metropolitan area for more than ten years. After the passing of respected elder and veteran poet Abelardo “Lalo” Delgado, we accepted responsibility to continue using our oral and written traditions to provide opportunities for creative expression often not offered in schools or in the larger community. Café Cultura also drew inspiration from the movement connecting Indigenous people from throughout the Americas. We use creative expression to unify people representing southern Indigenous nations, known by terms such as “Chicana/o” and “Latina/o,” with those Natives of northern nations, referred to as “American Indian” or “Native American.” Café Cultura hosts one of the best open mic venues in the Denver metropolitan area, and the only space focused on family and
youth. We also conduct highly engaging and culturally relevant spoken word/poetry workshops for underserved youth throughout Colorado. CafĂŠ Cultura partners with select organizations and schools to facilitate an intensive workshop series, publish youth poetry, and organize participant showcases. In an effort to develop young leaders within our community, we also coordinate a youth leadership program for Indigenous youth. If you or your organization is interested in collaborating, feel free to contact us. For more information about our open mic events, workshops, youth leadership program, and other programs: www.cafecultura.org info@cafecultura.org 720-460-9203
Table of Contents Maze by Ana ...........................................................................................1 Positivity and Light by Alexis ...............................................................3 Glimpses of Light by Josselin...............................................................5 Sus Esperanzas by Maria .......................................................................7 The Island by Alondra ...........................................................................8 Joy in My Culture by Demien ........................................................... 10 The Strength of My Ancestors by Anelly ........................................ 11 Power in Your Hand by Natasha...................................................... 12 I Come From by Lesly ....................................................................... 13 My Head, My Heart by Timi ............................................................. 14 Culture and Dreams by Anonymous................................................ 16 En Mi Vida by Ana ............................................................................. 17 Flower by Maria................................................................................... 20 My Link by Josselin............................................................................. 21 My Game by Alexis............................................................................. 23 Ancestors by Alonda .......................................................................... 24 Push by Demian .................................................................................. 26 Me by Natasha ..................................................................................... 27 That Day by Lesly ............................................................................... 29 A Journey by Anelly ............................................................................ 30
Maze by Ana You wear a brave facade to hide the fear of the dark, looking, looking for another light to follow because your own light has finally dimmed. You extend your arms looking for a hand to hold, someone to embrace. Only then do you realize you are alone. You place your hand on the wall, the only thing that is there, the walls keeping you enclosed. Turn right at an intersection. Turn right. Turn right. Turn right. I chose to go left, back at the beginning, back where I started. The maze has changed. The walls now jagged with broken glass, broken dreams, broken memories, broken faces. Through the broken glass is your face, your face becoming a stranger. You raise your fists, full of faith and frustration. You pound on the wall.
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The walls collapse. They fall like the tears on my face. They fall like my doubts and insecurities. Like dominoes, the walls of my mind fall. I rise, the faith kindling a fire within me. My hopes and dreams become light, a burning flame. I turn around. I see others like me, struggling in the dark maze. I shine my light, guiding them out. I have become hope. I have become me.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
Positivity and Light by Alexis I come from a destroyed place with hate-filled hearts, hearts that flow with no love for people of color and the history of the unknown. Even though there is unpleasant news, there is beauty behind it all. The sun shines on our skin, under the sun that unifies us together. I come from my grandma's house, where the mighty good tamales are made with the chewy texture that fills me with confidence. The warm feeling brings my family together with the good vibes of positivity. When unwrapping them, it feels like unwrapping your ancestors struggles to freedom. With every bite, they redeem your love. I come from mi madre who speaks with power. Her accent carries over miles, with love so powerful it provides light to people's lives. I come from a place where the roots grow, the water flows,
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and we unite together to honor my grandparents. Like them, I stand nice and high with values in my hands, the future in my eyes, a soul full of light, supporters in my sight, and positivity running through my veins. Nothing can stop me now.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
Glimpses of Light by Josselin The closet was my sanctuary when yelling turned to dogs barking and the living room became an illegal fighting ring. After the rage was over, the only trace left behind was the blood on the floor and a trembling mother weeping in a corner of the bedroom. His words turned to shattered glass, which would send out nightmares when I fell unconscious. I awoke, only to realize that I was already living in hell. Our minds were pierced with overwhelming thoughts of failing. Our legs were chained to his grip and our mouths stitched with eyes fixed on the wall, while listening to his harsh predictions of being worthless without his repulsive glory. Yet my unresponsive mother reacted and broke the rope that had retained us beyond the depth. We were out of his grasp and out on the streets with only a rosy blanket and the determination to smash his words
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onto the dirty concrete ground. We would no longer let others have control over our lives. We put on our shoes, turned our hands to fists, and marched the streets with open mouths toward a path of insight.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
Sus Esperanzas by Maria I come from the dirt roads my parents grew up on. I am the daughter of those people, sacrificing their life to cross the border, carrying their hopes. I come from roots that grow past my parents’ boundaries. I am the pride that follows me through thick and thin. I am the struggle and sacrifice of each bowl of pozole my mom makes. I come from the hope my parents saw in their eyes. I am the confidence of my ancestors.
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The Island by Alondra Everything was perfect, ny toes in the sand, freedom in my hand. By the age of ten, the wave grabbed hold of my ankle. Slowly, it was dragging me toward the dark stormy ocean, as I screamed for help. No one can hear me. No one can hear my voice. I am alone and forgotten. Fingernails bitten, lips are chapped, starving, not from the lack of food, but for company. I cling to the idea that I am never going to get out. The sharp waves cut my skin. Blood oozing, I see the satisfaction of the sharks. Every glare is a punch to my stomach. The sharks spoke. Every word was a bullet. They pick at my skin. I was their prey. I stopped trying to swim. All I did was float, hoping to float away, but I was stuck.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
I would float away towards insanity and endless nightmares. Soon, I start drowning, drowning in insecurities. I greet anxiety and depression along the way. I was never going to get out. I wanted to give up. But then, I felt a strange feeling I thought I might never feel: hope. I start to think everything will be ok when I get through it. I noticed that I have been my own mind’s prisoner. I break the chains. The rains go away. I am back up on the surface, no longer with doubts and insecurities. I start to swim, swim away. I swim away toward an island. I swim toward true happiness and freedom, toward my true self.
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Joy in My Culture by Demien I come from the Aztec culture that makes tortillas azules. We celebrate and welcome people with a dance. To be safe, we have a ritual that cleans people with smoke. As I see that smoke, I see and feel my bad vibes go away. I feel less pressure. I will never forget the carne asada that brings my family together on weekends. As my dad cooks, we relax and laugh. I feel the positivity with each bite. Times like this remind me of the joy in our souls. While I take a bite, I will always remember the molcajete. I know it is going to be family time, when someone pulls it out.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
The Strength of My Ancestors by Anelly I will always remember the feather that reminds me of my Navajo ancestors. This feather holds all the brave, beautiful souls, showing the strength that they all hold. I will always remember the spicy green chile my ancestors made, showing the strength of my grandpa, bringing us together every day. I will always remember my culture, the Navajo tribe united together. I come from strong people, coming together, representing beauty and strength, never showing pain.
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Power in Your Hand by Natasha When the brush goes to the paper, it is like you start to draw your life. You will mess up at times, but you can cover it up at any time. Stay away from the bumps and ignore the negativity. This is your life. Paint it how you want. Others cannot do it for you. Your final art piece is your final decision to be successful. You have the power in your hand.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
I Come From by Lesly I come from el rancho, not by birth, but by blood. I come from where people know you, and say hi. I come from late night walks. I come from good food and good people. Vengo de donde te sientes feliz, dรณnde sales en la bicicleta sin tener que ver la hora. I come from posole on rainy nights, from the warmth you feel each time you get a bite filled with spices. I come from the history of my ancestors. I come from the hard worked hours cuando mi papรก se va a trabajar al campo, with his family on his back. While he holds a shovel, I hold a pencil and paper. While he holds equipment on his back, I hold a bag full of books, ready to make him proud. I come from an amazing woman, who gave me life who wakes up before the sun does, para darnos un futuro a mi hermano y yo. In her eyes, I see strength. Mis padres migrated so I will graduate.
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My Head, My Heart by Timi I hate feeling like I cannot be happy. My depression comes out and imprisons my happiness. These voices in my head tell me I am nothing. But my heart knows I am something. I am trapped in my own thoughts, scared I cannot control this beast that lives in my mind. Tears replace smiles. What is happiness? I live for the day the beast is gone and happiness is free. The pain in my heart, I just want it to end. My mother asks me if I am alright. I have no choice but to tell her I am okay, because I do not have the heart to tell her I do not want what she has given me. Am I even alive? My depression feeds off my heart. Every day brings me closer to death. Will someone save me from my wicked thoughts? Or will they leave me here to drown in my own tears?
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
I carry on with my day telling myself I am okay, but my heart is missing. Am I even alive? I fall asleep with voices in my head hoping I do not wake up. I try to go to my happy place but it is hard with this depression pounding in my head. Small things make me cry, pleasing my thoughts. They live there. My family all together tries to help me live but it is too far in. I am lost. Who am I? I have lost myself to these thoughts thinking they are reality, but they are not even there. Finally, I find the key. Soon, my happiness fills my heart, repairing the damage it had done to me.
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Culture and Dreams by Anonymous I am my parents’ daughter and come from their hopes and dreams. I am the young strong girl who carries culture and family on her shoulders. I carry my backpack every day, as it holds my hopes and dreams. I am the future of my parents, walking around the school halls.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
En Mi Vida by Ana Con maíz en el molino, usa agua y amor en las manos delicadas de mi madre para formar la masa en arte. Con la elegancia de su mano, lo deja caer en el comal, y sin miedo, lo voltea. El amor de mi madre es una tortilla, moldeada por los años y cosida por la fuerza de su gente. Nos llena de vida y dulzura. Sus manos son delicadas pero firmes, fragile pero fuerte. La tortilla es lo que le da sabor a la vida y la comida. Es un imán, que atrae a mi familia. El vapor forma figuras de las historias de mis abuelos, conectándome con mi gente, de Mitepec, Jolalpan, Puebla. My parents were never born within a white picket fence. They could run through la huerta and climb arboles, their limbs reaching for the heavens. They would eat los mangos verdes
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y dulces, ending up with sticky hands and dirty feet. They would run around el pueblo, free as the gavilanes soaring above the clouds. I never grew up within a white picket fence. My front yard was never grass, but the busy street of Federal. My backyard was never used as a soccer field, but an asphalt parking lot. I would go in front of the door, and watch the cars go by, free as the caged birds singing on the inside. A sweet aroma, wafts through the open door, el pan dulce that provides a blanket of warmth. It is a comforting reminder of the land my parents once left. Made by mi mama con su mamรก, hecho por las manos de mis antepasados, the smell engulfs our apartment, awakening our empty stomachs and souls. El pan dulce is a magnet bringing everyone to the mesa to enjoy with leche, chocolate, familia, y friends. Con el dulce del pan, calma nuestros corazones agrios
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
with the simple mixture of flour, milk, eggs, and sugar. It brings happiness to the home, the home, mi hogar, mi familia, me.
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Flower by Maria You blossom through hopes and dreams, step by step, making the way free. Every little by little, you grow. Your imperfections show no matter what. My dreams blossom through the perfections and imperfections of the sun. You get sprinkled by water that naturally fills you with love. The roots meet your boundaries as you overcome the negativity of others. You blossoming makes you grow, while helping others find their beauty of health and smile.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
My Link by Josselin I am the muddy boulders that stretch beyond the view, the trees that seem to defy gravity when they sprout on top of the hills. I am the beautiful vista. I am the mischievous children who climb the neighbor’s fence to get to the mango trees and taste the delightful, yet forbidden fruit. I am the scolding grandma who prays for the wellbeing of her children when she is alone. I am the rosaries my mother held when she has nightmares. I am the roses she buys for her virgencita. I am my mother’s lectures. I am the unbreakable chain that takes me back to the place where my mother grew up, the place I would identify as, if my mother had not packed my bags. I am my mother's hands softening the dough in order to make flour tortillas. La cocina becomes a wonderland with pots and spoons flying out of the storage room. With one push
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and spin, she would turned the fridge lights into a magnificent flame. Mama would put the pot on the top of the heat, and pour the milk into it. We were all in despair, but she would bring us together with traditional foods.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
My Game by Alexis Life is like playing a volleyball game with a tied game at 25 to 25. With only needing 2 more points to win the game, I go against my insecurities. The serve comes at me fast. In that second, I say to myself, “oh shit.� I misjudge the opportunities that come to me. I miss. Then, it is 26 to 25. I will not give up. In the end, I will win.
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Ancestors by Alonda I come from Denver, Colorado, the city of mountains and beautiful views. Sure, I live there, but it does not feel like home. The second I stepped in my parents homeland, I was welcomed by the open arms of hope and freedom. The breeze was not the reason I felt goosebumps. It was the voices of my ancestors carrying the dead leaves of my culture. I am arroz con leche, whose sweet smell slowly crawls around mi casa, bringing smiles to everyone’s faces. I am the cure for sadness and darkness. As the warmth spreads around my body, it melts. We are all one. We may not look the same, or even have the same blood. To say we are all one, but in reality we all are from the same roots. We began from the same seed. We grow strong
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
and tall, our branches reaching toward the heavenly skies. The pride of my ancestors runs through my veins.
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Push by Demian As I skate, I think about myself. Life is like a street. You never know what is at the end. You never know how it is shaped. Will it be bumpy and take you down? Will it be smooth and let you through? Or will it make you fall and quit? The answer is no. You have to stand up and fight for what you want and keep achieving. I want my path to be a smooth journey to college.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
Me by Natasha I am the flag that will show the beauty and love of Mexicans. I come from an amazing place called Chihuahua, Mexico. I will always remember the true colors, that come from within the Mexican flag. I will never forget that this beautiful flag flies over me and my family. I am the happy and loving woman that shows love to all. I come from continuous praying to la Virgen de Guadalupe for things to go well. I will always remember the luck and good energy. I am my mother’s loving daughter. She is the kind of mom who reminds me of where we are from. She is from a family full of love. She is our rock, she holds us down. She was able to make it to college. She sacrificed a free life, in order to be able to raise her kids right. No matter what I do, she will always love me. She taught me to never let people bring me down. When I look in her eyes, I see the pain that she went through
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as a young woman, but her smile tells everyone different. She tries every day to make the world a better place, so I do the same.
Telling Our Stories Spoken Word Class
That Day by Lesly A year later after that hard day, we see 8 years of dedication, 8 years of hard work, 8 years of effort being all thrown away by one man. Many dreams and goals were crushed by him. He wants to make “America great.” I leave out the “again” because this country has never been able to live up to its full potential because we have been putting up our own divided walls between each other. We do not need Trump for that. So you can “build” that wall, but we will know how to tear it down.
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A Journey by Anelly Life is like being in the middle of a busy street, while a car comes toward me. The only thing is: I cannot scream. I choose to be strong, pick myself up, and tumble off the road, not knowing where to go. I stumble across a yellow home, where a woman is watering a beautiful rose. There, I find the love and strength. I need to continue my journey. I step back on the path toward my own home, leaving behind sadness and insecurity. I finally find happiness and strength to make my future life great.