La Academia Speaks! Vol. 3 Cafe Cultura Community Speaks Project #25 Spoken Word Class/Telling Our Stories Workshop Series
La Academia Speaks! Vol. 3 Copyright Š 2015 by Spoken Word Class/Telling Our Stories Workshop Series 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 amazing students in our Spoken Word class...Continue using your words to reflect upon your life and world around you in order to bring about positive change in our communities #CafeCultura #XpressYourself #TellingOurStories
Acknowledgments Thank you to La Academia staff for your renewed support, as we work together to encourage your students to become powerful. We appreciate the opportunity to offer our Telling Our Stories curriculum as part of that process. Special thank you to the dedicated students in our class for pushing yourself to that next level of creativity and performance. 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 In Café Cultura’s third year offering our Spoken Word Elective, we continue to feel blessed to be a part of the La Academia family. Having recently moved into our new office co-located with La Academia at the Denver Inner City Parish, we used the proximity to build deeper relationships with students in the class. The poems in this collection emerge from the experiences of these high school-aged youth. We know that these students will find ways to stay connected to the work we do in the community while embracing their roles a leaders. Enjoy their poems offered here. 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 through-
out 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: info@cafecultura.org 720-394-6589 www.cafecultura.org
Table of Contents Her Memory by Melany ........................................................................1 A Pen and the Dream by Ashlie ..........................................................3 Zacatecas by Claudia ..............................................................................6 Godspeed by Isaiah................................................................................8 Take Me to... by Kimberly ................................................................. 10 Reflection by Evelyn ........................................................................... 11 Goals by Melany .................................................................................. 12 You Are You by Ashlie ...................................................................... 13 Dancing to Life by Claudia ................................................................ 15 Endless War by Isaiah ........................................................................ 16 Memories by Kimberly ....................................................................... 18 Breaking Down by Evelyn ................................................................. 19 Parents by Melany ............................................................................... 20
Her Memory by Melany A girl looks at the world zooming passed her. All she can see is people going on in the world, when a part of her just left to become an angel. His wings take him farther than she can imagine. When the girl goes home at night, she stares at herself in the mirror. She sees all the memories she wishes she could forget, a bloodied sheet covering her uncle and his gunshot wounds. His body, once warm, now lays on a cold metal table. The girl wants to know how people can go on living life when a family takes a huge blow. People see the turmoil in her eyes, but do not actually do anything because it is easier to ignore her and act like everything is ok. At night, the girl has nightmares and remembers those things she wishes she did not. The girl dreams about herself when she was 6 years old, standing across the street, having her world fall out from under her. The girl thinks she could have saved him but she knows fate would have just interfered anyway. Her birthplace used to be her safe place but now she just wants a fresh start. Deep down she knows
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she does not want to forget any memory that she has of her beloved uncle. She knows that her memories make her the girl she is today but she wishes it was a good memory that made her, her. Even though the girl has some bad memories of her uncle, she will always remember the blanket he gave her. It is rough around the edges and soft in the center. That blanket reminds the girl of her uncle, the horse wild, like her uncle, and free as her uncle wanted to be. When the blanket goes around the girl's shoulders, it gave her his strength. The girl wishes she could be wild and free too. She will be because the blanket gives her hope of being set free carrying on her uncle's memory. The girl knows that her uncle’s body is gone from the earth but his spirit and soul will never leave her.
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A Pen and the Dream by Ashlie With a pen and a dream, I make sure that the syntax of my English Papers are the best they can be. My writing is everything that defines me. The words I write, the words I use define the perspective of my life . Sometimes my writing is messy, looking chaotic to the naked eye. But if you grab a magnifying glass, you will see that you have to read between the lines to be able to read my story. If you knew my story, you would know that I want to grow up to save lives. The path I am taking is difficult, but worth it with time. There are days when my life glides smoothly, like my Inkjoy pen. But other days, they are colorless like a pen without ink. But on days like those, I grab a new one and go outside, letting the scenery be my muse. When my hand cramps up and my fingers begin to twitch, I want to drop my pen and give up
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because I am already fed up with all the stereotypes and words that I am never good enough. These thoughts poetically prance in my head. So I pick up my pen and start to write again. With my luck, it begins to rain. The raindrops of doubt caress the words on my page, leaving me with blurred thoughts and confusion until a kind stranger shares his umbrella, to lift away society's negative Illusion. The feeling of confusion begins to fade away as the stranger's umbrella protects me from the raindrops of doubt. The stranger's words of hope will forever be inscribed in my head, "Just remember: you cannot get a rainbow without the rain." Suddenly speechless, I begin to write frantically, writing down the story of hopes and dreams that yet have to be unraveled. I then hear the stranger's voice, asking to read what I have written. I hand over the book of encrypted secrets, scared that the stranger will decode them and deny my hard work. But when he reopens the book, and begins to read, the beauty of the story brings tears to his eyes.
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He asks the name of such a beautiful piece: My Life. The struggles and tears fascinate him, seeing the true beauty in my scars. They wonder why I ended my thoughts with a semicolon. It is only because I intend to write more.
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Zacatecas by Claudia I come from Zacatecas, not by birth but from my roots as a descendant from the Zacateco People. There, la marcha de Zacatecas plays loudly in the well-cultivated ranchos as a reminder of our battle for Independence and the birth of Zacatecas. I come from a family where food is sacred and made with love. We gently dip the tortilla in chile and wrap it with our fragile hands, stuffing the creamy cheese in it. I come from a woman whose brown hands imprint her cariùo on the maiz to make the corn tortillas. Enchiladas build up our background. Somos enchiladas como nuestra sangre when someone dares to criticize our roots. I will always remember looking into my grandma’s innocent and deep eyes, old but full of hope. I call her mama Jesusita rather than abuelita
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because of her motherly relationship with me, from orde単ando vacas together to sharing jokes under the dark night sky at our rancho. I will never forget how welcoming the sound of tamborazo made me feel when I set foot on the land of my ancestors, the land of my parents, my land.
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Godspeed by Isaiah The pain of losing my cousin bobo corrupted me. Teary eyes turned into steady eyes. My relaxed shoulders turned straight and ready. My legs felt broken. So I used the crutches of marijuana, alcohol, and cigarettes to help me walk. I try taking pills to overdose but all it did was make me feel numb. I used to be able to hear and feel my heartbeat. Now I just hear a flat-line beep. I needed someone to hug me when I cried, but no one tried. So I continued to get high to pass the time. I have been shot, stabbed, and hit by cars. I have even been behind bars just so my soul can be set free and grow like a tree. I wanted someone to be there and care. I have been through so much, I am surprised that I am not in a wheelchair. I have been using these crutches for two years now. I can see the finish line. It is a tree brighter than the sun. I try throwing the crutches down. I fall. I struggle to get up,
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so I crawl. The tree disappears. I fight and begin to get up. I am limping but I can walk. I have heard about a magical library. It is told that it could mold any man’s or woman’s future. I still search for this place today. I almost lose hope. Then I find a book entitled l-o-o-h-c-s Wizards spell their spells backward. l-o-o-h-c-s I study the book for months and decipher it: s-c-h-o-o-l school!!! I finally find a spell that can help me. I recite it. With time, I begin to walk, run, and jump properly toward the tree that suddenly reappears, glowing brighter this time. Fearful for what it can bring, I make the decision to become one with it. Here, I have found my life.
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Take Me to... by Kimberly Take me to a place where the only meaning of “race� is a contest of speed, where there is not a feeling such as greed, where the only thing people want to do is succeed, where there is not a person in need. Please take me to a place where our children are not shot at, where men and women are not looking for yogurt that is nonfat. Take me to a place where people are not worried or bullied about their weight, where it does not matter if you are bi, gay, or straight, while being able to truly communicate. Take me to a place where we stop underestimating ourselves, where there is no such feeling that overwhelms. I am begging! Take me to a place where we do not have to worry if we have enough money, where a man can cry without it being considered unmanly, a place where no one goes hungry. More than anything, take me to a place where there is peace!
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Reflection by Evelyn Looking into this beautiful mirror, seeing how over the years, I have improved to lead a successful life. Eyes show the pain and hurt I have overcame. Once they open, people can see the charming bright light that continues behind what I can see. Son aventuras que nos traen alegrĂa en esta vida. Nos da felicidad para seguir adelante. Getting into college, that has to be my miracle. Why, you ask? Knowledge is important in this world. Un paso adelante pero no para atrĂĄs, seguimos arriba con orgullo. Eso soy yo. Con problemas, no pasa nada. Knowing everything works out, I will always have a smile.
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Goals by Melany Up, down, sideways, upside down and all around again is my life. I will always be stuck on a roller coaster. I just have to choose if it will be bumpy or not. On some days, this bipolar roller coaster is on the right path and others, it is on the bumpy side. That is okay because life will be like that. I just need to learn how to straighten the tracks out and make sure I do not get turned around. My goals in life are to make something of myself and I cannot do that if I do not focus and keep on the tracks. It is just a part of life that you have to make sure you learn from your mistakes. Make sure you are not doing all this hard work for no reason. Make sure you stick to your goals.
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You Are You by Ashlie Why can’t we ever be happy? I am not talking about pretend happy, but happy, happy, to the point that we are comfortable in our skin. You see, the way I view it, we never get to be who we truly are Vogue and Seventeen Magazine tell us who we should be, plucking out our eyebrows, applying eyeliner so thick that our eyelids do not even show. Do not even get me started with MTV reality shows. Having to be the skinniest, having to be the tallest, but the reality is that is not me. That is not us. Our society makes us view women in other countries as oppressed. But in actuality, we are the ones truly oppressed, trying to fit in the image of a synthetic Barbie, not loving ourselves. So ladies, when did we get to this point, having men and media tell us what to do? It is 2015. It does not matter if you are a size 24 or a size 2 because sometimes, we feel like we are the monster, looking back at us in the mirror,
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pointing out our flaws with all the hatred within us. I am telling you: Put down the pills. Throw away the blades. Stop putting that finger down your throat. Pick up your head and dry those tears. Put on the most flamboyant lipstick and walk out your door. No matter what society says, you are unique. You are beautiful. You are you.
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Dancing to Life by Claudia Being put down by your own blood hurts. I feel relentless as all eyes on me, looking at every single one of my mistakes. The mistakes I make seem to be far more catching to their eye than my good moves. The pressure I am put into feels like bricks on my back. It is easy to spread hate and criticism but hard to make someone feel loved and appreciated. Those whispers get to me. They make me trip and stumble until I hit the floor. But this is not it. I need to prove to them that I am strong, that I am not letting the negativity hurt me anymore. I stand up and let their whispers and comments slide through my body. As I move to the side, I make sure I shake off all the bad energy with my hands. Life is like dancing. You might stumble, you might fall, but being a star overcomes it all.
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Endless War by Isaiah I come from a war in the gutters, where different kings sent their armies to find land and conquer the old one. Lighting struck everywhere. The kings were always angry. Bodies fell like snow in a blizzard. The earth opened its mouth and swallowed the bodies. There seemed to be no end to this war. Thousands of kingdoms were destroyed and new ones built with stronger foundations, supposedly built to last but fell quicker than the last. Families cried tears of acid eating them from the inside. I was a blacksmith and a hybrid, thinking about joining the soldiers in the war. I belonged to the kingdom of guerillas. who were tall, with ready shoulders and steady faces. They were as fast as cheetahs with killer instincts like wolves. Shadows were their leverage. Wanting to leave it behind, I decided to run and kept running. Suddenly, I realized that I was in a bigger, more beautiful concrete jungle. Here people had long beautiful fur,
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hypnotizing beauty in their eyes. There we were all considered gods & goddesses in a united kingdom.
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Memories by Kimberly Forgive them for you do not know their past. Time goes by fast. Forgiveness is the right thing. Treat them nicely, for they might be fighting a harder battle. She taught me this, my mother, sweet and warm like arroz con leche. When she stirs it, the smell takes me back to Mexico. I come from Guadalajara. I will always remember when the whole family came together to celebrate every moment we had. I come from Zacatecas, where exploring was never too much. Do Not Touch Me!! Porque si me tocas, te vas a espinar. Yo no necesito tanta atenci贸n tuya. Yo puedo vivir mucho tiempo sin agua. Mi fruto te da vida, yo te doy vida. Muchos no me quieren, pero hay muchos m谩s que me necesitan.
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Breaking Down by Evelyn Looking into that mirror, she does not like what she sees. This cannot be her. She pulls at her stomach, thighs, and cheeks. Her mind is so strong but her heart is getting weak. Each time she tugs the skin on her body, she whines and cries. “Why am I not so lucky?” With cuts and scars along her arms, she cannot go on. There is nothing left to harm. She reminds herself: “I will come out and show people that I can do this. I will improve. I will let this go. Becoming a new me, that is what I really want. No more cuts, no more sadness controlling my mind, controlling my pain.”
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Parents by Melany Parents are supposed to love their children and pay attention to their needs. But today, most parents are absorbed in their own lives. I know a mother who does not care about her daughters unless she is three bottles deep. She will call them and give them false hope by saying, “I love you.” She gives them false hope when she says, “I miss you.” She gives them false hope when she says, “I will put down the bottle.” This mom is so obsessed with a clear bottle and her boyfriend, she never sees the damage she does to her daughters. One daughter already hates her. Another is trying to seek attention from her mother. This parent puts her kids in harm’s way and does not care about the problems that it could cause. I know a woman who is so blind she does not notice what is going on
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around her. She is not someone who deserves kids. Any parent who can not take care of their kids should not have any at all. A real mother should talk to her kids, listening to their problems. She should take them anywhere they need to go. A real parent should not lie to their kids. But instead, tell them the truth and more. A mom should know what to do to keep her kids safe and damage free. A real mother would know she has to pay attention to her kids 24/7 A real mother would know her children come before men and a bottle. Be a real parent. Be a parent your children can be proud of.
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