Category: Poems

In preparation for my MFA thesis: a poem and a dance.

6/7/2019

Music: Oiaymeló by Margarita Cuero. Interpreted by the amazing cantaora Benigna Solís.

I am fluid
and in constant process of becoming.
I am daughter,
sister,
lover,
woman,
friend.
I am Sandra Paola — “la pequeña protectora de la humanidad,”
and I am the daughter of wolves (López) and
guardians (Ramírez).

I am fluid
and in constant process of becoming.
Nací en las montañas de Abya Yala,
y por seis generaciones mi familia ha vivido on stolen land:
en la cordillera oriental en el territorio Muisca de Bacatá,
en el litoral pacífico en territorio Awá y Tumaco,
y en el valle alto del Magdalena en territorio Pijao.
Some of my ancestors were born of the earth in Abya Yala.
They weaved with her roots,
Sang with her waters,
Moved with her breeze.
Some others, traidos forzosamente del gran continente Africano,
with shackled hands and feet
were pulled from their own Mother, displaced, brutalized, raped.
Survivors of unimaginable journeys.
Most of them, los Europeos,
who roamed primarily the territories of
Spain, Ireland, Scotland, and France
came en busca de oro y plata.
In search of a better life.
So here I am,
born of contradictions,
violence,
rape,
hopes,
dreams.

I am fluid
and in constant process of becoming.
My mixed heritage gave me the opportunity to migrate North
to Turtle Island,
to the neocolonial and imperialist country of
United States of America.
Fast forward 15 years
y ahora me desenvuelvo en una realidad bilingüe.
I dream,
speak,
move,
write,
and create in two lenguas.
This new hybrid, this “border tongue” of Anzaldúa
ahora me acobija en la frontera de U.S. y México.
Es ahora aquí donde trenzo sueños,
where I start my journey to wholeness,
and where I begin to trace back
to create my future.

La complejidad de la realidad mestiza: dos poemas y una danza

9/30/2018

beat.

A poem created after one of my African drumming and dance classes. Here is a short video of me improvising in that class:

Un poema creado después de una de mis clases de percusión y danza africana. El video a continuación es una improvisación que hice en esa clase:

Beat, beat, heartbeat. So close to my core, the vibrations come up from the floor through my legs and reverberate in all their resonance in my chest.

Beat, beat.
The drum is familiar. Not effortless, but comfortable. I am home. Beat.

What I feel is abstract and complex— nostalgic joy. It is personal and intimate, yet communal and social. It is both mine and ours, individual and collective. The release that passes through my body carries on past the boundaries of my skin. I recognize my permeability, the fluidity between where I end and the drum begins. Beat.

All at once I find myself full, grounded, empty and dissolved.

Golpe, golpe, late el corazón. Tan cerca de mi núcleo, las vibraciones suben desde el piso a través de mis piernas y reverberan con toda su resonancia en mi pecho.

Golpe, golpe.
El tambor es familiar. No sin esfuerzo, pero cómodo. Estoy en casa. Golpe.

Lo que siento es abstracto y complejo: una alegría nostálgica. Es personal e íntimo, y a su vez comunitario y social. Es mío y nuestro, individual y colectivo. La liberación que pasa a través de mi cuerpo continúa más allá de los límites de mi piel. Reconozco mi permeabilidad, la fluidez entre donde termino yo y comienza el tambor. Golpe.

Al mismo tiempo me encuentro llena, arraigada, vacía y disuelta.

colonizer and colonized: a dance

and a poem

We are born of contradictions. Colonizer-Colonized. The separation is illusory. The complexity is painful. Quiero apagar la realidad, cerrar los ojos y elevar la mirada a donde la oscuridad no me alcanze. Tomando cada paso… distante. ¿Qué quiero crear sobre las ruinas espirituales de mis antepasados?

Quizá no tenga nada que decir. Quizá mis palabras sean vacías. Pero la necesidad del cambio me mueve a la acción. La acción de rebeldía. La acción de resistencia.

Nacemos de contradicciones. Colonizador-colonizado. La separación es ilusoria. La complejidad es dolorosa. I want to turn off reality, close my eyes and look up where the darkness will not reach me. Taking each step ... distant. What do I want to create over the spiritual ruins of my ancestors?

Maybe I have nothing to say. Maybe my words are empty. But the need for change moves me to action. The action of rebellion. The action of resistance.

My journey on The Road Home

7/14/2018

On June 30th, 2018 I collaborated with two wonderful artists, Soulaf Abas (Syria) and Bruce McKaig (United States) on a show we titled The Road Home while we were Equal Justice residents at the Santa Fe Art Institute (SFAI) in Santa Fe, NM. The time at the residency helped me deepen my research on decolonization and resulted in a series of improvised dances that I performed as part of the show. Here are a excerpts on a couple:

El 30 de junio de 2018 colaboré con dos artistas maravillosos, Soulaf Abas (Siria) y Bruce McKaig (Estados Unidos) en un espectáculo que titulamos The Road Home durante nuestra residencia de Equal Justice en el Instituto de Arte de Santa Fe (SFAI) en Nuevo Mexico. El tiempo en la residencia me ayudó a profundizar mi investigación sobre la descolonización y dio como resultado una serie de danzas. Aquí hay algunos segmentos:

Reclaiming indigeniety

Most of my work over the past 5 years has centered around my identity as a queer latinoamericana living in the U.S. Underlying that work, there has been a constant questioning of home, what it is in the constant flux of a migrant society and what it means for me as I create and recreate my identity. Living en la frontera— the U.S.-Mexico border— in the cities of El Paso, TX and Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua, has heightened this sense of ephemerality of place and has lead me to question how we become native to a region, how and when a new home gets established and what social, political and cultural contexts frame that experience.

This process started me on a journey back to my home, looking at my family lineage and ancestry to see how that informs my corporeality, my relationships and my work. I have framed this research as a decolonizing activity of both my improvisation practice and my family’s history. Building on my previous work, during the month-long residency this took three paths:

La mayor parte de mi trabajo en los últimos 5 años se ha centrado en mi identidad como una latinoamericana queer en los Estados Unidos. Detrás de ese trabajo, hay un cuestionamiento constante del hogar y lo que es dentro del flujo constante de una sociedad migrante, y lo que significa para mientras creo y recreo mi identidad. Viviendo en la frontera entre Estados Unidos y México— en las ciudades de El Paso, TX y Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua, ha aumentado este sentido de efemeralidad y me ha llevado a cuestionar cómo nos convertimos en nativos de una región, cómo y cuándo se establece un nuevo hogar, y qué contextos sociales, políticos y culturales enmarcan esa experiencia.

Este proceso inició en un viaje de regreso a mi hogar, observando mi ascendencia familiar y cuestionar cómo esta informa mi corporalidad, mis relaciones y mi trabajo. He enmarcado esta investigación como una actividad descolonizadora tanto de mi práctica de improvisación como de la historia de mi familia. Durante el mes de la residencia esto tomó tres caminos:

By expanding my understanding of listening and relational presence while remembering how to establish a reciprocal relationship to land and more-than-human nature. This process has been supported by the writings of Robin Wall Kimmerer, specifically her book Braiding Sweetgrass. The wisdom that she carries has inspired me to create a daily ritual of gratitude, look for concrete ways to give back to Mother Earth, and spend more time in the company of (and dancing with) my non-human brothers and sisters.

Honoring African roots

The Latin American vernacular dances that I grew up dancing are grounded deeply in their African roots. By embracing characteristics of the African aesthetic (e.g. body isolations, polyrhythms, dancing closer to the floor) and expanding my current practice to include rhythmic-based improvisation, I aim to decolonize my experience through embodiment.

Making stories

While in residence at SFAI I began to use storymaking as a way to reclaim my lost family lineage. I wrote three short (mostly) fictional stories drawing from memories, stories told and written by family members, historical facts, news articles and documentaries. These have become a space for me to wrestle with the complexities of mi mestizaje and confront the colonial narrative in my family’s past and present in an effort to create an alternative one in the future.