When she thinks to herself in her father’s language, she knows sons and daughters don’t leave their parents’ house until they marry. When she thinks in English, she knows she should’ve been on her own since eighteen.
Sandra Cisneros (The House on Mango Street)
We’re so erased. …If you’re a person of color, if you’re a woman, if you’re from a poor family, if you’re from a rural family, if you’re from a family who worked like dogs and never got any respect or a share of the profits - you know that 99 percent of your stories ain’t been told. In any fucking medium.
And yet we still have to be taught to look, and to tell our stories. …Despite the utter absence of us, it’s still an internal revolution to say wait a minute, we are not only worthy of great art, but the source of great art.
Junot Diaz, in conversation with the New Yorker’s Hilton Als at The Strand, NYC 04-12-13 [x
] (via pasunepomme
You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened… or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move on.
I’ve put up too much, too long, and now I’m just too intelligent, too powerful, too beautiful, too sure of who I am finally to deserve anything less.
I don’t like needing anyone for anything.
It’s been a good day in Hell. Wish you were here.
Charles Coakley Simpson, Postcards (via mirroir
If I am a witch, then so be it, I said. And I took to eating black things - huitlacoche the corn mushroom, coffee, dark chiles, the bruised part of fruit, the darkest, blackest things to make me hard and strong.
Motherfuckers will read a book that’s 1/3rd elvish, but put two sentences in spanish and they (white people) think we’re taking over
Junot diaz on “do you think you alienate readers when you use spanish in your books?” (via iamincoherent
Look, without our stories, without the true nature and reality of who we are as People of Color, nothing about fanboy or fangirl culture would make sense. What I mean by that is: if it wasn’t for race, X-Men doesn’t sense. If it wasn’t for the history of breeding human beings in the New World through chattel slavery, Dune doesn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for the history of colonialism and imperialism, Star Wars doesn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for the extermination of so many Indigenous First Nations, most of what we call science fiction’s contact stories doesn’t make sense. Without us as the secret sauce, none of this works, and it is about time that we understood that we are the Force that holds the Star Wars universe together. We’re the Prime Directive that makes Star Trek possible, yeah. In the Green Lantern Corps, we are the oath. We are all of these things—erased, and yet without us—we are essential.
Quisiera estar junto a ti, para decir sobre tu oído: te quiero, te quiero, te quiero, te quiero, te quiero, y repetirlo constantemente, infinitamente, hasta que te cansaras tú de oírlo pero no yo de pronunciarlo. ¿Cómo marcártelo en un brazo? ¿Cómo sellártelo en la frente? ¿Cómo grabártelo en el corazón?