Manjioca: Uma Brasilian Feminista…

“I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood.” ~Audre Lorde~

.on motherhood. February 12, 2010

Filed under: mother/Madrehood — manjioca @ 6:38 am

I have been ruminating for a long while now, on all the aspects of motherhood, from the tangible -what does it feel like, to the intangible moments when a mother bonds to her child through the flow of her milk from deep within her to nourish her child, I have been thinking about how I have followed my friends adventures through motherhood, from pregnancy to screaming annoying/angelic children, and I think about how much i satiate for that feeling to come to me one day, i want to be able to open that door one day, I want to be able to put down this heavy academic mantle and place on the one of motherhood- i know one can do both…  and then i revisit something i had written for myself a while back to help me through these anxious moments:

women, mulheres,mujeres…
there comes a time in a womans life when her worth is put into question, she questions her worth and forgets her original inestimable value…. this is a time of reflection, it is a dire time for self-analyzation and self preservation and RE-evaluation. It will never be an easy task, but she must hold strong to her principles, whatever they may be, even if they are whimsical.  At that time she may compare herself with other women that went before her and those that will come after her, she is in the middle of the road and both sides are apertando-ela*, with her feet on the ground and her eyes towards the sky, she is the intermediate, she IS the change, she is herself at that moment, and she is above all else strong.  There is a sense of urgency for her to accomplish, motherhood and a career…awaken…just because you are not yet a mother, or perhaps will never be, you are still a mother to yourself, you are your primary care giver, your primary lover, you awaken the strength within yourself to TAKE CARE of yourself, for how can you take care of others had you not known what it is to love and care for yourself first?  It is at that time that she must REMEMBER that unconditional self love is quintessential to survival, and her worth is beyond measure, because she is an original woman and none other will ever be like her after her.  Set your pace, and walk your own dream….your evolution comes in small steps, take your own time.
i wonder how many of us are out there…
 

Apologies to All the People in Lebanon by June Jordan March 31, 2009

Filed under: Feministas,Prose,Racial Politics — manjioca @ 8:39 pm
I didn’t know and nobody told me and what
could I do or say, anyway?

They said you shot the London Ambassador
and when that wasn’t true
they said so
what
They said you shelled their northern villages
and when U.N. forces reported that was not true
because your side of the cease-fire was holding
since more than a year before
they said so
what
They said they wanted simply to carve
a 25 mile buffer zone and then
they ravaged your
water supplies your electricity your
hospitals your schools your highways and byways all
the way north to Beirut because they said this
was their quest for peace
They blew up your homes and demolished the grocery
stores and blocked the Red Cross and took away doctors
to jail and they cluster-bombed girls and boys
whose bodies
swelled purple and black into twice the original size
and tore the buttocks from a four month old baby
and then
they said this was brilliant
military accomplishment and this was done
they said in the name of self-defense they said
that is the noblest concept
of mankind isn’t that obvious?
They said something about never again and then
they made close to one million human beings homeless
in less than three weeks and they killed or maimed
40,000 of your men and your women and your children

But I didn’t know and nobody told me and what
could I do or say, anyway?

They said they were victims. They said you were
Arabs.
They called your apartments and gardens guerrilla
strongholds.
They called the screaming devastation
that they created the rubble.
Then they told you to leave, didn’t they?

Didn’t you read the leaflets that they dropped
from their hotshot fighter jets?
They told you to go.
One hundred and thirty-five thousand
Palestinians in Beirut and why
didn’t you take the hint?
Go!
There was the Mediterranean: You
could walk into the water and stay
there.
What was the problem?

I didn’t know and nobody told me and what
could I do or say, anyway?

Yes, I did know it was the money I earned as a poet that
paid
for the bombs and the planes and the tanks
that they used to massacre your family

But I am not an evil person
The people of my country aren’t so bad

You can expect but so much
from those of us who have to pay taxes and watch
American TV

You see my point;

I’m sorry.
I really am sorry.
june-jordan

 

Blank Canvas October 2, 2008

Filed under: Brasilian Writers,Prose — manjioca @ 6:39 am

Epiphanies keep circling my mind
intertwined are images of what could be, if i were just to
sit down and paint it all out, for some sort of
re-lax-ation..
i fear seeing the truth on that blank canvas tonight.

it is where my dreams come true
in all different hues.
can i with these images manifest my soul
into dancing outside of me, and reaching out for everyone to see?

fear being the opposite of Faith,
Faith being eclectic in its destination
comes differently to you and me
if we look @ that blank canvas and see differing things

positionality has left us standing on
margins and centers
epistemology has left you
scratching your head
and us trying to understand
hegemony has crucified my theoretical Christ
Heuristics have raped me of my privacy
for exotic curiosities
etymology has left us scrambling for
piecemeal
or just plain meals.

I cannot picture that blankcanvas whole
because there are so many parts
that keep viajando vagando
vagabundando…
like me, gypsy.

but i am not afraid of taking
that heuristic and tying it into
a seed, placing my hands inside my mother
earth for (re)birth…

nao tenho medo do dia, that envelops me with hegemony
when my words and thoughts are often misunderstood.

but we cannot refute that blank canvas waiting on the wall

or maybe there is no canvas at all.

 

Tua Pele, Cor de Mel… October 1, 2008

Filed under: Brasilian Writers,Prose — manjioca @ 8:39 pm

Cor de Mel…

Alimentando a minha alma,
derretendo palavras na minha boca…
voce meu bem eres mel,
Cor de mel, olhos de mel com um aroma
sedutor….

Sinto-me uma abelha vagando de flor a flor…
Mais o Seu Doce, meu bem, nao existe re-compor,
Pois me deixa famita por o nosso proximo encontro
aonde de abelha a flor…
sugarei sua sabedoria
entrelazando na minha escrivania
este corpo “pecador”

Chegaste na minha telha
Provaste da minha lingua imaginaria
Seu olhar,
o meu desejo
Mais Hoje ja no espelho eu me enxergo
Outra Flor,
uma com um Mel Mais Doce
que o Seu mel…
o Sedutor…

Pois na minha alma existe algo
que O-deixa com louvor!
pregando palavras indigenas
Sobre um amor sem definicao
Refletindo Eupohoria

Em Seus Olhos cor de Mel
Olho-me em ti,

E te escrevo neste papel.

 

Your Heuristic September 18, 2008

Filed under: Prose — manjioca @ 3:04 am

My body has become a canonical text,
the writings of my past have been etched in my subcutaneous tissue,
where my perspiration wets
you with my issues.

My body is the medium through which you can experience something New,
my past has now become your present too…
where everyday you live, but not all of your living is you…
you are reminded of my canonical text

my Female Sex

Your tangible, unforgettable
Truth.

 

Autopyschography-Fernando Pessoa September 13, 2008

Filed under: Prose — manjioca @ 7:58 am
 

Salsa Dancing

Filed under: Prose — manjioca @ 12:33 am

yeah, this is for you…

baby i dont mind when you call me in your confusion

trying to figure out mine, i mean, i guess we can’t this time.

baby i dont mind when in the silence of your tones i hear your music which in stifling….

you speak.

what i guess im trying to say is that, we keep trying to create words that will appease or perhaps even ease this feeling, when, you know

we keep fooling ourselves?

“in romantic nights of self, i go salsa dancing with my confusion”

can i have this dance?