ABSTRACT
I met Paola Guzman when she was an undergraduate student participant in a campus event, “Women Are Lit,” in 2018. This was an open mic event to celebrate women, diversity, and social justice for anyone to read their favorite woman author in five minutes. I read a part from my draft writing of this book. Paola read her poem, “Displaced Strong Women.” Then, we started to notice our connectivity; how we learn from strong women who share their knowledge of love; how we reach out to each other with (not despite) our different ages, memories, and geo-cultural routes we have traveled; and how we care about rememories that bring faraway places to where we are now. This is how we pass on y/our mothers’ rememories. So I share Paola’s poem here to tell again we all owe to our mothers of color.
She was fluent
And smart
And beautiful
And everyone thought so
She lived without fear
And spoke what she thought
Like life had given her the right amount of words
To fully speak to those she loved
Without a single word missing
Backpacks and shoes
Whispered “see you soons”
Tears
85Hurt
Life had muted her
Uprooted her
She left that place
Where everyone thought she was the sun
And now she lives somewhere
Where she’s seen as an infectious disease
If the world could please
Take one more look at the sun I call Mom
The familiar star everyone in the world can see
The same sunset and sunrise
“We’re all so lucky” Abuelita said
A woman who never learned to read or write
And who’s a mute in America
She knows more about life
Than my privileged educated college professors
No offense
No arguing with the sun though
Always present
Always bright
Take one more look at the sun
I asked my grandmother
“Abuelita, how many miles have those feet walked?”
Her thin lips rounded
An owl sounded
“Ooooh,” she said, “a lot”
I look at her two small brown feet
Strong and courageous
Every step she takes
Is resilience sounding its bells in my ears
“I can do it too,” I say
Words spoken and dropped into a dismal void
I can’t walk half of what my Abuelita has walked
My steps don’t sound as loud as hers
Her small brown feet are magical
They produce waves of strength and power
I’m only a coward
Living in a shadow
Of such women
86When I was younger
I swore she had the power
To pull up the sun from the side of the Earth for me
That’s the kind of lady she is
Small brown feet
Soft words dripping from her lips
Red fingernails commanding the world to spin.
