Ancestors hear my cries
But also, I hear y’alls too…
DISCLAIMER:
I write all my posts in Word. I created the title/subtitle of this post back at the end of January. The words never came. Here I am in April trying to make sense of all that I’ve been feeling that even inspired this post. I find myself having an emotional block to begin talking about this upcoming trip because the emotions are… a LOT. But it’s time to open up Pandora's box and begin the work of generational healing and tending to old wounds. This is nuanced, messy and disjointed. This will never flow nice for people to read and will have gaps of contextualizing the full gravity of my experience. Honestly, this post is an embodiment of my relationship to myself, a hot mess that I’m trying to sort through and make sense of. Identity work is something everyone has to go through in some capacity. If anything, most of us are navigating life to understand who we are and our purpose until Death comes to take us back to the other side. Identity work is spiritual work when you are addressing deep issues that have been passed down until someone in the lineage finally says “enough”. It’s time to stop covering a festering wound with a small band-aid and ignoring what needs to be tended to with care.
I’ve done so much work not to fall into the stereotypical mixed person crisis of “not being enough” for their ethnic/racial communities. Thankfully, because I was raised by my Black/Creole side, my Blackness wasn’t really an issue. I navigate the world as a visible Black woman and I orient myself around that experience and my community with anything I do. To be raised in a Black household gave me the gift to be rooted in my Blackness. So this post isn’t about that part of me. This is actually a journey of a personal deep dive into understanding my Latindad in a new way. This reflection isn’t supposed to be me giving the sob story of my estranged relationship with my mom + the disjointed relationship I had growing up to my Mexican identity. But I could not in good faith say my wounds are not connected to that. Much of the work I’ve done over the years is around Blackness in Latin America. I engaged with amazing Afro-Latine people + educators and prioritized uplifting Black & Indigenous Latine voices. My undergraduate experience was fueled by this after I went to an event that talked about Afro-Latindad. It changed my life. It was around the time Mexico finally added Afro-Mexican to the census for the first time. How monumental but so long overdue. This propelled me into trying to understand myself. I want to note that I do not use the term “Afro-Latine” to define my identity. I credit American poet, Ariana Brown ,who had a thoughtful twitter thread years ago that contextualized the language and verbiage on why she used “Black Mexican” rather than Afro-Mexican. Yes, Afro simply means Black, but my Blackness does not come from Mexico/Latin America. My Blackness is rooted in the U.S. South. I am also a mixed person that has A Black/Creole father and a Mexican mother. Using the term can continue to perpetuate the misconception that Afro-latine people need one non-black parent + one Black parent. There are full, rich, Black communities in Mexico and Latin America. While labels are complex and this is a very rough overview of the thread Ariana created, it was because of it I came to the conclusion to use “Black Creole Mexican” as a way to identify. Ariana’s work around “queerness, Black personhood in Mexican American spaces, girlhood, loneliness, and care” was the first time I really felt seen. I highly recommend you take some time to engage with their work.
All this to say, my relationship with my Mexican heritage has been complex and emotionally taxing. To be policed on my Latinidad so harshly made me neutral to invest in a personal relationship with it. How exhausting when you are rightfully critiquing the real issues in our community that non-Black Latine people will be the first to say to me I am ashamed of being Mexican. In their eyes, my security in my Blackness was a threat, rather than a part of me that can coexist. I am both. I often found affinity with Caribbean Latine communities because my Blackness was never a question or something I had to negotiate/compromise. Naturally, I am often mistaken as Dominican, Cuban, etc. because these are places that first come to mind when it comes to Afro-Latine identity. It was more a question “why don’t you speak Spanish” (lol). I never had to explain myself to them when I was present in shared online or physical spaces.
I have so many thoughts and rants of my lived experiences, but that isn’t what I am here to dive into. Despite everything, I always dreamed of going to Mexico like how I grew up going to Louisiana as a kid. I even asked my mom if she would ever go back and take me. She told me no. (I’m first-gen American on my mom side. When I learned about the brief story on her crossing the border, I came to understand that there is trauma and history she may never share about her experience coming to the US with me. I will never force her to tell me. I can acknowledge/hold space that my mother did what she had to do. She did the best she could with what she had. I will never fully understand what she went through.)
I didn’t argue with her because I could see the hurt in her eyes rooted in her past. I don’t need to know details to know she has her reasons why she’s hesitant to go back. I knew I could never rely on her taking me if I want to experience Mexico myself. I knew before I left this life, I wanted to go to the land and establish my own connection with a part of me I have constantly struggled with. A relationship defined by my ancestors’ and my terms, not others. I always asked my Mexican friends to take me with them when they go home during the summer, but it never came. The trips didn’t make it out of the group chat. Why was I waiting on someone else to make this happen for me? Fear is the obvious answer, but I’ve always done things that scared me. You come to the point when you’ll get tired of waiting. How foolish that I’ve been trying to leave this experience up to someone else’s hands when I was already frustrated with people dictating who I was.
This last year, as I have been reconnecting to a spiritual practice again, I became the hot topic with my ancestors. My practice heavily involves ancestral veneration + working with the rest of my spirit team. When your folks tell you that they’re putting you in charge of bringing back the magic into your family, you can’t really ignore it. But I have never known balance within myself. I never got to a point of understanding the layers of complexities of what makes me, me. To have my ancestors from my Mexican side come forward for the first time in a reading recently shook me to my core. I’ve tried to work with them in the past, but even they said there’s too much trauma on our side that held them back from an active role. When I turned 27, an age I honestly didn’t think I’d live to see, I realized this year was going to be crucial in ways I’m still coming to understand. Therefore, I told them: if it’s meant to happen, open the door for me to step through. (Let this be a reminder, be mindful of the deals you make with your dead folks.)
Which leads me to an important journey on the horizon this summer. I’m finally going to Mexico to do a language immersion program & personal exploration. I've been trying to learn Spanish but always got overwhelmed. I had a hard time learning it because I was too personally connected. To be desperate to want to understand it and speak it fluently turned into obsession and disappointment. In my mind, I should know it. It should come easy. I’m grateful to everyone who's always been so encouraging and supportive, especially those who know my story and why I get emotional over it. I didn’t know how I was gonna fund this, but my folks sent the support my way. When I finally booked my tickets, it hit me. “This is really fucking happening.” Even my best friend was like, “yo, the universe really made this happen for you.” I don’t know how to feel about it, which is why it’s so complicated to even try and write anything about this. I don’t even like what I wrote in this post, but I’m trying to let it just be. The clarity will come when it needs to. For now, I continue to move forward to face the unknown. I don’t know what I’m hoping from my time there. All I can do is go with an open heart to see what’s waiting for me.
I would not have even gotten to this point without so many people + countless conversations. Some key people who know the depths of what this journey has been like for me:
My family
Y’all always supported me and my wildest dreams even when y’all may not fully understand. Twin, I see you. We’ve experienced so much together. This is for us.
Joana & Meztly
The love you and your families have given me since we met in middle school is something I hope close to my heart. To be able to experience you all’s friendships in this life is the gift that keeps on giving. Your families welcomed me with open arms. To the home cooked meals, loteria nights, family events, etc. Thank you. You both have seen so many versions of me, and never left my side.
Sylvia
My platonic soul mate. You always challenge me in the way I see and understand the world. You have shown me unconditional love + held space for me to unravel. Thank you for allowing me to just… be.
Sheila, Bethanny & Maria
You all’s friendship has been the best thing from this last year. To know we can sit and chat and have critically engaging conversations around difficult subjects but also just be and love each other. God, I love you all. Sheila, you breathe life into me and push me to never settle or not chase after what I want. Bethany, our walks and girl time are some of my favorite moments. Thanks for always inviting me to the Polyglot lunches to help me practice my Spanish. Maria, you are a force to be reckoned with. To know you is an honor. Thank you for holding space for me when I needed it the most.
Paloma
My adoration and love for you is endless. The way we can pick up where we left off and not skip a beat. You have been such an advocate for me and our conversations are such a treat. Another testament that an Earth x Air sign duo is unmatched.
Perla
You help this TX girl find comfort when I first came to NC. Thank you for helping me find familiarity in a place I wasn’t sure I belonged. To the hang outs, home cooked meals, and all the memories in between.
My spiritual Sibs, El + Bre
You all helped me get connected again. I still have a lot to do, but you two always help me find grounding again in the chaos. Y’all never shy away from making me push the bounds of my comfortability so I can truly grow and face what I always had the urge to run away from.
Zoe
The countless conversations we’ve had and the way you hold me accountable for learning Spanish. Thank you isn’t enough. You’ve always rooted for me, held space for my tears, and even sat with me to get my shit together when you didn’t have to. I hope you know how much you inspire me.
Michi
Who would’ve thought we’d be where we are. Thank you for your friendship. You never made me feel like a burden & would practice Spanish with me. Any time I had a question, you didn’t make me feel stupid or got annoyed with me. You don’t know how much it means to feel safe to express myself with you.
Ale
While we don’t talk often, I can never forget the love and care you have given me in our friendship over the years. From helping me in my identity journey (and the countless times you saved me when it came to speaking/translating Spanish in different capacities), you allowed me to be a mess when I needed to.
Daniele
The power of online community at it’s finest. I always value our convos and how we are constantly challenging our understanding of identity and connections to our communities through language, food, history, and liberation. To know you is an honor.
My Afro-Latine fam (especially Maria, Liza, Christianna, Tez, Sirena, )
Y’all support and relationships bring a lot of joy to me. The gratitude I have for all of you can’t really be expressed into words.
Denise
We are truly locked in for life. You’ve been a mentor and friend who saw the greatest in me I wouldn’t give myself credit for. You never policed my feelings. We talk about Latine identity and the work we need to do. Grateful to be in community with you.
Shayna
Having you as a research mentor made my experience in college. You went above and beyond in supporting my research, finding conferences to attend (and funding), taking me to nearby colleges for potential grad programs. But you also saw me as a person first and validated my humanity before the work I produced. You believed in me. We talked about Mexico for so long and here I am going. While you aren’t in academia anymore, your legacy will live on forever.
Suzanne
One of the best decisions I made was taking Spanish 1015 with you in the last year after I decided to recommit to learning Spanish. It wasn’t just a class for me and you knew this. When we first met and you wanted to know where I was coming from, you knew exactly how to show up for me. It was so funny when you switched to Spanish abruptly to assess where I was. You affirmed that I can understand, we just gotta fill in the gaps. I remember when I finally cried because I couldn’t get a grammar concept. The care you had in that moment stuck with me forever. You gave me the compassion I wasn’t extending to myself. Thank you for SEEING me.
And there are so many others!
This has been a long time in the making. It’s happening. Ancestors, I hear y’all. We got work to do. Through you all’s guidance and protection, I know I will be alright.
With love,
Cypress
“‘Señor’ is on the surface about two lovers who have decided to elope to Mexico. However, it’s steeped in the idea that any decision made with love is guided by a deep spirituality and provides a building block in one’s inevitable and preordained destiny.” – Desta French