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@bellepaulino326
The Veil Nebula
Our fourth January cover star is Rosalía! Drawing influences from multiple genres, her next album aims to prove just how far pop music can travel. Read the full profile: http://vogue.cm/n1zXVGH
I redid this older comic I made for my storytelling class based on this post. Have some cute wlw love in your day.
It’s hard, if I had more free time I could make it so pretty, this is what I could throw together for the assignment.
Help support a queer artist: Ko fi, Redbubble, Teepublic
“I’m not everything I want to be, but I’m more than I was, and I’m still learning.”
— Charlotte Eriksson, Everything Changed When I Forgave Myself
Men I Trust - Norton Commander (All We Need)
Love this song!
If they touch my daughter, I burn everything
[Mexico] February 2021 / March 2021 #8M2021
- @Emily_Lykos
The Juarez Femicides (This photograph was taken by an article written on Medium)
“Femicides in Ciudad Juarez”
Idania Rodriguez es mi Madre. La mujer que me dio vida. Una mujer fuerte, independente, a single mother of six children, and the mirror that I always come back to when things don’t make any sense in life.
My childhood was filled with many stories, but one story that will always linger is the one of “Los Sombreros”.
The story behind Los Sombreros is from my mother’s experience in Ciudad Juarez. In order to understand why she was there and the story behind the city of missing women is one that has always bothered me. According to the account in history, the timeline of rape and murder, and the insurmountable pain behind one of the most dangerous cities in Mexico is one to never bury.
I want to give you a background story of Ciudad Juarez:
A Headline from The Sun digital magazine
“CITY OF SILENCE: The dark mystery of Ciudad Juaréz in Mexico where 1500 women and girls have been brutally murdered and dumped in the desert since 1993”
Wikipedia on Ciudad Juárez and the missing women:
“It was estimated that more than 370 women were killed between 1993 and 2005 in Ciudad Juárez, a city in northern Mexico. The murders of women and girls received international attention primarily due to perceived government inaction in preventing the violence and bringing perpetrators to justice.
The issue has been featured in many dramas, songs, books, and so on.
After surveying 155 killings out of 340 documented between 1993 and 2003, a government committee found that roughly half were prompted by motives like robbery and gang wars, while a little more than a third involved sexual assault. American researchers found that femicides averaged less than 10% of homicides, a level less than that in the United States. A narcofosa (mass grave attributed to organized crime) containing the remains of women killed in 2011 and 2012 was found in Madera Municipality, Chihuahua, in December 2016.”
The headline from The Sun and the information from Wikipedia are convoluted. No one truly knows the number of women that have been raped and murdered in Ciudad Juarez. The only reason why I say this is because my mother’s story says otherwise.
Esta es la entrevista y testimonio de Idania Rodriguez:
Annabelle:
When I was a child, I always loved Los Sombreros. I wanted to wear them and I wanted to know why you were always against me wearing them. I didn’t understand what a souvenir was and the importance of the representations of certain items. I remember taking one of them down and a paper fell out that said, “Ciudad Juárez”. What is your connection to this city in Mexico?
Idania:
It was 1985. At that time, in order to receive your permanent residence, you either had to go to the Dominican Republic for a year or Mexico for three weeks. The choice was obvious. Mexico is where I went. I didn’t know that Ciudad Juarez was known to be the city of death, disappearance, human trafficking, rape, and murder of many many women. All I knew was that I loved Mexican vaquero culture, desserts, and “El Divo” Juan Gabriel’s connection to Ciudad Juarez in his life.
Annabelle:
Did you hear about the stories of missing women in your stay in Ciudad Juarez?
Idania:
When I arrived in Juarez, I bonkered with another woman who was from Mexico getting her permanent residency as well. We both wanted to know more about the rich culture that surrounds Ciudad Juarez. Ciudad Juárez is a Mexican city on the Rio Grande, it was just south of El Paso, Texas where my friend Maria lived. The neoclassical Cathedral of Ciudad Juárez, stories of the history of the Mexican Revolution, Mexican vaquero culture, the desserts, tacos,..etc, etc. We both only had three weeks. We couldn’t do all those things, but we wanted to. We walked a lot for the most part.
The people who lived in Ciudad Juarez would always tell us, “ten cuidado adonde caminas”. We always found it strange that everytime Maria and I went out, the people who lived there would say that. A week and half in, Maria and I decided to ask around why people would say “ten cuidado adonde caminas”. Almost all the people we went up to, men and women, told us that women and little girls were disappearing, never found or seen again. Remember what I told you, this was 1985, not 1993. The drug wars of the 80’s were real and the cartel of Guadalajara had gained a lot of power and control in Mexico. Maria was very scared after hearing these stories, so she decided to not want to explore Juarez. I, on the other hand, didn’t get far with exploring, but I wanted to know more about the missing women. I went up to a woman who had a joyas stand. I asked her if these stories were true. She told me something that I will never forget. A statement that only families who experience this type of heartbreak would. Me dijo, “Encontraron a mi hermana en el desierto. Ella nada mas tenia 12 anos. Las niñas y las mujeres que abren los ojos el próximo día son bendecidas aquí.”
For some reason, my mother’s story didn’t shock me. I felt like the femicides in Ciudad Juarez extended before 1993. Of course, I’m assuming, but her testimony shows validation to the continuing women who go missing and who still aren’t found. Ni una mas!
“The day my soul was shattered was the day I couldn’t find peace.”
-Annabelle Paulino
Rape in New York by Jana Leo
Jana Leo’s Rape in New York relives the moment-by-moment experience of a home invasion and rape in her own apartment in Harlem. After Jana reports the crime, she waits. Between police disinterest and squabbles from the health insurance company over who’s going to pay for the rape kit, she realizes that the violence of such an experience does not stop with the crime. Increasingly concerned that the rapist will return, she seeks help from her landlord, who refuses to address security issues on the property. She comes to understand that it is precisely these conditions of newly gentrified lower-income areas which lead to vulnerable living spaces, high turnover rates, and ultimately higher profits for slumlords. Jana Leo’s first person memoir weaves a psychological journey into an analysis that becomes equally personal: the fault lines of property mismanagement, class vulnerabilities, and a deeply flawed criminal justice system. In all of what Jana went through, she finally gets to go to court.
Jana Leo’s story reminded me of this story that’s about rape kits being destroyed and mishandled written/documented by CNN.
Brief Commentary:
This CNN investigation found that law enforcement agencies across the country destroyed hundreds of rape kits tied to cases that could still be prosecuted.
In this investigation one of the victims said her father raped her, and a lab found his sperm in her rape kit. But police destroyed the evidence. Twelve years later, they tried to right that wrong. This is the struggle that women face when rape cases come to surface. To know that rape kits were destroyed so cases won’t go on trail just shows how corrupt and flawed the justice system truly is.
A literary reference by Natasha Carrizosa’s poem PENNIES IN MY BLOOD:
“I was fire/before man knew flesh/i was shango chant/before slaveships came/i counted pennies with God/before i knew my name.”
Survival:
“I experienced pain in my intestines for the past 3 days and had cramps. Though he was already raping me I pleaded as much as I dared knowing that some negotiation was possible.” (Leo, 21)
Injustice:
“Introducing crime into an area is part of a crude development strategy. The more sophisticated and perverse approach is to simultaneously clamp down on street crime while forcing it into specific buildings targeted for speculation.” (Leo, 41)
Fear:
“I understand that the purpose of the sketch is so that the police can recognize suspects, but under no circumstance should they post it in the neighborhood until I have moved away completely. He will kill me. Detective M, who sent me here, does not understand that.” (Leo, 53)
These emotions are what every woman who has experienced rape goes through. There is no justice, a lot of fear, and all we can do is learn how to survive. Why do women have to be chained like slaves on a slave ship due to another person’s malicious choices? Can rape be condemned as a heinous crime just like murder? Why does the justice system ignore, dismantle, and even try to destroy evidence of an experience that changed someone’s life forever? The scars are only left behind with the memories of trauma. Why is this society built around the patriarchy of men that can get away with harming the one being that gave them life? Why is our justice system so corrupt and flawed? Women are treated as “other”. We aren’t respected. All we ask for is respect and protection. We didn’t motivate, provoke, or seduce any person to rape another person. Standing together, protesting, and using our voice is all we can do. For centuries, women have been experiencing injustice to our very own bodies. When does it stop?
“Los Sombreros”
It was 1994 and my mother wanted to move from Washington Heights to Harlem. We lived in a place Uptown Manhattan called, “Little Dominican Republic”. She wanted a bigger apartment and more space for my siblings and I. What I remembered most from the previous apartment, (which I don’t remember much because I was four years old), was one particular item that my mom always had displayed on the main wall in our living room in Washington Heights--los sombreros. I remember always being curious about the hats and wanting to take them down to try them on. I was always curious about why my mom had them on the wall and never tried them on. The memory etched in my stream of consciousness was a high conical or cylindrical crown with a saucer-shaped brim, highly embroidered and made of plush felt. There was one that was black and the other one was a deep wine red.
When we moved to Harlem, my mom had decided to take Los Sombreros with her and display them on our new living room wall. I wanted to try them on. After two-years living in our apartment, I waited for my mom to go out to run errands and decided to take one of the hats down to try it on. I really enjoy the color red, so I took the deep wine red Sombrero down the wall. It was very heavy or at least it was heavy to me. I was only six-years old. It fit me big and loose around my head. It tilted like earth during its rotation cycle. I heard my mother’s keys clinking from outside our apartment door, so I rushed to put it back on the wall. As I was trying to reach the nail to display it exactly how she left it before, a piece of paper fell out of the sombrero. My mom walked in and asked, “Porque tienes esa cara?! Que estabas haciendo?” I responded, “Nada, Mami. Esperando te.” Luckily, I wasn’t caught and she didn’t see the piece of paper on the floor. As soon as her back turned, I picked up the paper. It was old. The color of the paper had changed from white to yellow and the ink seemed to have faded away a bit. Only two words were on the piece of paper. It was a place that mom had gone to before I was born. It read, “Ciudad Juarez”.