Unapologetically Me

[lyndalopezposts]

Death

When someone near you dies, is it ever possible not to wonder what you could have done to prolong their life? Is it healthy? To what extent can we save a life? To what extent are we responsible? We wonder what we could have done or if we had been somewhere or if we had made different choices. We relive scenarios, but is there such a thing as a scenario where its perfect, when we can prevent something that may just be inevitable? Death has a way of destabilizing you, of making you question life. You think more about pain and suffering. You have more empathy for people. It is more intensified if a loved one near you suffered before death, if it wasn't quick and painless. The connotation of pain is amplified when death comes as a result. Pain is seen as necessary when it leads to recovery. When death comes after pain, it is seen as cruelty. It's the only thing that becomes etched in our minds. If they had only died in peace, but they died suffering. Does that make their life less animated and happy? Death has a way of enveloping life, erasing happy memories, but it can't be the end all.

[lyndalopezposts]

Gender pronouns

It is sad you have to fight to include pronouns as part of an introduction because people are too uncomfortable. I had to advocate for including it and people didn't want to have the students be uncomfortable with pronouns. I stood my ground and lost, but at least I can be comfortable in knowing that I tried.

[lyndalopezposts]

Environmental justice workshop for women

I went to an environmental justice workshop for women in Little Village today. We had workshops on herbalism, conscious menstruation, and gender identity/fluidity. It was just the type of workshop I needed. I had been having a topsy turvy week and this was just perfect.

At the event, we got to explore our bodies and also be around other women that also wanted to understand themselves. I think one of the most valuable aspects for me was the fact that it was all in Spanish. I felt connected to all the women talking about reproductive justice. I also felt like I could imagine my own mom in this space, a type of space she is rarely ever a part of. I want to explore this aspect of myself deeper. My pursuit in being a full person is coupled with my embracing my body and taking care of it. I want this kind of space to continue nurturing that desire within myself.

Spaces are important, in many layers of that word. For one, it felt grassroots because it was in a boys and girls club. Beyond that, it was all women of color and it was coordinated in Spanish. There was a connectivity to my roots that I seldom feel. I felt connected to my family and my body. Family ties are so crucial in regards to how we feel about ourselves. I want these kinds of spaces in all aspects of my life. It can be tough if I am not open about all spaces of my life. How can others be open about their spaces when I’m closed off about mine? Family was definitely the focal point for me during the workshop. The connectivity of the language is strong.

[lyndalopezposts]

Disillusionment

Excitement is a tricky thing. It fizzles and then sparks. We can only escape our truth for so long. We can indulge in easy thrills, but it can’t cloud what our true colors are. Our self knows our true alignments. We can't lie to ourselves as the easy way out.

[lyndalopezposts]

Young mexica against displacment

Today, I had the honor of door-knocking with the young Mexicas against displacement with LSNA. They have been doing work in Hermosa. We met in the parking lot at Pulaski and Armitage. It was pretty grassroots, if I do say so myself. We split up different turfs in Hermosa & the boundary of Logan Square. I caught a glimpse of the turfs they had worked on before. They said they had door-knocked at Koster & Armitage before. The common issue "they just don't see it as an issue yet." This was a recurring theme today. I door-knocked at Harding between Armitage and Cortland. We talked to residents about gentrification. It was an interesting experience. The residents get it. The first guy named Pedro said the east side of the block has been pretty much populated by white people, that a lot of neighbors have had to leave because of of price increases (which can mean a variety of things). The second guy we talked to was a worker helped to renovate a home. One house is already renovated and is going to be sold and the other is in the process of being renovated and may be sold. On the other side of the block, I met a few more people. Two guys were pretty upbeat and talked about all the price increases. From garbage and property taxes, people are upset. This is the way to move people. My second to last conversation was probably the most insightful. He had some interesting answers. First, he said there hadn't been any demographic change, but then he started saying how a bunch of houses across the street were white. And that the building on the corner of Cortland and Harding was all white. He didn't seem to be too concerned and says his side of the block is pretty intact. However, you notice he knows the history of displacement. When I asked him of the luxury development "well they're all well and good until they get rid of us. They did this on north avenue and division street. They want to move us all out." This guy got it. He told me he was moving to Orlando because his daughter is going to college and he lost his house because of money mismanagement. This guy gets it. I mean, all these people get it. But it still doesn't feel personal so they don't see it as urgent. The first guy is an exception. He gets it and sees it as important. Everyone else is concerned about the immediate, which is property taxes, not this intangibility of retaining space. How do you organize in a place not in gentrification yet? That is a tough answer and we can't afford to wait.

[lyndalopezposts]

The connectedness of Humboldt Park

The forces of displacement are relentless and threatens the fabric of community. Some fabric is more fragile and some refuses to let go. I biked along Humboldt Park today, the neighborhood and the park. I saw fathers walking with their sons. I saw a grandma showing her granddaughter the ducks in the lagoon. Elderly Puerto Rican men sat around the park playing chess. People of color walked all around the park. It is theirs. Even though the neighborhood itself is undergoing gentrification, the park itself still remains an unapologetic space for people of color. From the Puerto Rican parade to Dyke March, Humboldt Park is special. Developers can't dismantle what has been built. It goes beyond the tangible. The area around the park does exhibit changes, but the park is different. Humboldt Park has always been more resilient and has this connectivity that shields it from being enveloped by this white identity. Logan Square has been more vulnerable, which is due to a lot of factors. I want to explore what keeps Humboldt Park Humboldt Park.

[lyndalopezposts]

My heart is heavy

My mood increasingly hit a downward spiral, especially as I had time to think after I left work. I consumed articles and read posts about police killings of black men. I have never been so affected by these news. It gets so much harder over time. I have always been that person that gets upset, but it doesn't exactly penetrate my being. These last two killings have been particularly painful to learn about. The videos of them both dying (Philando Castille and Alton Sterling) were personal. The video of Philando was especially disturbing. His girlfriend Facebook-lived the aftermath. All we see is Philando lying in a white shirt with blood stains from the gunshot wounds. The pain that the families feel has become powerful. Maybe it's the video of Diamond Reynolds crying and proclaiming justice for her boyfriend or maybe it's all my friends on my newsfeed feeling despair over the overwhelming nature of these killings. Something has changed within me. I am no longer separate from these killings. These events impact me. They impact my community, my family. I don't know where the shift occurred. Maybe it was a build-up over time. Maybe it was the performance by Assata's Daughters at Allied Media. Maybe it's been my own tapping into my own emotions, my vulnerability. We all reach a point where we can't have walls up anymore. I don't claim to be the best person or the most empathetic. I am often selfish and am sometimes not the best family member. But I am also compassionate for people and care for justice. We can be imperfect people, but still want justice for our world. We can be traumatized and still feel compelled to help others. We can be broken, but want to contribute to fixing others. We can want to see the world transformed even if we sometimes don't practice what we preach. We are imperfect people in an imperfect world. Regardless, we all need to be part of the movement for freedom. We can want to see inclusive communities even if that's tougher in practice than in theory. We all need to work towards forging our visions with praxis. I'm not perfect and I question my feelings and intentions often (as we all should), but I am committed to standing with people seeking freedom for black and brown people. No justice, no peace.

[lyndalopezposts]

The killings of black people

Today I woke up to find a trending name on social media. I skimmed and saw articles about death and saw words of anger and sadness jump out of me.

I started clicking at the articles to figure out what had happened. I knew that another black man had been taken by the state, but I yearned to learn the details. I wanted to watch the video.

I had to take a step back and interrogate why I wanted to see this video. Does this video serve as affirmation to my belief that he didn’t deserve to die? Does the video change anything?

I started to wonder more and more about the need to watch these videos and the way in which they continue to inflict trauma. There is a disconnect between the consumption of black death by the media and concern for black lives. Everyone clicks share, but what does that really do to our mentality? These videos fetishize Black death. It creates a prescription for the manner in which we react to for police brutality. Victims become a trending topic and people are outraged, so they share the video. The very few become and remain committed organizers against the system. Everyone else goes back to their daily lives, waiting for the next video to wake them up. What do these videos do to us? They create a narrow lens as to what police brutality is. It creates the perception that these deaths are merely the result of bad apples and not systemic problems. Maybe it's not even the videos that are the problem, but the fact that these videos have become so common that people are so desensitized to what happens.

[lyndalopezposts]

Serendipity meets intention

The way we form our circles are so based on our ability to make room for people. Sometimes we are at point in our lives where we can’t and don’t have room to accommodate new people. Then there are times when people you see want to get into your circle and you actually have the room to incorporate them. This can happen at times of transition when people have moved away or are no longer able to be in your circle at the capacity they once did. Intentionality meets serendipity. This may seem a crude way to describe relationships, but as humans we only have so much time to be with people. We need to consider who we want to see and who we want to allow into our lives. We are the masters of our circles and minds. The people we let in have to be worthy of our spaces. Sometimes people are great, but you may not have the time. With relationship-building, it's about being conscious of the many factors that play a role in creating an inner and outer circle.

[lyndalopezposts]

White people as triggers

I can’t say how many times I’ve had friends tell me their shock at seeing white people get off the bus further and further west. “They even get off at Pulaski now,” says one friend. In a city as segregated as Chicago, you are used to these invisible dividing lines. You grow up used to white people living in the nicer, wealthier parts of town. As people of color, our communities are rarely allocated the resources to fully meet our needs. Despite the marginalization, our communities are rich with people, vibrancy, and culture.

With the history of gentrification throughout the north side, there is fear of it continuing to happen to more communities of color, particularly majority-Latino ones on the north side. Logan Square has itself lost over 19,000 Latino residents over 15 years. You see Latino restaurants replaced by restaurants called Furious Spoon. Bars upon bars line the main thoroughfare in Logan Square. You see less brown faces getting on the train in the morning.

With the violent act that is gentrification, many people of color are on edge when white people move into their neighborhood. When white people start getting off at their bus stop, they wonder, “Are we the next Wicker Park?”

My community would be considered pre-gentrification. West of Logan Square, it isn’t gentrifying yet, but you see initial signs of change ahead. A few white people can be seen getting off the bus stop west of Pulaski. Five years ago, this would have been unheard of. Even 6 months ago, this would have been unheard of.

For me, white people in my neighborhood means the potential WickerParkification of my community. It means my family potentially never being able to own a home in the neighborhood, the dreams of my mom’s garden washed away. It means relics of my childhood, staples of community being whitewashed. It means the voices of newcomers starting to be centered in conversations around priorities.

As people of color, our voices have never mattered to the city. Our spaces have always been precarious, subject to outside intervention. The only time we become valuable is when the city wants to turn our communities into playgrounds for tourists. “Oh, look at all the culture in this historically Mexican neighborhood.”

White people in my neighborhood are the triggers to all of that. The power of whiteness knows no bounds in the reshaping of community.

It can’t and will never be as simple as welcoming white people with open arms into our neighborhoods. It’s about having tough conversations about what whiteness means in communities of color. It’s about making sure we don’t center white voices. It’s about being conscious of how we determine priorities for our communities. If the history of this country and city has taught us anything, it’s that people of color have to fight for space.

When it’s normal for friends and family to note when white people get off the bus farther west, I know that fear of losing space is at the heart of all of that.

[lyndalopezposts]

Celebration as trigger

This weekend, Chicago was vibrant with the celebration of Pride. All across the city, you see glimpses of colors on headbands, beads, and clothing. For those that feel that their identity isn't affirmed, it was a time where it seemed like those people breathed a little easier for a few days, were able to be a little more open and free. The Dyke March on Saturday was particularly representative of this freedom. While the official Pride parade can be more corporate and more impersonal, Dyke March was a celebration of LGBTQ people of color. It was beautiful to be able to be in a space where you felt like you glimpsed what freedom can look like. With the celebratory spirit, I am left wondering what these days and events mean for those not open about their identities, whether that be LGBTQ or another closeted aspect of yourself. Are these celebrations triggers? I wonder how we create spaces that affirm and give life to those people who are vocal and want to show off their colors in all aspects of the word but that also bring comfort to those still struggling. I think a really good example of this is the Coming out of the Shadows events. At these events, undocumented community members stand on a stage or some type of platform to share their stories of being undocumented in America. Their stories are often vulnerable and emotional. They aren't necessarily stories of triumph, rather those of honesty and struggle on the path to liberation. With any celebration, we need to lift up those imperfect voices of people that struggle, that aren't donning their identities on their sleeves but are growing and shedding layers of fear. I'm not sure I heard those stories this weekend. Those voices need to be heard because this society is far-off from being accepting to people that veer from the center. Orlando is the perfect example of that. Dyke March came close to exhibiting that mixture of celebration with an honest framing on the scarcity of spaces that are inclusive for people of color. The space felt radical, like a challenge to the establishment because it intentionally created a space for people of color. Celebrations aren't celebrations if they continue to exclude the varied identities of community. Without intentionality with these spaces, we are merely perpetuating the problems that lead to the deep-seeded homophobia in our country. With celebrations that don't bring nuance and don't highlight those people not able to celebrate with us, we are merely replicating oppressions.

[lyndalopezposts]

Our community is not a tourist destination

Earlier today, Dnainfo Chicago published an article titled “Tourists flocking to Logan Square like never before: ‘It’s Happening’”

The article detailed how all these European and nationwide tourists are flocking to Logan Square. One even says how “very happy” he is tourists have come to the neighborhood despite the shootings recently. Another part quoted a New York Times article that said some Chicago northwest side neighborhoods were “an invigorating blend of reflection and reinvention.”

Upon reading this article, I felt a sense of powerlessness. This one article in this one publication gets to continue to frame our communities as commodities, as places for profit. I was mad and am still mad. My community isn’t a place for tourists to simply have a good time, to bask in the culture; they are places where people of color & working people live & and are marginalized for the sake of appealing to people that don’t have roots in the community.

More than ever, I see how intricately connected the oppression of our communities is tied to media. The media frames the stories, the stories that we often don’t tell or aren’t able to tell because we don’t have access to power. The media is complicit in the gentrification of our communities when they publish articles discussing tourism in a neighborhood without discussing the implications of a neighborhood redesigned for often, white visitors.

Now, more than ever, we need to make holding the media accountable part of our anti-gentrification strategy. We have to ask journalists difficult questions. In this case: Who is erased from the story when a neighborhood is painted as a tourist destination? Who benefits from the framing of a community as a commodity? Who loses?

If we’re not satisfied with the stories being told about our communities, we need to uplift our stories and make sure we pushback against the framing of community as commodities for the taking. Communities are homes. Communities are histories. Communities are livelihoods. Communities are people. They're not a tourist destination.

[lyndalopezposts]

Allied Media 2016 Reflections

Whenever we go to conferences, we are left with so much information and we have to ask ourselves, "What now?" I have a notebook full of notes and in the past, I'm not sure I've been as intentional to reflect and chart next steps. I'm going to do this differently. Here are the steps and mindset changes I promise for myself after this conference. 1) I went to several sessions on gentrification and the ways in which communities are working to fight back. Listening to people from various cities across the country made me again feel this deep desire to learn from other places. I commit to continue looking for opportunities to be in spaces where I can learn from strategies being used across the country and just listen to stories and perspectives from different people. 2) There was so many sessions about using media. I often don't see myself as technologically savvy (which is layered in identity), but this conference helped me challenge that. I commit to jump into projects that don't seem as instinctually fitting to me but that may challenge me if I try. Podcast, anyone? 3) Writing and media: Two of my favorite sessions were on the role of media in perpetuating oppression. I loved being in a space where I can critically talk about how media helps shape what we do and see. I'm not a journalist, but that doesn't mean I can't create spaces for those conversations. I will search for ways to be more vocal on media injustices, whether that be media or a larger forum. Media commentary isn't only for journalists. 4) Healthy queer communities: This was probably my favorite session. I often don't feel like I fit into certain spaces, but this session just grounded everyone and created deep connections. There was also so much pride in the facilitators and they were all so different. It was a beautiful sight. I challenge myself to find more spaces like this. 5) Storytelling: So much of the weekend was about honest storytelling, which can mean varying things based on who you are. For me, it means trying to be more open about different aspects of my story. Thank you, AMC. See you next year.

[lyndalopezposts]

Code Switch

I just started listening to NPR's Code Switch this week. I started off with the episode on the reactions of the LGBTQ community to Orlando. Today, I listened to the one on whiteness. I was optimistic about the content, especially with the framing around an identity most just want to ignore. Many get offended by the mere mention of whiteness. The podcast featured interviews with professors and a student. Overall, I still felt that it covered no new ground. It was too safe to be revolutionary. It gave white people too much room to talk about whiteness and didn't feature those most impacted by white supremacy. We can't have a prudent conversation on whiteness when those talking are the most privileged. The conversation would have looked much different had it featured organizers with BYP100 or one of the other Black-led youth organizations. Despite the slight disappointment. I do think it has shown how this growing medium of podcasts can be a host for difficult conversations. Ready to keep listening with critical and open ears.

[lyndalopezposts]

Tone-Deaf Chicago Tribune Article

I read the most upsetting article this morning. A Chicago Tribune columnist wrote a piece titled "In Chicago, Wishing for a Hurricane Katrina." I think you can get the gist of why this post has to take the cake for one of the worst of the year, or any year, for that matter. In it, she outlines all the ways in which Chicago is broken. From city government to the bureaucratic public school system, this journalist wants our city to have a rebirth. To cite an example of what's possible, she shines the light on the "wonders" of life in New Orleans post-Hurricane Katrina. The public school system is gone. She touts a fairer government. Nevermind her praise for union-busting and the demolishment of the public school system, she completely glosses over the devastation of the natural disaster in New Orleans. Thousands of African Americans displaced. Homes destroyed. Yet this journalist doesn't think much about making a point on the backs of Black lives. I couldn't be more disgusted at the audacity of this journalist.

[la-vie-selon-moi]

Mexico, October 2014

La fosa-MoneroRapé

[balunium]