Dandee

An item of my youth I was incredibly attached to was my doll Dandee. I actually had two of these dolls given to me as a young child. The first Dandee was given to me by my aunt shortly after me and my family immigrated to the states when I was 5. This was in 1986. What happened to the first Dandee? Well, it’s a sad story of trauma. When me and my family first moved to the states, we moved into the apartment next to my aunt C and her family. The living situation there was not ideal. Actually that’s the understatement of the year. Here’s a poem I wrote about her:
poetry: target
Anyways my aunt C owned the apartment we were renting so she was our landlord. She was also the one who was giving sponsorship for our green card. At the time we immigrated, we had done so four years earlier than we were supposed to so we lived undocumented for four years. So my Aunt C took advantage of the situation because A) with a call to immigration she could deport all of us back to Peru and B) she was our landlord so she also held control and power over where we lived. It was a terrible situation. Aunt C had a massive 3 year old son J. He was probably one of the most terrible toddlers I’ve ever encountered. Aunt C would not control him and when he would bully me, either hit me or take away my toys, Aunt C would say, “dejalo, es chiquito” which basically translates to “allow him to do whatever because he’s small”. It was hard for my mom to say anything to her or protect me because of the living situation we were in with Aunt C. The best she could do was take me somewhere else. Shortly after Dandee was given to me, he became my most favorite toy in the world. He was given to me by my favorite Aunt Luz. That toy went with me everywhere. However, one day, Dandee was taken away from me by my cousin J, and he wouldn’t give him back. My aunt didn’t do anything to remedy the situation. According to my mom, this broke my little 5 year old spirit and I was inconsolable and cried and cried for days. My papi was upset that my mom wouldn’t say anything to Aunt C. He hated to see me cry every day for that damn doll so even though they really couldn’t afford it (it was an expensive doll), papi went to the toy store and bought a brand new Dandee for me. I was a happy child again taking that doll everywhere with me. Playing with him and my imaginary friend Calincha. Anyways, a few months went by and I was at my aunt C’s house with my mom. I was playing with Dandee and my cousin J came up to me and started trying to take the doll away from me. The adults weren’t doing anything and I got angry. My five year old self could not take the bullying from J anymore and was not going to allow him to take my doll away from me so I punched him and he fell to the floor. I wasn’t punished for it and went back to playing with my doll. My mom tells me that her and my aunt C were surprised by what I did and had no idea until that point that I had a temper. I was always such an obedient and quiet child, it was shocking to them that I had it in me to fight back. Needless to say, my cousin J never messed with me after that day.

So fast forward to 37 years later, that Dandee sits in my bookcase in my room next to the baby Yoda I bought for my youngest son a few years ago (that he didn’t want anyways cause it looked creepy). When I look at Dandee, I’m reminded of my fierce and fiery spirit at 5 years old that I’ve carried with me since then. When I told my sons the story of Dandee, my oldest son said, “Dandee carries your 5 year old warrior girl spirit” and that felt empowering to me. Dandee taught me a lesson in how to take my power back from a situation I thought I had no power or control in.

Peruvian Diosa Energy
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?

Song of the Day 🥳 “slot machines, fear of God”🥳
Poetry: Do I have to hide?
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

I hide the craziest parts of myself
The parts that get sad,
The parts that get obsessed
The parts that lose hope
I hide the worst parts of myself
the parts that feel empty
The parts that feel numb
The parts that want to die
I hide the craziest and worst parts
of myself
so no one else will leave
Poetry: More than a Diagnosis
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.

My diagnosis doesn’t define me,
It empowers me, it makes sense of my nonsense
I’m not crazy or chaotic or even hard to love
I’m a dream come true wrapped up in complexity
sure at times I feel like a nightmare
But don’t all of us get rough at times
So whoever gets scared and runs away from me
Sorry not sorry, I’m too much
and you’re just not enough
Poetry Review: Love Pangs

Melia Cogan has done it again with her second poetry collection. She paints a picture of the beauty of love and the euphoria it brings to one’s life. This book will make you weak at your knees and perhaps even want to get you on a dating app to look for that special someone to experience the magic of love. Cogan explores the mosaic of emotions that come with love. Through Cogan’s verse, I was transported to the alluring and sometimes tumultuous journey of love.
I’ll talk about my 2 favorite poems from the poetry collection.
One of the poems that really resonated with me was “Should I Allow Myself”. I liked how profound this poem is-it speaks about allowing yourself to fall in love recklessly while risking your vulnerability. It’s risking everything to be in the moment of that special memory of love. This is presented in the lines “Together/the possibilities/reach for me in the night/and primarily/I wish they were you (Cogan)”. It’s a desire for longing to be with that special someone.
The other poem that I really related to was “I’m Hiding from Love”because that’s kind of where I’m at right now. This is captured in the lines “Well. I enjoy my boat not toppling over in the sea/and my house not catching on fire (Cogan). Cogan is perceptive of what heartbreak feels like and how some of us are so burned by it,we’ll avoid it at all costs. The metaphors of the boat and fire feel like a truth I’ve encountered many times. It’s how anger and sorrow makes me feel like I’m either drowning or burning inside when it comes to heartbreak. Cogan captures these strong emotions in an intelligent and creative way that I’m sure resonates with mine and others’ experiences with the agony and torment that grief from heartbreak can bring.
I would recommend this poetry collection if you like to explore the depths of love and the complex emotions that come with it.
Here is the link to the book:
Poetry: State of Modern Womanhood
I wrote this poem in December of 2021. I was kind of angry. Lol.

Let’s hashtag the fuck out of our imperfect perfect lives
smile for the camera but make it look candid
this is for instagram after all-
we want to present an image of authenticity
Authentic needs to look put together and balanced
there can be no cracks in our suburban realities
no one wants to see tears and frowns
let’s continue to act like modern clowns
except our lipsticks presents a false smile
that hides our misery inside and let’s add a witty caption
that spells out live,laugh, love
and hashtags about #momlife,#gratitude, and #bestlifeever
depression, sadness, and anger has no room in our modern world
where we pretend to be perfectly imperfect moms and wives
with these amazing and perfect lives
let’s continue the facade of authenticity
even as we burn inside and want to die
we are not just okay but we are fucking fabulous
so honey continue to smile for that selfie
even as the expectations of modern womanhood
continues to burn us all up
Uncomfortable
Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.

saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
even as I lost her in parts
first came the extra pounds and inches I ran off from the curvy girl who used food as comfort
and for a while a stranger stared at me from the mirror as I wondered where my cleavage went
or how my waistline got so small
then came the spectator and the passenger I lost as I gained confidence and power in sharing my truth, in sharing my art and I became the main character and the driver of my own life
finally I lost the princess who held onto others for safety, who relied on others for acceptance and love-she left on a windy October day when she conquered a phobia that haunted her for 15 years
saying goodbye to the version of me I used to be was uncomfortable and agonizing
but she couldn’t stay around if I wanted to grow, to evolve, to become the mother my children
always deserved, to become the woman I always wanted to be
December Poetry Challenge: Arrival
This is my response to prompt #11: A goal you reached

Getting rid off my self imposed chains of insecurity and doubt
I no longer give any fucks-I no longer hold back
I announce my arrival when I drive, when I make love, and when I blog
I’m liberated from the chaos I used to cause
and have accepted sometimes an attention whore or an introvert
and it’s okay to swing between both
as long as I honor my truth and know my worth
Poem of the Day: Camile Claudel and her Terrible Fate

Poem of the Day: Invitation

Poem of the Day: Don’t !

Poetry: Not That Woman
I wrote this in 2002. It was one of those moments when I was having one of those moments where my self esteem was high and I was like fuck love, I’m awesome by myself.

She is not that woman
who needs a man
She alone fulfills her dreams
Without him, her face still beamsme
She is not that beauty chick
Who has all the men at her feet
She’s got something else
When the world of beauty fails
She is not that pushover girl
Submissive with the golden curls
She’s got her own mind
Love is not worth her time
She is not that Ms.Prom Queen
Who wants an engagement ring
A husband she could care less about
She’d rather not take that life route



