I wrote this poem in January of 2020. Maybe I was mad at the patriarchy or just feeling weighed down by the expectations that society has on women. I know that for me, it has been a huge burden at times to constantly keep up an appearance that I am put together balanced woman even if I am falling apart.
me in January of 2020
The strength we have to carry as women is obscene Endless expectations weigh on us generation after generation We are buried in the burdens that society has placed on us since before we were born Be pretty but don’t show your body Be smart but we don’t want your opinion Be motherly and nurturing but still a working and productive member of society It is a never ending nightmare to try to reach the ridiculous standards placed upon our beauty, wealth, and motherhood Some of us seem to do it with grace Some of us are barely hanging on by a thread Quite a few of us would rather die than continue with the facade and the myth of a balanced woman.
I want to hold on to what’s real and not be stuck in a daydream I want to live in my present And not stuck in my past I want to be over you and not be triggered by the memory of you
As I’m thinking about this answer, two teachers come to mind. One is my 11th Grade English Mrs.Idica and the other is my college professor of creative writing, Dr.Blais.
Who knows what would have happened to these two if it wasn’t for Mrs.Idica 😭😭😭
I took Mrs.Idica’s Asian American Lit and Creative Writing class my junior year of high school. I did really well in my creative writing class but almost flunked the Asian American lit class. I remember not liking her too much at first because she pushed us to do our best and was strict. I think I did well in the creative writing class because I really loved writing poems and little short stories. At the time, I didn’t think it was something I’d ever be passionate about but of course the class did have a great impact on me, here’s a poem I wrote in that class:
Mrs.Idica ended up being my homebound teacher when I was on maternity leave with my first son at the beginning of my senior year. That meant that for 6 weeks, she came to my house to give me my school assignments and helped me with them if I needed help. She would stay and talk to me and always encouraged me to drop out of high school and to continue on. This was important for me to hear as there was pressure from people in my family to drop out and work. She could have easily just dropped off my work and not have these conversations with me but instead she showed up with the compassion and grace I needed during a really dark time in my life. She also had the patience of the saint as I trudge through my school assignments since I was an terrible student. She never gave up on me or told me my life was ruined because I had a child at such a young age. In fact, she was one of the few people who didn’t shame me and reminded me my child was a gift. The encouragement from her and her belief in me really made a difference in my life. I don’t believe I would have put so much effort that last year in high school and graduated on time. I think what made her not just a great but exceptional teacher was that she was caring, had the patience of a saint, and was this light of compassion and encouragement for me when I needed it. This is a poem I wrote about her:
I also want to say that I’m still in touch with her through social media where I share updates about my life and my writing. Even now, she tells me she’s proud of me and that means a lot to me.
Right after taking Dr.Blais class
Another teacher in my life who was exceptional was my creative writing professor Dr. Blais. Like Mrs.Idica, she pushed us to do our best in the class and provided a safe space for us to express ourselves creatively.I also learned to be super disciplined with my writing in her class and the editing process. She was very patient with us and in her class I wrote 3 plays and both of them won 2nd and 3rd place in the college writing competition which meant a lot to me since it was the first time I was writing plays. She also encouraged me to continue writing and even invited me to one of her playwright workshop groups but I couldn’t go due to family obligations. Also, her class was my favorite escape from my busy mom life that included 2 small kids and 3 part time jobs at the time. It was a crazy time in my life where my mental health was a bit touch and go but going to Dr.Blais class helped me cope. Like, Mrs.Idica, Dr.Blais saw potential in me and encouraged me and was incredibly patient in kneading the writer out of me. I think taking her class validated my passion for writing. Especially when the last assignment was making a book which I titled “My Quarter Life Crises” . I felt accomplished in making that little book of my poems and plays. Here’s a link to one of the plays I wrote in her class:
Unfortunately, I lost touch with my Dr.Blais after college and can’t seem to find her anywhere. Last I heard is that she’s had success as a playwright in New York.
I think I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have had two educators show up in my life who made a positive impact on effect. It doesn’t always happen that way (thinking about my super condescending English professor at UGA- but that’s another blog post) . It’s hard to imagine who I would have become without both of them.
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty even as I’m suffering, even as I’m cast aside for someone else even as I’m crying and dying from grief at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about all of the lovely and terrible things that come with falling in love at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons about life and love I’ve carried into my middle age
I’m lead to a higher version of myself after integration it’s uncomfortable and I blush red in this latest transformation annoyed and hate everything I write as most of it takes a romantic undertone I started to miss the woman-scorned and empowered who decimated her exes the one who came up with the clever phrase electronic pink slip but that woman is slipping away from me transforming into a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve with her poetry transforming into a woman who’s grown bored of hating her exes and instead wants to be on friendly terms with them transforming into a woman who understands and accepts she not defined by her trauma or a diagnosis and instead should lean into the magic of love that lurks inside of her
I pay tribute to the women who came before me women who sacrificed so my parents could exist my mami who had to leave behind her culture, traditions, and language to give me a better life to make sure I grow up safe and well educated and taught me what strength and resilience means as she worked long days to make ends meet as she showed initiative to move our family forward and with her example I was able to follow it except I change it up some to live a life full of love, community and creativity
sueños olvidados vienen a mi mente mientras sufro de un episodio depresivo quería ser mucho más que esto una madre abrumadora tratando de dar lo mejor de ella pero todavía fracasando
not even a year has passed and there’s an ocean between us desire and passion once shared evades us as we fall into an oblivion of obligations and routine
it was another boring night at work I was stuck on aisle 10 between stocking and my racing thoughts a 90s dance song comes on the speaker and just when I’m about to sing I heard footsteps behind me I turned around and there he was- my favorite customer 5’10 ,curly black hair, full red lips and a body built by some Greek God he was looking at pots and pans I quickly turned my back to stock the tupperware and sneaked glances and admired him from afar hoped he didn’t notice me in my Kroger garb I looked like too much of hot mess to flirt but still my dead and jaded heart was resuscitated and my imagination took flight as fantasies of him surfaced to my mind and just as I’m imagined our first kiss he approached me, -OH NO! of course he asked for a specific type of pan we didn’t have I told him no and apologized in my best customer service voice and he told me “no worries” as his voice cracked and walked away quickly and I wondered, am I imagining things, or is he also attracted to me?
nachos y queso son un poema de amor para mi estómago satisface mi antojo para algo salado mi lengua se despierta cuando el queso se derrite en mi boca y me mareo con júbilo y me vuelvo una víctima a mi glotonería mi lengua se vuelve más avaricioso mientras que mi presión arterial vuela y vuela hasta que mi corazón amenaza con explotar
August came and I hold onto the few slivers of hope left in me as I reach another rock bottom self correcting and not making myself a victim making sure I’m better than yesterday Trying my best to control my emotions knowing that somewhere in the wash of this downward spiral will come the biggest silver lining
erotic stories from my ancestors are still seen in the caves and uncovered in archaeological digs people intertwined in every imaginable position- showing their sexual pleasure shamelessly- it makes the American and Colonizer catholic girl in me blush and say, damn, the Incas were some kinky people
Life on the BPD 