Pinche.Flower.Xulie

Ask me anything   PNW Xicana. Lover. Dreamer. Brujita. Artivista.

Check out my passion at https://www.facebook.com/pnwxicana
& http://pnwxicanabutterfly.wordpress.com/

"That’s how we are, we mexicanas, puro coraje y pasion. That’s what we’re made of…that’s us. We love like we hate. Backward and forward, past, present, and future. With our heart and soul and our tripas, too"
Caramelo, Sandra Cisneros (via chicanafem)

Yessss ❤️❤️❤️

(via lascosasdediana)

— 4 hours ago with 827 notes
chicanoartmovement:

Yreina Flores Ortiz - “La Chingona” artwork and poem


Today, I will greet the sun as my relative
and give the morning my full attention.

I will say “I love you” into the mirror
and draw my eyeliner extra straight.

I will not call myself fat
because everything in my closet will look good on me.

I will rock my huge Latina hips
like the blessing they are.

Watch out! 
I might even wear heels.

Today, I will not hand out one unnecessary apology.
Today, I will be Chingona!

-Yreina Flores Ortiz

CAM:
More info on Yreina Flores Ortiz visit (HERE)
Signed and dated "La Chingona" giclee prints (Here)

Always reblog

chicanoartmovement:

Yreina Flores Ortiz - “La Chingona” artwork and poem


Today, I will greet the sun as my relative
and give the morning my full attention.

I will say “I love you” into the mirror
and draw my eyeliner extra straight.

I will not call myself fat
because everything in my closet will look good on me.

I will rock my huge Latina hips
like the blessing they are.

Watch out!
I might even wear heels.

Today, I will not hand out one unnecessary apology.
Today, I will be Chingona!

-Yreina Flores Ortiz


CAM:
More info on Yreina Flores Ortiz visit (HERE)
Signed and dated "La Chingona" giclee prints (Here)

Always reblog

(via lascosasdediana)

— 4 hours ago with 587 notes
"

I ask my mother if she’s hungry,
she responds,
“si.”

We are starving for justice
we have been craving it since before our birth
since then, my mother pulled at my umbilical cord and asked that I fight.

I have not been fed yet.
I am still connected to my mother
our metaphysical umbilical cord keeps us both in starvation
I cannot be full until she is,
biology works that way.

She sung me lullabies saying,
“M’ija tienes que luchar,”
She warned me about the men
that’ll come in and out of me
only to prove
that they were powerful enough to make me love them,
but could not love me back.
I did not take her warning seriously.

Love.
Love has been disguised as a patriarchal form of feeling

Patriarchy:
When my father touches my mother’s face
passionately enough,
that she flinches.

Patriarchy:
When men give themselves the power to touch my best friend
because her skirt said, “I am asking for it,”
and for some reason that mute idea was louder than her screams.

We are starving for justice, they have not fed us.
My school said, I’d be the architect of my education.
I believed them.
but they gave me a brick, instead of a pencil.
I’ve been building my future with bricks on my back,
and the struggles of my parents in the fields, within my heart.

My school said, “I’d be the architect of my education,”
but I still have not been given a pencil.
And instead I’ve become a construction worker,
building my future brick by brick, with little to no acknowledgement.
and my goodness, I am tired.
and even so, I am afraid that my home will crumble.

My mother’s fear has always been
not to have enough money to house us.
but she forgets we come from broken homes.

We are starving for justice,
and they have yet to feed us.

My mother picks the strawberries they love so much
the same people who despise “illegals,”
the same people that say this is their land
with their skewed version of history.

My mother warned me about the people that will pull at my skin,
hard enough to remove the brown on me.
She warned me about the hunger I would feel,
she apologized for this.
This is not her doing,
she is not to blame.

We are starving,
but we will not stop fighting
until we are fed the justice that we deserve.

One day,
my mother will receive a plate
large enough to fill the wounds
that she’s been left with.

"
Starving // I performed this for my mother (via mariposa-reina)

❤️

(via lascosasdediana)

— 4 hours ago with 100 notes
"Maybe we’ll meet again, when we are slightly older and our minds less hectic, and I’ll be right for you and you’ll be right for me. But right now, I am chaos to your thoughts and you are poison to my heart."

Wishful thinking (via nullalibertas)

(via ohthis-isadelight)

(via black--lamb)

— 1 day ago with 71225 notes
"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."
— 1 day ago with 4419 notes