A collective of six young, committed Latin(@=a/o) writers from Chicago. We believe our narratives can document cultural and social conditions. We hope to create a new and safe space for Latin@ voices to be valued and heard in the city of Chicago. We nourish each others’ creative and critical processes, as well as support each others personal and professional development. We work/collaborate within our varied communities. We write to survive. We survive to write.
This past Nov. 16, 2008 L@s Eloter@s hosted the second of their writing workshop series Immigrant StoryTelling at Young Chicago Authors. This workshop focused on Language and all the ways our words, names, idioms, slang, and different ways of communicating intersect with our personal narratives. As children of immigrants, immigrants ourselves, or socially conscious and interested individuals we cross borders daily with our tongues, our laughter and our stories.
On Wednesday, October 29th, 2008, I had the privilege of reading and speaking to Maria Beltran-Vocal's DePaul classroom with Paul Martinez-Pompa. The students were there for a class on the Mexican experience in which they had been reading and analyzing Paul's poetry. Aside from the awkwardness of having to publicly announce and defend my writerliness in front of thirty or so undergrads, I really enjoyed the opportunity to think about my writing in such a public and immediately gratifying setting. The students were great and asked lots of thoughtful questions; one went so far as to present an argument to Paul about renaming one of his poems!
It was an insightful group, and their questions varied from: Why did you choose that title for your story? to How do you think gender plays into your work through the Mexican experience? I was on my toes the whole time, trying to be honest and fair in my answers, considering that some of these people might be or want to be writers. In fact, I was able to speak with a couple young women afterwards who admitted that they have been writing and were really relieved to see me (a young Latina emerging writer) on stage next to Paul.
I will take a few elements of that experience away with me. One being the necessity of asking yourself those seemingly simple questions: Why did you choose that title? Why is this creative nonfiction? What is the purpose of writing this story? But, more importantly, I have not been able to stop thinking about this question since that night: Why do we do this? In light of the recent election of Barack Obama, my mind has been working doubletime to break down the necessity of the writer's role as an activist. The need/desire (or lack thereof) to live up to the social justice issues that affect the communities we identify with is a common theme among the writers I know. And it seems that perseverence is just as key as the intellectual or creative ability to be active in anything from writing to protesting. Maria Melendez had some interesting thoughts on this topic in her article. Junot Diaz told me: You have to believe that in the future there will be someone who will put their hand backward in time to grasp the hand that you’re putting forward in time.
I used to think that the point might be that you will never feel that hand in your lifetime. That it is simply the condition of expressing such private things in such a public way. Only time can allow the kind of scope that such intimacy, such awareness requires. But I have held so many hands along this journey that I realize now, it is not just one hand that you should reach for but many. So you do this work with the hope that when you're done (with that poem, story, essay, freelancing gig, semester, sandwich), that hand will be waiting for you. And you keep reaching for more.
On Oct 16, 2008 I met the renown Cherríe Moraga @ the University of Urbana-Champaign. It was an honor to be invited personally by the Latina/o Studies Dept. to attend a private writing workshop led by this legend and prophet. All I can say is that her presence and manner of being matches the impact of her words. She is what she writes. Her written works resonate through her voice and out here eyes. She is truly inspiring and motivating.
Lessons Learned from Cherríe Moraga (a rough translation)
Luis: How do I write past all the introductions and beginnings to stories that seem to endlessly invade my writing. I have many story to tell. But, it seems like every time I start to write all the stories want to be told at the same time.
Cherríe: Don't be afraid to start new stories. Save the beginnings. Trust and know, you will finish them all. You have no other choice. Ask your self at the beginning of each re-write or attempt, "What I really meant to say was..." Nothing shifts in the world until the details are told. Take a risk. Tell the stories que valen la pena. If you're not uneasy or on the edge of something you're not writing well. Keep every story grounded in the body.
Gracias a Aide por los fotos, y a todos mis compañer@s en Champaign-Urbana: Miranda, Profe Rodriguez, Abel, Alicia, Judith, Johanna, todos. Gracias a Cherríe Moraga y a la facultad de Latin@ Estudies.
Leaving one land, community, or neighborhood for another, whether it be forcefully or willingly.
Why do immigrants leave their home countries?
Political shit, persecution, job "opportunities".
What is your relationship to immigration?
My parents, grandparents, brother, uncles and aunts are immigrants and I am a product of them. And I've seen them grow with me. I have a simple connection, but a collected connection.
When have you ever had to hide who you are? Why did you hide?
I hid for a while in high school. Reading and caring about shit wasn't cool so I couldn't let people know about it. I felt like my first year or so at Columbia I was just lying to myself, in terms of writing about any place I knew was familiar to me. I was writing stories about Paul and John and Amy (not that there is anything wrong with writing stories about them) but what i hadn't done yet was write stories about Claribel, and Cheli, and Pepe. A lot of it was fear that people wouldn't understand or care for it, I'm glad I was wrong.
Have you ever ben forced to move? What did it feel like?
When i moved from the North side of Chicago to the South Side, it was terrible. All of my friends and the whole world that I knew and had lived around for all of my fifteen years of life was in danger, all of a sudden, of being wiped out by a nuclear blast of raised rent in our measely little one bedroom apartment.
Describe a place where an immigrant is welcome.
Sometimes its in obvious places, like certain neighborhoods, other times its worrisome places: places in which no other person would want the job that they will have for a long time.
What daily borders do you cross? What do these borders look, taste, smell, sound like?
My first year at Columbia was a huge border crossing. I'd never met a young white people. My age. Some places are cleaner than others, some quieter, some louder and warmer like the restaurant i work in. Some are in words and music and in the shape of people I never thought i would meet or become friends with.
L@s Eloter@s led Immigrant Story telling workshop, OCT 12, 2008 Young Chicago Authors / 1180 N. Milwaukee Ave, 2nd FL / Chicago, IL
Critical Response Sheet Q&A:
What is immigration? A crossing. A freedom only birds seem to have.
Why do immigrants leave their countries? Why does anyone move? Because they want something else, because they are being evicted, because they have to...
What is your relationship to immigration? Immigration and I have a familial relationship. My father came here with his mothers and six brothers from Mexico, when he was three. But besides that, almost everyone in this country is an immigrant. Whether they were forced to come here (Atlantic Slave Trade) or they chose to come. We are all related.
When have you ever had to hide who you are? Why did you have to hide? When I was working the back kitchen of an Italian restaurant, where only Latinos worked. The cooks would yell orders at me in Spanish. I would understand enough most of the time to get by but I was ashamed to acknowledge when I didn't understand. I wash ashamed at how American I had become.
Have you ever been forced to move? What did it feel like? I used to live with my family in Wicker park when it was a completely Latino neighborhood. I remember when over a thousand gang member took over the streets of our neighborhood to show their strength. My father planted trees on the streets and had me go out everyday and clean off the sidewalks and throw out the syringes and other things that found their way into the dirt around the trees. he wanted to make the community better for everyone. but then people started seeing our neighborhood as another way to make money and we eventually had to move because the rent got too high. My father, inadvertently, was helping the gentrification process along.
Describe a place where an immigrant is welcome In my neighborhood where fruit trucks line the parks. Where old men and children play soccer and suck on mangoes. Or in Che's ma's apartment, above the church, where Elvira stayed safe from the police for so long.
What daily borders do you cross? What do these borders look, taste, smell, and sound like? I cross a border anytime I leave my house. Crossing is what I always want to do. From crossing the street to the imaginary borders that separate neighborhoods. I cross cultural boundaries by choosing to know and learn more, not only about my culture, but about other's. I wonder who makes these borders that we have to cross?
WRITING PRODUCED DURING WORKSHOP: First Drafts
The Crossing Part 1 He was old enough to walk but still want to be held, when they left. He doesn't remember much about the crossing, just the smell.
The Boy and The Chicken He was born on a farm in a small town in Mexico. He remembers running after chickens, getting scratched and letting them go. His father showed him how to kill a chicken with his hands when he was three. He twisted the neck, just like his papa told him to, in between his soft, brown boy hands. But maybe he hesitated at the last minute, or he just didn't have the strength, or he caught the last look that chicken gave and fumbled. Whatever the reason it only half worked. The neck didn't snap off like it was supposed to. Instead, it just kinda fell over like a dead, wilted flower, still wet. He dropped the chicken and it ran like mad all over the coop. It's head flailing and smacking it's feet. His father grabbed the poor chicken, and snapped it's nerveless, drooping neck off in a quick flick of his wrist. he turned to his wide eyed boy, clinging to his mama's orange and pink flowered skirt, and said "Now, that's how you kill a chicken"
The First Spider When I was a little girl, my father used to tell me stories. My favorites were the one's about the spider. He said when he first came with his mother and brothers to America, the land of the great, it didn't seem to much different from the farm. There was still that dust that got in your eyes, the cactus and the sun. Except this time they didn't have a house. he says they lived in a shack on the ground for weeks before mom found a way to contact their relatives in Chicago to send money. Dad always tried to teach me a lesson with his stories. I think this one was about mastering your fear. The story goes that him and his brothers were sleeping on the dirt in their sleeping bags when one night he woke up and saw a spider the size of his fist looking up at him from his chest. It was then he decided that it wasn't the way he was supposed to die. He told the spider that he could stay for as long as he like as long as he didn't hurt him and then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Okay so not face to face but through email and even then it was through someone else.. point is I got to ask questions. M'kay!
1.As a Chicana I find it incredibly hard to write about my history without losing myself in the anger/resentment. Being a writer from the DR how do you manage to write clearly when there's so much baggage that comes with a war torn country?
Why is anger the first reaction to history? Anger, after all, is a secondary emotion and deeply personal one. I'd wager that your anger has something to do with more personal matters that larger national histories are triggering. The thing is we all have anger about so many things but they must be mastered in the best Jedi fashion before we can become true writers. By mastered I don't mean ABOLISHED. I'm plenty angry but it does not run me. To be a good writer one must be a true witness to one self and that requires honesty courage humility and the sharpest set of senses on Earth. Anger doesn?t really figure. But on a more personal note: Santo Domingo, the terrible things that have happened, that continue to happen in my beloved country? these do no outweigh my love and awe of the people who have made that ugly patch of history home.
2.I'm floored by your acute, honest, depiction of Latina women (Not only are you a man but a LATINO man. Que? Eso NUNCA pasa..)I feel like you juxtapose that with Oscars no game, non-macho, can't be Dominicano self. Were you trying to make a counter statement to the roles imposed on us by our cultures or did that happen organically?
I'm fascinated by masculinity, especially New World masculinities, especially-especially New World Dominican masculinities. I thought Oscar would be a wonderful foil for an exploration of the ravages and longevity of certain kinds of masculine patterns. But at a more basic level his quest for a girlfriend was a quest for intimacy which is itself a quest for humanity.
3.Being el rey of mixed diction, you say Oscar Wao's a book of voices. Have you always felt free to write the way you speak or was it the slow discovery of, OH SHIT! I don't have to censor myself?
It was a process. The more you read the more you get permission to strike out on your own (though its not really your 'own.') I have a knack for honesty in my real life so that doesn't hurt either. But it took a long time to arrive where I'm at.
(sneaking in a fourth) 4.Will you be my mentor....Please?
I wish I could say Yes. But I'm not even a good mentor to myself.
IMMIGRANT NATION: A human rights struggle for the new millennium is searching for spoken word poets for an independent upcoming documentary about the immigration movement. If you are a spoken word poet who has a piece about the immigration movement and are interested in being part of the independent documentary, we will be having auditions on September 5th-12th. Spoken word pieces will be used as a form of artistic involvement within the immigration movement. If you are unable to attend please submit a video link with your spoken word performance to immigrantnation08@gmail.com and a copy of your poem.
AUDITIONS When: September 5th or September 12th Where: Radioarte 90.5 FM corner of 18th street and Blue Island Time: 4pm-7pm
If you are planning to attend please e-mail your name, title of piece, copy of poem, length of performance, and schedule time and date to immigrantnation08@gmail.com, Subject Title: AUDITION. Please be prepared to perform your piece in front of a camera.
If you would like more information please send your questions to immigrantnation08@gmail.com, Subject Title: QUESTION.
This is an independent community production so any assistance and contribution would be greatly appreciated. We need to create our own history and work as a community.
Were you born in the United States? Were your parents? More and more often the answer to these questions is no. Most of us have a story to tell about how we have or someone we know has come to the U.S. from another part of the world. How has your immigration experience shaped your life, worldview, and identity?
The JaneAddams Hull-House Museum at the University of Illinois at Chicago is seeking poems, essays, and personal narratives to be published in Chicago: An Immigrant City, an anthology of your reflections on the immigrant experience. Since we live in a nation of immigrants, these stories are limited to the breadth of your own unique background. This anthology attempts to celebrate your history by asking you to write it in your own words. We personally invite you to give meaning to the ways of life that are ignored by the masses and force people to recognize them. You are free to submit your words as they reflect on your own immigrant stories and growing up in Chicago, gentrification, the Chicago Public School System, police enforcement, access to health care and education, refugees and asylum issues, LGBTQ concerns, equal rights for immigrants, and any other issues that have affected you.
We are honored to feature your words and a foreword by Elvira Arellano, which will be accompanied by a comprehensive resource guide for immigrants in Chicago. Chicago: An Immigrant City will be published in multiple languages to serve Chicago's diverse population. Tentative publication is Spring 2009.
Submissions should be typed and double-spaced in Times New Roman 12-pt font with 1-inch margins. We encourage submissions in all written forms and are most importantly looking for a well-told story through a succinct and thoughtful word combination. Submissions can include up to three previously unpublished poems or other previously unpublished works not exceeding 5000 words. $50 will be awarded for selected submissions.
Deadline for submission HAS BEEN EXTENDED TO September 15, 2008. Please submit pieces via e-mail to mnikit1@uic.edu or in hard copy form to:
Margot Nikitas JaneAddams Hull-House Museum 800 S. Halsted, M/C 051 Chicago, IL 60607
Call for Submissions: Anthology on Gender, War and Militarism.
· The ¡YaBasta! Collective is a group of women of color who are putting together an anthology which gives voice to young women, girls, and non gender conforming peoples of color.
· This anthology will be built around themes of war, violence, militarism. We particularly welcome creative work which connects, and troubles, gender binaries through an exploration of militarization, war and violence in our times.
· We invite work that is resistant, hopeful and healing.
All creative work including writing, poems, visual art work, cartoons, sticker designs, stencils, etc. are welcome.
Please send submissions and a short bio including contact information (name, email, or the best way to contact you) in Word or PDF as well as within the body of the text to: YaBastaCollective(at)gmail.com (replace (at) with @). Hard copies can also be sent by mail to: PO Box 55113, Riverside CA 92517 c/o ¡YaBasta! Collective.
The ¡YaBasta! Collective will be holding free online writing workshops for girls, women, and gender-non-conforming folks of color on war, militarization and violence in conjunction with the themes of our anthology.
¡Ya Ba sta! Collective member Ching-In Chen will run the first four-week workshop, starting August 26 and ending September 16, 2008. This will be a group for those who want to jumpstart their writing and are in need of inspiring prompts by writers from our community, open to those writing in all genres and all ages. We especially encourage new and beginning writers!
Each week, writing prompts will be posted for the group (also open if the members of the group have writing prompts/favorite pieces of writing to share!).
Though this workshop is free, we ask that you only apply if you can commit to the entire four-week session. (We hope to run more groups in the future.) The minimum commitment each week would be to write one piece to share with the group, to read our peers' posts and respond/give constructive feedback to at least one of our peers' pieces. The workshop will be limited to no more than 15 participants. To apply for the workshop, please send an introduction (no more than one page) telling us who you are and why you are interested in taking the workshop to YaBastaCollective(at)gmail.com (replace (at) with @)
Well, I'd like to think we're a collective of writers that came together because there was no other outlet available. As young aspiring word manipulators we thought, where can we go to maintain our creative process, how do we submit, where do we submit and most of all how do we keep ourselves motivated?The truth is our small communities and our larger community as a whole does not value the written word and the only kind of value we can expect is the kind we give. As Latino's we understand that we are marginalized and pigeonholed when it comes to our Spanish diction and cultural themes. Being young often broke writers we know how hard it is to stay inspired. What our tight circle of six Eloteros provides, is an atmosphere in which we can be surrounded by peers that we admire and would hate to loose in our ever expanding literary world. As Eloteros we understand the varying voices, narrative tones of our work and the work outside of our collaborative. Together we want to promote the creative development of Youth, having read and heard the immense talent within our community we are, at a basic level, an ensemble trying to create exposure for those of us that get none.
To be continued..
Sidenote! Maybe I should post this somewhere else but I've been thinking about the usage of Latino/a and I'm aware I wrote, 'As Latino's' without the slash. Here's the thing I don't really use the slash because Latinos in Spanish, as we all know, encompasses both Female and Male. So I guess I feel like it's redundant or unnecessary? So educate me querido Eloteros di me que piensan. Can we open it to debate, si? Honestly educate me. SLASH OR NO SLASH!
