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Loving you is a political act

A radical act of revolutionary love,

Loving you in the morning, in the middle of the night,

Loving you in a time of war,

Loving you: your spirit, your skin, your depths,

In a historical warfare where we are not meant to be wanted,

But gunned down in the streets,

Detained, criminalized, displaced.



My tongue, which is supposed to remain silent

Turns into poetry at the contact of your lips,



My accented language turns into lullabies of love

Asking your body to rest, your soul to rise,

Your spirit to become one with mine,

As we shield each other from this world of ****

And whiteheteropatriarchalcitizenist normativity

That we love to interrupt as we breathe

Against each other’s flesh.
let your fire burn through me

mark me

be the drum that never ceases to play

the sound that makes life happen

the melody of love



let your rumble be the change that we need to see

let justice rejoice

let us dance at your pace

let us be free with you, my king



the king came back as thunder!

Be the thunder that calls our hearts to fight against injustice

Be the song that reminds us how to struggle

Be the fire within our souls, and have mercy over our enemies.

Ashe.
Challenge



Nobody wants an easy love

You say

There needs to be a challenge



Like not calling you for days

Like pretending to not care

Like being a dismissive/distant ****

In order to make you feel like you should really want me



Boo, that’s not challenge, that’s buying into the same ******* we are told to do as men:

Do not be intimate, vulnerable; do not surrender to love,

Pretend to be numb, strong, emotionless, and cold, be a man, be loveless,

Be a challenge, so that you may want to conquer me, conquer my flesh and colonize my spirit,



But neither my flesh nor my spirit needs for you to claim them

I need not to falsify my emotions in order to attract you

I do not want to pretend to be a cold lifeless chimera

I am not what you are looking for, but I am what you need.



Challenge:

The real challenge is interrupting old stories of masculinity

Letting me enter you, letting you enter me and surrender to each other’s flesh without guilt or fear of eternal damnation

Standing by me, standing by you even when it does not feel safe

And yes… it’s ok to tell me you miss me, think of me, are triggered by me, hurt by me, impacted by me, I want to know, silence is no challenge to me, knowing you and learning to love you as you guide me through the streets of your inner city heart is.



Vulnerability, communication, surrendering: challenge.
My body

My rules

My territory



I wish I knew the words to express what I’m feeling beyond tears

Beyond feelings of betrayal, abandonment, inadequacy,

Silencio que la memoria va a hablar:



I usually remember in Spanish



My uncle, he said that those things were normal and done to little kids,

“It will make you pretty and I will play with you”

So I let him dive into me because I believed that in order to be loved I had to let men hurt me,

And I saw my father beat my mother unconscious several times, but “he loved her”

So I learned that pain, invasion, abuse was a normal part of love

It has taken me years, broken relationships, years of putting up with abusive elders, friends and partners

And I remember that the only thing, the only place I felt safe was in bed, next to my teddy bear.



Decades later,

This man reminds me of my uncle,

This has not been the first time we’ve seen each other,

But it’s never been like this

I asked him to stop, this time I didn’t have to be in pain, I didn’t have to be hurt, I didn’t have to do what I didn’t wish to do, my body is my political space, my spiritual temple and I decide who will worship in my body

In my temple

And I don’t need to hurt in order to be loved

So he decided to go forward and violate our bow of consent

Decided his pleasure was more important than my well being than my ability to write poetry, my endless debates about activism, the love I have for my mother, the times I lay on the ground in worship as I ring the prayer bell, waking up early to go to work, singing in the shower, going out to random restaurants with my best friend, smiling, he decided I was not worthy enough of safety, and he felt entitled to me, my health, my consent, my body.

I confronted him, he responded with indifference and anger.



I went to the hospital, felt silly asking for a **** kit, and sat in a room for over an hour.  I felt exposed, vulnerable, opened, disrespected.  Like the goats in ritual offerings, I felt lifeless, I felt broken.

Days before the incident I went to a second hand store and I remember spending about 15 minutes looking at stuffed animals, thinking about how I haven’t gotten one in years, yet I have given a couple to guys I’ve gone on dates with… I haven’t gotten a rose in years, I thought, or a teddy bear, something to make me feel safe.



The victims advocate walked in the room and gave me a teddy bear, isn’t it funny how the universe works?



My body

My rules

My territory



My body

My rules

My territory



It has taken me years to learn that love is not the same thing as abuse, that I do not need to compromise my well being in order to be loved or feel accepted, that I love my body and each inch of it because it’s the one I got and I need no one’s validation but mine, that pleasure should always be mutual and that I refuse to be with someone who does not find me attractive, ****, and worthy of respect.



I want to thank my closest friends and family who have hugged me, cried with me, held my hand and guided me through this incident, I love you and I promise you this will only make me stronger.



Friends, never be ashamed, afraid or embarrassed to bring your attacker to justice, for you are worthy of love, respect and no one has the right to violate your body, your desires, your boundaries, your humanity.

Consent is beautiful.
I give up on you

Men of appearances

Men who will crumble as you question their true level of intimacy

Men who will feel forever shamed by their weight, class, **** size, *******

Men who will not think about stepping over you in order to look taller

Men who will never love, but unconsciously choose to live in a constant state of crisis just so they can feel alive

Papi, I give up on you



I give up on you as you tell me you want to be friends,

Then you call me in the middle of the night as you feel insecure because your grindr hookup never showed up, or showed up but left you feeling alone, empty, used, *****

So you come to me for healing, to build you up only so you can leave my bed feeling new and ready for your next fall

I will not pick you up again



You need to learn that love is mutual and something more than laying down to cuddle, love is a deep and transformative understanding, love is not Hollywood or healing **** sessions, it’s beyond that, and it feels free.

And every time you leave I feel entrapped and know that you will only come back

When you fall.
Ya no me gustas, tu piel esta arrugada, llena de manchas de la edad

Ya no me gustas, tus ojos se ven cansados, tus pasos desolados

Tus sentimientos aislados

Tus ganas de llorar



Ya no me gustas, como antes me gustabas

La juventud de tus labios de tanto fuego se quemo

Ya no me gustas, tus caricias de noche no se sienten constantes

Ya no somos los de antes



Ya no me gustas

Me encantas, viejo amante.
Tengo una cajita de secretos

Llena de poemas, astillada,

Vieja, desgastada, pero llena de poemas



Caben muchas cosas dentro de ella

Pudiera llenarla de problemas

Mas la tengo repleta de poemas

Repleta de poemas



Quiero regalarte mi cajita

Y que la llenes de poemas

De frases cursis

De citas comunes de filosofía

De literatura sin esquemas

Ah! Y de poemas, si muchos poemas
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