There are a ton of milestones happening in the Mala household. Last weekend, 14 year old Mapu asked for my help in putting blue/green streaks in her hair, which meant with her dark, thick hair, a two step process involving bleach. Some parents and teens may find it strange we went in on this together Continue reading →
Apologies for taking so long away from my true casita, a space where I blogged for years before I was “buzzworthy” and appearing on talk shows. As Summer kicks off, I am reminded that as radical single mami media maker being called buzzworthy doesn’t pay my bills, won’t get me to an hermana’s wedding across Continue reading →
Yesterday was the 40th Anniversary celebration of the Young Lords Party here in NYC. As amiga Bianca wrote, some peeps, myself included, couldn’t be there. It really bummed me out that I couldn’t be there because if it weren’t for the Young Lords, Mamita Mala wouldn’t exist. And I don’t mean that in some abstract Continue reading →
For gente who read me on VivirLatino.com, please note that VL is under some sort of cyber attack right now and we are working on fixing the issue. Sorry y gracias for your patience.
It looks like Navidad will be seriously trimmed down compared to last year. Since el Chileno and I broke up, it seems odd to invite his friends and family to a themed Christmas eve dinner like I did last year (funny so many of the poet/artists friends of his and allegedly of mine haven’t said Continue reading →
Por favor be excusing the time since my last post. I went to beantown to label myself a puta in front of Latino college students, el chileno moved out, and I am navigating single mami’hood with a present baby daddy (it’s so much easier when they are in another country, ja ja). So if I Continue reading →
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Siempre estamos esperando algo. We are always waiting for something. Waiting for the dreams that make my sleep uneasy to come true waiting for the other shoe to drop waiting to get paid Waiting for the Spring waiting for him to make up his mind waiting to breath waiting to tell the truth waiting to Continue reading →
I bleed onto raw untreated canvas so that the stain spreads on brown stretched skin aging deteriorating vulnerable. I stab the surface and watch the red be absorbed flow through the veiny threads, left unconserved to rot in the sun of la verdad y el tiempo. Asesino la palabra amor con mi pintura femenina. Respiro Continue reading →
No existo. Juge a la escondida con la fantasma de una mujer muy viva. Desaparesco sin dejar heulla olor es como si nunca estuve.