Coconut Banana Cream Curls
Mothers del Barrio drowning en silencio | Cynthia Rivera
Mothers, you sit on your Spanish-Harlem stoop en verano con sus hijos crowded round; you sit in laughter and silent exhaustion; you are composed con fuerza y experiencia raw on your shoulders; you were told this is how a good mother is supposed to be; no tienes una otra referencia aparte de las Madres antes de ti who were pushed off their island leaving everything behind to look for a better life; for you; and they did it con los hombres on their backs y los hijos on their hips; they did it sin lagrimas rolling down their cheeks o preguntas en sus gargantas; they swallowed their fear con cafecito y quesitos en las mañanas and kept it movin’;
Mamá, now you sit on this stoop as your inner parts vibrate with anciedad y angustia; su mente constantly races; you don’t actually know how to be still, even while sitting still; la sangre de tus antepasadas dentro de ti only knows how to keep you moving; you are told to hold everything; to pick up everyone’s pieces; and do so en silencio because you are a good mother and that is what good mothers do; but is that what makes a good mother? Is this what you truly wanted?; and who is it that picks up your pieces? Dare I ask such a ridiculous question; You are not allowed to be broken; there is no room for your pieces; you hold yourself together, always;
So as I sit on this stoop, I ask myself: como vamos a continuar? What do we really want por la próxima generación de madres, de mujeres, de hijas y hermanas?; Somos el base y cemento; the whole god damn structure; the flood walls; and even when the flood is coming from within we continue to protect everyone around us; I do not want us to continue to be a generational-sounding board for all the machismo comentario de mierda; for all the bruised egos and undealt with traumas; I do not want us to be the place where hands come down on instead of rest;
Hija, I will show you what it looks like to be still; what it looks like for paz a vivir dentro de mi cuerpo, where silencio is out of pleasure and not because I have drowned my own dignity; I will show you what it means to be a good mother sin los sufrimientos del pasado; without the unspoken reglas del patriarcado; I can show you; I promise I will show you.
Ekphrastic poem based on a photograph by Joseph Rodriguez taken in the 80s of mothers sitting on a stoop in Spanish Harlem, NYC.
Joseph Rodríguez, Mothers on the Stoop, from the series Spanish Harlem, 1988, chromogenic print, image: 18 x 12 in. (45.7 x 30.5 cm.), Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of the artist, 1996.81.1, © 1988, Joseph Rodriguez
Fight Like A Mother: A Celebration of Resistance and Resilience.
A Mother’s Day Poetry Collection