Everyone who knows me, knows me as the tough, takes no shit, death metal woman. Yes, 80 percent of the time I am listening to death metal or a variant of heavy metal. But, not today. Sometimes our past and our trauma rears it's ugly head even when you think you are healed. So right now I am listening to Lola Beltran.
Why Lola Beltran? Because she's the one traditional singer that my Mom loves that I don't hate. As a singer, I am absolutely blown away from her vocal range. I have never liked traditional Mexican music. I always called it grandpa music. I've always been a feminist. The subject matter of Ranchera always made me angry. Ranchera and Huapango music is about heartbreak that could have been avoided. Or a male figure is getting drunk because he's a stubborn bastard and can't accept that his partner couldn't take his shit anymore and left. Or the male figure admits he cheated and is a horrible person. This music stems from men being glorified for having affairs, and vilifying women. Yay Patriarchy!! (sarcasm) Lola Beltran said, "Hold my Mezcal, I'm going to sing about the bitterness of life instead." Lola's songs are about her upbringing, Mexican culture, heartbreak, and being a woman. Doom metal has nothing on Lola's songs. Nothing will annihilate one's spirits more than realizing how poorly a human is treated simply for being born with a vagina.
If you want to feel crushing despair, listen to Lola Beltran. I used to listen to Lola Beltran's music when I was sad. Now I do it as a way to bond with my ancestors, to be proud of being Latina when I am mad at the rampant and obvious sexism in my culture, and as a way to process my grief that I never had a loving relationship with my Mother. Even worse, realizing that I cannot get mad at my own Mother because she's just as much of a victim. Not everyone is as strong as me. Most women are just trying to survive. When they have children they're just parroting the f-up things society says about women.
If I liked tequila I would raise a shot glass to this amazing woman. But my Celt genes took over because I'm a whiskey drinker. I do not know why, but tequila tastes like sugar and gasoline put together.
Here is a song by Lola Beltran.
My parents are American citizens. I was born in Illinois. I learned English first. Then I learned Spanish. My Dad and I text in Spanglish. Or we'll start a conversation in Spanish and it'll end in English. Or vice versa. When I feel nostalgic I always play the music I heard growing up and eat Mexican food. But, now I also do it because it makes me feel closer to my grandparents.
The best memories I had growing up was visiting my family in Guanajuato and Nuevo Leon. I remember Mami Juanita making tortillas. She would shuck the corn, then use a huge molcajete to ground the corn into cornmeal. She did this all week. Then during the weekends she would make the tortillas. I used to sit under the yellow, flowered, ceramic tile table that was built into the fire oven. Mami Juanita and I would play hide and seek. She would say "en donde esta Katy?" (Where is Kathy?) I would giggle thinking I was so sly. Then she would hand me a freshly made tortilla. I would shove it in my mouth and ask for more. We would do this until my parents or aunts came back from shopping. I remember Mami Juanita filling up the house with the smell of guava tea or cafecito. I remember my aunts making me huevos rancheros or huevos with chorizo. I would go into the fridge and grab some eggs. My Tia Angela would say, "No hija, esos huevos son de ayer, para mi reña solo lo mejor." (Those eggs are from yesterday, for my queen only the best.)That's how spoiled I was. My aunt would pick fresh eggs and make me breakfast. My grandparents grew oranges and nectarines in their garden. I always had fresh, squeezed orange juice. I loved playing in the my paternal grandparent's yard because it looked like paradise. They also grew pomegranates. I remember playing tag with my brother in the backyard. I remember being given a bath in a massive tin. I remember sleeping with my grandparents dogs outside. Still the best sleep I ever had. I remember walking with my aunts and grandparents to the cemetery in their tiny pueblilto. They would take me to see my great-grandparents. We would always leave offerings and flowers. I remember Papi Inrique telling me stories on his lap while he wore his wool jacket. I remember my grandfather carving toys out of wood for me and my siblings to play with. I remember looking at my aunts and thinking when I grow up I hope I am as pretty as my aunts. I am just as pretty and queer as they are. One is asexual and the other is a lesbian. I remember the Christmas I spent in Guajuanto with my grandparents. My grandparents saved up their own money just to buy us presents. Honestly, that was the last time I remember getting any Christmas presents. I remember it snowed on Christmas Eve which is rare for central Mexico. I remember taking a night walk with my family and thinking the sky looked like the ocean. The stars looked like diamonds. I remember being taken to Papi Chuy's nativity scene. I remember my Tia Marta making me and my siblings milkshakes. Or buying us tacos and cokes after we went swimming. I remember my Tia Maricella's cooking. I think that's why I love fideo so much. Because every time I had fideo it was made by my favorite aunt. Unfortunately, my Tia Maricella is now my ancestor. I remember horse riding with my cousin Brenda. I remember my Tio Toño putting me on his shoulders and spinning me around.
My side of the ancestor altar.
A photo of my favorite aunt, Tia Maricella when she was young.
I relive these memories every time I cook my ancestor's food. Or when I light the candles on my ancestor altar. I remind myself that even though I have bad memories and trauma, I also have a plethora of photos and memories that are good. That even if my Mother hurt me, I still am loved.
It is now October. The veil to the Otherworld is getting thinner. I can feel the presence of my ancestors. It makes me happy seeing them dancing and singing in my third eye. I have already started leaving them gifts. Do you know how cruel it is to buy pan dulce and you can't even eat it? Or putting some churros on the altar and you can't eat those either because you have Celiac Disease?!
I have an advantage in that I am a medium. I may have never physically met Mami Kata but I have seen her spirit ever since I was a child. I remember telling my Mother that that there was a curvy woman with brown eyes and curly, poofy brown hair who would speak to me in Spanish. I stopped telling my Mother because every time I did, my Mother would cry. I finally put the two and two together. This gorgeous lady is my grandmother. I find it strange how I have a relationship with a ghost, but not my own Mother. Although, technically I did have a Mother, she's just my dead grandmother. She always gave me the best advice. She would apologize for her own daughter's behavior. I met and had a relationship with the rest of my grandparents yet they have never shown themselves to me. It's interesting how humans build relationships or obtain special gifts.
Yesterday I sat for seven hours getting a needle drilled into my skin. My Aztec sleeve is finally becoming a reality. I may have more European ancestry, but it will not stop me from honoring all my ancestors. Coatlicue is on the top of my arm. I feel like I'm already working with her. Coatlicue is one of the many Mother Goddesses in Aztec lore. She is the Goddess of relationships, childbirth, sex, and fury. She is depicted as a woman with twin snakes wearing a necklace of human hearts and hands. Depicting that any false lover will be killed for not being sincere in their feelings.
Coatlicue statue in the Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City.
Today Ryan and I had an argument that was triggered by our traumas. I feel that this conversation while difficult to address was necessary in order for us to take the next step. We have been talking about marriage, but we both do not want to enter a marriage for health insurance or tax breaks. We want to do so because we love each other. Our relationship started as a trauma bond friendship. It eventually became something else that we want to continue fostering. Or perhaps Coatlicue felt that if we truly wish to be married all weak spots or issues in our relationship have to be addressed. I do see this as a sign that my ancestors don't want me to make the same mistakes they made.
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