beautifulrzilience

[beautifulrzilience]

And suddenly you know...It's time to start something new and trust the magic of [new] beginnings.

Spiritual Guide Book

Hey everybody! 😘

I hope you’re doing well on this beautiful Sunday! It’s 10:40 a.m here on the East Coast and I’m getting settled in so I can write  about this last week, which has been quite the warm and soul nurturing one for me.

For those of you who know me, know that I am a very organized person. I have a big calendar hung up on my wall of my desk, a planner in where I divide up my homework for the week, and then I have my Passion Planner, which serves as a birds-eye view of my goals (both personal and academic) for the week.

Now, what I really love about Passion Planner’s is that not only can you break down your hour by hour schedule, but if you notice (below) on the left hand side there are boxes that say “This Week’s Focus,” “Good Things That Happened,” and a little quote with some kind of challenge or mantra for the week, to incorporate a mindfulness for your mental health wellness. I really appreciate it and have found myself taking up these mental health challenges seriously.

For this week (4/15-4/21), the quote was “Never say ‘no’ to adventures, always say ‘yes,’ otherwise you’ll lead a very dull life” (Ian Fleming) and the challenge was to say ‘yes’ to five new experiences and to reflect on what I learned by the end of the week.

As you all now, Sundays at 11:00 am on the dot, I go see my therapist, Michelle, and this past Sunday was no different. As usual, our session was beautifully profound, enlightening, painful, and eye-opening. There was definitely a lot of crying. The focus was on re-claiming how I define strength, vulnerability, and finding closure for myself to continue on my path towards radical self-care, self-love, and healing. 

One huge take away I had was that many times we have this understanding that to be strong is healing, however, Women of Color have time and time again redefined healing as strength. And while I was writing this letter to my former partner, pouring out some  of my most painful childhood memories, in the hopes of shedding some understanding of some of the choices I had made in our relationship, I was feeling like I was actually falling deeper in love with him, as opposed to simply writing to find closure in our relationship. I was having a hard time figuring out the fine line between how much to share (for transparency and honesty) and protecting my heart. 

But in this session, Michelle helped me have 4 important epiphanies: 1) remind myself that I actually don’t have a problem sharing my personal life, 2) while most people fear sharing intimate details of their personal life because they fear that it will be used against them (which makes the process of healing a little more complicated), I actually fear being vulnerable with people because I am not confident in their ability/care to actually listen and/or empathize with my pain, 3) the times that I have tried to be vulnerable with people, I have felt uncomfortable with people’s responses because they are not used to seeing me in pain, I am the friend who (for the most part) listens and empathizes with my friends’ pain and suffering, so I really live in this box of either I am happy go lucky or broken, but don’t have the people to hold space to hold me in my in between of happy and broken, and finally  4) realize that I can be strong and (rather than state ‘but’) cry; I am strong and I have gone through pain; I am human; and it doesn’t take away from me being a ‘strong Xicana.’

I know. Some deep shit.

Now usually post-my 45 minutes of soul searching and understanding with Michelle, I go home and write my post-therapy notes in my journal to decompress and process everything that I said and felt in Michelle’s office, all the while burning either some sage, cedar and tobacco, or some palo santo.

Interestingly enough, the day before, while I was perusing on Instagram, I had come across this flyer for a writing and wellness workshop for “Woke women and girls of all ages” hosted at Cafe Con Libros (one of my favorite coffee shop/book stores in Brooklyn), curated by a woman named Leah Hart (@her_musing). Whether it was already written in the universe or was coincidental, the theme for this workshop was to explore Personal Truths while tackling the tough question: When did you last belong to yourself? Granted, it was going to take place at 7pm in Brooklyn on April 15th (my therapy days). Knowing that I usually like to sit with myself in my apartment on those days, I was debating on whether or not to buy the $10 ticket to attend.

But for whatever reason, when I got home, wrote up my post-therapy notes, I felt this urge to go. Something about the theme of the workshop and asking myself “When did I last belong to myself” was so relevant to me, especially post my break up with my former partner.

Then I got a text from my homie Beto, “What are you doing?” So I let him know I was heading to Cafe Con Libros, to which he responded, “I’ll meet you there.” So I hopped on the 4 train and within 45 minutes, found myself beating the rain, sitting comfortably perusing through some of the new books that had arrived and were carefully placed on the shelves of CCL. 

So, this workshop became my first yes and my first adventure of the week.

1. {Personal Truths} When Did You Last Belong to your Self?, HerMusing 

[SIDENOTE: So you may be wondering, why is Beto’s bald ass doing in the picture and in the workshop? He actually had no idea that the workshop was exclusively for WOC, but as his mom always says, “The universe always provides,” and dealing with some of his own hurt and pain of this particular week, maybe without even realizing, he needed a safe space with WOC to work out some of the challenges he was dealing with, guided by the workshop question. I’m glad Leah didn’t boot him out when he joined our circle because I learned how crucial it is for men of color to also have spaces to meditate and heal.]

It was beautiful to sit in a circle with all these Women of Color (of all ages) to talk about our reflections on the question Leah had posed for us to write about during the workshop. Although I found it difficult to write in the journal she provided, I just pushed myself to write. Maybe I wasn’t ready. Maybe I would’ve preferred to have written in my own personal journal. But Leah was so encouraging and patient with us. Reminded us that it is our duty to write our personal truths so that we could share with others and the power  that is in the act of writing. It reminded me of Audre Lorde’s quote “Your silence will not protect you” and Zora Neal Hurtson’s “If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it.”

One thing I found so interesting during the workshop, was that although there was diversity in age in our group, a lot of the women were in their mid to late 20s, which Beto and I later wondered if that spoke to the kind of healing and soul-searching that people in our age/generation are experiencing as a collective. Serves as a reminder, that you-I-we are never alone. One thing I really appreciated was that Leah, at the beginning of her workshop asked us to thank ourselves for showing up for ourselves, because by showing up to the event, on a NYC rainy day, spoke to our commitment to reclaiming ourselves and our space. I was so grateful for all the stories, words of encouragement, and love that all the women (and Beto) shared with one another in what became more than just a workshop, but a healing circle that was guided by all the ancestors and inner children that folks said they brought with them to the space when Leah had asked us to introduce ourselves. 

After getting treated by Beto with some Jamaican Jerk chicken (my favorite) and hanging out at his place, I took the 4 train at midnight back to my home in Harlem. I was having a hard time staying up on the train, so hearing my own inner voice and intuition, and perhaps Leah’s voice, I pulled out my journal, and really began to reflect on the question, when did you last belong to yourself? And I came to the conclusion, that I never really have. And it dawned on me, me being 26 (going on 27 this May! Go Gemini Baby’s!) in the city of New York, is the perfect place for me to be on my journey towards finding radical practices of self-love, self-care, and healing.  

2) Decolonizing Memory Studies Graduate Panel, Columbia University

One of the members of my dissertation committee had (months ago) let me know that Columbia University (which turns out is literally a 27 minute walk from my place) was hosting this graduate student panel on Decolonizing Memory Studies. Given that I am interested in this kind of work, I had set my heart to attend the event. However, due to the snow storms in NYC, the event had been postponed a couple of times. Finally, when the day arrived, I had made sure to plan accordingly to attend the event. Funny enough, the world tested me to see if I was really committed to this being one of my 5 adventures for the week. I had originally thought that the event started at 6:30, so I had left the Graduate library at 5:15pm. But when I was looking at the event flyer, I quickly realized that it actually started at 6:00pm. I arrived to 116th St. Harlem at 5:40pm. I was tired, it was cold, and I was hungry. To go or not to go? With the weeks challenge ringing in my head, I started power walking. I was hoping that even though the event was supposed to begin at 6pm, that the introductions would buy me time. 

After climbing more than these 100 steps that I did not know I would have to climb to get to Columbia, sweating like a little meatball, I found the building where the event was taking place. I saw this side door with a doorbell. I started ringing it only to find this Latino man coming towards the door.  When he opened it, assuming he was Latino, I said “Hola!” and had asked him if this was the entrance to the campus.  He said that I actually had to keep walking up towards the gate to the university to get in. I’m sure he could read the dissappointment on my sweaty face and with some compassion, he said he would let me go through the worker’s corridors, but to hurry because he could get in trouble. I was so thankful! Asked him for his name, to which he responded, “Luis.” So with a huge smile, I thanked him and said “La Raza siempre tiene que unirse!” 

So with his help, I was able to make the event and as I stepped in the room, filled with all these white and old academics, they were barely about to start the event! Winning! Even though the event wasn’t what I expected, I enjoyed my walk to the campus and was inspired to come back just to enjoy the quiet and peacefulness of the university.

3) Neuyorican Poets Cafe

NEUYORICAN POETS CAFE! I had been itching to come to this famous poet’s cafe but never had anyone I wanted to go with. So I kept putting it in the back of my head, but since I had gotten back into writing poetry, I was itching not only to see other people perform, but I wanted to speak my truths into a mic in this space. So last week I had asked my friend J if he wanted to join me, which he had responded with an eager yes. However, me havin issues with commitment, was proloning on buying the tickets. Not sure why I was being so hesitant! It was actually annoying me. So when Friday rolled up, one of my new homies, Martin had hit me up to see what I was up to. At that moment, I was like, man fuck it, I’m going to this event, and invited him to come through. I didn’t think he would say yes but when he did, I ended up getting ready, hopped on a train to J’s house, and from there we took an Uber to NPC. The tickets had to my horror sold out online, so we made sure to get to the cafe by 9pm. As the line grew, I worried that I would disappoint J because I dropped the ball in getting the tickets and that we wouldn’t be able to get in. But to my wonderful surprise, we were so close to the front, and were able to get in! Man! As we walked in the building, African dance hall, old school hip-hop, the new hip-hop was blaring off the Dj’s set. The place was bumping!! Turns out it was the Grand Slam Finale so it was no ordinary Friday. We got to see some amazing poets and it definitely inspired me and J to come back this upcoming week.  

4. Women of Color in Solidarity: Transnational Resistance as Healing, 2nd Annual Conference, April 21st & 22nd, NYC

When I had started opening up to my close friend’s about my breakup, one of my former students then-turned friend, Diana had let me know she was coming to NYC for this Women of Color Conference which was being hosted by WOC for WOC. When I started looking into the event, it had definitely peaked my interest, but I wasn’t completely sold. I wanted to see the itinerary. The ticket was only $7 so I should’ve just bought the ticket, but I kept pushing it back. Until the week of, 4 days before the conference, Diana had forwarded me an e-mail with all the workshops that were being hosted. With titles like, “Altar Building as Storytelling to Reclaim Ancestral Knowledge,” “Regular Degular Feminism: A Hood Feminist,” and “Women of Color in The Academy,” I realized that I needed and wanted to attend this conference! So I immediately scrambled to see how I could get a hold of ticket. Thankfully, I was able to do so and on early Saturday morning, rushed out the door to head to the conference.

However, since I had stayed out late the night prior, attending the Grand Slam Finale of Neuyorican Poets Cafe, I had arrived home at 1:30 am and woke up  at 7:45 am. This resulted in me quickly showering, making myself a shake, realizing I had forgot my headphones at J’s house, and not have a meal prepped to take to the conference. Consequently, I was hungry at the conference, and there was no lunch provided by the conference, it was beginning to be hard to stay present during the workshops. Eventually, Diana and some of the other women, and I left the conference to get some food. My body was really shaky and wasn’t feeling too well. After getting some sushi, I hopped on the 6 line to head back home. I made myself a quick bite and took a nap. I thought my night was going to be over. I definitely wanted to get rest for Sunday. 

[One of the workshops I attended was how to make yourself an altar. The curator of the workshop was Amanda Everich (@amandapoints), a Brooklyn teacher, and naturist. She encouraged us to pick whatever earth materials we were drawn to and build ourselves an altar. I ended up building one for myself. Mine is the one with the black and red felt. She later encouraged us to make a story out of our collective altars. My group and I noticed that our altars carried the theme of youth and ancestors, life and death, symbolizing the cyciclical nature of life. I decided to take my altar with me and put it in my personal altar at home. Really appreciated getting to sit down and go with the flow of my ancestors.]

5. Hanging with my A Squad Papis: Beto & Nick

[Beto, Matt, Nick and I ended up at one of “Nick’s” bar spots, called La Marcha Cocina, Dominican owned grill & bar. There were a lot of beautiful people, great music. Definitely makes me want to come back again!]

Now on that same Saturday night of the conference, I had had it in my head that I was going to stay in and rest. I didn’t want what had happened to me on Saturday to be the case for Sunday. I didn’t get to work out, didn’t meal prep, felt rushed out the door, which resulted in me feeling off balance. So again, when I finally got home, I made myself a quick shake to appease my growling stomach, and took a two hour nap. Earlier in the day, my homie Nick had invited me to go out with his friend who was visiting from London. I wanted to go because when my girl Tatiana had come, I had invited Nick to come out and he did. I wanted to show that same reciprocity, but when I woke up and saw his messages asking me if I was coming, when I looked at the price of the Uber, it was going to be $40 roundtrip! So I let him know that I was going to stay in. Turns out he had invited Beto out too and when I had sent him that text, Beto and he insisted I go. I let them know that it was too expensive to Uber. This is where my heart kinda melted. “I got a dub on it,” I read in my text message from Beto. “Do you want me to spot ya,” replied Nick. These fools clearly wanted me to come. Now usually, I don’t like taking money from friends let alone asking for it. But since my contract ended with one of my side hustles, I don’t have much cash flow coming in, and NYC is no joke in terms of living expenses! So I said, “Ok fuck it!” So I got ready, got an uber, and headed out to Nick’s. Got to meet his friend who had come from Japan (who was NOT Japanese haha) and we all went to this really cool Dominican food spot/bar. I enjoyed some witty British banter and shit talking and by midnight, took an uber back home.

So what did I learn this week?

As the week progressed, I started noticing I was having a hard time committing to doing the very things that I was interested in! It was so annoying lol. And the more I pushed myself to say yes to adventures, I realized how much fun I was having, and how quickly the week was zooming on by. I think the huge take away for me was that I need to stop second guessing myself and just commit to saying yes to new people, things, and experiences in my life! If not, I am going to be missing out on all this fun and laughter, and personal growth that I have been seeking to have. I am only young and 26 once in NYC, it’s time I take the city by its reigns, and go about with my bad self. By saying yes to these adventures, I was really saying yes to myself.

what i like about her is that she blooms. whether you water her or not. whether you give her light or not. she exists without your existence 

-@Counseling4AllSeasons

BTW!

Don’t think I haven’t been keeping up with my fitness challenge! This marks Week 4! 

While it hasn't been easy, having constant internal battles of whether I really want to love myself or not and not loosing motivation, here are the results: 

4 more weeks to go!

Can't believe I'm at the halfway point of this fitness challenge.

[beautifulrzilience]

Self-care isn't Selfish

goddess_caleasia

Hayyyyy errrbody! Wass good in the hood??????!

I hope you all are doing great on this early beautiful Saturday afternoon! As I am typing this, I cannot help but feel this huge overwhelming feeling of love for life and myself. The sun is hitting me right through the window of my studio and this 45% Cacao bits of chocolate are hitting the spot. It’s the end of week 2 of my fitness challenge and I feel fucking GREAT. Like--I am really doing the damn thing. No set backs to this journey towards radical-self love!

Sheesh, I don’t even know where to start to be honest! I feel like some really important things have happened this week that are worth me ‘verbalizing’ here on this blog post, in the hopes of it bringing you some food for thought and/or encouragement in your own respective life journey. 

First off, as I’ve been raving, joining my homegirl Daiana’s fitness challenge has been really exciting, challenging, and motivating on different levels. As part of our package for joining, Daiana checks in with us girls once every 2 weeks to see how we’re feeling and doing. For this weeks check in, I let her know that I’m feeling really good. Simply increasing my water intake, I have noticed a change in my mood and physical well being. I used to barely be able to drink ONE 22oz water bottle and now I’m drinking 2-3 22oz a day. I know it should be more, but I am hoping to increase my intake with time. 

The first week was hard lol not impossible but I hadn’t been physically active since I had moved from Oakland, CA to NYC back in August of 2017. So best believe I was doing that chola gangsta lean as I was walking around in the streets of New York. Sure part of it was cus I was feeling myself, but on another real note, my legs were hella sore! I will be taking new pictures this Sunday to see the differences -if any on my body. Regardless, as I’ve mentioned, I have already felt some internal shifts, changes, and transformations emotionally and mentally. I have also been proactive in tracking my emotions and physical well being in my passion planner and I’ve noticed I’ve been more happy and I am no longer (physically and emotionally) tired anymore!

I also noticed sometimes when a work out was burning a little too hard, I had a split second where I felt like giving up, but then I would think of the FB group and it would push me to keep pushing myself. I have to show up for myself, especially in this critical moment in my life where I am on my own in a big city. No one is going to do the emotional and/or physical work I need to do in order to reap the benefits of change. That’s on me and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My upcoming goal for this week is to hit the required reps and really concentrate on what I’m doing. To set an intention to focus on only me and the work outs during my sacred early 2 hours in the morning. I also need to actually meal prep. I be lagging it! And although, I eat healthy, sometimes because either I am too lazy and/or “not hungry” (lately I can’t tell)  I skip dinner. So this Sunday I am meal prepping for half the week. 😊. No excuses--ya’ll can hold me accountable!

Going through this weird breakup  has really pushed me to practice loving myself harder. So a part of me doing this is to find myself again and re-gain some confidence and self esteem in myself because I’ve realized being with someone for a long time, I kind of lost that radical self-love for myself. And I want it back to be honest. I had this really powerful conversation with my lil’ sister Megan this past Thursday, and as she was reminiscing on her last relationship, she shared this powerful realization she had in terms of knowing how important the concept and practice of what it means to really love yourself--and the importance to love yourself harder than loving someone else--is. Especially in a world where us Women of Color have the constant brunt of doing a lot of spiritual, physical, and emotional labor for the people and men of color around us, it’s so easy to get lost in loving someone else and forgetting about yourself. I swear sometimes I wish we could record our conversations and put them on a podcast because what we talk about is so deep. 

I really love you Megan, for all that you do, all that you are, and all that you give me. Words can’t possibly express the kind of connection I have with you. It’s like I told my therapist, Michelle, you are one of the very few people who I don’t feel like I have to be in this binary of “put together” or “broken”--with you I can be all of it and I am extremely grateful for that. Amonite Moon Sisters for life. 

Now, shifting some gears a bit--I told ya’ll, I had a lot of shit I had/have to say on this one. I want to talk about boundaries!

This week I got to re-connect with some old friends, connect with some new friends, and then others from what seems like a long ago past, tried to re-connect with me! And, ummm yah, I realized I felt some type of way!

So let me get into it. 

On Thursday, I had a tea date at Serengeti Teas & Spices with my homie Pete, from one of my PhD seminars, to talk about grad school.

I’ve realized ever since I moved to NYC and of course in the midst of going through this break-up, I have become such a recluse and anti-social lol! But you know, this April Mercury Retrograde has been mixing things up and in my case? For the better. 

Talking to Pete about why he shouldn’t be afraid to want to pursue a PhD and to assure him that the kinds of microagressions that he has already faced as a masters student don’t ever stop as you continue to ascend the ladders of higher ed--was reaffirming for me as to why I do what I do. Why I am pursuing the PhD. It kills me to see when our Raza feel like they aren’t enough and if I could, for a second inspire someone to go for it, to interject their doubts as to why they aren’t enough--and to not feel so alone in isolation and frustration, it gives my life a sense of meaning and purpose.

I felt so good about the conversation and energies we exchanged, the sweetness of the spicy chai he got for me from the shop--that I had to document t(his) special moment. The little challenge/mantra that my passion planner had me do 2 weeks ago, about how important it is to be self-aware of the energy you share with others, and encouraging others to create a positive change (whether its mental, emotional, spiritual, and/or physical) really manifested itself for me. When I took a second to look back at our picture, I hadn’t remembered gifting the world with one of my cute genuine smiles. I was really happy.

Right after our meeting, I went around the corner to visit my friend Travis, a former Gaucho, who just moved out here to NYC. He was really nice enough to 1) invite me to catch up, and 2) cook me a nice healthy salmon lunch! I am looking forward to more and trying new adventures with him like doing a mud run this summer! It’s like it was meant for me to spend my Thursday with these two guys.

Also, one of my old lil homies Alder, out of the nowhere, gave me a call. Now usually I don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t know but I ended up giving it a call to be happily surprised by the sound of his voice. We hadn’t talked in a long time due to some of the things he had been going through. So to hear that he was in a much better place, made me feel like this affirmation that the path I am taking towards healing and self-love is in the right direction.

So those (re)connections were very spirit uplifting and soul nurturing. But I told ya, there were some other ones that weren’t on that same positive frequency for me.

When I was back in Berkeley, post-my being pushed out of my former program in the Ethnic Studies PhD program, I had a handful of people whom I thought really had my back. Shit, I know I definitely went above and beyond for these two particular friends. But when it really came down to it, they weren’t there when I needed them most. To this day, I wasn’t sure why these two stopped talking to me. 

Ironically, a week before I was moving to NYC in 2017, after 2 years of not speaking to me, one of these women had snapped me a picture of an apology letter they had written to me and sent it to me through instragram.

I remember feeling triggered about it because I wondered if they knew I was moving, that I was back in the rat race to obtain my PhD (so therefore, I was worth someone to be in connection with), so I had taken a day or two to respond to their message. And when I did, again, they ghosted me. 

So fast forward 3 years later, this week, when I woke up Friday morning, I had seen that I had an unread FB message that was time stamped at * pm my time, a missed FB call at 4 am my time, and a missed call on my WhatsApp from a bay area number. Turns out it was the other individual who had stopped talking to me. The message simply read, “I hella miss you.” I kind of laid in bed in stupor.

How the hell are you going to miss someone you stopped talking to with no reason? And how the hell is it that when I am feeling good, doing great, you try to pop back into my life? And all you want to write is that you miss me?

“The only people who get upset about you setting boundaries are the ones who were benefiting from you having none” -Unknown 

Were the thoughts that were running through my head. So of course, when I was catching up with my lil’ sis Maeg, I vented to her about how I felt some type of way--resentful, prideful, triggered-- about this person reaching out to me. And see, it wasn’t so much that they reached out to me, but the fact that they didn’t take that extra step to acknowledge or hold themselves accountable for their actions, really bothered me. And despite the fact that I agreed with my sister that I should act with grace, love, compassion, and appreciation of the courage of this individual to reach out to me-despite the fact that we were not in any kind of relationship-- I couldn’t. I can’t. I am tired of doing extra emotional labor for others around me who aren’t putting in the work to love themselves and others.

But you know--we in Mercury retrograde--so, when I was perusing through the Gram, Chani Nicholas, astrology Queen, had posted this on their gram.

Yup. I know. The audacity of the universe lol! So in this current moment, instead of allowing myself to get in my Gemini diva feels, after checkin in with my sis Maeg, I journaled a bit about what had talked about and how I want to approach the situation. Something I will also be talking to Michelle (my therapist) about. I wonder what lessons are being stored for me in this incident because already in my conversation with my lil’ sis, I made some connections to how this individual’s choice in reaching out to me was painfully triggering was related to some of the unresolved pain I carry from my former relationship.  But if anything, I am on this tip that I am refusing to let anyone block my goals towards taking care of myself and achieving a healing of old and new wounds.

Take away? Self-awareness and mindfulness ain’t easy ya’ll!

I know this is going to be a bit abrupt but I feel like I’ve written a lot and I want to end on this note. 

As I was walking to Trader Joes to grocery shop, my best friend Miros’ (the one who passed away 3 years ago) sister Monica gave me a call. Now usually I don’t like talking on the phone, but it was her, and so of course wanted to answer. And I am so glad I did.

I don’t want to get deep into what we talked about but it was interesting to see that she too, is on her journey towards self-care and radical self-love, by putting herself and her needs and desires first. Hearing what she’s going through and how she’s rising strong in the occasion was really motivating and inspiring for me. And again, reaffirming that I’m on the right track in my life journey.

On a side note, as I was talking to her, for some “strange” reason, I felt like our sister Miros was with us, hearing our conversation. And interestingly enough, when I was passing by the flower section, I saw some red roses that I couldn’t stop feeling but connected to. Mind you, the last time I bought red roses was when I bought them for Miros’ funeral burial and told myself I’d never buy them again. So I admired them but picked up these yellow roses (which interestingly enough symbolize friendship) and pink carnations and put them in my basket for my alter I have that is dedicated to my loved ones who have passed on. But... I felt this beautiful feeling of love when I looked at the red roses and decided that I would buy them too and put them on my personal alter. I know they are your gift to me Miros. I feel your love and presence, and I want to thank you for letting me know in your own way, that I am not alone, and I am on the right path. Besos my ride or die. I think of you always.

And so!

As my spring break is coming to an end, I am grateful for  having the time today  to really enjoy my day by running errands, like grocery shopping, working out, and cleaning my apartment. I hope anything that I have shared today serves as some kind of positive affirmation for you and/or inspiration.

I am looking forward to my therapy tomorrow and meal prepping. With nothing but love and peace,  I leave you with this little message:

BTW! 

If you haven’t heard Queen Cardi B’s new album Invasion of Privacy, get it together! Shit has me feelin’ some type of way!!

[beautifulrzilience]

For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn't understand growth, it would like complete destruction.

Cynthia Occelli

Hey my loves!!!

What it do!? It’s currently snowing here in East Harlem and even though I don’t like the cold, I am feeling all kinds of warmth. I just completed Week 1 of Daiana’s Spring into Summer 8 Week Fitness Challenge, and I am feeling all kinds of amazing and motivated. So week 2? BRING IT ON!

You know the last time I talked about starting the challenge, I had felt intimated and behind track because I had seen that a lot of the girls had been prepped their meals and were showing up to the gym at 6 am. Instead of moping around and getting discouraged--my ass went to the grocery store--took my clean eating grocery shopping list--and bought me some groceries. In addition, I bought myself some meal prepping containers, work out bands, and a  new journal at Amazon and got my protein powder, multivitamins for women, and Eucalyptus + Arnica epsom salts at Whole Foods. Yo girl is ready for this inner and outer transformation ya digg?!

ALSO! got to connect with a fellow Gaucho Alum, Tatiana, who, turns out, recently just got a job offer here in NYC and who is also doing the challenge. It all started with a simple post of mine:

And homegirl, being the social butterfly that she is, commented on my post and it kind of just went from there. Small ass world--not only was she going to UC Santa Barbara during the same time I was--we also had a lot of mutual friends from Santa Barbie AND Richmond--where she’s from! So I decided to host her, and we definitely had an adventure!

You know I had to show my new little meow a great time in NYC (cough, in the hopes of her deciding to move here!). One of her friends who lives out here in Manhattan is a DJ and had invited her to come out and check out the night life. So we got dolled up  and went out to Kazza Wine Bar in Washington Heights a.k.a “The Heights,” a predominantly Dominican neighborhood. I had a great time! It had been awhile that I had danced like that, and homeboy played all the jams. Bachata. Trap. Hip Hop. Dance hall. You name it--he played it. A night for the books for sure. Got home at 4 am, woke up at 7:30 am, worked out, and made my therapy session at 12pm.

TATI!! Move out here! So we can take over NYC. Latina style. 

It’s true what they say, when you look good, you feel good. I really can’t wait to see where I am going to be 7 more weeks from now. I am making healthy choices, mentally--spiritually--and emotionally-- because I want to get back to shining like a sunflower. And even though last night was rough for me, missing my ex, taking it day by day. I am determined to live my best life. 

This is my Week 1 “Before” picture. Stay tune. Things are set in motion. You gon’ see me drippin’ in sweat and finesse.

[Current weight: 123 lbs]

**Side note:**

It’s been a cool minute of me glamming up so you know I had to take some selfies--boost that self-esteem and ego!

The results? 

#LaModelo #MoreLife

Don’t forget to find radical self love for yourself.

#LaRompeCorazones

[beautifulrzilience]

In 2 weeks you'll feel it. In 4 week you'll see it. In 8 weeks you'll hear it.

Daiana Diaz, fitness badass, friend, & fellow Gaucho alumni!

Hey my lovely family and frannnnsss!

Today was a great day. I know! For me to say I had a great day is a break through because after all the nonsense I’ve had to deal with, I am so fucking happy to embrace these feelings of joy, since it’s been awhile that I have felt any kind of happiness.

I recently decided to partake in Daiana Diaz’s “Spring into Summer Challenge 2018,” an 8 week course divided into two phases to sculpt your body into an hour glass and phat ass! She’s no joke--and if you don’t believe me--look below:

Right? Enough said.

So today was day one and let me tell you one word: SHOOK! 

So not only does Daiana give you a break down of work outs etc., but also a break down on what/how you should be eating and part of it is drinking water! Now, if you know me, I am THE worst at drinking water. Although I must say that I have gotten better-- I can actually finish one 22oz water bottle a day now (obviously working to do better lol). So this morning, I made sure to drink the recommended 16 oz as soon as I got up (at 6:30 am!). 15 minutes later, I thought to myself, “Why does it take me a whole day to just drink one 22oz of water?!” 

Now let me rewind a bit.

I had partied the night before with my homies --which shoutout to the Playboy/Playgirl Krew at the GC at CUNY--

(Get a good look at all these Black, Brown, & Beige baddies, about to graduate with their PhD’s in Sociology, Educational Psychology, and Criminology! #FreeMeeks)

So of course, we stayed up, ate some bomb ass steaks my homie Beto cooked up for us, drank, and talked shit until 3 am. I didn’t get back to Harlem until like 4 a.m. Went to sleep as soon as I hit my head on my pillow and woke up at 8 am. Not ideal, I know! But I had therapy at 11 am so you know your girl was not going to pay a $115 late cancellation fee--but more importantly, didn’t want to miss my sacred time with my wonderful therapist. Despite  having had only 4 hours of sleep, my ass  got up and went! And I am so glad I did.

As I mentioned before, going through the after math of a shitty breakup -- it’s been really hard for me to cope with not being able to count on my best friend anymore. I have found myself crying at least once a day ever since I got back from the Bay in February, post Valentine’s Day Massacre. I was feeling so low and defeated. I mean--ya’ll know what it is when someone completely breaks your heart. So how do you get through it?

Well, right now, in this moment,  I am starting to realize how important it is for me to know that anybody who does not want to be with me, is losing out on the best thing they could ever have. And being the Rezilient mothafucking Guerrera (warrior/fighter) that I am, I cannot wallow in my own sadness and depression. I mean don’t get me wrong, I think about him everyday! But, a big part of me joining Daiana’s summer body challenge was to reclaim my inner sunflower inside of me.

Which, brings me to my therapy session I had. It was so fucking profound because I had had a male sleep over at my place and despite that it was not like that, simply a friend sleeping over, I felt so guilty! I felt like I was being disloyal to my ex--and um--HELLO--that is what he is--an ex. I can do whatever the fuck I want right? But for some reason, it gave me so much anxiety! And so I brought that up to my therapist. 

She gave me this wonderful break down/understanding of what it’s meaning for me to go through this break up. When I went home, I had to text her to ask her how she had worded her thoughts on my situation and just wanted to share:

So, fast forward.

Back to me being shook this morning, doing Day 1 of Daiana’s fitness challenge. She has this secret Facebook group where we can all post our challenges, successes, motivational quotes etc., and so when I opened the group this morning to post that I was going to work out, I saw all these women had meal prepped and were prepared to start this whole thing. And I thought to myself,  "Oh shit! People are really serious!”-- well no shit! I mean the course isn’t free, it’s $150! But instead of beating myself up for it, I reminded myself that this is something I wanted to be serious about and even if I was still tired from the night before and there were a million of other reasons not to go to the gym-- I had to get my ass out of my house and to the gym. I can’t be discouraged. This is when it counts, when shit gets hard. Are you going to show up for yourself? The answer always has to be YASS BISHH! This Wednesday I am going to be a good girl and go grocery shopping and meal prep so that I too can post an awesome picture to motivate the other girls who motivated me with their pictures! 

And the workout?

It wasn’t easy, and I got nauseated on the last set of my 3rd to last exercise.  I kept battling with myself on whether or not to stop. I thought about my ex and how much I missed him. But I pushed him out of my head, and I kept pushing myself for myself. Once I felt like I was close to throwing up, I reminded myself, I hadn’t worked out in MONTHS, so I needed to be kind to myself. So I stopped. But I know tomorrow is going to be better and I am on my way, with  60 other women from all over, re-sculpting our bodies and minds, and in  addition for me, I am reclaiming my time, my space, and my heart.

 I gotta live my best life. 

And what that means for me is, not being afraid to still cry, enjoy my Sunday therapy seshes, push myself to go out more, wear make up again, buy myself flowers, allow friends and any potential interests sleep on my bed. I am working on loving ME. So for any of you out there going through a break up--you’re not alone and remember it has to get better. Speak that shit into existence!

And now? I’m heading to sleep. Day 2 is waiting for me and this ass and body sculpting isn’t going to do it without me getting up! Peace Queens & Kings!

[beautifulrzilience]

Inhale, Exhale, Detox, & Surrender

I know where I went wrong when I loved you more than I loved myself I would have done anything for you learned when I realized you didn't love me the way that I loved you and now I know, It hurts inside I gotta get my heart back to the way it used to love, The way it used to be, and the way it used to feel

- “Got to get my heart back,” Keyshia Cole

Sup everybody! 

Your girl Drea here. Yah... I know I said I was going to be more consistent about writing on here. But as I have been realizing in these last 5 months, it is scary to be vulnerable with not only your family and friends, but with yourself. So I’ve been going through a lot of changes in my personal life and to be honest, on some days I don’t know how to sit with this deep heartbreak I feel inside- let alone write about it. Because to write about it--is to confront all that which lies heavy on my heart and mind.

But today, I write, and share with you all where I am at, right now, in this very moment, on this NYC blizzard-y Wednesday night, in my studio. 

As some of you may know, and most of you don’t know, ny best-friend and partner became an ex. He left me. And out of the respect and love I still hold deep inside for him and what we used to have, what we used to be, I am not going to go into full details as to why we have parted ways. But what I can tell you is, that that shit left me with a lot of questions and heart ache.

There have been days where I honestly cannot get out of bed. And I don’t. I average 10-15 hour sleeping periods on some days. I don’t even have to force myself to sleep, I just do. Even though my stomach aches in hunger, my heart aches in pain, and so I don’t eat. I have noticed a drop in my weight. Now I know what some of ya’ll may be thinking, “GURRLLL you is way too fine to be depressed over some guy, fuck him.” But to be honest, it’s not about finding another love or a distraction. That’s just not how th(I)s work(s). 

And as far as foinee? I forgot what it feels to feel like that. It wasn’t until this past Sunday, I was hanging out with some comrades, and one of my boys in our nightcap said something along the likes of: “Andrea, you are intelligent and beautiful, you have a lot going on, that’s the mindset you should be thinking in.” And I’m not sure if it’s because he’s foine (lol), I myself find him attractive both physically and intellectually. But something in his words struck deep in me. I know he believed it and somehow his deep belief in his words made me reflect on what he was telling me.

(The outfit and look I wore on March 4, 2018.)

I mean, that day we were both going to go to this Feminist community bookstore (owned by a Black woman! YEE) in Brooklyn called Cafe con Libros for our monthly book club meeting  and it was the first time I had been A WHILE since I had put makeup on my face, wore pretty clothes, and had my nails done. But something about that day inspired me to dress up and get out.

The book club (which we just joined) was amazing to say the least. They had just started it, and this was going to be their second meeting, in where we would be discussing  Kindred by Octavia Butler. Needless to say, it was a beautiful experience and really soul nurturing. I made a new friend, Alex, who turned out to be from Oakland, CA (so we out here fam!). And just being able to be in a space of mostly all women (for the exception of the store owner’s husband and my boy-ha!) and predominantly of color, was really warming to my heart. It was really great to just go do something for me and focus all of my attention and energy on myself for change.

And although, I am thankful that I am no longer sleeping in a depression, and I am starting to will myself to eat right and get my heart the way it used to be before I met and fell in love with him, the hurt still comes back to drown me and self-care has never been as important to me as it is at this moment. It is so important to never forget the King/Queen you are. 

I am proud to say that I am going to my first therapy session, with a Black woman this Sunday. (Side note: took me a month to 1) find someone and 2) who would accept my insurance! Struggle is real). And for all of those of you who have been through heartbreak, you know sometimes people don’t give you the closure you need, so all you can do is work on getting your heart back in peace. And so here I am, on my journey to find mine. I am in this process of taking all of my feelings, processing them, letting them go, releasing, detoxing my mind and spirit, and surrendering to the light.

I leave you with a poetry piece I loved from Rupi Kaur’s the sun and her flowers poetry collection. 

For those curious of what poetry books I just finished that have helped me and willed me to get through my heartbreak:

[beautifulrzilience]

Sirena del Sol: Rising above the Murky Waters

'Cause this is roll call I'm taking names out We only go raw I'm takin' aim now And when it's roll call They know my name now I make them all fall I'm 'bouta break out

-Ruby Ibarra, “Taking Names”

Wassssss goood errbodyy???? It’s yo girl Andrea back up in this thang! I know, I know, I’m doing the most, but if you knew the kind of week I had, you can’t blame a girl for trying to cheer herself up.

So I just finished my official week back in school and my second week back in the big bad streets of NYC, Harlem you feel me? And man, going from spending time with my partner, Lalo, and my amazing homies (shout out to my CC Krew, Drs. Kenly Brown, Sara Rios, & Alex Garcia, Diana Barajas, Adrian Chavez, Noe Marin, Jacky Fuentes, Valeska Castaneda, David Flores, and my high school Bubble Crew!) to going to staring at the 4 opaque walls of my studio apartment--during WINTER in NY--needless to say, is quite depressing.

(My best friends: Megan X. Espinoza, Mary Giovanetti, Napoleon Davila and I doing some hike in San Francisco, CA 2018)

Now don’t get me wrong, I love me some me time and my solitude, but this week, going through the mundane routine of going from my studio--to the library to do my PhD work-- to school-- and head back home late at night--only to do it all over again Monday through Thursday, with no real human contact or touch--gets depressing quick. 

I had promised myself that this semester I was going to focus on three things: myself, my relationship with my partner, and grind hard in school so that I can get back to my life in Cali A.S.A.P. I know that I also wanted to make sure to not feel alone or isolated, so I had even printed out lots of photos of my family and friends and activist artwork to post up on my desk, so that I could be reminded of who, what, and why I’m doing this whole shit for. I had bought some “self-help” and inspiring memoirs of authors and artists I admire and was curious about. I even bought myself new crystals, stones, and pendants to protect myself from any and all negative energy. 

But let me tell you something--despite my new stones, new war paint (i.e. make up), and rebozo, it was not enough for me. 

And I’m sure a lot of Students of Color--especially graduate students of color-- in predominantly white and conservative departments and universities feel this way-- but damn Gina! This whole art of self-care and self-love is a whole lotta work that doesn’t give you instant gratification.

In case you were wondering what books I bought... here they are:

The Diary of Frida Kahlo

And as the week progressed, every time I stepped near the people I had to be around with at school or look at the amount of work that was ahead of me (low key I’m taking 5 graduate courses this semester, YIKES) my energy and spirit was depleting. I was already in the hunt to find a therapist/psychologist of color (which my God, is a fucking job in and of itself- can we, at a later point, talk about why getting social services is so fucking difficult!?), I was starting to feel quite emotionally clogged. 

I am thankful for the fact that I am part of (what I call) the “Playboy” working group, which is a collective of People of Color who are PhD graduate students at CUNY (City University of New York) that informally meet on Wednesdays at the Graduate Center Library, because it’s the only thing I really look forward to during the week. As I was eating lunch with one of my homies (which I will keep anonymous), I was really touched but also taken aback by his ability to truly see me. I’m not sure whether it was conscious or coincidental (I mean he is a fucking PhD student in Social Work and he’s legit! lol), or if he could feel my energy, but he asked me a simple question, “Yo, you good?” 

With that simple but genuine ask, I could feel my heart sink, and a knot in my throat form. But of course, we’re in this big cafeteria, and another one of our homies was grabbing a plate for food, so I didn’t feel comfortable letting it all out--although, I must admit, my tears were about to start flooding. But I let him know that I just felt isolated and alone. And that although I had some folks here in NY who I know care about me, I just can’t seem to fully connect with them, so I had a lot of feelings of guilt. I don’t want to be or sound like an ungrateful bishhh yaddamean? But I just kind of finally said it out loud. He gave me some encouraging words of support and later text me this response to a text I had sent him later that day:

The context of this text made me feel better. And I think the key thing that I took not only of his message, but of this week, was that just like friends come and go in seasons, so do the emotions that transpire throughout your journey. As the week progressed, I found out that the Graduate Center offers 4-14 free counseling sessions and then do the legwork to refer you out. So you know yo girl signed up for intake and should be hearing back from them this upcoming week to begin my journey in seeking mental/emotional health support. I am feeling hopeful, but don’t mean you couldn’t catch me crying a bit last night before I went to sleep! Healing is not linear ya’ll, but there is only onwards in terms of where me move. Stay blessed ya’ll. We out here!

SIDE NOTE! Can I say, Creator and Creatress had my back because low and behold, one of my former mentees/students/homies from California that I had met in Berkeley, came to surprise visit me with his girl (also a good friend of mine) this weekend. Just being in their presence hella uplifted my spirits and for that I am extremely grateful. Hoping that shit carries me strong through this upcoming week! Ometeotl!

Me, Jesse a.k.a “Introspect,” and his beautiful partner Veronica at Red Roosters in Black Harlem, 2018.

[beautifulrzilience]

If I got to choose a coast I got to choose the East; I live out there, so don't go there!

Damn ya’ll!!

It’s been a cool ass minute since I been up in this joint telling you all about my life. It’s been a roller coaster. So much has happened in a span of 3 months. I think part of the reason I didn’t write was because there was a lot of painful things that happened that I just wasn’t ready to talk about.

First and foremost, my grandma Esperanza Rosas Aguiano passed away on October 4th, 2017. Now some folks may not be close to their grandparents but I was close to my viejita, my dona. This is what I had written on my FB the day she passed, it nicely sums up how I felt about the situation:

Nadie como usted abue. Mi donita. Mi guerrera. Tanto que sufrio en esta vida, y siempre le sigio hechandole ganas. No puedo mentir que no queria que se fuera, no era su tiempo, pero reconoczo todo el dolor q estaba pasando. Y me peza que no puede y no me pude despidir de usted. Me quebra la distancia, y no me puede imaginar cuando vaya a Mexico.... su cara ya no va estar ayi para recibirme. "Ay Andreita, te falta unos tornillos no?" o "Malayas tu, pues no comes" Espero que sepa cuanto la quice, la quiero, hoy y siempre. Todos los recuerdos de usted, me los llevo en mi corazon. La quiero Abuelita Esperanza. Descanze en paz.

I think the most heartbreaking part for me was that I knew I wasn’t going to be able to 1) afford to go to Mexico on such short notice, which  2) meant that I was not going to be able to lay my abue to rest. That was a hard pill to swallow on my own in New York. My grandma truly was the matriarch of our family, and I have definitely seen the negative repercussions of her passing. My grandfather is out in the streets in a heavy depression, sipping on alcohol bottles, looking for his soulmate, that he is never going to see in this life time again. And my abue’s children are in this divide with each other, holding on to grudges and resentments exacerbated by man-made borders. Even though I know my abue isn’t here in the physical, a part of me still feels like she’s waiting for me back in Zacapu, Michoacan. I can still hear her voice.

Before the end of the semester, 2 pretty big things happened too: 1) I spilled water on my lap-top and lost all my semester’s work on finals week, 2) things were getting bumpy in my relationship and it wasn’t looking too good. Needless to say, the last 2-3 weeks of the semester were emotionally trying and exhausting. I didn’t realize how hard my body took these hits because when I came home to my mom, I had gone from 135 lbs to 125 lbs. I haven’t been that small since first year of college! 

I have to say, that day that my computer was fried, I felt like “Damn! Can I just live?!” The semester for me had been going pretty smooth, this second go round at the PhD was so much more successful and purposeful than my first time. I am so thankful that all the hardships I have ever been through, my mom who answered my millions of calls I made each and everyday, and all of my homies who heard me cry my heart out (shoutout to Valeska Castaneda, Megan X, Mary Giovanetti, Napoleon Davila, Kenly Brown) and gave me words of encouragement because I wouldn’t have been able to pull through the deep sorrow and stress I was going through at the time.

Although I am not really ready to talk about my relationship here, I do plan on further fleshing and teasing out my thoughts and feelings about the last semester of this first year. So stay tune for the chisme ! Haha. Not really, but ya’ll know what I mean.

Needless to say, this winter break was one for the books. I learned so much about patience, faith, the 5th dimension of love, resilience, gratitude, and reciprocity. Nothing is going to deter me from finishing this PhD. I’m getting better at handling adversity and hope that ya’ll find some important life lessons in my life because there is only going up from where you start...

This semester --this year---is mine. I have my heart set on personal, emotional, and spiritual growth. I’m hungrier than ever. 

All this to say, I’m backkkkkkkk in the EAST COAST bishessss. Ready to stunt on these hxxs! 

                                                In loving Memory of:

On December 28th, 2017, my best friend Miro’s father, Gilberto “Gil” Garcia passed away due to multiple forms of cancer. When we had lost Miros to cancer, this man took me into their family, and always treated me with love and respect. I was back in southern California, so I had not been aware of his passing yet. It wasn’t until I had hopped on FB and noticed one of his daughters (my friend) had posted information about his funeral services. They laid him to rest on January 4th, 2018-my partner’s birthday. Funny how life works. 

Gil’s daugther--my best friend-- Miroslava “Mimi” Garcia’s birthday is on January 7th, so the way I look at his passing, is that he wanted to go celebrate it with his daughter. So I got those two looking out for me up above. 

Richard “Ricky” Boyd. Man this one was such a hard blow to me. On Martin Luther King Jr. Day (which was very symbolic if you knew the kind of man Richard was), my dear friend, boss, mentor, and father figure passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. This is the only photograph I have of him and I. I was blessed and extremely grateful I got to see him a week before his passing and express to him what he meant to me. It’s strange, even though Richard isn’t here anymore with us, I can feel his love and presence with me, so I wonder if he really left. He really was the heart of Richmond, California. The epitome of a Black man living his life in Black excellence and resistance against social injustices. I fucking miss you Richard, and for some odd reason I don’t feel so alone in NYC. I know you’re here with me and we out here... representin’ for the Black and Brown. Your teachings are forever ingrained in my heart and mind. You’s a real one.

This man right here was like a father to me. Called and text me everyday when I was living in the bay, and especially after I moved to NY. We talked about Power to the People and making the world a better place. Never met anyone as dedicated as he was to dedicating his life for social justice. It was so weird not hearing from him since tomorrow we were supposed to go on our cupcake and walking his dog Paris date. I can't believe this. I just saw you Tuesday Richard. Last thing I told you was how grateful I was for you since you were like a dad to me. I can still hear you telling me “I'm always here for you sweetheart." Richmond won't be the same without you. I will always love you.

[beautifulrzilience]

Intimacy in Grad School: Tool for Survival & Self Preservation

“Sometimes I feel like I wanna break down and cry.... why do I feel this way in my life?” 

 -Amanda Perez

Man for the past few days I have been feeling LOW and really down. My grandmother’s health is deteriorating and there’s nothing I can do. I haven’t been feeling myself. Although I make the effort to pick myself up, it’s kinda hard for me to wake up every morning and put a smile on my face.

My meditation mantra for yesterday was “I am going to express how I feel” and the problem is, I don’t feel like I have a person I can break down and cry to. Don’t get me wrong, I got people I can call, but they can’t physically be here with me right now, which is something I recognize I truly cherish and value: the human touch.  I think being a Chicana --for me-- means I can’t look sad or let others inside my pain. Part of it is because I don’t feel like people can relate or empathize and for me that’s huge right? But at the same time, every time I want to or need to cry, there’s something inside me that doesn’t let me do so. It’s like I don’t want to let other people around me down. I feel like people look at me as this happy go lucky person--which I am--but it can also have its down turns, like --when I am sad, I don’t have the space to be that too. I know warriors cry too, but its hard.

Yesterday I had kind of a packed day. I needed to finish some stats homework, finish this outline for a professor who I am having a hard time with, a meeting with my mentor (who I really like!), and class for theory from 4:30pm-7:30 pm. 

As I was getting tutored on stats by my homegirl (whose in my cohort and is an extraordinary mujer) my mom sent me a text with a photograph of my grandmother. She didn’t look the same. It seems like new rivers of wrinkles emerged on her face, her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes barely open. That shit just--I don’t know--it had a huge effect on me. And here I was trying to get through my stats homework! And I lost it. I just started silently crying hoping that my homies in my cohort, wouldn't see that I was crying. But of course I can’t get anything past my homie J, so when he noticed I had tears running down my face, he said “Woah...how are you doing right now?” No longer talking about stats. And I just cried. And the most beautiful part was that both J and my homegirl Lidia embraced me in their arms and let me cry there. In the middle of the day. Out of the nowhere. While we were trying to finish stats. And I felt truly loved and cared for. I am so grateful and blessed I have them-that we have each other. They didn’t even ask me what was wrong (which I appreciated it because I couldn’t gather the courage to say my grandmother is getting closer to the other side than not). 

And in true Amy Andrea Diva fashion, I cracked a joke and we finished our stats homework and I got to the things I needed to do to keep up with the hustle and bustle of grad school. I mean what else can I do? I thought about my sister Miro’s passing...and how that had happened right before my incoming second year. I thought about why cancer continues to take the people I love from me. 

When I got to class, I tried to push and block everything that I was feeling and engage in class. Ironically enough, the topic at hand was: Strain theory. And at one point, my mom text me and let me know my grandma was back home and that I should call and tell her que la quiero. And so I stepped outside of class and I finally (after 2 weeks of trying to get in communication with her), got to see her face. But it wasn’t the same face I have been used to all of my life. My abue looks tired. I tried to mouth “La quiero dona” but they couldn’t come out of my mouth. Her eyes were open, but I looked like an unfamiliar face to her. The connection was terrible and so I had to end the call. I slowly dragged my feet back to class and I just couldn’t concentrate. Everyone’s discussion on crime and theory felt so far removed from where I was at that moment. I felt like I needed to leave.

And so I did.

I had to take care of my emotions at that time. I wanted to get some fresh air and walk around. I ended up meeting with a grad student I recently met and we decided to go get drinks and dinner. Needless to say, in NYC, Mexican food is not Cali Mexican food, but it is what it is! And so we walked around looking for Mexican food that we found appealing and finally ended up at some place called Mamasitas. Clever, I know. And although the food wasn’t all that great and it was ridiculously overpriced, it was just fun being away from school. We ended up going to this bar and just talked about our lives, dreams and aspirations, understanding of the importance of our physical presence in the ivory tower. 3 martinis in, we headed out to sneak into central park. It felt like I was 15 again. Ducking cops. Just walking and talking in the park. 

It was getting close to 2 in the morning and I could feel my eyelids getting heavy so I told homeboy I was ready to go home. I mean we also kinda got caught by the cops so ... that made it easier. As we were walking through downtown Manhattan finding our train line to head back home, I couldn’t help but stare up at the clear blue sky, and tall skyscrapers. I am really in NYC, I thought. The concrete jungle where dreams are made of. 

We finally found our train and headed back home. My eyelids felt heavy and so I held on to my new friend and felt really calm and safe. I can’t help but believe that I am going to be ok. I got new people surrounding me that feel right. That are intentional with their friendship and mentorship. And I cannot stress that enough ya’ll. When and if you go to grad school--especially if you’re in it for the long haul like the PhD--find yourself a village. Because you’re going to need it.

Self care and self love are --I would argue-- the best tools to keep yourself motivated, feeling supported, and not alone. I couldn’t do it without mine....

[beautifulrzilience]

GRATITUDE, a way of life that has shown me the value of Love & Reciprocity as an up and coming Professor

Wow. Like WOW. WOW. WOW. Where do I even begin ya’ll?

Well first of all, Good after noon. I hope that today is treating you well. As you know (if you’ve kept up with my life and all), yesterday marked my first week back as a PhD student and man! It was interesting, fun, a bit stressful, exhausting, and relieving all at the same time. 

My morning today... was a bit rocky. I’m on my moon cycle and I woke up from a nightmare, only to find that I had bled through my chonies. So I got up washed off the blood from my sheets, took a light shower, put some new clothes on and went back to sleep. I then woke back up at about 9:30 am. I felt good and opened up my Acts of Faith For People of Color meditation book and opened it up to September 1st. I Am all right with me. I repeated it 4 times, to honor the 4 directions and 4 vital elements of life: earth, wind, water, & fire.  I then proceeded to make myself a little smoothie and watered my baby girl Mochi. She is definitely growing! If you’ve never planted anything in your life, you have to try it. You feel such a special connection to las plantitas. My mother has always had plants in our home, and I feel like now I am learning the beauty of (albeit urban) gardening. And in this special case, I am blessed to have access to the medicines of our Native & Indigenous Elders that they left behind for us, medicine like Sage. I’m looking forward to when I can harvest my little sage plant. Check her out:

And after I sat and enjoyed the morning silence, for whatever reason, I felt like cleaning my whole apartment. I burned some Sierra Nevada Cedar (it makes me feel really calm and grounded) and I just began cleaning away. And before I knew it, I was receiving calls from work, mentees, and my partner. My day was beginning to  take shape.

Then all of a sudden, I get an e-mail notification that I have a package waiting for me in the mail room, so I went downstairs (put my laundry in first) and headed towards the building manager (and my second dad) Don Miguel. And low and behold, a care package from my former student--sister--friend--and comrade in the struggle, Diana. 

I was really excited and happy because well--who doesn’t like surprises?! I mean, I knew she was sending me something, but I did not expect this....

Can ya’ll just sit down with me and absorb my joy? I can’t even explain it. As I stood there, opening my package, read Diana’s card, I felt a splash of orange and white light surround my whole body, and I felt a warm embrace of positive energy, love and gratitude. Lately, in my life, I keep going back to this word because it truly has reshaped the way I look at my service for others, and how important it is to receive as well. Especially, as People of Color, our spirits and bodies have been extracted of all that we can give, with little or nothing ever given back to us in return.

I mean can I just show off a little bit??! Like this care package was extremely intentional and a demonstration of the gratitude I believe Diana has for me because what else can explain her time, love, energy, and effort she took to send this to me? 

I had been craving sage, and well here it is. I love aroma therapy and she sent me incences for relaxation and reflection. She sent me Palo Santo. Lavendar and Sage oils for my oil diffuser. Beautiful pins. Beautiful necklace.

She sent me books. Both for my intellectual work and my spiritual growth. I know she’s been reading my blog and keeping up with my FB because before coming out here, I had posted a wish list of books for my research, and she got me Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s Decolonizing Methodologies. I truly appreciate it because as I have seen thus far in my program, any time I have mentioned that I am anti-police and anti-prisons, colleagues and professors have given me puzzled looks. Or made comments like, “Every time I hear you say that you’re anti prisons/police you leave me pensive, or “That’s something to say in a department that has fostered police.” Although I am not getting a PhD in Ethnic Studies as I had dreamt of, you can’t take the Ethnic Studies scholar out of me. So while I am in a conservative and traditional CJ department, I have my intellectual weapons to be critical of the field I am diving into. I don’t feel so alone and crazy for believing the visions I have for our world: free of prisons and police.

I met Diana 4 years ago when I was a Graduate Student Instructor for a Big Ideas Course on Prison at UC Berkeley and I’m never going to forget our first encounter. Her partner Thomas, and she walked in late to my class. Diana had a scowl on her face and TJ just had a blank stare. They sat in the back and after class let me know that they weren’t enrolled in my section but were hoping to switch in. So I let them. I was young, eager, and excited to have students of color and students in general in my space.

 I would always get on them for being late, but as time went by I think both of them began to warm up to me and our friendship and mentorship began. 

Sometimes as teachers we get caught up in our ego, you see a student with “an attitude” and you-we-I can (and often time do) assume that students are just  assholes. But usually, in my experience, that is far from the truth. Students are human beings. They go through shit. Again, my students of color, often times carry so much trauma, pain, fear, and anxiety from home, and bring into the classroom without realizing it. But remembering where I came from, and the love and compassion most of my professors have shown me since undergraduate, I wanted to be that teacher too. So I am glad that that wasn’t the attitude I took because Diana ended up being one of my top students in that class and we became really good friends--still are. Talking about our dreams of liberating our Black, Brown, and Native/Indigenous brothers, sisters, and siblings from oppression. We would talk about self care, self love, and pursuing higher education. Our dreams. Our desires. Our fears.

Even with all the distance between us now, it is clear to me that our friendship and sisterhood is a lifetime. She has taught me the value of teaching with love and compassion. My life is a blessing. I can’t wait to see when she decides to go for her PhD. 

She has what it takes, and so much more. 

Thank you Diana, for showing me reciprocity and gratitude through your intentionality, love, and bond.

[beautifulrzilience]

Officially Back in School: Week 1 Reflections

Good morning world. It’s 7:41 am out here in the east coast and I’m already sweating up a storm! Although I must admit, it is starting to get a bit cooler. 

Today marks my first week that I  have completed for my PhD program in Criminal Justice at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice. And damn! I am pretty worn out. I have managed to go to sleep at 10 p.m and wake up at 6:30 a.m most of this week now. I think the commute to school is what wears me out the most. 30 minutes to get there, 40 minutes to get back. And trust me, being packed like a sardine in a train with 50 sweaty people who are usually taller than you--is not--the business.

I wanted to reflect a bit on this week and some of my take aways. This semester I have 4 classes: Research & Methods, Public Policy (focused on Criminal Justice of course), Theory, and STATISTICS (not my favorite!). And I must say that I really like the set up. Unlike my former program, the professors we have this semester, are the same professors we have next semester. And the next semester we basically have “part 2″ of the classes we take this semester, so there is clear continuity and consistency in the material we learn. What I really like about this is that because we have the same professors for an entire year, when we have our “Comps” (Comprehensive Exams in order to move towards ABD status), the same professors who have taught us for the past year, write our exams, knowing what we’ve talked about and what we should’ve learned as a base for creating the exams. Complete opposite in Ethnic Studies at Cal. So some advice for folks considering grad school: when you research programs that you are interested in, I would highly recommend you to consider looking into the structure of the program. You want to know how they run their ship, and if you believe it is run with intention. You don’t want to be in a situation where you find yourself taking a loss because the screw ups of your program and the professors. I feel really confident that I will be successful in passing my exams in order to finally be where I want to be: writing my damn dissertation!

Some thoughts on the classes themselves. Well, my professors this semester are quirky, but that’s expected.I like them though. They are all really energetic and seem to have genuine love for the field of criminal justice and teaching. More importantly for me, I feel really comfortable in my classes and already I am absorbing new material that’s making me thing about what kind of career I want to pave for myself, and where I can take my research as a scholar. Although, I already get the sense that folks in CJ may not be too critical in terms of race, class, gender, colonialism, resistance etc. it gives me an opportunity to shine in the classroom with the knowledge I bring as an Ethnic Studies scholar. I caught myself at times in class, where I felt the need to speak up because out of 12 students, I am the only Chicana in my classrooms. So even though I haven’t been formerly incarcerated, a lot of the people (friends and family) I love and study are. And I feel the urgency and need to speak up for them since they can’t physically be there. I feel like not only my background but also my racial identification inevitably puts me in these at times, weird positions. I have also already experienced moments where I have stated certain ideas, only to have a male professor restate what I say, while simultaneously having blown off my original comment. Not sure if that was intentional or not, but an observation I have made nonetheless. 

Now as far as STATS.  I feel like because I’ve been meditating on a daily, my day to day outlook on things are changing. I am taking Stats this semester and for some odd reason I don’t feel anxious or stressed about it. And for those of you who know me, KNOW that I don’t do math. I mean the last time I took Stats was when I was 19 as part of my requirements for Sociology. And let me tell you- I FAILED 3/4 of the exams. But it seems that most of my peers failed that summer too because when I received my final grade for the course, I received a B! Just goes to show that even with a college degree, doesn’t mean you are intellectually well rounded. Higher education is a business not a place that people are 100% invested in the education of people.

Alas, I digress. I still have a little voice in my head that doubts myself as far as making it through Stats. As a woman and young girl, math and the “hard” sciences were never pushed on me, and I never did well in them. So my confidence there is pretty weak. But I need to-- ABSOLUTELY must pass Stats because if not, I could be looking at another program that I don’t finish. That’s something that I hate, that sometimes programs have certain classes that end up weeding people out. People like me. And as the professor stated, “For those of you who find this difficult, you’re going to have to work extra hard, because I’m going to move fast.” --Not the most encouraging for someone like me. But I’m going to have a positive outlook and just give it my all, I don’t have any other choice.

I quit Staples today. YUP. I know. After 4 long years in Cali, I thought I could handle working at the Staples here in NY, but with the commute to school, classes (which are pretty intense), reading, studying for Stats, working for The Safe Return Project, working for a professor as part of my Graduate Student Research Assistantship to pay for school, and making sure I am engaging in activities for self care and self love, I just don’t have the time or energy to put for Staples anymore. So while I am going to miss out on building community with regular folks, I did what was best for me and my education. 

My partner and I planted sage on the lunar eclipse about a week and a half ago. The instructions said that it would take 3-4 weeks for the seeds to sprout, but low and behold within a week and a half my baby girl has blossomed. We named her Mochi, and I am super excited to see her grow. She symbolizes so many things for me, but especially in the moment I’m in right now, all I can think about is new beginnings. I’m feelin myself.

#BeKind #BeStrong #BeBrave #BeLove #BeFree

[beautifulrzilience]

First day of school is officially here!

Hey ya’ll! Wass good? It’s yo girl, la negrita chocolate and I’m excited to let ya’ll know that TODAY--yes today--is my first day of school. I am genuinely excited. I woke up at 7:30 a.m today (which is awesome because its taken me about 3 weeks to readjust my regular sleeping pattern), meditated on Iyanla Vanzant’s, Acts of Faith: Daily Meditations for People of Color (today’s meditation was: When it is over, I am on to the next thing), which is actually a perfect concept to meditate on today, as it has taken me 1 previous PhD program to get to this one. And although sometimes I fall into these moments where I get frustrated that I have to start over, today’s mediation serves as a reminder to Let go, Let God. I want to allow myself to start fresh, and be open to this new opportunity. 

 I also went to the gym. Official day back to the fit life! I am giving myself 3 months to get back to 120 lbs. I know I can do it. I’ve been feeling flabby for some time and now that I am in a better place in my life... I can go ahead and get right back to it. And to hold myself accountable, here is Day One:

And finally, I was able to read all my readings for today (I am one week ahead of my reading schedule, I know--I’m a type A personality, what can I do?), pack my little snackies so that when 3:00 p.m hits-- I will be ready to go to the train to head to school. It’s been quite the productive day. I need to go catch the train now...(seriously wishing I had my car!!) so this one will be short. But tomorrow or Thursday (since that’s my last class) I’ll put my reflections on my first day of class... and the rest of the week.

By the way, meet my cohort! When I first looked at this picture...I was taken a back a bit on how I have physically matured... I actually look pretty legit. Or what I mean to say... I feel like I am starting to “look” more like an academic... whatever that means. Ha! #XicanasInHigherEd

[beautifulrzilience]

“So, why you working at Staples?”

Hey ya’ll! Good afternoon. It feels like I haven’t really been on here (even though I took one day off). I’m still trying to figure out how this whole blogging thing works. When I should blog, how long, how often, etc. At the same time, I don’t want to burn myself out. In addition, I want to make sure that what I am writing about is thoughtful, provocative, and useful. So bare with me if you can.

Today I really feel compelled to talk about hustling while in graduate school. I remember back when I was an undergraduate, our McNair program directors hired this guy Don Asher to come talk to us about graduate school. By the way, if you don’t know what the Ronald E. McNair program is -- LOOK IT UP (It is a program designed for first-generation and/or low income undergraduate students of color who are interested in graduate school but have no idea how to get there. I think a big part of my success in getting into graduate school is thanks to having participated in this program). So I guess this guy was a big deal, some white guy who was being hired by hundreds of programs across the country to give us socially and culturally deprived kids the 411 about how to get to grad school and how to navigate it. I don’t remember much of what he said-except for one thing: hustling. 

He was going on and on about using our talents and creativity to find ways to make extra money while in graduate school, since even if we were to get fully funded in a program, it wasn’t going to be enough to sustain ourselves financially. And so when I first matriculated into UC Berkeley, and I realized my single studio was going to cost me $1,200 a month, plus a monthly $80 fee for my parking spot, $400 for groceries, my $390 car note, gas, living expenses etc. -- I also realized that the $1,500 a month I was getting from being a Graduate Student Instructor was not going to cut it.

So you’d think that of course I was going to naturally look for jobs that would boost my CV (curriculum vitae; a.k.a academic resume) up, which would mean searching for jobs that were relevant to academia. After all, I was a Doctoral Graduate Student at UC Berkeley. However, after being constantly stiffled with the elitism of students and faculty at Berkeley, I decided that I would look for a non-academic job. I just didn’t want to be around academics all day. They can be stuffy. I wanted to be somewhere where I could be my ‘authentic’ self. Talk about Love & Hip Hop and Bad Girls Club--talk shit--keep it real about life--you feel me?

So I thought, “Hmm, what are my options?” Well I knew what working in retail was like (since I was 16 I began working as a grocery bagger at Ralph’s Grocery store in Newport Beach,CA), maybe I’d try working somewhere (not in the grocery store business because I promised if I didn’t have to--I’d never go back--talk about humbling experience) where I could get some perks. Perhaps, Sephora (at the time I had discovered my love for makeup), or maybe Victoria Secrets (that’s before I knew how they exploited incarcerated peoples for their labor). But in the end, I randomly ended up getting hired at the Staples right across my studio. 

I know, STAPLES.

But let me tell you the story of how it happened-- how this came into fruition--and how this in itself was-and has been another humbling and rewarding experience. Because not only did it serve as a motivation to keep pushing through in school, but I also realized that some of the smartest people I know end up working at Staples. Some of these people are some of my closest friends I have. Friends that have become more like extended family. 

(from left to right: Napoleon Davila (my gay best friend), Joel Jara (my viejo who I had to force to be my best friend), Mary Giovanetti (my Italian Jersey girl), and Adam Vargas (you just gotta talk to him for 5 minutes--he a crazy one) This was my going away party at some bar in Berkeley, CA)

So one day I headed down to Staples because I needed a planner so I could manage my time efficiently (because at the graduate level, things can get a little hectic with all the responsibilities you end up having as a graduate student). As I find the isle I needed, there was a big hefty Black man on this ladder organizing some of the store’s merchandise. I guess he noticed that I was having a hard time deciding between the planners and asked me if I needed help. I looked up (I was sitting on the floor at this point and had a handful of different planners in front of me) and asked him, “Which one do you think is cuter?” He started laughing and his laugh was contagious so I started laughing and I told him, “I know, I know but I’m serious.” I don’t remember how things unfolded but we started chopping it up right then and there. We talked about issues pertaining to the Black and Latino community. At some point I remember interrupting him and asked, “Dude, what are you doing here? You’re so smart you should be in school!” That’s when he disclosed some of his personal life history and his struggles growing up in the Bay Area as a young Black brotha. 

I don’t know what compelled me to ask, but I did anyways, “Hey do you know if they’re hiring here?” in which he replied, “Yes we are.” So I asked, “Where’s the manager?” “I am the manager, stop by tomorrow for an interview.” I thanked him, finally picked a planner, went up to the front desk and paid for my shit and walked home. The next day I showed up for my interview, which turned out to be super informal. I’m never going to forget it, “Listen I already knew I was going to hire you, this is just for formalities. You have a great attitude and personality and we could use some of that to change the culture around here. You’re hired.”  LOL I know! Just like that, I ended up landing a job as a cashier at Staples in downtown Berkeley, CA. Who knew me going in there just to buy a planner for school would result in me getting the perfect part-time job that was right across from my place. Talk about convenient. 

The beginning was a little awkward for me. Getting adjusted to this type of work. Again, I had been used to working in a predominantly white and rich community in Southern California and as a grocery bagger at that. But things got better and I quickly befriended the people at my store. Before I knew it, I found myself at Staples quite often hanging out even if I wasn’t on the clock. Eventually I ended up transferring to the Copy and Print Center and that’s when things really took off. You could hear my hyena cackles from across the store. That’s how the “CC Krew & Allies” was born. Some of the funnest, memorable memories I have are with these people. When I got accepted into CUNY, I knew that meant having to say bye (not forevaa) to my homies at (what’s now called) the Print & Marketing Center and at Staples and I would transfer to the Staples that coincidentally enough (or not, maybe it’s just destiny) was going to be right down the street from my new studio. But I wasn’t sure if I would actually go through with the transfer because I just thought about what it would take to build a new family in a different place, and my heart just didn’t want to.

But fast forward to today, August 25th 2017, I made the decision to go through with my transfer  to the Staples out here in Harlem, NY. I thought it was going to be a hassle and it wasn’t. So I take it as a good sign. I’m open to making new family connections out here in the East Coast. I know I got a good job as a researcher for The Safe Return Project back in Richmond, CA (who were so generous to let me work away from Cali), and I am a Research Assistant for a professor for John Jay, but there’s a unique opportunity of familial kinship at Staples. And as far as sustaining myself through grad school, as my mom told me this morning, “Muy bueno hija, para que tengas un poco de dinero extra..” (Translation: “This is good baby girl, you’ll have some extra money coming in). My rent out here is $1,500 a month. I will be spending $115 a month on the train (a.k.a bart for my Bay area folks) for transportation... food.. clothes etc. 

The reality is folks, that for us People of Color, we have to hustle. That’s the name of the game. Nicki Minaj isn’t going to always pay our loans or our college tuition. Drake isn’t going to fund our research so that we don’t have to work. We have to constantly be hustling and grinding to make our educational aspirations a reality. 

And as a working class Woman of Color, I know this game all too well. I’m literally living the “American Dream.” From cleaning houses at the age of five with my mom in the upper echelons of Balboa, CA--to bagging groceries in Newport Beach, CA--to working as a cashier at Staples-- even if not the most glamorous jobs, I am grateful that I was able to make some extra cash for myself so that I didn’t have to financially depend on my parents who slave away each and every day to provide for us. I am proud of the hard work ethic my family has instilled in my brother and I. I am never going to be above taking a job at a place like Staples. In the words of one of good friends and mentees Jesse Ruiz, “Stay hungry, stay humble, & pay your dues!” So if you need a copy, hit yo girl up at the Print & Marketing Center. I got you. 

[beautifulrzilience]

Real Talk-Choosing between the Ivy Leagues and Elite Public Universities

Oh my gatos! Never. Again. Will I wear thick platform heels to school. Ever. Especially when I KNOW that I gotta walk a good 13-15 minutes to get to the train station to go to school --Someone get me a foot masseuse, a red velvet cupcake, and cold tea. Like right meow.

Jokes aside (but not really because my feet are throbbing!)-- today was my department’s orientation for us first year PhD students --and to my surprise it went well--like really well. Like I couldn’t believe that I was sitting at this round table with my cohort, administrative staff, and core faculty, and never did I once feel uncomfortable around anybody. I don’t know if it’s an East Coast thing--or a CUNY thing--but like there is no sense of elitism, fake politeness, competitiveness--or intellectual snobbery here. All of my peers in my cohort have demonstrated nothing but support, encouragement, and care. Even faculty! I honestly felt like all of the core faculty showed genuine belief in our intellectual talent and creativity, which is why out of 90 applicants--they had chosen us 8 to be admitted to the program. Pretty crazy huh?

For a split second I thought about my first “orientation” for Ethnic Studies back in 2013. Why? Because I recall how tight my body was, how my heart was racing so fast I thought I was going to pass out- I mean I was straight up uncomfortable and felt like I was a complete outsider because there was no one that looked like me there. It also didn’t help that there was a funky vibe and energy with most people I encountered (faculty and grad students).  And here I was, fast forward to 2017, and I’m just sitting calmly listening to Dr. X talking about the program’s milestones, expectations, and requirements. Maybe because I already tried a PhD program before so I wasn’t intimidated by nothing-- there wasn’t anything shocking that was expected of us-or any outlandish workload--I knew what I had signed up for. Or maybe that I am older now-- I learned not to get too hyped--stressed about shit,  because it’s not worth my mental health or sanity. I am not sure -but I felt really calm and relaxed. Although there wasn’t anybody that looked like me there, I felt comfortable, which I believe is already a good sign.

And you’ll hear me talk about my former program a lot because --well it’s part of my intellectual, spiritual, emotional, and physical experience. It’s always going to be a part of me-for the better or worse.  It’s what I have as a point of reference you know? And my intent is not to bash Ethnic Studies at Berkeley, rather be honest about  what my experiences as a first-generation Xicana at an elite public university was like in terms of navigating the politics, the bullshit, and all of the things that people are just not upfront about. That’s the point of this blog. I want ya’ll to get a real sense of what it could be like. Things that you might want to look out for when it’s your turn to start a PhD or masters program. 

So, why John Jay (CUNY)?

During my one day orientation at John Jay, many people asked me--why’d you pick JJ?” Truth be told, it was the only program that took me. See I was upfront about what happened to me at Berkeley, and I have a strong belief that most admissions faculty members took one look at my shit and were like NOPE. Even though I KNOW I am MORE THAN ENOUGH to be at any mothafuckin elite program in the United States. I know I have what it takes to become a scholar-shit I already am one. But see that’s where politics come in. The behind the doors type of shit no one talks about but that is ever so present in academia. But the other belief of mine was that when I sent out my applications, I asked God to send me to the right place. I had applied to all top ranked/elite programs in the country for Sociology and Criminal Justice/Criminology, so I knew that no matter what happened, whatever schools said yes, I wasn’t settling for anything but what I knew I deserved. So when JJ said “We want you!” --I took that as a sign from God that this was where my next opportunity for greatness was at. So I took it. Plus they said I was going to be fully funded-- I mean why the fuck not? Right? 

One comment that was the most striking  to me was one that was stated by one of the staff members, “Between you and I, I didn’t think you were going to come here.” And with a scrunched face I nervously asked, “Why not?” and she responded, “Well with all the options you have--why come here?” They were referencing to the fact that I could’ve gone to an NYU--Columbia--Harvard or another elite Ivy League school. In the back of my mind I was like “Damn, you thought I got into those places? Word! But I didn’t” --Then--cus I told ya’ll I would be honest- I panicked. I was like “Damn did I not come to an elite school? Should I have waited and reapplied until I did get accepted to a Harvard or Columbia?” But I just smiled and said, “I feel like this is the right place for me.”

and its true, i feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be, and it feels so fucking good..

 But see, at the end of the day, you gotta ask yourself, who are you? What are your values? Because honestly, if I had to do it over, I still believe that I wouldn’t choose Ivy League schools over elite public universities. And it’s not because I don’t think I am good enough--shit it’s as simple as I don’t want to be around elitist assholes. I am not so interested in prestige and material accolades. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to get awards and recognition etc. but honestly as I sat and stared at everyone around me--I kept thinking about what pursuing and obtaining this PhD meant to me. When it comes down to it--I’m really interested en la liberacion de mi gente. You know what I’m sayin? Like I want to use academia as a platform for social change in my community. I want my Black and Brown --Indigenous & Native peoples to win. I still believe in the power of public institutions. Education should be free and it should be for everyone. We have to fight against the privatization of higher education ya’ll. Forreal.

On another note, I just wanted to let ya’ll know that I feel really happy today. I feel like even though I literally got uprooted from everything and everyone I love and know, this move is going to be the game changer in my career. I need this. I didn’t want to do it, but I jumped, I flew, and I landed where I need to land. And I’m excited ya’ll! Forreal. I’m here to hit the ground running. 

P.S

I know this might be petty but I just got a kick out of it. I went back to check out my syllabus for my Intro to Ethnic Studies at Cal and compared it to an Intro syllabus for Criminal Justice and I mean...check it out for yourself:

Introduction to Ethnic Studies Syllabus at UC Berkeley:

VS.

Introduction to Criminal Justice at John Jay 

Oh the irony! This was one of the professors who said that one of my exams was not passable...yet... check out the quality of this syllabi. Enough said right?

I feel like I am definitely in the right place. I’m finally going to get some legit training to be the best scholar that I can be. I mean you can just see the intentionality in this syllabus that the program means buisness. And I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time....

 So with that said, it’s a wrap for the night ya’ll. I’m tired.

Love,

la negrita chocolate

[beautifulrzilience]

Officially Alone in the Big Apple

Hey folks! It’s day 14. It’s official. It’s been 2 weeks since I arrived here in New York and my boyfriend officially left yesterday. So I am here on my own. Just me, myself, and I. And guess what, I feel fucking great. 

I rode the train by myself today. Navigated the long and big streets of downtown Manhattan to finish up some HR paper work at the Graduate Center. Deposited an old check at Wellsfargo (I know, I know, I just don’t know where else to bank!). Returned this hideous raincoat I had bought from 4ever 21. I also got to link up with a former colleague of mine from the Ethnic Studies Department at UC Berkeley. Before I knew it, it was already 5pm and it was time for both of us to head back to our respective homes. 

As I jumped quickly into one of the shuttles of the train, during my ride back home, I kept thinking about the conversation I got to have with my colleague. I mean we covered it all. The bullshit we have to deal with as  Women of Color, struggles of obtaining a PhD at elite universities, dealing with sexist Latino professors, sexual assault, paranoia, how some professors steal students’ ideas and work-- publishing it as their own, seeing through the fakeness of some of our colleagues who pretend to be excelling even if in reality they are struggling (but of course are determined to maintain an image of themselves as thriving), how violent that could be as people end up projecting their shit on others, creating a culture of competitiveness and isolation, and dreams of one day writing an anthology-- calling out all the professors--and the vicious academic culture in higher education that have done us harm in one way or the other.  

I left feeling inspired. I mean it served as a reminder that I was not alone. Also, I was happy to see how much more relaxed this individual looked. Last time I had seen them, they themselves were dealing with a lieu of things just trying to finish their qualifying exams so they could finally be ABD (all but dissertation) and go back home on the East Coast.

One thing that really struck me was something my colleague mentioned in a personal Facebook message a couple of days ago prior to our meeting, “The fact you can heal that quick really attests to your fb username.” They were talking about my ability to be okay with meeting up with them even though they are still part of a department that tried to break me in half by dismissing me, and robbing me from obtaining my PhD at my dream school.  

My Facebook name is ‘Rzlient Guerrera.’ It means resilient female warrior. 

While I appreciated the compliment, I let them know that it was maybe a whole 2 years before I felt like myself and/or had “healed” from the pain and PTSD I had acquired post my dismissal from Ethnic Studies.  And although I believe I haven’t and couldn’t possibly fully heal from this devastating point in my life, I do feel like I have come a long way. 

I think about this quote from famous Latin singer Jenni Rivera, “The Number of Times I Have Fallen Down Is the Number of Times I Have Gotten Up.” And yo! This is me! This is the story of my life. Any hardships I--or my family have ever confronted-we have worked through and bounced back up. If I would have allowed these fucking asshole professors from Berkeley bring me to a place where I was hesitant to associate myself with anyone coming from Berkeley, or let them doubt my intelligence or sense that I belong in academia (which at one point I did allow them to question myself in that regard) than that would be a complete win on their part--and a complete loss for me. That means I would have given them the power to control MY LIFE. And while Ethnic Studies at Berkeley did take a lot from me, what I will not allow them to take away from me is my dignity and resilience.  There was no choice but to continue to fight for my degree. You know what I’m saying?

And so this post goes out to all of my colleagues and comrades who have been pushed out of their PhD programs. Just know that this industry--business of higher education-although not truly invested in the enlightenment of the minds they lure to enroll in their institutions-- they cannot take away the core and essence of who you are and the dreams you dream about. So I hope that even if you’ve been PUSHED OUT, you continue to put in work to bounce back up (when you are ready) and reapply to the best departments of your field--at the best institutions of higher learning. You cannot stop. I wont stop. We need to continue to break the barriers for those yet to come. We need to get to places of power so that we can also demystify the journey towards obtaining the PhD so our children know how to better navigate this/the system. Ellos nos necesitan. 

As I look at this old picture of myself when I was still enrolled at Berkeley, I admire the look of determination and stubbornness in my eyes. I look at my indigenous features--big brown eyes--dark mestizo hair-- coffee colored skin-- and it serves as a reminder of the blood it took my ancestors to sacrifice for me to be where I’m at. I think about the lessons of hard work ethic, determination, persistence, and never taking no as an answer I learned from my immigrant parents. And something tells me that I am where I am meant to be. And that I am never alone. My life experiences have taught me to be fearless. And to be honest I do not know any other way to be than that.

FEARLESS.

[beautifulrzilience]

Law of Niatia

Good morning ya’ll! It’s a brand new day. It’s thunder storming out here in East Harlem so I am cuddled up here in my building’s lounge. I hope that life finds you well and that by this time, you have already had a good breakfast (it’s 11:26 am over here on my side of the hemisphere) and done some kind of meditation to get your morning off right. 

Niatia [Nuh-tea-uh]. It means gift from God, or according to rapper “Lil Mama” (ya’ll remember her right? My lip gloss is poppin?), “Purpose Goddess.” So you may be wondering, “What the hell is homegirl getting at?,” but I assure you that I am not [that] crazy and that I got something meaningful for ya’ll to think about today.  

So before I jump right into it, I gotta go back a little bit -back to my senior year of my undergraduate career in UC Santa Barbara (Go Gauchos!). Everything was going real well for me. I was graduating Cum Laude with honors distinction in the Sociology Department. I had already been accepted to my dream school, with a full ride at UC Berkeley for their PhD in Ethnic Studies. I was going to be published in the Ronald E. McNair Program’s book. Man! Academically I was thriving. However, within the span of 4 years of my undergraduate career, I had completely  neglected my body. I had gained significant weight for someone my height and size.  I had arrived to campus weighing 120 lbs, but by my senior year I was weighing 138 lbs! I was so focused on my academics, that I had completely neglected my physical health. My sister Miroslava (a.k.a Miros) and I would just go to fast food places and restaurants we loved and ordered whatever the hell we wanted. I mean we was graduating, so we were just living life: wild, happy, and carefree. 

When I moved to Berkeley, I decided that I was going to get my shit together. I decided to start working out, waist train, eat organic food, run at the Berkeley Marina, and have a strict eating regiment. I started seeing results quickly within the first month of my drastic life habit changes. One day, on Instagram, one of my best friends--Rony Argueta’s (shout out to him for following his dreams of playing soccer professionally) girlfriend, Daiana Diaz had posted a before and after picture of herself. And let me tell you. My jaw dropped. I don’t know what the hell she did, but she had transformed her whole body in less than a year. She looked like NOTHING I had remembered her looking like when we were at UCSB. If you don’t believe me, check it out: 

And what was her secret? Working out and eating right. She hella motivated me to keep going. I wanted to look like her, in terms of getting my body at its finest physique. Suddenly, I started seeing a shit load of my friends jumping on the getting fit train and I was loving it. It was motivating and inspiring to see my peers and my self being proactive about our health and our bodies.

Unfortunately, a year into my “Getting my body right” journey, my best friend and sister Miroslava Garcia had suddenly passed away due to stage 4 ovarian cancer. She was 23 years young. And just like that, my world turned upside down. I can’t explain to you what it’s like loosing your best friend--the person you lived with- grew up with in college- your ride or die- just be abruptly taken away from you with no real explanations. That I was depressed about her passing would be an understatement. I think for the first month, all I wanted to do was be curled up in the corner of my bed, in a little ball in my studio. My appetite had gone down. I didn’t want to see and/or talk to anybody. I felt so alone. I stopped working out. That year would only worsen. It would also be the year that I would be dismissed from my program. 

2015 would be the year that really tested my will power, strength and tenacity to bounce back from the tragic things that had and would happen to me in the following two years.

 I immediately started reapplying to graduate school, I continued to build on my relationships with mentors and faculty who had showed me support, I was working 3 jobs, and auditing a full course load at Cal. In the process of reapplying to graduate school, I cannot tell you how many people: friend’s--professors--colleagues--acquaintances-- who would tell me to take time off...to apply to lesser known programs... and/or to apply to masters programs. When I think about it, I fucking laugh. Cus you would think that at least your friends would encourage you to pursue your passion(s) and to strive for the best opportunities out there--but it’s the very people who will be the first to instill fear of you pursuing the best in whatever it is you are searching for or are striving to be.

And so here is where what I am calling the “Law of Niatia” comes into play. Even though I am talking specifically about pursing a PhD through the perspective and positionality as a young Xicana, this can apply to anything and everything. See the thing is, when you have the belief that you are a gift from God--or whatever you call your higher power--then inevitably you will have a belief that you have a higher purpose in this life. And when you come to that realization than you have to make some really important decisions in your life. And I want to say is that the most important one is-cutting off all the negative people in your life. Yes, that may mean also taking a step back from people you call friends. 

When I was hustling to get back into school, again, I was neglecting my emotional, spiritual, and physical health and well being. I mean I honestly believe I was so consumed by the pressure and urgency to get back on track to get my PhD before I turned 30, I was so caught up surviving this hurdle of my life and career. Once I submitted my applications, I began to take seriously working on my mental, emotional, physical and spiritual health. 

I began and continue reading more self-help books. The new one I picked up, You are a badass: How to stop doubting your greatness and start living an awesome life written by Jen Sincero has been giving me life. Shout out to @Daianadays for posting this on her snapchat and putting me on (you can get your own copy at Amazon for $9.80). 

In the first chapters of the book, Sincero talks about how important is to attract only positive energy, and surrounding yourself with people who motivate you. People who are pursuing their damn dreams. And I want to only be surrounded by that. I get high off of positive energy and inspiring people. It motivates me to hustle harder.

In this stage of my life, on my journey of embarking on a second attempt to obtain a PhD from another elite public university, I decided that if I really want to the mothafuckin best chingona in my field, that if I want to embody and live in my greatness, I gotta cut the people who make me feel some type of way. ANY body. Any person. Any individual. Any thing that makes me not feel my best, I am cutting them off. They have become distracting and unnecessary noise in my life. I can’t have that. I don’t want that. This time around I am doing things different. I am spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, and physically grounding myself. 

And some of you may wonder, well how the hell did you start this conversation with working out, Daiana’s transformation, your transformation, and then start talking about cutting negative people off etc.? Well see when I think about Daiana’s transformation, I have this hunch that she may have had a lot of temptations, people who perhaps doubted her, and who knows what other external and internal factors that could have impeded her amazing transformation. So what did it take for her to get to where she’s at now? I think that she had to make decisions about food, people, and the attitude she had to psychologically also train herself in order to get her physical goals. Even though we were hundreds of miles apart, I felt (and continue to feel) how her attitude and mentality has also changed. She is fucking inspiring. She stands out. When I think of her I picture bright colors. She isn’t just an accountant at a top firm in Los Angeles, California, she has also began to brand herself as a fitness guru. I don’t doubt she is going to have her own business in this regard soon enough. I love seeing my Chicanas winning. I love seeing her win.  

So for those of my fellow People of Color who are thinking about a PhD, I hope this gives you a little something to think about, as far as what you need to do in your life, in order to successfully pursue your PhD. Surround yourself by people who are smarter than you, work harder than you, are more creative than you. Don’t compare yourself to them, but see what they do that makes them great, and apply their tools to yourself and see how it makes you better. We are trained to compete with one another in life and in academia, but imagine if we actually learned from each other. Don’t be afraid to cut the people who feed you insecurity, negativity, and/or self doubt. It’ll be the best decision you can make for yourself. 

Niatia’s (aka Lil Mama) interview with Ebro in the Morning was really inspiring. She talks about this idea of living life with purpose and believing you are a gift from God. Check it out: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfzRXRKGpFQ&t=1540s

[beautifulrzilience]

Why does the PhD= Success?

Hey ya’ll! What’s good? Well today is a new day for me and I’m feeling vibrant, calm, and well rested. The irony of human emotions. A roller coaster. 

Today, on Day 9, I wanted to take the time to talk about something I found striking in Dr. Karen Kelsky’s book titled, “The Professor is In.”  Well let me back up just a little bit here. The reason I even came across this book was because of my homegirl and colleague (recently minted PhD) Nichole. 

I was having bit of trouble asserting myself as a professional, negotiating terms for a potential co-publication (remember, in academia, you often hear about “publish or perish”) with one of my friends who is now a professor at an elite Research 1 (a.k.a R1) university. I mean that happens right? Even with friends, you can’t really escape power dynamics but the process of advocating for yourself in terms of your ideas, thoughts, and/or needs can be really intimidating. At least for me- it is a highly anxiety inducing ordeal and process. So I confided in Nichole about my concerns and not knowing how to address my friend and colleague. She gave me a cold hard slap (metaphorically speaking) telling me, as a matter of factly, that as a Woman of Color in the academy, I needed to not be afraid to be assertive. Maybe it was her Chicana-Riquena sass, or just how blunt she was about stating her advice, but something in my head clicked in that moment. She was right. The irony was that as a small, dark-skinned,  all about Women of Color Power, fist in the air kind of Chicana that I am, I consider myself to be pretty assertive in terms of my personality, but somehow, I skipped the memo to take that same assertiveness into my professional career as an academic. That’s when she told me about this damn book! “Yo you gotta get this book--it changed my life!” So I immediately got me a copy at Amazon for a mere $11.92.  

Since I felt super relaxed today,  put on my  BelleSha Spa moisturizing gel socks for my cracked feet, I felt like finally pulling out The Professor is In. And in the very first chapter, titled, “The End of an Era,” she talks about how difficult it has been for freshly graduated PhDs to get a tenure track position at universities across the United States. Let me echo this fact. It is real ya’ll. I think about some of the most brilliant people I have met at UC Berkeley, folks like Dr. Pablo Gonzales (a lecturer in the Chicano Studies Department within the Ethnic Studies) and Dr. Francisco Casique (last time I checked, was also a lecturer for Ethnic Studies at Cal), who for whatever odd reason, despite having obtained their PhDs from places like UT Austin and UC Berkeley, have not been able to get offered tenure track positions. “It’s tough” would be an understatement.

Yet, we continue telling our young undergraduates, “Go get your PhD!,” without really letting people know how emotionally, physically, spiritually, and economically taxing this endeavor can be. 

Despite this fact, hundreds--if not thousands of people across the country apply for doctoral programs every year. 

Now something that Dr. Keslky ends with at the end of her first chapter was intriguing to me because it’s something I struggled with when I initially had been dismissed from my former PhD program at Cal. 

She writes,

“ ‘Doctoral education in the humanities [and social sciences] socializes idealistic, naive, and psychologically vulnerable people into a profession with a very clear set of values,’ critic and columnist William Pannapacker wrote. “It teaches them that life outside of academe means failure, which explains the large numbers of graduates who labor for decades as adjunct, just so they can stay on the periphery of academe.” Graduate students absorb this value system and judge themselves harshly. Adjuncts and those who can’t find tenure track positions suffer not just from debt and poverty, but debilitating feelings of shame and failure. As Robert Oprisko observed, ‘A substantial and deeply meaningful of your core identity is tied to your profession [and] losing your position represents the death of your identity...Your identity is contingent not on publishing ... it is contingent on being employed, which is beyond your power to control..’”

I couldn’t find this statement to be truer. Shit. When I got dismissed, not only did I feel like I was a failure, but that it was my fault, when in reality (and my close friends and colleagues can attest to this) I fought with every ounce in me to stay in my PhD program, but I had no control or power over the professors who from the beginning, had power over me. At one point, bawling my heart out alone in my studio, I had thought about suicide. What else did I have going for me--if I didn’t come back home with a PhD from UC BERKELEY- the number one public university of the world? I really had to reevaluate who I thought I was before ever dreaming about a PhD.

As I finish writing this, I am beginning to really wrestle with this fact that many of us tie our success to obtaining a PhD. I mean a huge part of me wants it because I want to be able to say I did it. How many Chicanas have a PhD in the United States? Less than 1%. Look it up. And even though I have a hate/love relationship with public speaking, I love the power of using your voice for social justice and change. But I also am beginning to question why I feel like I “need” one? So I leave you with these thoughts. I’m not saying don’t go get a PhD, what I am suggesting is to make sure you know who you are without the PhD. Ground yourself. So that whether or not you get the damn thing, your sense of value and success is never contingent upon the doctoral degree. 

And true. Easier said than done. But something Dr. Kelsky doesn’t touch upon, perhaps because she is not of color, is that for us POC’s, the PhD is so much more and the process of trying to obtain one, is different, more arduous, and the pressure is can break you in ways unimaginable. But don’t forget this:

There is so much more to life outside of academia. You just gotta go find it. You are more than a degree. You are waterfalls of life. Flames of light and soldiers of resilience.You come from a legacy of guerrero/a/x’s

[beautifulrzilience]

Raw & unfiltered: Welcoming the tears... again.

Man. It’s so ironic to me that one day you can feel hella empowered, loved, invincible, the greatest...and the very next day you can feel the complete opposite. Today, for whatever reason, has been such an emotionally charged day. I don’t know if it’s because I almost didn’t make it to my orientation appointment-- the fact that I was swimming against a current of thousands of people just to get  to campus that my anxiety sky rocketted-- that I had forgotten my social security so I wasn’t able to get cleared in CUNY’s system- that staff at CUNY were assholes (or just have that stereotypical tough NY attitude that I’m just not used to)- or the fact that what should’ve been a 2 hour orientation became a 4.5 hour ordeal because of how disorganized their system was--all for this hideous plastic card that is my new ID--but truth be told, today I cannot help but hella miss the Bay and UC Berkeley. And best believe I’m letting all the tears come out.

I know I should be grateful--or at least coach myself to continue feeling grateful for this new opportunity- but I promised ya’ll and myself I would be 100% truthful, honest, and vulnerable. So yah. Today I cried in the morning out of frustration with the attitude I was confronted by with staff at my campus. When I got finally got home and laid down and I looked at how empty my studio looks like right now, I thought about how easy I had it at UC Berkeley in terms of having everything at the foot of my feet.  Then the realization that my boyfriend is leaving in a couple of days hit, so I am going to be officially physically alone and far away from not only him, but my friends, family, and home. I feel a wave of emotions, and as every memory of what my old studio looked like, of what I have been forced to leave behind, crashes in my mind, emotions of insecurity, fear, vulnerability, doubt, and feelings of just wanting to go home are resurfacing.

The work towards obtaining a PhD isn’t hard.

Honestly, for me, it’s having to deal with all the unforeseen bullshit that comes your way. So many damn transitions you gotta make, and to me it feels quite distracting and abrupt. I mean fuck. If my former department hadn’t screwed me over, I would be chilling right now in my studio (which took me 2 years to build to officially make it feel like home), walking perhaps across the street to bullshit with my coworkers/extended family (friends) at Staples, and get me some sushi at my favorite spot Nanayiro. This would have been my 5th year at UC Berkeley. It potentially could have been the year I graduated with my PhD-if not second to last year. I think about that a lot. How much time the Ethnic Studies Department at UC Berkeley robbed from me. I had always admired the fact that I was going to be a Dr. by the age of 26 or 27.

That was the biggest and possibly only challenge for me during my time at Cal. I had no one in my department to back me up and/or mentor me. No one. No body. Even most graduate students are too scared or whatever to protest shit in house when clearly things haven’t been right there for a long time for undergraduates and graduate students. 

So I’m here. Laying in bed. Crying about all the spilled milk in my life. And I can’t help but wonder: why. School has always been easy for me. Undergrad was fun and it was a breeze. Berkeley was easy (minus me getting dismissed and all). I had it all. Now I’m looking at this empty studio, wondering, “Did I make the right choice coming here?”  I haven’t even officially started school and I feel exhausted. “Do I really want to go through the bullshit for two letters in front of my name?” 

Can I really do this? Why does it have to be this hard to do what I love? I could be done... but I’m here. Starting over. 

This one isn’t that inspiring... but I wanted to let ya’ll in and... this is how I really feel. Right. Now.  Heavy sigh.