isaiahpiche-blog

[isaiahpiche-blog]

Testimonio

Liberty

This land was Mexican once

Was indian always

And is

And will be again.

-Gloria Anzaldua

Four lines speaks volumes to decolonization. The late and great Anzaldua provides us with instructions on how to autonomously begin the process. I have to start with the beginning, my beginning, in order to illustrate why I belong in the Chicano studies program. I have to reclaim my life and tell it in my voice. However, my story is a piece of a perplexing puzzle. So to not recognize how I came to be would be erasing the struggle my family endured.

My mother was born in Michoacán, Mexico. At the age of 12, she, my grandmother (my cousins and I endearingly call Tia. The origin of how we started calling her Tia remains a mystery. Nevertheless, that is the title she claims, and we were taught no other way. Let alone she can pass as one of my aunts), her four siblings, and my deceased estranged grandfather, made the pilgrimage to the United States. I can only speculate why my mother’s family immigrated- could have been because of NAFTA; however my Tia is of means. She owns properties both in Mexico and the U.S. - no one talks about the experience and it seems taboo. As for my deceased grandfather, I am glad I never knew the man. My mother says he was abusive.

My father was born in Ciudad Delgado, El Salvador. Shortly after he was born, my Abuelita set off on her own to the United States to seek a “better life.” I have obtained vast insight from my Abuelita, as she answers almost all of my questions about her experience (I feel like her therapist at times. I have observed how cathartic it is for her to share her perils and triumphs. She will laugh, cringe, and cry when re-telling. Though emotionally taxing, and since my Abuelito passed away in 2009, she needs an ear more than ever). My Abuelita recalls that there was only enough money to voyage on her own. Her plan was to save enough money to cross her family of 7 over into the U.S. - including my Abuelito. “Ni me preguntes adonde dormir cuando entre en el principio” says warns with a blush of embarrassment. And we, my cousins and I, respect her privacy. She crossed her entire family by the time my father turned 2. Two years of hustling, two years of avoiding raids from “la migra,” two years of suffering implicit and explicit violence from white people, and my strong abuelita accomplished her goal.

Two ethnic words clash

Mexicanos y Salvadorenios can only be friends

Nunca familia

Colorism fustigated my Tia’s disdain

Mi Abuelita expected a white woman

The product of forbidden love were two beautiful offspring

I was born in East Los Angeles at White Memorial Hospital. Saying my birth was tumultuous is an understatement. My mother was in extreme pain, was not dilating, and kept passing out. My father was in rage, and my Tia and Abuelita were equally worried. My grandmothers are polar opposites - externally and internationally. My mother’s mother is fair-skinned, with eyes that morph into various shades of hazel and green. She maintains her beauty and does not look her age, or says it (another one of secrets). She is also a baptized Jehovah’s Witness. My father’s mother has the skin-tone of rich coconut. Her many surgeries have tolled her. She is semi-dependent and I can tell she misses her independence, and my Abuelito. I do, too. Despite their differences, at their core, I see the same woman fighting her colonizer, fighting for her family, and resisting however she could. And that same woman sensed something troubling as I was trying to enter the world. To be honest, my mother and I almost lost our lives. The result of my botched birth is my disability, which is cerebral palsy. Therefore, I was ascribed an identity in utero.

Though ascribed

My identity is my own

I have multiple identities

They are all my own.

Intersectionality is a reoccurring theme in multiple disciplines, and it is an important concept for Chicano Studies. Exploring my own identities provides me with a blue print of my essential self. I have to consider both nature and nurture.

I was raised predominantly by women. And the men who helped raise me did not hinder my creative self, though, I did raise my eyebrows.

He started rocking on his heels as a baby

Hardly sanctioned

The matriarchs nurtured his femininity.

I realized I had to present myself in a certain way for the sake of navigating dominant society, which is already constricting. I am gay. This part of my identity tends to lead me towards a mental game of tug-of-war. Before I came out at the age of 21, my sexual orientation was the “best known secret” on both sides of my family. Growing up my mother, Tia, and Abuelita used to let play in their high-heels. I would wear pillow cases on my head pretending it was hair. My sister - who is 11 months my junior. We joke that we are Irish Twins - and I used to play a game called “Sister, Sister” as we played with barbies. I was also the boy, however, who played with dinosaurs, X-Men action figures, and the latest game consoles. Studies show that, among twins, about fifty percent are both homosexuals and/or of a different sexual orientation. This statistic make the nature versus nurture debate ambiguous. Anzaldua herself explicitly states she chose to be a lesbian. And many second wave feminists made this choice, as well. My point being, yes, I constantly question my sexual orientation. I do wonder what it would be like to date a woman. I wonder what aspects of my upbringing contributed to my affinity for men. NI also wonder if my life would be easier. Alas, my attraction for the male anatomy is solidified.

I have chosen to highlight only a few facets of my identity. I, moreover, shared some of my family’s history to create a foundation that, in my humble opinion, makes me a productive candidate for the Chicano Studies program. I identify as Latinx/o. Before I explain the “o” in my ethnic identity, I need to ensure that I did not prioritize or rank the many layers of my whole self. My intention is to demonstrate what dominant society sees before they acknowledge my humanity. For the most part, on applications and the like, I identify as a male - hence why I add the “o” in Latino. However, I identify as male to kick patriarchy, toxic masculinity, and sexism in the metaphorical nuts. I am everything a white, able-bodied, heterosexual man hates. And I pride myself in the evil face of oppression.

He is sure of himself

He bares many anxieties which probably manifest

He loves himself but hates himself

Duck!

He is La Frontera

His name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

Chicano Studies can be a a gateway towards liberation. The in between spaces, the Borderlands, maintains the survival of minorities like myself. Dominant society needs to actualize issues advocated for centuries. The power is within us all. Tolerate my ambiguity, and I will be willing to negotiate.

My name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

#testimonio #LaChicana #CHST148

[isaiahpiche-blog]

Testimonio

Liberty

This land was Mexican once

Was indian always

And is

And will be again.

-Gloria Anzaldua

Four lines speaks volumes to decolonization. The late and great Anzaldua provides us with instructions on how to autonomously begin the process. I have to start with the beginning, my beginning, in order to illustrate why I belong in the Chicano studies program. I have to reclaim my life and tell it in my voice. However, my story is a piece of a perplexing puzzle. So to not recognize how I came to be would be erasing the struggle my family endured.

My mother was born in Michoacán, Mexico. At the age of 12, she, my grandmother (my cousins and I endearingly call Tia. The origin of how we started calling her Tia remains a mystery. Nevertheless, that is the title she claims, and we were taught no other way. Let alone she can pass as one of my aunts), her four siblings, and my deceased estranged grandfather, made the pilgrimage to the United States. I can only speculate why my mother’s family immigrated- could have been because of NAFTA; however my Tia is of means. She owns properties both in Mexico and the U.S. - no one talks about the experience and it seems taboo. As for my deceased grandfather, I am glad I never knew the man. My mother says he was abusive.

My father was born in Ciudad Delgado, El Salvador. Shortly after he was born, my Abuelita set off on her own to the United States to seek a “better life.” I have obtained vast insight from my Abuelita, as she answers almost all of my questions about her experience (I feel like her therapist at times. I have observed how cathartic it is for her to share her perils and triumphs. She will laugh, cringe, and cry when re-telling. Though emotionally taxing, and since my Abuelito passed away in 2009, she needs an ear more than ever). My Abuelita recalls that there was only enough money to voyage on her own. Her plan was to save enough money to cross her family of 7 over into the U.S. - including my Abuelito. “Ni me preguntes adonde dormir cuando entre en el principio” says warns with a blush of embarrassment. And we, my cousins and I, respect her privacy. She crossed her entire family by the time my father turned 2. Two years of hustling, two years of avoiding raids from “la migra,” two years of suffering implicit and explicit violence from white people, and my strong abuelita accomplished her goal.

Two ethnic words clash

Mexicanos y Salvadorenios can only be friends

Nunca familia

Colorism fustigated my Tia’s disdain

Mi Abuelita expected a white woman

The product of forbidden love were two beautiful offspring

I was born in East Los Angeles at White Memorial Hospital. Saying my birth was tumultuous is an understatement. My mother was in extreme pain, was not dilating, and kept passing out. My father was in rage, and my Tia and Abuelita were equally worried. My grandmothers are polar opposites - externally and internationally. My mother’s mother is fair-skinned, with eyes that morph into various shades of hazel and green. She maintains her beauty and does not look her age, or says it (another one of secrets). She is also a baptized Jehovah’s Witness. My father’s mother has the skin-tone of rich coconut. Her many surgeries have tolled her. She is semi-dependent and I can tell she misses her independence, and my Abuelito. I do, too. Despite their differences, at their core, I see the same woman fighting her colonizer, fighting for her family, and resisting however she could. And that same woman sensed something troubling as I was trying to enter the world. To be honest, my mother and I almost lost our lives. The result of my botched birth is my disability, which is cerebral palsy. Therefore, I was ascribed an identity in utero.

Though ascribed

My identity is my own

I have multiple identities

They are all my own.

Intersectionality is a reoccurring theme in multiple disciplines, and it is an important concept for Chicano Studies. Exploring my own identities provides me with a blue print of my essential self. I have to consider both nature and nurture.

I was raised predominantly by women. And the men who helped raise me did not hinder my creative self, though, I did raise my eyebrows.

He started rocking on his heels as a baby

Hardly sanctioned

The matriarchs nurtured his femininity.

I realized I had to present myself in a certain way for the sake of navigating dominant society, which is already constricting. I am gay. This part of my identity tends to lead me towards a mental game of tug-of-war. Before I came out at the age of 21, my sexual orientation was the “best known secret” on both sides of my family. Growing up my mother, Tia, and Abuelita used to let play in their high-heels. I would wear pillow cases on my head pretending it was hair. My sister - who is 11 months my junior. We joke that we are Irish Twins - and I used to play a game called “Sister, Sister” as we played with barbies. I was also the boy, however, who played with dinosaurs, X-Men action figures, and the latest game consoles. Studies show that, among twins, about fifty percent are both homosexuals and/or of a different sexual orientation. This statistic make the nature versus nurture debate ambiguous. Anzaldua herself explicitly states she chose to be a lesbian. And many second wave feminists made this choice, as well. My point being, yes, I constantly question my sexual orientation. I do wonder what it would be like to date a woman. I wonder what aspects of my upbringing contributed to my affinity for men. NI also wonder if my life would be easier. Alas, my attraction for the male anatomy is solidified.

I have chosen to highlight only a few facets of my identity. I, moreover, shared some of my family’s history to create a foundation that, in my humble opinion, makes me a productive candidate for the Chicano Studies program. I identify as Latinx/o. Before I explain the “o” in my ethnic identity, I need to ensure that I did not prioritize or rank the many layers of my whole self. My intention is to demonstrate what dominant society sees before they acknowledge my humanity. For the most part, on applications and the like, I identify as a male - hence why I add the “o” in Latino. However, I identify as male to kick patriarchy, toxic masculinity, and sexism in the metaphorical nuts. I am everything a white, able-bodied, heterosexual man hates. And I pride myself in the evil face of oppression.

He is sure of himself

He bares many anxieties which probably manifest

He loves himself but hates himself

Duck!

He is La Frontera

His name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

Chicano Studies can be a a gateway towards liberation. The in between spaces, the Borderlands, maintains the survival of minorities like myself. Dominant society needs to actualize issues advocated for centuries. The power is within us all. Tolerate my ambiguity, and I will be willing to negotiate.

My name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

#testimonio #LaChicana #CHST148

[isaiahpiche-blog]

Testimonio

Liberty

This land was Mexican once

Was indian always

And is

And will be again.

-Gloria Anzaldua

Four lines speaks volumes to decolonization. The late and great Anzaldua provides us with instructions on how to autonomously begin the process. I have to start with the beginning, my beginning, in order to illustrate why I belong in the Chicano studies program. I have to reclaim my life and tell it in my voice. However, my story is a piece of a perplexing puzzle. So to not recognize how I came to be would be erasing the struggle my family endured.

My mother was born in Michoacán, Mexico. At the age of 12, she, my grandmother (my cousins and I endearingly call Tia. The origin of how we started calling her Tia remains a mystery. Nevertheless, that is the title she claims, and we were taught no other way. Let alone she can pass as one of my aunts), her four siblings, and my deceased estranged grandfather, made the pilgrimage to the United States. I can only speculate why my mother's family immigrated- could have been because of NAFTA; however my Tia is of means. She owns properties both in Mexico and the U.S. - no one talks about the experience and it seems taboo. As for my deceased grandfather, I am glad I never knew the man. My mother says he was abusive.

My father was born in Ciudad Delgado, El Salvador. Shortly after he was born, my Abuelita set off on her own to the United States to seek a "better life." I have obtained vast insight from my Abuelita, as she answers almost all of my questions about her experience (I feel like her therapist at times. I have observed how cathartic it is for her to share her perils and triumphs. She will laugh, cringe, and cry when re-telling. Though emotionally taxing, and since my Abuelito passed away in 2009, she needs an ear more than ever). My Abuelita recalls that there was only enough money to voyage on her own. Her plan was to save enough money to cross her family of 7 over into the U.S. - including my Abuelito. "Ni me preguntes adonde dormir cuando entre en el principio" says warns with a blush of embarrassment. And we, my cousins and I, respect her privacy. She crossed her entire family by the time my father turned 2. Two years of hustling, two years of avoiding raids from "la migra," two years of suffering implicit and explicit violence from white people, and my strong abuelita accomplished her goal.

Two ethnic words clash

Mexicanos y Salvadorenios can only be friends

Nunca familia

Colorism fustigated my Tia's disdain

Mi Abuelita expected a white woman

The product of forbidden love were two beautiful offspring

I was born in East Los Angeles at White Memorial Hospital. Saying my birth was tumultuous is an understatement. My mother was in extreme pain, was not dilating, and kept passing out. My father was in rage, and my Tia and Abuelita were equally worried. My grandmothers are polar opposites - externally and internationally. My mother's mother is fair-skinned, with eyes that morph into various shades of hazel and green. She maintains her beauty and does not look her age, or says it (another one of secrets). She is also a baptized Jehovah's Witness. My father's mother has the skin-tone of rich coconut. Her many surgeries have tolled her. She is semi-dependent and I can tell she misses her independence, and my Abuelito. I do, too. Despite their differences, at their core, I see the same woman fighting her colonizer, fighting for her family, and resisting however she could. And that same woman sensed something troubling as I was trying to enter the world. To be honest, my mother and I almost lost our lives. The result of my botched birth is my disability, which is cerebral palsy. Therefore, I was ascribed an identity in utero.

Though ascribed

My identity is my own

I have multiple identities

They are all my own.

Intersectionality is a reoccurring theme in multiple disciplines, and it is an important concept for Chicano Studies. Exploring my own identities provides me with a blue print of my essential self. I have to consider both nature and nurture.

I was raised predominantly by women. And the men who helped raise me did not hinder my creative self, though, I did raise my eyebrows.

He started rocking on his heels as a baby

Hardly sanctioned

The matriarchs nurtured his femininity.

I realized I had to present myself in a certain way for the sake of navigating dominant society, which is already constricting. I am gay. This part of my identity tends to lead me towards a mental game of tug-of-war. Before I came out at the age of 21, my sexual orientation was the "best known secret" on both sides of my family. Growing up my mother, Tia, and Abuelita used to let play in their high-heels. I would wear pillow cases on my head pretending it was hair. My sister - who is 11 months my junior. We joke that we are Irish Twins - and I used to play a game called "Sister, Sister" as we played with barbies. I was also the boy, however, who played with dinosaurs, X-Men action figures, and the latest game consoles. Studies show that, among twins, about fifty percent are both homosexuals and/or of a different sexual orientation. This statistic make the nature versus nurture debate ambiguous. Anzaldua herself explicitly states she chose to be a lesbian. And many second wave feminists made this choice, as well. My point being, yes, I constantly question my sexual orientation. I do wonder what it would be like to date a woman. I wonder what aspects of my upbringing contributed to my affinity for men. NI also wonder if my life would be easier. Alas, my attraction for the male anatomy is solidified.

I have chosen to highlight only a few facets of my identity. I, moreover, shared some of my family's history to create a foundation that, in my humble opinion, makes me a productive candidate for the Chicano Studies program. I identify as Latinx/o. Before I explain the "o" in my ethnic identity, I need to ensure that I did not prioritize or rank the many layers of my whole self. My intention is to demonstrate what dominant society sees before they acknowledge my humanity. For the most part, on applications and the like, I identify as a male - hence why I add the "o" in Latino. However, I identify as male to kick patriarchy, toxic masculinity, and sexism in the metaphorical nuts. I am everything a white, able-bodied, heterosexual man hates. And I pride myself in the evil face of oppression.

He is sure of himself

He bares many anxieties which probably manifest

He loves himself but hates himself

Duck!

He is La Frontera

His name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

Chicano Studies can be a a gateway towards liberation. The in between spaces, the Borderlands, maintains the survival of minorities like myself. Dominant society needs to actualize issues advocated for centuries. The power is within us all. Tolerate my ambiguity, and I will be willing to negotiate.

My name is Isaiah Daniel Pichè

#testimonio #LaChicana #CHST148

[isaiahpiche-blog]

The darkest nights produce the brightest stars.

(via the-wolf-and-moon)

[isaiahpiche-blog]

Isaiah Daniel Piche

Personal agency is a vessel for self-identification. However, it is dictated by dominant society. Quite the conundrum. My convictions and praxis teeter-toter a reality that has been etching itself in stones for eons. I have met a number of social scientists who justify their reality with what is actually real. As a Sociology, my mission is NOT to massage your comfortability. Disabled. Person of color. Gay. Labels imposed on us though years of colonization. Yet, labels I live and die by. Self-identification involves macro and micro forces which I can not solely control. However, I am taking back and redefining an ideology deprived of reconstruction and revolution. My goal is to educate. Conditions- be it teacher, advocate, and/or mentor- are still undecided and undetermined. My goal is to exist. I am being provided with an opportunity to be heard. More often than not, disabled people are silenced. I am taking this opportunity not to only to be vocal, but to reclaim my humanity. As predicted by Professor Serafin, Margaret Montoya's article was the reading assignment I enjoyed most. As an attorney, Montoya enriches and enlightens the reader on how she, as a Latina, "navigated" her way through Harvard. Her insight provides instructions. Therefore, with respect to her title and the title of the article, the picture to accompany my introduction is a picture of rocking "trenzas" over the summer.