꩜ Queer Zine Market

For my Austin friends, this upcoming Saturday I am going to be part of a zine market over at The Contemporary in Austin as part of the museum’s programming for one of the current exhibitions: Teddy Sandoval and the Butch Gardens School of Art.

The art looks so good and I can’t wait to see it. This zine market was organized by my good judys over at St Sucia, so when I say “the art” I mean the one hung on the walls and also the one for sale in booklet shape. They are also hosting what they told me is a panel but what the museum is referring to as an “informal talk.” So yeah, you know the yap is going to be good, too.

Here’s all the info you need:

⋆Zine & Print Market Presented in Collaboration with St. Sucia

The Moody Rooftop at the Jones Center
700 Congress Avenue, Austin, Texas 78701
December 6 (Saturday)  |  12 – 5pm

There is a ticketed entrance – but you can use the code ‘TEDDY50’ at checkout and only pay half price. Don’t thank me, thank Teddy.

꩜ Zine Lab Anniversary Party

For the past year, the San Antonio Public Library has hosted a monthly zine lab and they are celebrating it in December. It also happens to be the release of SAPL’s yearly Big Read Zine aaaaaaaand we’re celebrating Eliza’s birthday! The coordinator of the monthly zine lab, Eliza, is a wonderful artist and baker and zinester and librarian and zinester librarian. I heard there’s going to be goodie bags like when you go to a children’s party. You want one. But aside from that, I will be presenting a version of FREAK-A-ZINE! in the latino collection and resource center. It is a zine production workshop I debuted at the SAPL zine lab earlier this year. It is so sweet to be invited back. Giving a zine class is delicious, but seeing the student work is a massive juicy cherry on top that I am always very thankful for.

It’s a big fun zine party at the public library, you do not want to miss this. This is fully free public programming. You can just show up:

⋆Zine Lab Monthly - 1 Year Anniversary

Latino Collection & Resource Center at San Antonio Central Library
600 Soledad, San Antonio, TX 78205
December 13 (Saturday)  |  2 – 5pm

꩜ Petal Tending: Group Exhibition

Although it has been about ten years since I last communed with clay for the purpose of sculpture, I have been rekindling that connection with the sweetest fire I could imagine. It is all thanks to the phenomenal Michelle Hernandez AKA Meechi ceramics. If you live in San Antonio you might have heard of her or might have even attended one of her community clay dates. I met Michelle back when I was trying to be a bit serious about selling flower arrangements and commissioned a batch of vessels from her. The vessels were gorgeous (seriously!).

That was a couple of past lives ago. When I learned Michelle was offering a six-week course this fall, I was going through what we will call a Very Rough Patch for now. I just knew I had to sign up and knew it was the right decision as soon as I smelled the earth during the second class. Michelle is a tremendous teacher with a radiant smile+spirit which allowed everyone to show up as their best selves. This group is absolute magic and friendship and healing and making. Listen, I don’t want to tell you what my contribution to the exhibition is yet – mostly because I am figuring out one crucial detail for which I cannot do true troubleshooting on until after the glaze firing and that has not happened yet.

What I can tell you about Petal Tending is that we unanimously picked the title after much and careful deliberation. It perfectly describes the dynamic for this circle of artists: Michelle, Gabbe, Itzel, Kathy, and myself. It has been a path of carework and sculpture and glazing (and tedious delicate glazing! Wait until you see Gabbe’s piece!) and friendship.

We would all really love to see you there:

⋆Petal tending | Strong Stuff - Group Exhibition

Mercury Project
538 Roosevelt Ave, San Antonio, TX 78210
December 13 (Saturday)  |  7 – 10pm

Petal Tending will take place in the front room gallery.

꩜ MOSAIC Poetry Reading + Print Sale

One of my highlights from this year is teaching youth writing classes. If you hung out with me in the last two months you probably heard me speak some sort of slang that I learned from “my highschoolers.” Thanks to Gemini Ink, I taught the writing portion of this Fall’s MOSAIC Student Artist Program for the Contemporary at Blue Star. It was my first time ever teaching a six-week long poetry workshop. They were phenomenal students and we made a collective zine that we designed, printed, cut, folded, and stitched entirely in the Blue Star museum. This might be the best collective zine I have produced so far but the true gift has been in the students’ poetry.

At this event, you will be able to purchase their class zine and some of the paintings they did in the other portion of the semester. They will also be putting on a poetry reading and a bit of a zine show and tell. It will be beautiful to celebrate them as both poets and painters, so come by:

⋆MOSAIC Poetry Reading + Print Sale

Education Room in the Contemporary at Blue Star
116 Blue Star, San Antonio, TX 78204
December 18 (Thursday)   |  6 – 8pm

This is free public programming but they do ask you to register. The good people who work at the art museum want to make sure there’s enough snacks for everyone.

That’s all for now. I won’t promise to write soon or anything. But I do promise you a good time if you come to any of these events. And a hug and a kiss, most likely.

♡ ∩_∩ 
(„• ֊ •„)♡
|￣U U￣￣￣￣￣￣￣|
|con mucho amor, ana  |  
￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

Empiezo con algo un poco más amable: una calurosa bienvenida. Si me empezaste a leer recientemente, de seguro es porque encontraste una nota mía buscando personas hispanohablantes en esta plataforma. Gracias por responder. Gracias por estar aquí. En serio. Soy muy afortunada de que me leas. Espero que te quedes y poder conocernos más.

Me sorprendió bastante la cantidad de interacción que esa nota recibió y sigue recibiendo. La actividad ha sido tan abrumadora que le perdí la pista a las respuestas después del segundo día. Y la verdad es que me molesta tener que encontrar el botón de ‘ver más respuestas’ para poder verlas todas al mismo tiempo. Substack insiste en mostrarme otras notas en lugar de darme la opción de ver todas las respuestas de mi propia nota. Pero antes de quejarme más sobre esta plataforma y repetir la palabra “respuestas” una y otra vez, les voy a contar quién respondió y cómo.

Mucha variedad, muchas voces, mucho entusiasmo. Me fascina cuantas personas me respondieron que hablan y escriben de psicología, geopolítica, filosofía, de sus vidas personales, sus trabajos, de todo un poco. Amo con locura la cantidad de gente que viene empezando – que acaban de llegar o están pensándolo.

Leí cosas demasiado inteligentes, relatos sumamente chistosos, y sí, también me encontré muchas cosas que no me importaron mucho. En la mayoría de los perfiles que logré revisar casi no encontraba ninguna publicación para leer y quedarme. A mi me tienen que conquistar, y con probaditas de un minuto o dos nunca estaré satisfecha. Quiero ver muchas publicaciones, y aparte de eso, deben de ser largas también. Lo que pasa es que soy una atascada. Me gusta lo que me gusta y me fascina atascarme de buena lectura.

La incomparable Luna Miguel lo dice así: leer mata. Y yo? Yo muero por leerte. Esa parte de la nota es verdad. Lo que resultó ser mentira fue aquello de que aquí tienes nueva suscriptora. No, no pude suscribirme a todas las personas que dejaron un comentario. Tengo muchas justificaciones pero pido que me perdones antes de hacerte una lista. No me mandes malas vibras. Léeme y capaz y me logras entender. O no. Ya veremos.

Rompí mi promesa, ¡lo sé! Pero no por completo. Sí me suscribí con algunas personas que me parecieron tener suficiente contenido con el cual atascarme. Aparte de que no logré revisar las publicaciones de todas aquellas personas que respondieron, las razones por las cuales no me suscribí están dentro de estas:

• no tienes una sola publicación en tu perfil

• todas tus publicaciones son de uno o dos minutos

• escribes de criptomoneda o mercados o de marketing

• hablas de la inteligencia artificial como si fuera dios

• eres swiftie o admites ver películas de star wars o marvel sin escrúpulos

• algo me dio la impresión de que estás aquí para crecer tu marca, no para leer y escribir

Así que perdón. Tengo limites. Tengo mis manías. Y mi intención nunca fue tener una nota más o menos viral, eso es lo de menos. Mi intención siempre ha sido leer mucho y conectar con gente chida, gente complicada y avorazada como yo. Pues bueno, se dice que el que no mira, no suspira. Confirmo que miré y suspiré y me sorprendí. La publicación que más me llegó fue la de Voragio, que me encantó y se las recomiendo arduamente. Vayan a leer todos sus ensayos – tremenda autora! Así que triunfé con que el cochino algoritmo trabajara a mi favor.

Es raro este algoritmo. Y es mucho más raro el lado corporativo de Substack que falla en muchas cosas, y a mi que me encanta quejarme, no tengo problema en enumerarlas. Aunque calenté motores con lo de el botón de ‘ver más respuestas’ la verdad es que las quejas han empezado hasta en publicaciones pasadas. Parece ser que no soy la única con disgustos.

Lo que pasa es que esta plataforma no es para leer, no es para escribir, no es para crecer – solo existe para cobrar. ¿Acaso no es una gran falla que no exista una categoría de poesía? ¿Será exageración ver ofensa en que tampoco existe una categoría para otros idiomas aparte del inglés? Y entre más tiempo paso aquí, más convencida estoy de que al no publicar en inglés no se puede aprovechar mucho de lo que esta plataforma pretende ofrecer.

Si te pones a revisar el top 100 de todas las categorías, el 99% de los best sellers se publican en inglés. Algunas excepciones son de gente que escribe en italiano, chino mandarin, y francés. Revisé tantas categorías sin ver a nadie publicando en español que terminé asqueada. Decidí checar como se presenta Substack en otras esquinas del internet.

Todo el contenido en sus redes sociales es en inglés. Casi sin excepción, todo lo que resaltan es en inglés y sobre publicaciones en inglés. Tienen una gran cantidad de recursos y guías para usuarios en su página web – todos en inglés. Qué enfadoso. Lo he dicho antes y lo vuelvo a repetir: esta plataforma no es más que un procesador de tarjetas de crédito y ya.

Terminemos aquí – de otra manera me acomodo mucho en quejarme y no salimos de ahí. Les dejo aquí una migajita de esperanza: https://substack.com/globe

Puedes darle click a cualquier país y ver sus “best sellers.” Acuérdense que se miden por ingresos y no por lectores. Les dejo de tarea explorar el mundo. Yo quedo enfadada porque al revisar mi país de nacimiento, México, el top 10 por el momento es exclusivamente escrito por hombres concentrados en temas empresariales. ¡Por eso le digo migaja!

¡Sí! ¡De todo me quejo! Me pensarán infeliz. Pero la verdad es que la alegría de saber que me lees me nutre. Me da vida. ¡Sí! ¡Soy una exagerada! Gracias por pasar por aquí.

♡ ∩_∩ 
(„• ֊ •„)♡
|￣U U￣￣￣￣￣￣￣|
|con mucho amor, ana  |  
￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

an incomparable mythology

Nowhere on Reddit or 4Chan – or whatever other website you sick fucks know of – can one person find so much human dialectical dynamism as they might find on Tumblr. And yet, Substack’s notes-realm will have you believe Tumblr’s charm was in the aesthetics, the collection of images, the circulation of visuals. Although that is an important part of the equation, tumblrinas are proof that the real Tumblr experience is the inevitable human interaction. Tumblr is ridden with eloquence in all her variables – silly, serious, flabbergasted, righteous, sarcastic, horny, ironic, idyllic – it really is incomparable. It’s not about the prototypal call-out posts. There’s a beautiful and confrontational vibe to it. That’s the real reason for its enduring success. The tension between humans exchanging thought.

I have been a regular Tumblr user since 2009. Me and thousands of other adolescents were chronically-online before the term even came up. I am fortunate to say I have made lifelong friendships on Tumblr. My wife and I would have never met had it not been for the hellsite. But more on that later. There has always been something really organic about the Tumblr homepage. To be frank, the biggest change from then to now is the format of the advertisements, which now take an annoyingly large part of the screen.

Phlemuns and Erika Kamano are still on my dashboard. Back when I first joined, Erika’s username was ‘poisoned candy floss.’ I still remember when James Flemons first posted he was doing a project for Solange. Fashion icons like Rian Phin and Dara Allen had immaculate Tumblrs. That’s on the art side. There is still a lot of internationalist and anti-imperialist perspective on there. There is just as much news and commentary on Palestine, Yemen, Sudan, Libya, China than there was ten years ago. When the tone wasn’t specifically political, it was mega informational. You can still find masterposts about any topic in the world.

When I moved to the United States all I did was go to school. Not all of the classes I took in Mexico counted towards a credit, so I enrolled in remedial classes, night school, summer school. From the time I was 15 years old, I would be in school for maybe 12 hours a day – I graduated both high school and college a year early. I didn’t hate school but I hated living in the USA. Tumblr was my refuge. My additional education. Knowledge that is embraced rather than imposed. I distinctly remember this masterpost about Obama’s 2012 drone strikes. I would come home and study each link religiously. It was my important and daily ritual to log onto the computer and learn to research for the sake of knowledge. It affirmed and sharpened my anti-imperialist sentiment. It was beyond formative.

There was also some actually bonkers site-wide drama that left the enclosure and reached the mainstream in a big way. A couple highlights:

• That one pagan who was digging up bones.

• The fake superstar Lucia Cole exposed by actual genius and archivist wonder Popculturediedin2009 (his site is private right now but the twitter account is up).

• Pizza selling diet pills.

fateful encounters

Aside from the characteristic antics of my mentally-ill kin, most of my time on there, at least up until I graduated college, was mostly spent on finding new music. By the time I was a senior in high school, I was downloading all my music straight from Tumblr so it could be easily uploaded to my iPod. This method worked for me until about 2015, when the plugin stopped working.

To be confronted and confrontational is part of the thread of amity on Tumblr, but it's not to say you can't carve out your own corner and connect with whomever you want however you like. I used to spend hours browsing the tags of the musicians I was currently into. That’s how I met Tawnya, who lived in SoCal and was into the same punky surfer shit I was into. I met Liv, author of alive and well, my dear friend who loves fashion and anime and has a thousand more interesting stories about Tumblr than me. Not only did Liv introduce me to the only video game I have ever deigned to play – Katamari – they were also present the night Tawnya introduced me to the bona fide love of my life.

Che, now my wife, was friends with Tawnya in real life. She and I had never perceived each other on Tumblr in spite of having grown up there. Liv and I were both visiting NYC and went out to a gay karaoke Tawnya invited us to. Che wasn’t even going to go, but she had to return Tawnya’s wallet and, unbeknownst to both of us, seal our fate. We have been happily married for over five years. Six years this summer, baby. We love telling the story of how we met: incidentally, in person, in New York City, oh yeah and that bit about our longtime Tumblr mutuals. We are so fucking lucky.

The notes-realm wants you to believe Substack has the potential for this type of connection. I am sure they are out there, but I have yet to find any anecdotes of this platform being involved in any fateful encounters like that.

innate inadequacies

Purportedly, Substack is for writers. Everyone knows many of the best writers are also the most earnest readers. It’s not incidental. In spite of the claims that this platform is for writers, the tools to read and write fail the users immensely.

They’re not making the reading and cataloguing of articles any easier. I may be able to see what articles I have read, but I cannot create my own tags, I cannot make my own folders and I cannot save my highlights. No. I have to share them in the notes-realm as a quote. It’s insufferable. There’s so much to read here! And I read so much of it! And I cannot understand how the fuck $29 million in revenue doesn’t add up to new writing and reading features. I cannot center-text anything that is not formatted as poetry or a button of some kind. It is all very ridiculous. I won't even touch the reels-realm. Seriously, I haven’t clicked the button.

Let’s be real. Substack is not in the business of independent publishing. It is a credit card processor. It really is that simple. They earn money, pay the executives the big bucks, and spend much on subsidizing writers like right-wing mommy-blogger House In Habit.

Substack wants you to pay to interact with creators. I am spoiled. I grew up collectively and repeatedly dunking on people like communismkills – which hilariously culminated in an invitation to pay her to shut up. That would literally never happen here.

My zine COMPUTER USE is a screenshot fever dream of my time growing up on the internet. There’s snippets of over 10 years of my deleted tumblr accounts and more corners of my digital life. It’s available in sliding scale. Oh! and if you sign my guestbook, I’ll stuff your envelope with many freebies.

**

Emma Tenayuca appears to me all the time.

**

My abuela calls me again, to tell me, for the countless time, that she wants to die. It ruins my mood. I avoid cursing inside of my self and instead of becoming desperate I say thanks that my abuela tells me these things, thanks that I hear her, thanks that I understand her. The rain has started and I remember her birthday at the beginning of the year.

**

My abuelita turns 77 years old. We celebrate her. I put together a flower arrangement with the most beautiful things. She has fun. She steals a plate and a cup from the french restaurant. My ma tells me that she wants to see me in the bathroom. That she needs to tell me something. Inside of that small corridor she tells me she has cancer. She has to have surgery. The tumor is growing very quickly and it is now on her armpit. She tells me to not say anything to my abuela. I hug her tightly. I bite my tongue. My abuela sends me on my way as usual, she blesses me and touches my forehead and my hands. Prays over me.

**

The next day I spent a long time in many waiting rooms. He was named president this morning. I had x-rays on my abdomen, I had blood drawn out. The nurse did it in a very brusque way and has left a bruise. I saw some of the inauguration from the waiting room. A very agitated man said things that I could not understand and, with a lot of anger, kept referring to certain people as “communists.” The first time he was president, Democracy Now was live with the news all day. Today they only did their daily hour.

**

Tomorrow, a small tube with a camera will enter through my anus. And they will tell me if I have ulcers, which would be the least of it, because they will have to see my awful hemorrhoids. I am not exaggerating. He was named president this morning and he began signing executive orders. As a common jester would. The trick is he signs a piece of paper. The trick is he throws the pens to the peasants, who are oh so happy to receive the crumbs.

**

The anesthesia put me in an odd mood. I saw a golden dragon. But he admonished me. Apparently I yelled “am i back yet?” over and over until I came to. I cried with desperation. The nurse held my hands and dried my tears. Spent the day resting. In fact, I have hemorrhoids. And I do not have colitis but I do have diverticulitis. And no, it does not mean my culo is full of diversion.

**

Ten data centers are being built here in Texas. The building began before Trump became president again. But Katy invites me to a rapid response group to support migrants. It surprised me. Messaged with Isa, a dear friend who I barely speak with but I love. She is the only person who I call “ami” and she is the only person that calls me “ami.” I need to send her a letter, to her and my friend Fabiola. Today I wonder: when the USA dissolves what will happen to the postal service? We will stay tuned.

**

I woke up wanting a salvadoran breakfast. I ignore my wishes. I work all day without any breakfast in my stomach. Fasting is divine, but only if you offer it to god. Otherwise, it is a disparagement to body and spirit. Doomscrooling is too. It could even be seen as a great offense to humanity, no?

**

Jenna is visiting and along with her a million rainbows. We get together in her rental and decorate a ton of things with a ton of colors and laughter and screaming. We share all sorts of things. Sarah her markers, Lupita her washi, Isa her herbs. She sends me home with a bundle of ruda and bay leaf. We lament not seeing each other often. We promise to see each other more frequently, do more arts and crafts together.

**

I slept with the little herb bundle by my side. When I wake up, Roxana tells me she dreamt of me again. In a big space, taking big steps. I feel very protected and loved in this realm, the dream one, the other side. Very whole.

**

I don’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t know how to explain anything. I only know that you reading me makes me very fortunate.

**

A mi, Emma Tenayuca se me aparece todo el tiempo.

**

Mi abuela me habla otra vez, para contarme, por infinitésima vez, que se quiere morir. Me arruina el humor. Evito maldecir dentro de mi y en lugar de desesperarme doy gracias que mi abuela me dice estas cosas, gracias que la escucho, gracias que la entiendo. La lluvia se ha soltado y recuerdo su cumpleaños al principio del año.

**

Mi abuelita cumple 77 años. La celebramos. Le armé un arreglo de flores con lo más bello. Se divierte. Se roba un plato y una taza del restaurante francés. Mi mamá me dice que me quiere ver en el baño. Me necesita contar algo. Dentro de ese pequeño corredor me dice que tiene cáncer. La tienen que operar. El tumor está creciendo muy rápido y ahora está en su axila. Me dice que no le diga nada a mi abuela. La abrazo fuerte. Me muerdo la lengua. Mi abuela me despide como siempre, me bendice y me toca la frente y las manos. Reza sobre mí.

**

El día siguiente estuve largo rato en varias salas de espera. Lo han nombrado presidente esta mañana. Me han hecho unos rayos x en el abdomen, y me han sacado sangre. La enfermera lo hizo de una manera muy tosca y me ha dejado un moretón. Vi algo de la toma de protesta desde la sala de espera. Un hombre demasiado agitado, decía cosas que no entendía y con mucho enojo se refería a alguna gente como ‘comunista.’ La primera vez que él fue presidente, Democracy Now estuvo dando noticias en vivo todo el día. Hoy solo dieron su hora diaria.

**

Mañana, un tubito con una cámara entrará por mi ano. Y me dirán si tengo úlceras, que sería lo de menos, porque van a tener que ver mis horrorosas hemorroides. No es exageración.

Lo han nombrado presidente y se pone a firmar órdenes ejecutivas. Así como un bufón cualquiera. El truco es firmar un pedazo de papel. El truco es tirar las plumas a los siervos, tan sumamente felices de recibir sus migajas .

**

La anestesia me puso de un humor muy raro. Vi a un dragón dorado. Pero me regañaba. Aparentemente yo gritaba “ya regresé?” una y otra vez hasta que entre en sí. Lloré con desesperación. La enfermera me tomó de la mano y secó mis lágrimas. Pasé el resto del día descansando. En efectivo, tengo hemorroides. Y no tengo colitis pero si diverticulosis. Y no, no significa que tengo el culo divertido.

**

Están construyendo diez centros de informática (data centers) aquí en Texas. La construcción empezó desde antes que Trump fuera presidente otra vez. Pero Katy me invita a un grupo de respuesta rápida para apoyo a migrantes. Me sorprende. Mensajeé con Isa, querida amiga con la cual casi no hablo pero amo. Es la única persona a la que le llamo “ami” y ella es la única persona que me llama “ami.” Me hace falta mandarle una carta, a ella y a mi amiga Fabiola. Hoy me pregunto: cuando se disuelvan los Estados Unidos que va a pasar con el servicio de correo postal? Estaremos al pendiente.

**

Desperté con ganas de un desayuno salvadoreño. Ignoro mis deseos. Trabajo todo el día sin desayuno en el estómago. Ayunar es divino, pero solo si se lo ofreces a dios. De otra manera, es un menosprecio a tu cuerpo y espíritu. El doomscrooling también lo es. Hasta podría verse como una gran ofensa a la humanidad, ¿apoco no?

**

Jenna está de visita y con ella un millón de arcoíris. Nos reunimos en su alquiler y decoramos cantidad de cosas con cantidad de colores y risas y gritos. Compartimos de todo. Sarah sus plumones, Lupita sus washis, Isa sus yerbas. Me manda con un ramito de ruda y laurel. Lamentamos no vernos tanto. Prometemos vernos más, hacer más manualidades juntas.

**

Dormí con el ramito de yerbas a mi lado. Al despertar, Roxana me cuenta que me soñó otra vez. En un gran espacio, dando grandes pasos. Me siento muy protegida y muy querida en este plano, el de ensueño, el del otro lado. Muy entera.

**

No sé cómo despedirme. No sé como explicarte nada. Solo sé que por el simple hecho que me leas soy muy afortunada.

In her thesis presentation, Luna seamlessly explains ‘the political economy of the music industry’ as she shows an incredible topographic map that lays out the means of music production, distribution, and the clout involved in it all. She discusses ownership, compensation, legal rights, and the complication that, at the time of her research, Spotify was only available in 5 African countries in spite of being home to the creators and innovators of the sonic trends most profitable to the record labels. She even showed Wikileaks emails from industry executives detailing just how deliberate the strategic decisions to remove distribution and publishing infrastructure from the Global South are.

Having diagnosed the music industry with ‘an intentional amnesia of who creates sound’ and proposing speculative objects that invite us to take an active role while listening and sharing music, Luna’s presentation forced me to make a promise to myself right then and there: that I would never listen to an algorithmically curated playlist. Although I have mostly honored that pledge, it is also what has made me feel conflicted about my playlist practice for so long — because I do the bulk of it on Spotify. I really do not mean to normalize Spotify but, in many ways, it’s where my student discount and then family plan got me. It’s become hard for me to move on. I have learned to use each part of the miserable software to its maximum capacity. I use the shit out of the features that are only available on desktop. I more than likely fit their engineer team’s definition of a superuser.

[Before I go on about Spotify here is this guide: How to Quit Spotify Right This Second! Alternatively or additionally, you can read this rant by James Barber.]

Since I am not exactly god’s only favorite angel, a ton of other people also use Spotify and it has been fun to exploit its ‘social’ aspect — it is minimal and really makes the word “social” stretch. There is also the tradition of themed collective playlists. A dear active-music-listener friend of mine, Fefi, began one for her birthday and I loved that. Incidentally, I know both Fefi and Luna from the same art circles. I did a collective playlist for my birthday too and I remember some other co-workers, at least two, did it as well.

The popularity of the platform has also allowed for many cool, useful, free and open-code tools to be developed and shared with the internet at large. Your song-identifying app can automatically compile everything it finds into a Spotify playlist. Pair that with song identification turned on automatically in the background all night and you really have a good problem now. There’s also this NTS playlist generator which is so deeply appropriate for me since NTS is where I find a lot of music, new and old, and I have done so for at least 10 years — it is my favorite radio station and music streaming service, free and without ads. I have said more than once that, at any moment, I am probably tuned into “4 to the floor” and year after year it remains true. Of course, not all the songs on the british club radio station are available on Spotify, but I have that feature that lets me see songs even if I cannot play them. It is nice to notice, something that almost reveals a little more about that artist, that album, that piece of music.

Since I reject almost everything that comes in through that unreliable algorithm and in order to justify, to myself, using Spotify, I have leaned towards the cataloging of it all rather than only the music streaming side. Throughout the years, playlist-making has become an act of memory-keeping as well. Intention-setting, even.

First came my quarterlies, where I attempt to add every song I listen to or become aware of within that three month period. Those quarterly playlists gave way to yearly selections, an annual ‘best of’ everything that was around me sonically. Naturally, I also have artist’s collections (specific to one artist or band). Playlists are made for specific moods and genres too, of course. I even have a specific folder for playlists of podcasts. And if you are asking yourself ‘folder?’ the answer is simple: it is a desktop only feature.

On the more eccentric end, I save album interludes if they’re creative. I’ve tried doing a silly experimental ‘podcast’ with tracks like that, of only non-songs, noises, voice recordings. I even have playlists that are somewhat denominational: duets, covers of other songs, songs sung in more than one language, only songs that have “love” in the title, songs that are at least 6 or 7 minutes long.

At some point I began making seasonal selections from all my different catalogues, and just to be cheeky named it something with three words all starting with the letter “s” for no reason other than following my intuition. In reality, there was a playlist called “slutty summer situation” which I had accidentally shared in a group chat for an organizing summit in New Orleans and, to my dismay, more than two people saved it. Since I didn’t exactly mean to share my profile with that audience and felt nervous, I deleted it. Just being paranoid I might be perceived too deeply. In any case, that playlist was not a magical 2 hours and 22 minutes.

There have now been three installments of these spring/summer playlists, and they all are a magical 2 hours and 22 minutes. In the descriptions, I have been referring to people who listen to these playlists as “dedicated travelers” since that is what you have to embody to listen to almost two and a half hours of my selections. The past installments are saváge spring sampler, sudden summer sensations, and spring’s smooth sensibility, in chronological order. Here is the fourth: summer’s specific sincerity.

These playlists are unlisted, meaning they are not posted on my profile nor available through the search bar — you must have the link in order to access it. Think of the blurbs below as a field guide, an orientation, a reference list for summer’s specific sincerity. There’s forty songs this time, divided into three suites, so enough with the dilly dally: dive in.

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Rahy El Aaiun Egdat — Mariem Hassan

2012 𖡡 Spain

• Something happens at 1:22 that opens me up in the softest, most enormous way possible. Dreamy and gentle yet powerful and palpably dynamic. I first heard this song on tumblr almost 10 years ago now, in this public performance specifically. I joined the hellsite in the shadow of the arab spring, and I do credit some of my anti imperialist convictions and education to having been present on tumblr in that time. This is a wonderful example of that. She was my introduction to the indigenous freedom fighters of the occupied Sahara. Let this song transport you, invigorate the space all around you.

Badala Zamana — Zohra

1977 𖡡 France

• Absolute bop. Something wonderful about singing along to words that you don't really know what they mean. I heard this from a DJ selection (perhaps Disco Tehran) who shouted out habibi funk records. Zohra was born and raised in Algeria but moved to the north of France, which is where she recorded and released her album. An obscure reddit post says it's in Arabic loanwords and somehow Hindi-urdu and some Berber. The gist being “the times they have changed.” Oh and how they do.

Jind Mahi — Malkit Singh

2004 𖡡 Spain / India / UK

• I will never forget when I first heard this song, because it played more than once during the should-have-been-a-lesbian-movie Bend It Like Beckham. The “aha” back up vocals are incredibly good! I put this in my yearly ‘best of’ playlist in 2023 and still listen to it constantly. This song specifically is from his record called “King Of Bhangra!” that came out in 2004 but this is an old song, I believe. If you’re culturally aware of this song, please correct me if I’m wrong. And if I’m right, send me other versions? His song chal hun from the same album was also in the movie and it's quite good. Chanting along to anything always serves me as a big release, and I thank creator for letting me listen to music from India.

Boom Boom — Nazia Hassan

1982 𖡡 Pakistan

• Immediately fascinated with the “I feel love” interpolation. Donna Summer is a church which Nazia attends. She is a Pakistani singer who died in 2000 and is still beloved worldwide. As I was writing this and researching her a bit more, it turns out she was huge in Latin America. The comments in this video are full of sincere devotion and range anywhere from English, Russian, Spanish, you name it. Visit the link and make of it what you will. And if you need more Nazia Hassan, I recommend this one, since it is still making headlines.

Matahari — l'imperatrice

2018 𖡡 USA / Canada / Europe

• I forgot how I learned about this band but I do remember watching their funny music video for a song whose title translates to ‘fear of the women’ or ‘afraid of girls.’ They have a catchy sound and I remember them every once in a while. This song is actually all in english which I did not expect, since I thought they only sang in French. It is meant to signal a change of pace in this suite. Oh, and were you wondering what Mata Hari looked like?

Sage comme un image — Lio

1982 𖡡 Belgium

• It's kind of a hilarious song. In a literal way, it translates to “wise like an image” but it means “as good as gold.” I heard it in a soundcloud mix, which also included the nazia hassan song. I would share the link but I cannot, for the life of me, find it again.

Le coeur au bout des doigts — Jacqueline Taïeb

1967 𖡡 France

• I believe the literal translation is something like “heart in the fingertips” but the proper interpretation is something more along the lines of an excited restlessness.

• In her Spotify bio, Jacqueline has some hilarious bits of so-called lore (“her record kicked down all the hip youth of Japan.” Whatever that means,) and bizarre namechecks (“most hype french dj’s”).

Light My fire — Shirley Bassey

1970 𖡡 United Kingdom

• I believe it was John McWhorter who featured a song of hers on his linguistics podcast, and I had to look up her records after hearing her powerful voice. Quickly became a bit obsessed with her, especially after hearing her “I'd like to hate myself in the morning” which is a hilarious and true song. Do yourself a favor and watch this performance. What a delight. The way she winks after falling into the chair. Just magical. And the influence of that Douglas Darnell butterfly crystal dress on Mariah Carey (and now Dua Lipa) is undeniable.

• Well, it wasn’t until recently that I heard this song, which is one of her most popular ones, and it turns out this is a cover of a 1967 song by The Doors of the same name. Incidentally, this song was sampled in one of my favorite hip hop albums, Aerolineas Makiza. If you’re interested, it’s called “en paro” and it features a tenured Ana Tijoux in spite of her young age.

Drop Me A Line — Midnight Magic

2011 𖡡 USA

• Pretty sure I had a song of theirs on my ipod – which I updated and kept using until 2017 when I finally was able to afford unlimited data on my iphone. My ipod video still works but I am too afraid to plug it into my computer. In any case, this song is something fun to groove along to and repeat.

Nomalizo — Letta Mbulu

1983 𖡡 South Africa

• I know of this song because I used to listen to a lot of Todd Terje. I was certifiably obsessed with his “inspector Norse” which came out the summer I graduated high school. The summer I was finishing college I actually listened to his then-new album and preben goes to acapulco caught me by the throat. Mostly because I had lived in Acapulco for 4 years before moving to the USA, so the name alone had a psychological hold on me. But yeah, that song samples this amazing song by Letta Mbulu. Nowadays, I listen to Nomalizo way more than any of Terje’s music combined.

• Her way of singing is so hypnotizing and funky and tender. Also, the synth carries you through a nice build up. The choir helps to transport us to those places she invokes in the song – the city, the countryside – I can almost smell it. If you need a treat, watch this live version.

Pata Pata — Miriam Makeba

1967 𖡡 South Africa

• A french song that mentions her went viral for quirky artist whimsy shit, but this song is a certified worldwide banger and has been for decades. You simply have to dance and sing along. Maybe even without knowing the words. I love how Miriam yells at around 2:05 and I especially love when people talk during a song, take the opportunity to give a speech, contextualizing in this case. She is the queen of South Africa and also my heart! I could say a million interesting things about her, but you might as well read her wikipedia.

Tenha Fé, Pois Amanhã Um Lindo Dia Vai Nascer — Originais do Samba

1971 𖡡 Brasil

• This live performance went a bit viral on the ol’ instagram earlier this year. And for good reason. The wall of sound that builds up around the lyrics is healing, really. The words are beautiful on their own: never be afraid of your enemy — don't be sad, love can arrive for you, too — you'll see that tomorrow a beautiful day is born. Go ahead and let it move through you.

Os Alquimistas Estão Chegando — Jorge Ben Jor

1975 𖡡 Brasil

• It seemed appropriate and organic to include the timeless melodies of this carioca genius after that last shot of adrenaline from Brasil. Jorge Ben Jor, an alchemist in his own right, gives us a song that is so easy to join. This song is so exalted yet chill. Is that what heaven sounds like? What does it mean that the alchemists are arriving? And would you say you’re in a relationship with anyone of sordid temperament?

Sì, Ci Sto! — Raffaella Carrà

1974 𖡡 Italy

• Turns out RuPaul wasn’t lying when she said the facekini is an iconic fashion statement. Seriously. The cover art of this album is cold hard proof. The fact that Raffaella Carra is still making fashion moves and going viral and topping the charts (pedro pedro pedro anyone?) is even more confirmation. This song is very unlike her other songs that she is famous for, but it's interesting and easy to dance to. If you have never done a deep dive, I urge you to do so. This is a good place to start. You might see a delightful resemblance to Roisin Murphy beyond the blonde hair.

Et Moi, Et Moi, Et Moi — Jacques Dutronc

1966 𖡡 France

• Well, what about some more yeye? I was reminded of this song when it was featured in an Anthony Bourdain movie, which was just terrible and had this very weird AI voiceover pretending to be him. It was awful, and I tell you now: do not watch that. This song though? Simple and effective.

C'Est Pas Sérieux — Les Chats Sauvages, Dick Rivers

1962 𖡡 Belgium

• I have no idea how I know this song but I have known it for years and somehow know all the lyrics. In my mind, I could easily sing this at a karaoke. Quick and easy and jammable, what else can one ask for?

Plein De Bisous — Lewis OfMan, Milena Leblanc

2018 𖡡 France

• Two voices at once does give me life. A sweet little duet, but not as old as the last song.

Lo Que Tú Me Das — Juanpalitoschinos

2024 𖡡 México

• I just love a duet! And I will play them back to back. These two do it so well. This is a delicious little song, this time in Spanish. Extremely groovy and chill. The music video is delightful.

Mr Grammarticalogylisationalism Is The Boss — Fela Kuti

2004 𖡡 Canada

• Every once in a while, a friend of mine posts a picture of the joint she is smoking with the caption “mid lobotomy” which makes me laugh each time. My lobotomy is playing a fifteen minute Fela song while dancing, swaying, shaking. I have loved the black president since I found out about him. Every song of his is alchemy. You should read about Fela and his mother, too.

With this, we can conclude the first suite, you can call it world music or whatever else. Wasn’t it good to move through space with music? Now, we must arrive at the next suite, which is for club and specifically dance music. On y va, ámonos.

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Cerol Na Mão — Bonde do Tigrão

2001 𖡡 Brasil

• This one is also called “Entra E Sai” which translates to “in and out.” It is a classic funk carioca piece. I looked up this song after seeing it on a reel: it was playing loudly in a party bus that Carreta Furacão was dancing next to. I don’t have the capacity to explain what they are, but this decade old youtube video with fifteen million views could. They are bizarre and incredible and the amount of views are wild given the quality of the video itself but also the recording and the production of it all. Have a look. Go ahead. Try to understand brasileiris, I dare you.

Fala Mal De Mim — Mc Beyonce

2012 𖡡 Brasil.

• Do we even deserve brasilians? If you’re a ‘real one’ you might know mc beyonce as ludmilla. The gist of the song is “talk shit get hit” but the more exact translation is a little more like “talk badly about me, your ass beating will arrive.” Of course you want to watch the original music video.

• And on the theme of Spotify: she became the first Afro-Latin American female musician to reach one billion streams on the platform in September of 2020.

CHEGOU 3 — Mc Magrinho, shonci

2024 𖡡 Brasil

• This is a delicious mix of funk carioca meets chicago house and I could not be happier. This song is so effective and the lyrics are a bit nasty! I was surprised it's kind of a tik tok song, but I should have not been since I looked it up after hearing it on a reel. I'm also pretty sure it's the same sample on this song, but I’ve listened to it so many times that I can't tell exactly. Tell me what you think.

Pose — Duquesa, Urias, Iuri Rio Branco, Zaila

2024 𖡡 Brasil

• Fuck, this song is everything to me. It has that perfect club sharpness to it, the severe spit delivery, all with that sass that is so distinctive of cariocas. I remember some of the youtube comments on this song said something like “how can three mothers birth so many gays” and that’s all I leave you with.

WICKED GYAL — BAMBII, Lady Lykez

2023 𖡡 Canada, USA

• This song is just severe. The beat makes me feel like I am simultaneously entering and escaping an incredibly high stakes situation. I'm robbing a bank and getting away with it, but I must keep running! Jumping! I have loved BAMBII since 2019 when I heard her song with pamputtae. You must watch BAMBII’s boiler room, the whole thing. You will walk away grinding and whining, promise.

Guess — charli xcx

2024 𖡡 UK, USA

• By far my favorite from the brat summer. I can definitely get with the gujarati hyperpop club queen of the moment. The drop at 1:35 reminds me of the divine clubshy. The fact shygirl and charli did a tour together is genius and perfect. I added the original version of the song to the playlist much before the single with Billie Eilish came out — and I don’t care if she’s a lesbian like me, I still have never heard a song of hers on purpose nor will I bother to any time soon. Call me a snob, it’s my truth.

Slide — SadBoi

2024 𖡡 Canada, USA

• A gem of a song that came through me on a tumblr master post about hip hop artists that You Must Listen To. I don’t regret tuning in and you won’t either. “Why you be talking shit? Cause I can” is a line I am happy to yell any time.

Cuntelectual — Urias

2023 𖡡 Brasil

• She was featured on the earlier track Pose, by Duquesa. I simply had to follow up and I loved it. Get in, loser, we’re going sweating.

Show Me What — A.G. Cook, Cecile Believe

2020 𖡡 UK, USA

• He played this in the charli xcx boiler room. It took me back to JACK댄스 (jack dansu / jack fm / non stop pop) days in 2014. Remember this track by dux content? When ‘PC music’ was not a music label but a fucking hilarious term people who were into vaporwave called this hyperpop stuff. This song gets my energy all the way up.

Skanka — Hamdi

2022 𖡡 UK

• I saw some reel of charli xcx where she says she likes this song and I totally get why. The funk sample absolutely filled me up with joy.

Here we conclude the rave suite and begin with the miscellaneous suite, part one.

Autodidacta — J Noa

2023 𖡡 República Dominicana

• The beat is incredible, feels as if three songs become one. Her delivery and lyrics are elegant and masterful — the message of the song is very much the highlight. Watch the music video, and soak in her beautiful Dominican universe. You won’t want to leave.

Palestina Libre — Jbestia

2021 𖡡 Argentina

• Released in 2021, written in 2020, this song is a teaching moment. Absolutely unforgiving of the occupation and the colonizers. Uplift the freedom fighters! Honor the land defenders! From the river to the sea!

Reinota (Tributo a Nelly Chavez) — Chhoti Maa, The Bois, El Padrino

2023 𖡡 México, USA

• Some of you might know Chhoti Maa for her community work as an educator or maybe even as a promotora, but here she is in all her spitting glory. Giving honor and admiration to another reina, Colombian singer Nelly Chavez. It’s a quick but heavy hitting song. My favorite line “no tengo trono, menos corona y aun asi, soy tu patrona” means “I don’t have a throne, much less a crown, and even then I’m the one in charge of you.” Ooof!

Paloma Ajena — La Banda Tecno de Beto Y Juan

1992 𖡡 México

• Learning the bridge and singing along hits so good. Even though the lyrics say something like “you will suffer, you will cry when you remember [...] now you walk away and leave me with my shame” you can totally dance hard to the song. This is a real technocumbia. Release some dark energies. Let it go.

Gonna Take You Downtown — Beau Jocque and the Zydeco Hi-Rollers

1996 𖡡 USA

• The United States has a lot to thank Louisiana for, and zydeco is one of those things. This is a fun song to play at the end of the party for the last three drunk motherfucks who will give it their all. The last minute of this is just pure fun. Somatic release, baby.

Pim Pum Pam! — Sofía Viola, Tata Barahona

2021 𖡡 Argentina

• A good example of a song in the tradition of popular education about what fascism looks like. I have the pleasure of knowing her because I am a huge Augusto Bracho / Gustavo Guerrero fan and the elusive musician made a song with her. In this song, a lovely duet, she says poignantly ‘they claim to defend peace while shooting pim pum pam.”

Ojalá Me Olvides — Laura Itendehui

2021 𖡡 México

• I also know Laura Itandehui because of Mister Bracho / Guerrero. I am pretty sure he was the musical director and producer of this album. This song has everything for me. The organ makes me feel like I am in the town plaza somewhere in México in the 1940s. It slowly builds up to hold you with so many instruments and lovely melodies. I love when the brass comes in. It’s just angelic, her voice, the melodrama of the lyrics, the air of it all.

This is the point where we switch gears for the last 4 songs. It’s the same suite, miscellaneous suite, except it’s part bye-bye.

Me Mamé — Consulado Popular

2017 𖡡 Colombia

• All of the comments on the music video say something to the effect of “tiktok sent me” and I have to admit that I was sent by the algorithm too. Saw the reel on some platform or another — I don’t have the tiktok app but every other app has a mindless-scroll function to it. This song is a little fucking gem.They call their genre Guarachacore. And I embrace it. Huaracheros rejoice. The music video is a fun experience, too.

ゆらゆら帝国で考え中 (YURA YURA TEIKOKU DE KANGAECHU) — Yura Yura Teikoku

2001 𖡡 Japan

• So fucking fun. I love Sakamoto Shintaro and I never knew he was in this band until I finally came around to reading his wikipedia recently. To my delight, they are everything I want in a rock band: Fast fun, playing jokes, groovy and heavy.

Lorelei — Cocteau Twins

1984 𖡡 USA

• Don’t you just want to dance around and sway a little? I think she is saying “without a doubt” over and again but who could ever be certain? Hum along anyway. According to AZ Lyrics she says ‘lift up your toes in my mind’ which is a ridiculous notion, but when it comes to Cocteau Twins it could really be any combination of words. Just enjoy it, just feel the song.

Road Of Lonely Ones — Madlib

2021 𖡡 USA

• This beautiful song was released after MF DOOM’s death but before it was publicly announced, which is a chilling and tender specter over the enchanting melody. Oh how this carries you. Chill out. Bye bye. Hope to see you again, dedicated traveler.

Listen to summer’s specific sincerity. Only for dedicated travelers.

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Well, before I spiral and begin justifying my absence on here I will instead announce a couple things.

First of all, I was invited to host the Zine Lab at the adored Enchilada Library for Women’s History Month. Freak-a-zine is a workshop I have dreamt up for months now and can finally share with y’all on March 22nd. It is set up in two parts: structure and play. I will give some instruction on how to do zine assessments and then we will work on our own zines. It will be next to the Chihuly glass sculpture. Let me know if you’re coming so I can send you a calendar invite. I made a presentation and a handout and everything.

Following the zine thing — I have finally opened up a webstore. Multicontextual has been a long time coming. The five zines that are currently on sale were published in the last two years. I designed, printed, cut, folded, and stitched them up myself while listening to Ela Minus, probably.

Computer Use is a massive full-color collage retrospective at my time on the internet. Anything from work-use to self studies all the way to stalking. It’s a piquant window into what I have been doing on the computer in the last two decades. I am also selling my bilingual poetry book, a prayerbook, and other freak shit.

I have not just been using the computer. Thanks to the good people of reddit and my wife’s enormous support I actually built my own computer. The reddit nerds told me exactly what pieces to buy and my wife sat with me as she told me how to put those parts together. It left me with a tremendous satisfaction and every time it turns on and I see those rainbow lights come on I give a quiet thanks to creator.

Aside from getting hooked on Dress to Impress, I have been making an effort to email more casually. Don’t ask me how that’s going. My computer use has also been leaning heavy on web revival so, of course, I made a neocities site. A friend of mine said it looked like a funhouse compared to my ‘home’ site ok7a.net. Do tell me what you see. And do send me your own website, please?

There are so many good things to see online that are not on the predictable places. For example, you can watch a pirated movie with dozens of subtitle options. You can browse (and download!) important texts through incredible digital libraries. Or just take a look at my friend catalino’s website languid.biz and have a drink. Click the link and you’ll get what I mean. I am not just saying things.

We have made it this far without justifications so let’s not go any further. Thanks for sticking around. I will, too.

See you at freak-a-zine!

At 15 years old, I knew I had a lot more in common with people who had themselves migrated than with those who were born U.S. citizens — even if their parents or other relatives had “made the trip.” This is not meant to be a condemnation of second generation immigrants. What I am saying here is that at 15, I felt closer to other adolescents who were born outside of the U.S. than to the second generation immigrants whose parents were born in Mexico. 

My friendships, both online and in school, were deeper with other teens from India, Vietnam, Cameroon, Honduras, the Philippines. Many of them, like me, were navigating a world we were not supposed to exist in. Many of them, like me, were undocumented. Since my adolescence, I had begun building a strong sense of community around migration, displacement, anti-imperialism — not necessarily rooted in any one nation state. 

In my mid 20s, having studied political science and endeavored in labor to dismantle harmful myths about “latinidad,” I began seeing nation state formation as an archaic and frankly vulgar way to establish and run government. This, of course, takes a lot of time and care to unpack, and today I am not trying to make a point about my political philosophy. Today, I am here to bring you an art critique. Because yes, I enjoy running my mouth about politics just as much as art and fashion.

My immediate family had deep roots in the Rio Grande Valley. I say this in the past tense because those roots were displaced, yanked, even burned, at one point or another. I still have friends and family that live in Brownsville and I love it there. I have not been able to visit the RGV in over 10 years because I live in San Antonio, and you have to cross a checkpoint if you want to drive back north. I have not been legally able to cross a checkpoint since I was 15. So, when I first saw a veladora (prayer candle) for “Our Lady of the Checkpoint,” I was quickly captivated. 

The artist, Celeste De Luna, had a table with other items and prints of her artwork. As I was calculating if I should spend 27 dollars on this candle or not, something inside me recoiled. It was then that I saw a print of a painting of hers that said tu cuerpo es una frontera. All my internal alarms went off. In English, this means “your body is a border.” A kinder translation could be “your body is a frontier,” but the artist did not mean to say your body is a horizon. The artist meant to say your body is violent geopolitical conflict. 

I decided to not buy the candle. After all, the artist did not engage me in any meaningful conversation — spiritual, geographical, political or otherwise. Worse, she replied to me in English when I asked her questions in Spanish. I admit this is a petty reason to discount an artist.

That was my introduction to Celeste’s work. I cannot remember the year, but I can tell you it was at Galeria EVA, in San Antonio’s south side. After that, I did not think about her work again. It had no lasting impression on me even though her art was constantly featured in scholarly chicana spaces. That is why I was in absolute shock upon finding out her husband works for the Department of Homeland Security, the agency in charge of enforcing U.S. borders. 

It was even more shocking to learn this was a secreto a voces, a so called “open secret” amongst artist circles in RGV and south Texas in general. Wendy Trevino, a poet whose politics I admire, had mentioned once or twice on her twitter that there is a well known RGV artist making work about family detention who is actually married to an ICE officer. Instead of wondering if that artist was Celeste, I tweeted a photo of Our Lady of the Checkpoint asking Wendy to confirm if the artist she was mentioning was the same artist that authored this work. The answer was a forthright “yes.” 

After that, I began to discuss this in intimate settings, always finding that other RGV and Mexican American artists have protected her even while knowing that she’s married to an ICE officer. It does not seem to affect how other artists, such as Josue “Raw” Ramirez, cover her work and going so far as to tout it as “progressive.” I find her work interesting, sure, but it certainly does not challenge the state violence that her corpus claims to critique. 

When I finally spoke publicly about how repulsive I found the way chicana career academicians have protected Celeste’s identity as the wife of an ICE officer for years, I was met with surprising responses. Some people told me she had announced to her colleagues that she is divorced, others understand her to be separated, some people were under the impression that he no longer works for ICE. Mostly, people shared genuine surprise and disgust. There are several different versions of Celeste’s marriage floating around. 

Rumors aside, Celeste is still married and her husband remains in the DHS workforce. A personal statement she made in August 2020 says her husband works for INS — purposely obscuring how that agency was dissolved almost 20 years ago and morphed into the Department of Homeland Security (with ICE, CBP, and even FEMA under it). In the same now-deleted statement she refers to criticism of her work as "policing." Given her husband benefits from the state for enforcing immigration law, the choice of the word ‘policing’ is beyond disingenuous. An almost perverse ring to it, no?

Celeste’s refusal to touch the subject in public or through her art continues. She has talked about this situation a couple of times before, but each time she has deleted or retracted her statements. It is easy to conclude that Celeste has purposefully kept this detail about her personhood as secret as possible. Not because the critique “polices” her personhood and right to make art, but because it renders her artist persona and body of work hollow. Hollow does not yield an artist profit.

You can imagine my surprise when I learned that Celeste moved away from the RGV to San Antonio. In artistic circles, she has been using her own name less and putting forth '“Metztli Press” as a public face. Both of these changes occurred after she was asked to leave the art collective Las Imaginistas. This is only speculation but… was this a way to distance herself from her twofold reputation as “border artist” and “wife of an ICE officer?”

Since moving to San Antonio, Celeste has been trying a new angle, playing it up as imaginary and even futurist. She has begun branding her work as ‘border futurism,” even when new pieces still ring hollow. The militarized nation state border stands tall and strong in her future — necessitating “illegal” crossing to present completeness. In the passive fantastical realm of hers, migrants are space aliens at best or demonic animal-like creatures at worst.

This portrayal of imaginary futurism is an attempt to band-aid this particular critique of her work that she's been trying to silence for years. Her husband arrived to this country as a refugee from El Salvador, and I yearn to see actual confrontation in her work about how the state intentionally disorganizes communities of color. If she were to own her contradictions with the ferocity she brings to silencing her critics, her corpus might actually build meaning.

I understand that any artist, especially women artists, should not be defined by who they are married to — but there are several levels to this beyond art, marriage, womanhood. Several levels. It is humiliating and even a little dehumanizing to have to point to these levels over and over and over. My decision to speak publicly about Celeste’s art and its conflict of interest has been branded as “bullying” and “call out culture personified.”

Many have also referred to this particular critique of Celeste’s work as "divisive" without ever acknowledging that it is the state that is dividing our communities. Pushing people into a workforce that enforces state violence is an insidious and intentional part of the system. Why else would CBP spend millions of dollars recruiting at events that are mostly attended by communities of color? It is no coincidence that over 50% of Border Patrol agents are of latine ancestry, notably Mexican-American. Celeste's art contends with none of this. It simply says this violence is. The border is. The border violence is. It just is and here’s a sprinkle of cultura on it.

As someone who has spent over 8 years supporting detained migrants and lived 12 years undocumented, I know the borderlands are sacred. I know the borderlands are home to divine creatures and exceptional human beings, flora, and fauna. I also know that the border proper is a tool of the state that was designed to kill. What I do not know is how to make peace with Celeste’s angle of "resistance" and "social engagement.” Her art has a magnetism to it that I responded to at first, but finding out this detail completely transformed my engagement with her public persona and her art. Celeste has the right to hide it all she wants; but can some of us at least have a conversation about all the different ways in which the state aims to hold us captive?