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Private Parts: Battling Barriers, Forging Friendships
Alma Sifuentes and Kim D. Hester Williams
Part One: The Political, The Personal
The piece which follows is based on recent incidents embroiled in racial, gender and sexual conflict largely between two groups of women, African Americans and Chicanas/Latinas, at the University of California, Santa Cruz. A series of previous events culminated in a college party that turned into a war between the two student communities. The aftermath devastated the lives of many members of the communities who were at the forefront of the conflict.
Today, many people still remember the hate, frustration, and hostility that overcame our lives that spring quarter. Students, staff, and faculty still remember the wounded minds and the torn personal relationships between women of color who had once been good friends. Out of the conflict, various members of the campus community, particularly from the two groups, African American and Chicana/Latina, came together to try and create some methods of healing for the communities. As a result of the various meetings, a Women of Color Conference and individual group meetings were created as spaces where women of color could explore the meaning of umty, cooperation and collaboration.
We are two women of color, one African American and one Chicana, who found ourselves involved with the young women who were part of the conflict, as well as being involved with various attempts at healing the wounds of the community. What you will read here is in part a telling of how we worked through our own personal difficulties when dealing with the campus “uprising.” It is clear that these incidents became integral to our lives and a part of our everyday existence as women of color. We attempt to show, from a friendship built over years as colleagues in the university’s student services field how we negotiated larger conflicts in our communities. As friends and political allies, we talk about our perceptions of the present increasing climate of hate between different communities of color.
Through two letters that we write to one another, we reflect on our experiences creating a relationship that came to serve a political purpose. We discuss our own battles with overcoming the negative aspects of nationalism in our respective communities, nationalism that many times keeps us from valuable individual and cooperative work. The two letters represent perspectives on the issues women of color face around collaboration, private or collective. The reader should note that the letters are just that, letters. They are intimate feelings and emotions that we have tried to convey to one another. These letters deal with the basis for a personal friendship, a relationship across the boundaries of difference, a collaboration through friendship, love, and politics. We hope that our letters, that our words here on these pages, help you to share your passion with some woman of color who stands waiting for you to reach out to her, to make it safe.
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Part Two: The Letters, Showing Ourselves to One Another
May 1992
Santa Cruz, CA
Dearest Kim,
You just left, and I am sitting here trying to process the information you just gave me. Kim, I have to tell you that it is not easy for me to deal with the news that two women of color engaged in a fist-fight over a man. I can only assume that the news must be as devastating to you as it is to me. I am writing to you on an impulse, not knowing what else I can do at this time. I want to contribute and make everything all right. I want to figure out strategies and possible solutions. I want to go into action. I want to be there for you, too, my dear friend because I know right now you are out there trying to make things better. So, I write, hoping that answers will come. I realize that before I can be good to anyone I must first come to grips with my emotions.
At this moment, inside of my heart, I feel the rage subsiding and hopelessness settling in. This is the worst feeling, the hopelessness, because with hopelessness there is nothing left but a sick feeling. And then there are my thoughts or confusion. My mind is blank to the issue you just brought forth. I have no thoughts, no solutions, not an idea about what I can do to make things better for you, me, us. All I can seem to gather are vague thoughts on paper. How can this be? I feel out of control. I considered myself a person of action. Where did my thoughts go? The writing helps because it is forcing me to use my mind. The fog seems to be lifting.
On an impulse I want to apologize. Not to you or to anyone in particular. To everyone. I never expected to be confronted with something like this, not here. Am I surprised? Not really. What comes to mind is something Professor of History David Anthony expressed a couple of weeks ago here at UC Santa Cruz in a panel discussion right after the not-guilty verdict of those four white policemen who brutally beat Rodney King. Professor Anthony said he felt naive in believing that the jury would serve justice in America. Right now I feel naive. I feel naive in believing that there could exist respect, cooperation and even collaboration between peoples of color, between our communities now that this incident has occurred.
First the Rodney King incident, now this. Two women of color fighting physically and brutally attacking one another, over a man! One Latina, one African-American on a university campus. Where are we headed? What kinds of issues does this incident bring to the reality of our co-existence as human beings? Some of the problems that come to mind as I sit here and try to sort it all out are that we are communities of color in strife, that there are some deep-rooted issues of gender and self-esteem, and that somehow this struggle is a symptom of institutionalized racism in the larger context.
It is beyond my comprehension why one human being would want to hurt another. It is just too much for me to bear to try and understand why one would want to physically abuse another. It happens, I know. We see it all around us. Everyday. What first comes to mind is the media: television, the movie and music industry, and other forms, all playing a major role in bringing violence to our attention, and in our faces. I am not promoting censorship. However, these visual images of violence are depicted with what seems to be virtually little or no remorse for the pain or death inflicted on another human being. And, there are other means that foment hatred. Nevertheless, to be confronted with even the very idea that two people could have so much hatred for one another in such a moment that physical violence was the only solution is really sad. What makes this hatred between two people so utterly destructive is that it is transformed into hatred between two communities of color, one African American and the other Chicana/Latina.
Because of this fight, I am coming to terms with the fact that you and I are part of two communities in strife, two communities fighting each another. I want to believe that you and I can bring our communities together and make things better. I want to believe that our collaborative political efforts rooted in our friendship will conquer all. What a romantic! What a fool! I know now that it’s not going to happen, especially when I am faced with the reality that what we face is not a theory, an abstract concept, or even a historical fact or fiction, depending upon who wrote the history book. Instead, I believe that what we face is real: the non-guilty verdict on the four white policemen who beat Rodney King is real. And what we face here at this university is real, conflict and tension between communities of color, and what seems to be hatred among women of color.
How do we, you and 1, begin to put it all back together when there is over 500 years of this bullshit so nicely institutionalized in all aspects of our lives? No matter what, I want you to know that you are not alone. I am with you, my girlfriend, no matter what hard-line nationalized sentiments we face; I am imagining, based on circumstances we have witnessed in the past, that some individuals from each of our communities will adamantly refuse to try and resolve this conflict that now has gone beyond a fight between two women. I am anticipating resistance from both communities in attempting to work together to come to some sort of resolution. What that resolution will be, if I can even call it that, I have not a clue. However, I want so desperately to go beyond what we, as activists, revolutionaries, warriors, and humanists already know. Being here at the university, this intellectual haven, certainly is not enough to find a solution or a strategy.
You know what else comes to mind? That this fight, this very, very serious altercation, will reinforce to the institution and its agents the notion that we, people of color, do not belong here. How will this be seen by the ever so culturally insensitive administration? An apparently vicious physical altercation between a Latina and an African American woman over a Black man. I can hear it now, “See, they do not belong here. Simply uncivilized.” Although not in these very words, I have felt the presence of this sentiment among university administrators, particularly when dealing with discipline. Because after all, the next step for us who work with these students is to advocate for and justify why these two women should and must stay in school despite their actions. That the behavior of wanting to almost kill each other over a man is beyond the individual. This particular issue I see in a larger context. There is at a minimum 500 years of oppression which precedes us and this behavior is partly due to socio-economic issues enveloped by a political struggle in which these women have very little input.
There is also the fact that there are but a handful of African American men on campus and that African American women find it difficult to date Black men, because my understanding is many Black men on campus have no or little respect for them. We have talked about this. Our impression is that for the most part African American men would rather date white or Latina women because of entrenched racist and sexist notions that go back to the days of the white slave master and power. You and I have seen the ill-treatment of African American women perpetrated by African American men. And, furthermore, Latinas on campus find it difficult to date Latino men because some of the mujeres feel that most Latinos have no respect for their intellect and their person. Unfortunately, some Chicano/Latino men find it easier and more comfortable to accept that machismo is part of the culture and that beating and verbally abusing their vieja is being truly “brown.” Some Latinos believe that Chicana/Latinas have no business being assertive and being vocal about not wanting to endure abuse and disrespect. What kind of message is conveyed when men within a culture or community disrespect and/or abuse women within their group? But what happens when some of the men in your community are adversarial towards you, and let’s say, for example, that the media exploits this image? The response from some mujeres who find themselves in this situation, or perhaps have witnessed it, and do not want any part of it, is to date and socialize outside their community in order to fulfill some basic emotional needs required for survival at this university, and for that matter, in broader society. I have no issue with interracial love. I do have an issue with how we treat our own. There is a history, and conflicts such as this fight are not based on isolated issues. In essence, for the university administration to be culturally sensitive in decision-making over fragile matters such as this means taking all of the issues I just presented, for example, and more into consideration before deciding that it is an individual’s disciplinary problem, and therefore she must be punished.
With the administration aside, all this hostility, brewing from issues of racism and sexism stand in the way of collaboration amongst women of color. For me, the issue at hand appears clearer, and unfortunately, I see it depicted so well by this very sad and destructive violent incident between two very beautiful dark women, with beautifully long histories. Is it possible that these two nineteen year-old women are naive about, maybe ignorant of, the importance and necessity of working together across national identities? That these two women, even though they are at the university, are unable to assess an uncomfortable situation and are incapable of solving their issue with one another? That these two women turned to alcohol and violence to solve their problem the best way they knew how, even with, or maybe despite, their college education? That perhaps these two women were either willing to jeopardize their college education, or they never even contemplated the dilemma and instead chose to beat each other up over the affection and attention of a man?
One possible answer to these questions is that the affection and attention of that man was worth more to them than their self-respect and their college education. All the sacrifice and financial woes of realizing their matriculation in an institution of higher education were in vain because, after all, the most important thing in the world is to be loved and to not lose that love because it is a very scarce commodity in our communities. What the hell is going on? You know Kim, when I really think in these terms, I believe I would probably respond in the same way. Who does not want to be loved and given special attention? This is so much a part of surviving. Malcolm X said, “By any means necessary.” My mind is going crazy, and even more so in thinking about what lies ahead. I am beginning to realize that prejudiced sentiments and preconceived notions are present in the powers that control our lives, our destinies.
Which brings me back to the institution of the university. How tired I am of having to explain to administrators and professors and even to students here at the university that for some what is perceived as so-called gang activity of violence, drugs and sexual abuse and harassment by our youth in the barrios and ghettos are symptoms of wanting to belong, to be loved, to be respected, to be counted, to be listened to, to be believed in. Some of our students on campus come from such backgrounds. Why do they have to represent all of the ill-behavior society dumps on them, and why do they have to be punished for it? I am not offering an excuse. I offer what I can. I question and probe. And what I see is an ugly symptom of a horrible social epidemic for which we are all responsible. Which I sense is by design in the dominant culture and represented all too well on this campus. Why did these two college-educated women engage in violence? What is this so-called higher education supposed to be about?
And not to dwell too much on what the administration or others think, it is important to consider the situation because by the wave of a hand, these women’s futures will be determined. The immediate issue to me is the possibility of more violence committed by these two women and their friends, who by now I suspect want to back up their sisters by beating up on the “enemy.” Now what I am going to say to you I never imagined I would ever have to think about, much less ask. Kim, how are we going to prevent additional violence and then expect to enlighten these women on the idea, to even just tell them that they really are not the enemy of each other? That African American women and Latinas do not have to be enemies, even though the media portrayed it as such in Los Angeles a few weeks ago? How can we as communities of color begin to dialogue about collaboration when some people just may not want to talk to one another, and rather choose to harm each other? How do we begin in light of the fact that those in power within the institution, again, are culturally incompetent to handle something like this? I am also referring to those of color that hold such decisive positions and have subscribed to what is self-serving, or merely feel comfortable with their latent conscience. Am I being arrogant and presumptuous to think that you and I can accomplish this task together?
In this hour of panic (because I can tell you that I am really worried about the present and future), I am trying to cut through the fog and shock so I can think. Find that solution. Reach for enlightenment. Was there collaboration in the past? Were we comrades in a previous life? Is there testimony that says that we have struggled together, and that we will overcome this, but only if we do it together?
I do not know the history of my people. To a large degree, I am ignorant of my peoples’ struggles. I somehow know bits and pieces of the struggle of the sixties and seventies. There were the Black Power and Chicano power movement. The Black Panthers. The Brown Berets. Did they work together, Kim? Or, did they fight and compete with one another? Was there respect for each other? Was one group’s victory, the triumph of the other? I want to say that I believed our communities may not have worked together, but that they respected each other’s cause and to some extent, assisted one another. When the protest and marches of one community succeeded, others benefited as well, unconditionally and without retribution. I understand, for example, that Chicanos/as were involved in the Free Angela Davis Movement. I want to say that when Angela was freed, it was a victory to not only the African American community but to all people who were victims of civil right violations, including Latinos. We understand that, Kim. Do others in our communities? Do others believe in collaboration across communities of color? Do others know about the challenges, triumphs, and even setbacks of working together for a common goal?
I am pessimistic about believing that our communities want to work together to resolve our conflicts and together face new and old challenges. After all, historical testimonies do not exist in public school textbooks, at least not in the books I have read. This kind of essential history is not in the mainstream of curricula at the university, and here we are approaching a new millennium. What happened to the movement? What happened to the testimonies of collaboration? Did collaboration exist? Yes. There was respect. Although I am not sure I can say that now. I can painfully tell you, amiga mia, that in my community there is some very entrenched prejudice against your people. That is one thing we learn from this very advanced and technological society. The racism and prejudice towards and amongst people of color is what is projected and reinforced by school curricula, and by all other mediums of communication in this society of ours.
So, how can collaboration develop and exist? I’ll tell you how, Kim, because I am not giving in. It exists within you and me. This is not a proposition for romance. It is an offer to work like we never worked before, to be committed like we have never known. There is no one else in the world I would rather be with in collaboration than you. Tú, mi amiga, who is loyal and true to your history and culture. You, Kim, who finds the good in people across all colors, shapes and sizes. You, who respects and celebrates the beauty of the Chicano and Latino cultures. You who has learned our language and joins my community in our struggles and battles. You, Kim, are my ally and I yours, unconditionally. You and I who are confined by our nationalism, yet trying to define a new multiculturalism. You and I who have turned the personal into the political. You and I, two women of color in the nineties who reach back in time to find answers in each others’ communities and personal histories, and when confronted with the political, find that the personal has been filled with abuse and pain. You and I, Kim, always wanted to be revolutionaries, and find our task to be the following: To begin to introduce the idea of collaboration to two worlds that do not want it, against all odds. It is not a challenge or a choice. It just is, hermana. It just is.
We have chosen each other
and the edge of each others battles
the war is the same
if we lose
someday women’s blood will congeal
upon a dead planet
if we win
there is no telling
we seek beyond history
for a new and more possible meeting.Audre Lorde from Sister Outsider
In Struggle and Collaboration,
alma
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May 1992
Santa Cruz, CA
Querida Alma,
I know what you mean. I may sound so naive, but I never thought that we would have had to face the events of the past weeks right here at the university, right in our faces. But then again, why should we be surprised? I did grow up in South Central and you in East Los Angeles and many of the students that we work with are entrenched in the violence we have recently seen come from these same areas. Places like Oakland and East L.A. and South Central and other major areas on the map where our communities struggle from day to day. The places that “time has almost forgotten.” And we know what the university does after it recruits these bright and capable, but seriously “underrepresented” youth, from these various places. Nothing. The university has continued to fail in its responsibility to our students, to our communities, whose tax dollars are poured into a system that does everything it can to ensure our failure, our demise. Yes, they recruit our students and promise them a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But most of these people of color who they lure in, do not understand what they will really have to do to survive the system. They are just cold enrollment statistics with little guidance and no support, and admission to the university is the pact they make with the modern day devil. So we should have expected that something like this would happen, that people would begin to take their frustrations out on one another.
Tensions between people of color are high all around the country, the world. And in this small pocket of life, student life, it is not different. We just have the illusion that it is. These women of color in our communities and these conflicts between our communities has certainly provided a wake up call, especially after the events of the Rodney King verdict. I guess we can’t all get along. At least that is the way it seems right now. Relationships between people of color have gotten real bad. But how could they be otherwise in the midst of colonialism, racism and social and economic oppression. It certainly hasn’t gotten better, relatively speaking, it’s gotten worse.
This is the key phrase of the 90’s, I know, but it sums up what we presently face. And it keeps on coming, full force. Now, our youth are killing themselves and each other, waging a war on their own communities and engaging in wicked attacks on their own spirits, on future generations. Young black women are abandoning babies and women of color are disproportionately dying of AIDS. Drugs are destroying are bodies, our minds and our hearts. I wonder when and if it will ever end. Man’s inhumanity to man, and to women and children and animals and every living, breathing thing on this earth and then some.
Sometimes I feel so numb from being overwhelmed with it all. Just sitting and thinking about it. Yet, through all of the struggles people of color engage in, for decency, equality and humanity, I feel that there is still hope. Hope springs eternal, as they say. Well, I guess it must be because we do keep hoping and we keep waiting and working towards change. And things do change. But like I said, it’s all relative. Because when we look at our lives, the state of things today these women of color, this African American woman and this Latina must feel such a sense of desperateness in this world. They must feel such incredible pain and oppression. Like all women of color must feel in their lives, like there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. But why fight each other? Why find reasons to hate and to hurt each other?
I keep coming back to the question, “Why don’t we, as communities of color, as oppressed communities, put our energies together to liberate our minds and to free our communities of the daily sufferings of class, gender, and racial oppression?” Through all of the politically correct slogans, through all of the marches and the protests and workshops on racism, sexism, homophobia and the other ‘isms” that enslave our mind and our world, have we forgotten what we must do? I mean, what we must actually do. Maybe we don’t really know what to do. A speaker once told a crowded auditorium of anxious young people of color and young progressive whites, that it is a new day and we must find new ways to fight against the social ills that plague us presently. But what new ways? And when will we discover what it is that we must do in order to wage a successful battle?
And you are so right. Looking at each other, at our communities, we see that we are definitely part of two communities in conflict, two communities that are constantly at battle with themselves and with one another. Battling for positions of power that we will never really have in any meaningful sort of way. Battling for power through economic liberation for individuals and not for the masses, for the majority of our communities who will live their whole lives far below any decided government poverty line. And this European standard of progress is leaving our people behind because as Alice Walker once said, “Progress affects few. Only revolution can affect many.” And it is this struggle for power and individual progress that is killing both of our communities.
Power has always destroyed us. Power builds empires, not communities. So why are we fighting for power that really translates to the destruction of our communities and the oppression of our brothers and sisters. For me, some of the answers to these questions have to do with our blindness to one another, as human beings, and our failure to see beyond boundaries. As communities of color, we are blinded by so much hate, for ourselves and for our own communities and for one another. And we hate so well, especially when we are hating other oppressed peoples.
When I visit Los Angeles, the place where I was raised, I see it so clearly. There is very little “collaboration” there. Very little “cooperation” or respect for that matter, between people from different ethnic and cultural backgrounds, between people of color. Everyone is caught up in their own agenda, their own communities’ perceived agenda and their own communities conflicts with that perceived agenda. Not that people should not be concerned with their own communities. Of course they should be. But the way in which we go about it, in complete isolation and fear of those outside of our community makes building bridges across these boundaries very difficult. People generally do not like difficulty, so they don’t look for it by trying to cross boundaries that have turned into barriers. Sure, there are sporadic comings-together of people here and there. But the general rule of thumb in L.A. is “You stay in your neighborhood, I’ll stay in mine. You stay in your community with your people, I’ll stay with mine, and everything will be ok or at least we’ll be able to live with the illusion that it is.” Even when the world, the nation, the state, the cities got smaller and smaller and we had to share physical spaces, we still held on to those boundaries.
I remember growing up in Los Angeles. We shared our particular neighborhood with Mexican immigrants who claimed their space there as we did. But there was the unspoken rule. “We will treat each other with dignity and respect because we all live here, but under no circumstances will we socialize with one another or even say more than three words to each other at a time, because if we did it would be too difficult.”
We were from different backgrounds. We had different cultural values and spoke different languages. How could we understand one another? How could we learn to socialize with one another, to care about one another? How could any possible attempts at a relationship beyond the superficial work? We were mostly Baptist or Methodist or some combination thereof. They were mostly Catholic. We ate different food. Played different games. We even watched different tv shows. Or so we thought back then. We never knew, we never really took the time to learn that we were not so different that we could not explore the humanity in each others hearts. Back then, we ignored the rule that I now try hard to live by. The rule that differences can, in fact, enhance relationships. Differences do not have to sabotage any opportunities to reach out, beyond all of the boundaries that we create, be they safe ones or dangerous ones.
And you know, when I look back on my childhood, living amongst those we thought were so different than ourselves, I see that we were not so correct in that assumption. After all, we were educated by the same inferior and racist public schools, schools that discouraged us all from aspiring beyond our economic or social status, against dreams of going on to college and elevating ourselves and our communities in any way. Public schools where neither of our cultural needs were taken into account, except on special days like Cinco de Mayo, when we would pretend to learn a small part of Mexican culture and Martin Luther King’s birthday, where Black history would be the vogue for the day. And both myself and the Mexican children living in my neighborhood would often share the pain of racial taunting from children in our own communities, hurling self-hating balls of words at us. On any given day, I could hear little Black children scream “Hey, blacky. You’re so black you know what you are? You’re an oil spill.” They would hear little Mexican children shout, “Go back to Mexico, you fucking bean eater. La migra. La migra.” Trauma makes strangers bedfellows. Too bad that I didn’t know that then.
But most importantly, we were all victims of the same system of oppression. Our parents were all trying to get ahead, trying to “make ends meet” in their minds as well as their pocketbooks/wallets. In both communities, we saw the adults working hard for little compensation so their families could survive day to day. We all shared the sufferings of class-bias. And we both had to shop in our own neighborhoods where the price of goods was three or four times higher than in middle or upper class neighborhoods. We both had to endure brutality, harassment and a constant siege of our communities by the police force that was supposed to “protect and serve.”
In spite of our social and economic conditions, many of us, from both communities, were taught about love and respect and kindness from our parents. We all believed in the importance of familial bonds. Their parents had left many family members in Mexico and ours had left many of our family members down in the South. We had all come to California, specifically to Los Angeles, from somewhere else and ended up together, in this neighborhood. And to many of us, the separation from our brothers and sisters and grandmothers or great grandmothers, our tias and tios, affected our lives greatly.
Yes. We had quite a bit in common. Yet we stayed away from one another. Suffered alone in the masked comfort and isolation of our own communities. And we swore by the creed that said it would be so much mom difficult to reach out to each other than to stay within our own. And instead of letting our differences keep us alienated from each other and keep us suspicious of one other, we could have let our differences teach us. But we didn’t. Those “scary” differences could have taught us what the public schools refused to. But we would not let them. Maybe we each feared that something of our culture, something of ourselves would be lost.
Now I can see that we were wrong. Because today, when I look at what has happened because of all this alienation and the fear that has kept our communities isolated from one another, I see that we must reexamine what we thought we could not do. When I think of women of color, down in the gutter, pulling and tearing at each others’ hair and clothes, taunting each other with swearing and damnations of one another, hating each other to the core of their being, I become so fearful of what the future will hold. What it will hold for our communities, for people of color who cannot afford this alienation from one another, this wretched disdain for others, who are really, very much like themselves. I almost start to feel hopeless and I become overwhelmed thinking about the work that we are so far behind on.
But then, hope comes back and I think of the relationship that we have built, you and me, Alma, differences and all. And I see how the ways of my childhood were so very wrong. And I see that these two women of color are wrong. The boundaries that they harden into an impenetrable barrier may be a place of no retum if they do not find a way to work through their hatred of one another, to understand that they both have legitimate issues that the other needs to hear and to understand.
Yes, I can relate to my Sistahs who find difficulty in interracial relationships, because I have difficulty with regard to Black men who are not with Black women. I love Black people and I love Black men, regardless of the struggles I have endured in my life with some of them. But I am a forgiving Black woman and I am a reasonable person. People fall in love and people attempt to make that love work, again, across boundaries, across differences. I accept this. What is hard for me to accept is that people purposefully seek outside themselves, not wanting to deal with their own racial and cultural reflections, as if to say there is no beauty or worth in these reflections. But I understand this is a complicated subject so I don’t want to get into what we have already spent many, many hours discussing.
My point here is that you have listened to my feelings on these issues and you have heard me. What is more, you have validated my feelings and shown me that we can understand those differences, we can understand certain boundaries. You did this when I came to tell you about the women and the fight. You immediately recognized the issues that the African American women had with interracial dating and you validated them. We talked about what the Latinas were going through, with the antiquated attitudes and behavior of certain Latinos on campus that served to keep Latinas from wanting any kind of relationships with them. We discussed the basic misunderstandings between the groups and we both knew that the conflict was, in many ways, valid. Valid in the sense that it was born of the present day social issues that we, as people of color, must begin to face. And I was so surprised how we could keep our relationship in focus and support each other through what would have been a definite point of departure, given my childhood training about “staying within your own.” But then, I should not have been surprised.
You always listened and you learned, and when I needed you to know what the Black women were going through, you already knew. You already knew. You showed me then that you were about work. Hardhitting, self-sacrificing, political work and political struggle. Yes. By any means necessary. My eyes well up and Cherríe Moraga’s words come to mind. “If we are interested in building a movement that will not constantly be subverted by internal differences, then we must build from the inside out, not the other way around. Coming to terms with the suffering of others has never meant looking away from our own.”
So I, too, keep coming back to you and me. You and I have had so many conversations about oppressions and the state of the world, of our communities. How will we work to right the wrongs? But through it all we have both agreed that whatever we do, however we struggle, we must do it together.
We have both seen how dangerous it would be if either of us abandoned the other. And I think that is precisely my point. We have done what very few people in our communities seem able to do, in this day. We know that they use to do it, much more than it seems we can now. Because in this day and time, the misunderstanding between our communities has gotten so much worse than it used to be, when we were little.
I guess all the silence and the avoidance and ignorance of eath other has built a wall of hate and misunderstanding so thick, that it does seem impenetrable. And that’s where these women are. That’s where it’s at right now. But you and I, our mere existence, as fnends and political allies has taught me the importance of seeing beyond differences, beyond boundaries. Our relationship is what I think of when I become so frustrated with the situation of these women fighting, hating each other. It’s what I think of when I think of my own difficulty crossing barriers. After all, that’s the way I was raised. To be cautious of barriers. But we were wrong, back then as we are now, to think that we could not overcome the difficulty and move forward.
We have spent many nights, hanging out, laughing and cursing, arguing and analyzing. I have been able to tell you things that I had never told anyone else, at least not with so much ease and comfort. Things that I keep hidden deep inside of me. Those nights we have spent planning our assaults–how we were going to kick university butt and take names later–have been some of the most growth enriching times in my life. I have learned to see beyond any of the negative nationalisms or barriers that may have separated us. And it’s not like the artificial lessons that I learned while an undergraduate, going to rallies and meetings where students of color flung around words and phrases that spoke of unity and action and multiculturalism and fighting together against oppression. That was just a beginning, a sort of preschool introduction, so to speak, to the real thing. The times we spent has shown me about my self, my limitations and my fears. It has also shown me my capabilities to rise above and to meet the challenges that we must face. The power of those moments, Alma, when you and I would connect, our eyes, our hearts, nuestras almas.
You have also shown me that you were my friend, in every sense of the word and what it could possibly mean; and that we had built a bridge so strong that we could walk across it without being afraid of it crumbling beneath us, leaving us to drown in our own denials and fears. A bridge that takes us across all barriers and all boundaries. Even in the midst of this devastating turn of events in our communities, even as they battle against one another, you, Alma, have shown me that we must always look and really see each other. You, Alma, helped ease my childhood fears about those boundaries and crossing them. And in doing that, you let me know that all things are possible if we can only face our fears and limitations, head on, and not run away from them or pretend they do not exist as I was taught to do when I was a little girl. Especially when it means that we will have the opportunity to build the kind of relationship that you and I have, and that I know many other women of color must have. To collaborate, personally and politically. To come together without condition or prerequisite. And this is not a challenge, hermana. Tienes razón. Caminante, no hay puentes, se hace puentes al andar. Voyager, there are no bridges, one builds them as one walks.
In Collaboration & Friendship,
Kim