run sisters run

after graduation, i left with my family to yellowstone. cherrie moraga's words from graduation stayed with me. i spent my family vacation crying. when i cry a lot, i usually grab hold of one of my radical womyn of color writings and hug it. following an in-depth cuddling session with the text, i then open it, read it, and start to cry all over again. all the while, i'm listening to some cheesy song that is completely undeserving of such a moment.

there's something about hearing moraga speak that is familiar, affirming, yet so painful. i think of a pablo neruda poem (english translated):

"so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache."

i know this is meant for a love interest, but i wait for you, the movement, the radical revolution, the critical dissent. i wait so anxiously for all of her words. when she finally begins to speak, i feel completely alone. every part of me aches with moraga's words. i know every word before her tongue gently lifts to the top of her mouth to articulate such, yet the words hit me over and over again. her speech, desperate and demanding, resonates like a final plea. sitting there, i feel her utter disappointment echoing back and forth from the end of the stadium seating to the stage.

all three times i have heard her speak this semester have reminded me of how easily folks will overlook the words of our elders. she speaks to every part of our community, yet people don't really hear her. i see students on our campus disregarding her words. students squash critical dissent and questioning in our communities and organizations, rendering her words meaningless. she is much more than irrelevant rambling.

sitting in the second row on stage, i see her words flying over the audience, floating atop the people we love. moraga is getting older, and the process of realizing that positions me in a state of depressed insomnia. our muxeres are dying, have died already (june jordan, gloria anzaldua), or have been displaced (assata shakur), and we can no longer wait to make our move.

during my first year of community college, one of my mentors told me: "we are tired. we have been running this race for so long. we are coming in, batons in hand, with our arms out towards you. it is now your time. you must grab the baton and run."

so sisters, we must run.

"Remember the time when you ran free in the wild. In order to find liberation, you must liberate yourselves, because you don't liberate others. You come to this consciousness and you say, 'Fuck.' That's how you reach freedom." - richard aoki