JULIANA DELGADO LOPERA

For Weird Sister: Proving I love You or I’ll Have Sex In-Front of an Immigration Officer for You

My cold hand lands on Laura’s leg while the woman behind us holds her husband’s hands tight, whispering cariñitos to him. We’re here to prove we love each other. To prove this is a true white-picket-fence-two-point-five-children-Christmas-card kind of love, even if it’s homo love. Promises of a better future after this horrid appointment fly in the air in Spanish, Arabic, Russian. Inside the Soviet-looking immigration building Laura and I are literally moscas en leche. Perro en misa. Gallina en corral ajeno, etc. All the couples here are straight. Some even brought their kids, dressed in their Sunday’s best. The children are instructed to shut the fuck up and smile. Arturito, saluda al oficial mi rey. They’re here as evidence. The mamis with their hairs done, nails done, high heels and glossy lipstick. Men with gelled black hair, black button-down shirts with a few open buttons revealing gold crosses, chest hair. Legs crossed impossibly tight, smiling at every and any immigration officer walking through. Good afternoon, Mr. Officer. Nobody speaks loudly, we all hush and whisper and hold tight to our brown folders, our photo albums.Porque mamita, you never know.

NEXT THURSDAY! This mami is hosting her very first RADAR Productions event at the SF Public Library featuring Patrick O'Neil,Tiffany Scandal Nikki Darling and Nicole J. Georges.

COMEEEE THROUGH!

Bid on diaries from your favorite writers (Dave Eggers, Michelle Tea, Virgie Tovar, Eileen Myles, Annie Sprinkle, Margaret Cho, Kim Gordon AND MUCH MOREEE)

Click HERE to bid.

ALL proceeds go to RADAR PRODUCTIONS, the raddest Queer Lit organization in SF!

For Weird Sister

HOW YOU TALKING ABOUT SOFIA VERGARA AND SHAKIRA DESTROYS MY COLOMBIAN TUMBAO

I am one of those annoying Colombians who every time you mention you just LOVE Shakira, I roll my eyes, tell you she’s shit now and narrate a brief five-min-Shakira-history on your ass about how white-washed mami used to be this awesome chubby rocker, with red hair, who actually wrote some poetic lyrics that were once the core of my early teenage years (somewhere in my mother’s apartment there’s still a Pies Descalzos cassette). And when we’re watching TV and you point to the blonde, skinner-than-life Shakira with whiter-than-life teeth selling us CREST my heart transforms into a jaded feminista yelling, “Who the fuck cares?” And “please change the channel” (clearly some unresolved issues there).

To this you think “whatever,” you think “why do these third-world people always overthink it,” you think “Gawd, I’m only trying to be nice,” you think “well I can’t understand her music if she is singing in Spanish, duh,” you think “but OMG your people are so pretty!” Deep inside I’m grateful that after talking about Shakira you didn’t tell me that story about snorting some good Colombian cocaine (we’re not even the lead exports anymore, get with the program homie), or demand a brief update on Colombia’s current state of affairs (i.e. How dangerous is it for gringos there?), or a speedy drug cartel history, but really I’m just grateful you didn’t show me a Sofía Vergara clip detailing how she washes her clothes in the river.

AWP! ARE YOU GOING?

April 10 at 7pm

I’m reading at GIRL FRIDAY: An AWP offsite reading hosted by OUR FLOW IS HARD, WEIRD SISTER & DANCING GIRL PRESS with other amazing women.

Discover the Oral Historian in you and fall (back) in love with oral history!

EVERYDAY POETRY is a five-week class taught by me on the art of gathering, preserving, and interpreting oral stories -- the literature of the street, the buzz of a corner store, the personal stories that dismantle stereotypes.

>> We will be diving into the history of spoken word and acquiring the necessary tools to begin (or continue) an oral history project of your own with the support of a community of oral historians.

>> We will read and discuss orality narratives, learn new ways of gathering and preserving language, and explore various media in relation to amplifying oral history narratives.

>>We will talk about why stories matter, discuss the shaping, sculpting, and editing of what we find, and send our work out into the world. You do not need experience with oral history to take this class.

WHEN: Tuesdays, 6:30 - 9:00pm, April 7 -- May 12th (note: this is a five week class. We will not be meeting on 4/21).

WHERE: Waywards San Francisco Mission, at Mission and 29th street, accessible to 24th street BART.

COST: Early Registration: $200. Discounts available.

MORE INFO: http://waywardwriters.org/sf-mission-classes/

For Wayward Writers

Oral History WHAT?  Unearthing the oral historian in you

For me, it started in the kitchen.

Chairs in a semicircle next to a tiny window opened, supposedly, to ventilate the endless cigarette smoke exchanged for a little gossip. It all started in that kitchen where all my tías became chimneys, magical storytellers of their lives, narrating in hand gestures, laughters, shrugs, the ineptitude of their husbands, phantoms of their childhood, the stupidity of the newly elected mayor, the newest anti-wrinkle cream, etc. I stood in a corner mesmerized.  Listening to words I did not yet understand, but entranced by the power of each individual story to open a world of its own. Fascinated by the emotional detailing of each memory, which allowed me to connect, empathize. I too, felt their pain, their loss, their joy.

Needless to say I’ve always been very attracted to storytellers. I’m a groupie with a radar for voice. I love hanging out with older folks and just chatting it up until they’ve retold at least twice that story about seeing three witches hidden in the gateman’s hut every day to and from school. My God. I live for that stuff. My believability capabilities are endless, not because I’m naive, or because I come from the “magical realism” country, but because human experience reaches supernatural limits every day (think wars, think bars in small towns, think grandmothers, think you).

For The Bold Italic

Six 20-Something  Dykes You Meet on OkCupid

Illustrations by Ariel Dunitz-Johnson

Ask any dyke in her twenties living inSan Francisco what she’s doing for booty. Ask her where she goes to meet new,“down-to-earth” (or even up-in-the-air) lesbians — go ahead, I’ll wait. Ready?Unless this mami has already U-Hauled with her boo and is living in the Sunset, the response will most certainly be an eye-roll, followed by a grunt, followed by a “Girl, you kidding? There are no dykes in San Francisco!” She’ll tell you all the lesbians moved to Oakland and blah blah blah she may move blah blah blah there are only gay men in SF blah blah blah but this city is so pretty! And her ex is living near Lake Merritt! Etc. This female homo will proceed to tell you a (terrible) OkCupid story: people never follow through and when they do they look NOTHING like their profile pics, but it’s been a month since she’s had sex so — what the hell. Or she’ll talk about this petite girl who wanted to lick her foot all night. Or when she finally gave in and met a new transplant techie, the girl wouldn’t shut up about “exploring the city” and Dolores Park.

Side note: sure sure, some people have good experiences with OkCupid, but who cares about those people anyway?  

for Weird Sister

A Sapphic Mixtape of What You Should Be Watching/Reading/Obsessing Over Right Now Instead of Stalking Your Ex on Instagram

Ibeyi

Yes, they’re only 20, yes they’re twins, and yes their music is dreamlike. Born in Paris, Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi Díaz are daughters of the famed Cuban percussionist Anga Díaz who died when the girls were 11, but not before teaching them how to play the cajón and batá. I’m obsessed with their mix of Afro-Cuban beats with electronic textures, and with their English overlapping with Yoruba. Here is an NPR piece where Anastacia Tsioulcas calls their entrancing music “a world of intoxicating beauty, in songs that are smart, sweet and emotionally cracked wide open.” Do stop Instagramming and be lost in their brilliance. Also, here is a list of their upcoming shows.

for Wayward Writers

If you’re a lover of voice, if you shake with thrill when during a family reunion it is your grandmother’s turn to tell the story of The Family’s Damnation because OH MY GOD girlfriend knows how to work a crowd, and the specificity of her words is mind-blowing (your borracho uncle gambling with only three teeth), and her detailing of flavors, of smells, of your drunk uncle’s word choice (carajo, pela’a) her rhythm and mannerisms elevating you, so that you never want her to stop— if you say yes when your granny takes the microphone then this post, queridísima, is for you. But even if you’re like meh, my grandmother and I were never close and yet you still appreciate the beauty of orality, of spoken word, of people gossiping at a corner store, here reinita, for you too.