(Un)documenting

 I have had some people in organizing space try to convince me I'm way too abrasive in my approach.  But when I take time to write, I reminded it is because of my love for family and community that I do the things that I do. I am passionate about seeing lives changed. I am no longer interested in maintaining the status quo, which means I am willing to take major risks. How else can we grow?"

Who: Marybeth Onyeukwu

Where: Washington D.C, by way of Nigeria 

Medium(s): Writing

Pieces:

“(Re)Imagining Immigrant Rights: Remembering Mike Brown, Renisha McBride, Eric Garner, Rekia Boyd, John Crawford, Kimani Gray and Countless Others" - August 2014 Article

For too long, the Black struggle has been co-opted to legitimize the immigrant rights movement with little to no reciprocity. Movement leaders have consistently ignored and erased the plight of black migrants. Movement leaders have time and time again failed to offer any kind of support when black communities are under siege. Movement leaders continue to embrace anti-Black rhetoric in order to position themselves as worthy of American citizenship. What is citizenship in a country that dehumanizes its Black citizens? What is “the right to be with our families” in light of the murders of Eric Garner, Renisha McBride, Rekia Boyd, John Crawford, Kimani Gray and many others? Did they not have a right to be with their families?

This goes beyond stopping deportations. We must challenge racist notions of criminality that are being used to justify the militarization of local police in an effort to antagonize and destroy Black life. The same legal apparatus that unjustly detains and deports millions of immigrants and militarizes the U.S. – Mexico border is the same apparatus that profiles, harasses, arrests, incarcerates and murders with impunity Black people in America.

We say enough! No more to the hyper-surveillance of Black communities! No more to state sanctioned violence! No more to anti-Black racism! Enough! 

Full article : HERE 

Undocumenting: What are some of the challenges of being a writer? 

Mel:  The biggest challenge as a writer is finding time to just write especially with so much demanding my attention. This may sound harsh, but I do think our culture does not value meaningful relationships enough. Most friendships feel very surface. Oftentimes, it is these relationships that seem to demand so much of my attention, which has serious implications for Black women. As Black women we are taught to make ourselves always available, which ultimately means the problems we have to contend with are placed on the back burner. Well, I refuse to play the mammy role for anyone. I no longer have any patience for relationships that are no reciprocal. I won't do it. That kind of "selflessness" destroys. I want to live. I want to survive. So I am learning to be much more selfish with my time especially with people who do very little to offer support. In order to write more, I have to say no more. And I must be unapologetic about it.

Undocumenting: Favorite 3 books?

Marybeth: By far, my favorite book that inspires my work is Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. Zora was woman that was light years ahead of her time. She really believed that Black people should live their lives without any concern of the white gaze. I think that’s important for everyone to understand. We must be true to ourselves, first and foremost. We are not responsible for how people perceive us. We are only responsible for living our truth. Another book that informs my writing would be Ella Baker & the Black Freedom Movement: A Radical Democratic Vision by Barbara Ransby. Every time I read about Ella’s life I am humbled by her commitment to those that live on the margins of society. She was not willing to leave anyone behind.  I think in a lot of ways, my writing, should do be just as courageous. I get really scared sometimes to speak the truth, but then I am reminded of women that went before me, not knowing what the outcome would be, but didn’t know let the unknown deter them for doing what was right. My third favorite book has to be Beloved by Toni Morrison. There are no words really to describe the brilliance of Toni’s work. My favorite quote from Beloved is, “Freeing yourself was one thing, claiming ownership of that freed self was another.” Every day I am learning to claim ownership of my freed self regardless what my immigration status means to government officials. I can and will live freely.

Undocumenting:  Tips for artists/writers that are undocumented and coming from movement/organizing spaces 

Marybeth: It is ok to take up space. As undocumented people we are socialized to always apologize for bringing attention to ourselves. We are self-deprecating. We think that we do not deserve to be loved or respected. Again, it is ok to take up space. Our voices matter. Our stories matter. We have a right to be here.

Where to Find: 

Marybeth is a community organizer at One DC. She is also a board member of Black Alliance for Just Immigration. She is currently working on new writing pieces , so look out for those. 

Instagram: 

@_zirim

             Twitter:  

Where: Harlem, NY by way of Ecuador

Medium(s): Poet

Pieces:

Poem-“Calling Cards” 

I. ONE

Across oceans and land

Working to connect one phone line with another

Like the umbilical cord of a child

  These $5, $10, $20’s square cards are more than plastic

These calling cards have heart beats

II.TWO

We survive through phone lines

A cycle of dialing numbers

On the other line waited abuela

On the other line waited birthday wishes that you should have given us in person while you ate cake with us

But we were here and you were there.

   On the other line we waited

For your voice

That is all we had

My dad waited for you

He still does

 III.THREE

How do you dial a love one?

When your fingers have worn out from weaving too many memories

When your voice has change since the last time you saw them in person

                Your bones have broken from their absence

                Your lips have withered

                Your face is the only clue left of what they might look like now

    Perhaps it’s best to not look in the mirror

    Perhaps you are too ashamed of holding on to old memories

 IV.FOUR

I can still hear Abuelita Alegria’s voice

Dime abuelita como esta Ecuador?

Yes abuelita I promise to return

And then a long pause

You hear her shuffling the phone trying to remember which side to talk from

She is not familiar with this technology

I call it old school, some call it poverty

  Abuelita’s gentle voice rocks me back to memories of when she carried me as a baby

My face lays flat on her back

She hangs up

And I lay gripping on to her words

Trying not to let go

Never enough minutes

  V.FIVE

Calling cards don’t have heart beats anymore

They just hang in the store

Teasing you

My dad stops at the bodega for other reasons

His mouth curls up at the end of the bottle

Longing for one more conversation

I think he believes that with every beer he gets closer to heaven

Closer to her

And secretly I wished that was true

  The phone goes unused like the passport in my wallet

No more dialing

In his palms rests spaces where my grandma is buried

And even then the borders created by the lines in his hands

Restrict him from getting too close

   Dad wants to hold my hand

But mostly we look at each other hoping to find comfort

He says I look like abuela 

Poem: "Chronicles of Losing Your Name"

*For this section , Emilia Fiallo , an artist who was previously profiled on Undocumenting.com, sat down with Sonia and asked her some intimate questions:

Emilia: I met Sonia back in 2011 at the New York State Youth Leadership Council. What struck me the most about her was her loud voice and how her presence commanded the room. I didn't know it then but at the time Sonia was experiencing one of the most climactic changes of her life. At only 22 she was facing the constant possibility of deportation while maintaining the fearless and fiercest side of her in front of others that relied on her leadership and organization skills. As I got to know her more I learned another side of Sonia, a side that was slowly beginning to take form, one that needed to desperately come out. Sonia as the artist, the nurturing friend, the lover, and the writer were layers that flourished within her during one of the most liberating times of her life. When it comes to accepting the many layers of identity, Sonia represents only herself, a woman that re-defines all of the labels that were once placed on her. She teaches us that only we can define and liberate ourselves.

Emilia: Any tips for artist that are undocumented?

Sonia (Undocumenting) : Create and imagine!!!  For many of you that are coming from organizing spaces remember your work is as important.  We are coming from spaces where it was all about doing reactionary work, always working within binaries, never space to imagine beyond that or imagine what the future might look like. It is radical and revolutionary to be able to imagine, it’s a sign that we are alive and the more you create the more you regain your humanity. Be unapologetic about your creative process and your art.

                                                       Photo Credit: Eli Jacobs-Fantauzzi

Emilia: Is there such thing as a safe space? How do you create spaces that are inclusive of undocumented artists, and queer women? Why is it important to you to highlight the complex identities of artists? How do you make your pieces be a reflection of who you are as a queer woman, artist, and migrant. 

 Sonia (Undocumenting): There is never a safe space for all of our identities. At least for me, most of the spaces I have been: migrant organizations, queer spaces, creative institutions have all lacked an understanding of my complexities and understanding of my wholeness. Constantly having to check, educate, and put up with people and their lack of knowledge, understanding around all aspects of my identity is exhausting. Migrant spaces do not see my queerness, queer spaces lack understanding of what it means to be undocumented, creative spaces do not get my organizing...always getting compartmentalized.  Thus creating a loose network of artists that are undocumented/women of color/queer through undocumenting.com has allowed me to began to shape loosely a space, relationships, and community where I feel safe, where I am not shamed, where I can love and genuinely grow with folks. It is beautiful and so energizing to profile so many amazing talented artists that are undocumented, and challenge notions of what is to be an artist. As an artist that is undocumented, queer and women of color [insert here all other labels and #’s] I am constantly looking for spaces where I feel whole, where I am able to create and not be dictated only one single issue to represent. Like Audre Lorde said: “There is no such thing as a single-issue struggle because we do not live single-issue lives."  And that is important to remember specially when we look at artist and their creative process and content.  There needs to be intentional spaces for artists that are undocumented, they need to be valued as much as organizers, and academics.  We need to support each other. We deserve a healthy healing community where we can create, imagine and love. 

Emilia: What's the artistic project you are most fond of? What was your biggest take away from projects like Dreaming in Ink, that featured undocumented writers telling their coming out stories?

Sonia (Undocumenting): Dreaming In Ink writing workshops was a project I founded in early 2011 when I grew tired of my writing being on the sideline, when I saw no intentional creative space for artists that are undocumented. As a writer I gravitated towards starting a creative writing workshop that would meet every first Saturday of the month. This brought many young undocumented  people who were creative, who felt left out in policy meetings and who needed a safe space to heal.  My biggest take away was that if a space is not meeting your needs and respecting what your craft than you must leave and create that space for yourself. Even if at first it is just you, you might be surprise at how many people will start coming and craving for that space. You are not alone.  I am also happy about the UndocuWriting project at CultureStrike. In 2013 we put together the first UndocuWriting Retreat for writers that are undocumented, and now we are finishing up an anthology (Home in Time of Displacement) where all these writers are featured on. 

Emilia: How does love and sex fit into your writing and how do you write about it so unapologetically?

Sonia (Undocumenting): Coming from an organizing background, I am expected to keep my desires and needs closeted.  Shamed about my sexuality, shamed about knowing what pleases me, and shamed for knowing how to work my own body has conditioned me to place the erotic, the love, and desires to the side.  I been writing about masturbation, about sex, about what pleases my body in recent poems because I can, because I should, and because it feels good. At the same time I am also navigating my experience as someone who has been abused, whose safety has been challenged, and whose trauma is still present . All of those experiences collide in my writing. As an undocumented queer writer, I am expected to only talk about immigration and policy, but fuck that…write about it all, everything is connected, everything counts and everything from your kinky sex to your childhood memories, to your sci-fi is critical and important! Never apologize for the writing you do. 

Emilia: Can feminism be fashionable?Those that meet you never forget your style. From your vibrant nails, bold eye glasses and timeless jewelry, how do you describe your personal style? Why is personal style important to you and your identity?

Sonia (Undocumenting): My aesthetics, my presentation, my style are  intentional and I am unapologetic about it.  My body as a woman of color and as a migrant has always been debated upon, has been shamed, has been called “illegal”, has never been “enough”, or has been to “exotic”.  With that being said, everyone and this country is constantly trying to construct who I am and how I am.  At one point I was like fuck it, I am going to decide how I dress, how I present myself. It is about self-definition, and self-determination.

 Of course there are days when I do not love my body 100%.It’s been 25 years of everything around me telling me how wrong my body is, or how I do not belong. So when those moments of insecurity creeps up I try to be gentle with myself; loving who I am is an on going process. I am still finding myself, right now what I know is this: I love statement pieces so you will always catch me with some big chunky necklace and my bold glasses. I love long skirts, and bright bold colors especially on my lips. My voice is critical in many spaces so why not adorn my lips with some bright purple lipstick.  I am currently with a purpleish streak on my hair. I love being femme, I am fierce, fashionable and those are all my decisions. Reclaiming my body. My personal style is what I get to decide upon. And it is constantly evolving just like my politics and my growth. 

Emilia:  How would you describe Jean-Michel Basquiat to someone that has never heard of him? Why is Basquiat a powerful and influential artist in your life?

Sonia (Undocumenting): First thing I would say is go research him, go see his art. Go watch The Radiant Child. Basquiat is an amazing talented complicated complex artist. I learned about him years ago and then for my senior thesis in college I began to really dive into his work, life, and examine how people/institutions started to construct him. His legacy reminds me that white America is quick to claim one dimension side of you that suits their exotification and tokenizing ways. Academia, galleries, and institutions have erased:  his blackness, the influence his mother had on his artistic process, his growth and socially conscious political statements, his voice.  He reminds me that artist are a powerful act against the hegemony and oppressive systems; and one way to devalue and tame you down is by rewriting your vision, your art, and story. 

Emilia: Identities can change and transform. How do you deal with life transitions and are you dealing with any currently? How do you accept your own transitions and life changes?

Sonia (Undocumenting): Identity is fluid. At one point I was organizing as a youth, claiming young undocumented spaces.  It has been about 2 years since I transitioned out of those migrant spaces because I no longer identify as youth, and I also started leaning towards my poetry. However, there is still the culture of infantalizing of immigrants that I have to deal with, from anti-racist and also “allies”/community leaders that dehumanize migrant bodies by deciding what is “best” for them (savior complex). I also been dealing with the shaming that comes with claiming your artistic self, many organizers that I used to organize with see my current work as a cultural organizer and artist as “not enough”, not “radical”, as “cute”, and “selling out.  Undocumented folks are also in a constant battle to adjust their immigration status, and when that transition comes (if ever) there is also shaming that comes from community. It is these exact feelings and transitions that I am currently processing and trying to document.  Through poetry I try to illustrate the internal conflict/dilemma migrants specially undocumented people go through.

  After a day of crying and having a break down about my immigration case and all the mix emotions that comes with the possibility of ones undocumented status changing, my friend Stephanie Alvarado text me this: “Part of what is interesting about writing and documenting your own existence is that you do it on your own terms. The state will categorize you as one thing and erase the rest. And like the lines between documented and undocumented need to be blurred to speak to the fact that citizenship alone will not save anybody, let alone a queer women of color body”.  

Emilia: What are books that have influenced/impacted you?

Sonia (Undocumenting) : Too many to choose from.  "Zami: A New Spelling of My Name" by Audre Lorde, "We Need New Names" by  Noviolet Bulawayo, Assata an Autobiography, and "Redefining Realness" by Janet Mock. 

Emilia: 3 artist people should look up ?

Sonia (Undocumenting): Latasha Alcindor , Anu Yadav , Susana Garcia 

Where to Find: 

Sonia is currently finalizing the anthology "Home in Time of Displacement Vol.1". She has performances coming up in NY , check her social media for details. She is coordinator of the UndocuWriting Project and Artist Network at CultureStrike. 

Instagram: @theSoniaG  Tumblr: Soniaguinansaca.tumblr.com

I use both drawing and photography to search for the elements that evoke a feeling of alienation in the viewer. I do mostly self-portraits. For my drawings I use fun mirrors to distort the face, then translate that onto a larger paper or wood piece (nupastels, charcoal, markers, gesso, paint). In my photography, the fun mirrors are placed on the subjects to distort their bodies. The exaggerated figures that I create are meant to be memorable and uncomfortable. I look to display a distorted face staring at the viewer and have the viewer look away. I look to make distorted bodies be present and take over the space. Both inside and outside the gallery, I look for the "alienated other" to be unapologetic about their existence."

Who: Dominique Hernandez

Where: South American, born in Ecuador. Living in NY

Medium(s): Film photography, drawing, painting

Pieces:

Dominique was commissioned by CultureStrike to create the cover art  for "Home In Time of Displacement " Anthology Vol.1  (a collection of poems, short stories, plays and excerpts by writers who are undocumented) which drops very very soon here on Undocumenting.com 

Dominique on her creative process for the art cover: "I asked to read some of the pieces from the anthology. I was looking for imagery, items, and repeated sentiments. I was presented with the cover of Warshan Shires' "Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth" book, which serve as inspiration. When I read some of the pieces I kept thinking about convoluted thoughts, memories and faces. Also, the theme of duty, responsibility, heavy load, and strength kept coming up. I tried to project that onto the image in the cover. I used drawing pencil, a pen and a sharpie on paper.”

“Untitled (Yellow)” 

“Untitled (Three faces)” 

“Self Portrait" 

"Distortion (Split face, mirror)"

 " Woman/box"

Undocumenting:Any tips for artist that are undocumented?

Dominique: For undocumented folks who create and may or not identify as artists --find community. The mainstream was never meant for you. When you build with and for your community, you can create and open your own doors.

Undocumenting: 3 artists that inspire your work?

Dominique: Jane Alexander's "Surveys (From the Cape of Good Hope)"; Andre Kertesz's "Distortions" and Oswaldo Guayasamin.

 Poem that I like, Pablo Neruda's "Poema XV" from Veinte Poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada. Also, Mercedes Sosa's songs.

Where to find Dominique: 

Instagram: @

nonini16

 | Twitter: 

@nonini16

 | 

Facebook.com/nonini

  On Creating as Release

Creating is a form of introspection and self-analysis for me. Having grown up in a homogenous Anglo community where heteronormativity, racism and binaries reigned supreme, it was difficult for me to find my place. Instead of speaking up, I would turn to drawing, poetry or music as a way of resisting the constant demand to conform and, as a result, allow myself to expel all the relentless microaggressions that would so carelessly be thrown around. In retrospect, being confined to such a caustic environment really helped catalyze my passion to create and led me to seek out ways to harness that passion.  

  I create as a release. A release of energy, release of emotions, release of self. It’s such a paradox to feel so heavy and invisible at the same time. I just try to find some way to alleviate that. I choose creating as a form of release so that, in the end, I can feel completely exhausted and just let my mind be empty- if only for a short while. Of course, that never really happens. A new idea always pops up and it’s on to the next project. But the thought of emptying all that’s inside and basking in that emptiness is so enticing that I can’t deny myself the luxury of trying each and every time.

On Identity and Creating

As I grow and discover more about my identity and how that identity fits in the larger canvas, I’ve become more intentional in regards to what I create. As a queer, undocumented, trans person of color, I’m so acutely aware of the presence of marginalization and the importance of intersections of identities. I try to be as authentic as I can with my art, so that it reflects parts of my whole, and in turn, affirms my existence. I understand my responsibility as a “maker” to humbly tell the stories of my community, my roots and to share my own experiences. I proudly own that responsibility and with every piece I create, I want to challenge viewers to dissect, to dialogue and most importantly, to feel.

Although formally trained in architecture, I’ve always found it difficult to just focus on one form of creating. I strayed from architecture to digital graphics and even now I continue dabbling in all types of art as they all fascinate me. Anything from painting, to photography, to poetry, to videography, to baking. Keep it coming, I say. There’s no such thing as too much when it comes to creating things that make you feel good.

Who: Rommy Torrico

Where: Florida via Iquique, Chile

Medium(s): Visual art

Pieces:

“El Paletero” 

“Nunca Jamás” 

“Keep Us Together"

  "All In for 11 Million"

 "Señora Linda"

"Naked Lines Series"

Undocumenting: " Any tips for artist that are undocumented?" 

Rommy: 

1) Surround yourself with people who believe in you and constantly inspire you

2) Learn as much as you can from other artists and reach out to them

3) Ask for constructive criticism, but at the end of the day, regardless of what is said, always know that what you’ve made is a masterpiece. Be proud.

4) Never stop creating.

5) I have no idea what a real artist is. All I know is that if you’ve got passion, creativity and the desire to make things that come from your heart, then you are an artist. That’s real enough for me.

Undocumenting: 3 books that have influenced/impacted you?Rommy: Aleph by Paulo Coelho, All About Love: New Visions by bell hooks, and  Salt by Nayyirah Waheed

Undocumenting: Artist that inspire your work?

Rommy: Carlos Cortez, Dasic Fernandez, Marie Jiménez, Beehive Collective, Brigada Ramona Parra

Where to Find Rommy: 

You can find more of Rommy’s art and ramblings on their 

Instagram: @

rommyyy123

 or 

Paquitotuntun.Tumblr.com

 . Rommy is a volunteer at the Collier County Neighborhood Stories Project. You can support CCNSP by purchasing Rommy’s art at 

www.collierstoriesmatter.org.

To view more of their work: 

I choose painting/visual art because expressing myself visually has been something that always came easy to me, tho at the root of it is a love for using any medium to create and make our feelings and thoughts known. So I dabble a little in poetry too. Despite this, appreciating my own skills, listening to myself has and continues to be a difficult process. But every difficulty is worth it."

Who: Mel Beltrán

Where: Little Rock, AR by way of Mexico City

Medium(s): Painting, Drawing, Writing

Pieces:

“Comandante Ramona” Acrylic, 2014

“Migration as…” Tempera and markers, 2014

“Fuck your borders

” Watercolor & ballpoint pen, 2014

"Assimilation" 

Digital painting  

Undocumenting: " Any tips for artist that are undocumented?" 

Mel: "As someone who lives in a southern city with very few to no QTPOC spaces, finding queer/undocumented artists of color online and in social media has been incredibly encouraging and liberating. My tips especially for budding-artists in the south or isolated from bustling cultural places: look, and follow artists/creators like you on twitter, tumblr, send them msgs when you’re not so hesitant, and show off online the stuff you really enjoyed making, even when you don’t think it’s that great. 

I still deal with tons of self-doubt, but finding other queer, undocumented artists, hearing their stories and my own experiences resonating in their words makes the self-doubt disappear un poco, and inspires and empowers me to keep growing, making and hopefully doing my part to keep cultural spaces for artists of color alive here." 

Undocumenting: 3 books that have influenced/impacted you

Mel: Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks 2)Decolonizing trans/gender 101 by b. binaohan , and 3)Making Face, Making Soul Haciendo Caras by Gloria Anzaldúa

Undocumenting: 3 artist people should look up ?

Mel: Nia King, Breena Nuñez, and Alma Lopez 

Where to Find: 

Instagram: 

@xicxbanda 

  Tumblr 

icxbanda.tumblr.com 

  Twitter: 

Quien: Alex Aldana 

Donde: Mexico y California 

Medio artístico: Escritor

En Sus Palabras: Porque Escribo...

Escribo en mi lengua verdadera,decolonizando mi propio ser,  mas allá de las fronteras impuestas por la conformidad. En donde mis narraciones no ocupan comprobante academico, ni titulo, ni tesis que las respalde. Porque es el fruto de la tierra que trabajo.Es la cosecha radical de mi conciencia que me invita a crecer y luchar, reclamando mi indigenidad, Joteria, y creatividad como ser humano. Es mi desobediencia a la ausencia de vivir arodillado bajo  pólizas de injusticia que intentan erradicar mi cultura y opinion.

Escribo porque soy complicado y solo así encuentro una explicación. Porque desde chico le escribo a mi otro yo, para conservar mi sanidad mental en este desorden llamado realidad. Donde el hablar de lo feo, de lo crudo y lo imperfecto

mantiene un balance congruente en la paleta de colores y opresión. Porque mi Puteria es mas congruente que la hetero-normatividad que existe en los matrimonios de mismo sexo.

Porque mi voz representa lo mas preciado de mi esencia; nunca se sembrara o modificada  para asimilarse al conceptos como lo es nacionalismo o patriotismo. Escribo porque no quiero ser Amerikano. Porque existo, puedo hablar por mi mismo, y mi dignidad y justicia no se venderá por ningún sueno, ni se compra con ningún permiso de trabajo. Porque mas allá de la homophobia  y privilegio, reconozco el trauma generacional heredado: porque se que mi piel es mestiza. Porque escribir es mi único sustento.

Dándome la autonomía, respeto y responsabilidad propia de entregar mi alma a la comunidad. Porque cada grito escrito es un canto que quiero transmitir en mi propia frecuencia, aniquilando los paralelos del enemigo que intentan negar nuestra existencia.

Escribo porque en veces tengo miedo de mi mismo. Escribo porque soy imperfecto. Escribo porque tengo ganas de pedirte perdón y de sanar con tus anécdotas. Escribo por que me amo a mi mismo.

Porque se que no puedo represento a los miles que están cansados de leer el mismo cuentito con la cabeza abajo, Sin embargo, me regozo en las sombras de rebeldía en este mi culto como  escudo que mantiene mi frente en alto para seguir escribiendo con el  corazón y humildad. Escribo porque se que algún día alzaras tus puños en alto y también tu lo harás. sin vergüenza.

Transcribir es mi Medicina. Porque finalmente entendiendo que esta vida es temporal, y como futuros ancestros pasamos la antorcha de la inspiración a nuestros sucesores, hablando de las derrotas y las lecciones aprendidas de la vida y los desamores como cuento Oral, cantando la misma rebeldía por la eternidad.

Escribo porque tengo demonios que contarte, y ya te espero desde hace tiempo con la taza de café esperando tu reciprocación.  Pintando estrofas y versos en los cuales lo imperfecto es divino, y la esperanza  de libertad es fresca.

Escribo porque no lo hice ayer y el Hoy es revelador. Porque yo se que la palabra de nuestras Verdad conjuga una Resistencia ancestral narrada mas allá de nuestra generación.

Escribo porque nadie lo ara por mi. Porque Es mi responsabilidad cargar esta pluma con tinta de sangre infinita,  jurando que cada palabra se enrede en tu pensamiento. Que por cada rechazo, se desplace ágil y silenciosamente. Que por cada decapitación de la palabra crezcan otras dos con tal destreza, Inesperada.

Porque mis trazos de mis campos de papel quieren emigrar y germinar hasta los fines del mundo donde existe la esperanza. Hasta que cada echo tenga coherencia y llene de lagrimas tu mirada, con la potencia  oral atómica de los mas afectaos,

Escribo por que estamos e guerra. Escribo porque soy paz.

Hasta que el enemio termine de leer estas oraciones, sin putos, acentos ni renglones, como primera y ultima advertencia. Y me mire fijo. Hasta que cada bala trate de infringir y destrozar mi forma corporal, De pie, allí estaré siempre. Listo, lleno de poesía, con una sonrisa quebrada, con lo ultimo que me queda en este mundo apuntándole directo al alma, con cuaderno y lápiz como armas sagradas, bajo el moribundo atardecer ,mas Peligroso que nunca, disparando solamente una palabra como tiro de gracia y un suspiro que grita libertad.

  Photo: January 2014 -Palenque, Chiapas after attending la Escuelita Zapatista EZLN 

Poem: excerpt from "La Tierra Que Fue y sera"

Vuelvo a escribir con conciencia a mi tierra En un canto de flores marimachas, mientras me penetra La primavera. Y el amor es cosecha…

de Cuando caminaba calles vacías, de las memorias del Tejuino, de cogidas y maletas, los elotes frescos y las mamadas secas de Resistencia al desamor.

Es el amanecer, es el anochecer. Es la Luna y el sol haciendo el amor, hasta que los dos se cacen, y se besen, en veces… en una explosion infinita. Es Como venirse a tambos de leche fresca por la vía láctea. para volver a comenzar como lo hago hoy, como lo hice ayer. desde cero, con la bendición de mi(s)madre(s) con trabajo y un Nuevo amanecer,

Mi ‘Ama sigue chingandole, esta cancion no dejara de sonar, para volver a estallar en este canto antiguo y legendario que se nos olvida  recitar.

Photo: Old picture of Alex's mom in Guadalajara

Piece: Open Letter to my mother  , Why I left the United States/ Self-Deported?

¿Por qué dejarlo todo asi nomas? Tu diras.  Aun recuerdo esa oración en nuestra ultima platica cuando tus ojos calleron derrotados diciendo simplemente. “Me dejas Sola”.  Es un costal de piedras que venimos cargando desde hace años, y Yo, como ser vulnerable, me eh cansado de internalizarlo. Mi primer plegaria será para pedirte confianza plena. Se que tengo una estrategia, y al final del dia te gustara saberla. Continua leyendo....continue reading here. 

Decidi Autodeportarme por que me gane de valor, nada mas, asi de simple.

Te tirabas de la riza y entre seriedad, me preguntabas.- ¿Cuándo dejara de viajar? ¿Cuándo regresaras a casa? Aveces me lo preguntaba yo mismo.

                               *For full letter continue reading: HERE 

Undocumenting: What do you want ppl to understand about your open letter to your mom on having self deported?

Alex Aldana: I'd like ppl to understand that I'm no longer going to wait for a government to tell me when and how in going to be able to go back to my home country, and that this act of migration goes beyond politics, it's healing and medicine, and with that amount of courage I want to focus my work on the 2.1 million deported folks that have been displaced from their homes and families, humanizing the issue of migration as something that " cannot be fixed nor controlled"...It's a human journey. 

Undocumenting: What are some books you recommend?

Alex Aldana: You Get So Alone at Times That It Just Makes Sense- Charles Bukowsky, The House on mango street-Sandra Cisneros, La muerte y Otras Sorpresas -Mario benedetti, Entrada Libre. Crónicas de la sociedad que se organiza-Carlos Monsivais 

Undocumenting & Alex Aldana: We been reflecting on Chimamanda Adichie "Danger of a single story" and We Need New Names (a novel by Noviolet Bulawayo) it led me to thinking about how we tell our stories; what language we choose to use not because it is the language we feel comfortable with but because it makes people feel comfortable and we are told  "stories are told in English" and negates the possibility or any room for our stories to be told in our tongue.  Intentionally we set out to make this artist profile in Spanish and leave the poem's in its original form with no translation or subtitles. 

Comenzando un nuevo despertar refleccionando el trabajo de Chimamanda Adichie, “Peligros de una sola historia” y “Nosotros necesitamos nuevos nombres”, cautivo mi pensamiento al describir y analizar como procesamos y compartimos nuestras propias historias; desde el lenguaje que optamos por usar no solamente por ser la lengua que estamos mas agusto a compartir, sino por darle gusto a otra gente. Muchas veces nos an dicho que “Para ser entendidos, nuestras historias deven que ser dichas en Ingles”. Esta nocion iega la posibilidad de imaginar y de humanizar la posibilidad de compartir nuestras historias con nuestra propia audiencia en nuestra propia lengua.Aun asi, siento que la lengua verdadera y mi identidad ya fue colonoizada 500 anos atrás una vez, y no pienso apropiarla una nueva mes mas por otra lengua. Mi historia entonces, será dicha a mi manera, sin subtitulos ni traducciones. Esas serán tareas de otros para comprender mi complejidad y dimensiones como escritor.

Alex Aldana: 

Photo: Outside  "home" in Guadalajara, Jalisco. 1994

Where to Find:  Facebook  , Instagram, Lgbthealthequity.wordpress.com, Myqulture.com (Qulture is  a Queer-Trans blog collective and multimedia site that serves as a vehicle to the voices of our communities of color with topics relevant to our lives).  

He was also part of the 2013 CultureStrike's UndocuWriting Retreat Cohort .

Who: Emilia Fiallo 

Where: Brooklyn, New York by way of Ecuador

Medium(s): Poetry-Writing , painting, hair braiding 

Pieces:

Poem- Braid 

Las mujeres indigenas de Otavalo no se cortan el pelo.

Their hair is a display of sacred womanhood.

It is a genetic makeup that runs from root to tip as testament to an infinite history of resistance.

It’s a reminder of life after the death of our abuelitos.

  Separating three strands of hair we begin weaving our hair into one single braid.

One by one the strands intersect, overlap, and cross to form a single braid.

A single identity.

My mother was born from these women

And she was raised by these mujeres,

Carrying the same braid

The same language,

The same curved nose and high cheek bones,

The same sun-kissed skin,

The same love for the land.

  She left this land to reunite with our father,

Mountains replaced with tall steel buildings,

Fresh air replaced with the classic city smog.

Home was replaced with a one room apartment,

Where people claimed she looked too Ecuadorian

Too Ecuadorian.

Shamed her about her dark skin

Censored her Quechua songs,

And stained her beautiful smile.

And the lone braid that rested on her back became a dangerous connection to her indigenous roots.

  The towel wrapped around her neck,

Her small body on a stool looking at me and my sister as the scissors cut through the thickness of her coarse hair.

Finally done, her braid fell on the floor the falling of a tree,

Like the death of a silent story.

They cut my mother’s hair thinking that she wouldn’t bleed,

That her beauty could be erased.

  Thirteen years later, my mother never grew her hair back,

But I did.

She holds my long black hair in her rough hands- rough from working a foreign land,

And splits my hair into three strands,

Teaching me that one strand overlaps the other,

The middle one moves to the right and the other moves under.

I feel my grandmother in my mother’s presence

As I run my fingers through their stories interlaced in my beautiful braid. 

Poem: The Wait

            Staring down at the murky water, I watched bits of leftover food floating about like aimless ships in the open sea. My mother came to empty out the bucket of dirty water, while my eyes remained fixed on these aimless ships now cascading down the street’s drain. Titanic, I thought.

“I’m almost done here. I just have to bring this bucket back inside,” she said.

I nodded while I saw her go back inside. At work, her face remained rigid and her legs moved mechanically, like she was careful not to be herself.

            She stepped out of the restaurant, swinging her handbag over her shoulder and slipping a card into her right pocket. She looked tired so I put on my best smile. I gave her the usual hug and kiss we had become accustomed to every time we saw each other. My mother had worked a 10 hour shift, and I had promised to pick her up from work. I noticed she had a burn near her right elbow. I looked at it and asked “What happened this time,” with the same tone she used when she would notice something I had tried to hide.

“I am a short woman. I will ask for a step stool next time. Better yet I will ask for a ladder. What do you think about that,” my mother said smiling and we both laughed.

The bus came and we rode on it quietly. Her arms crossed and her eyes closed, her head swayed from side to side catching herself every time her head fell. Finally, surrendering to sleep she rested her head on my shoulder until we reached our final stop.

As we reached our house, we stood at the doorstep rummaging through both of our bags in search of the keys. I depended on mom to always carry the house keys, and this time she had forgotten them inside. I depend on her for everything, I thought.  Locked out from home I sat on the doorstep.

“What are we supposed to do now Ma?” I said.

“We wait” she said.

Sitting next to me she pulled a phone card from her pocket and called home.

Our home in Ecuador, just to say “hello,” wishing they would be the ones to open the door. 

  Undocumenting: " Any tips for aspiring writers?" 

Emilia: "My advice to young writers would be to listen first and write later. Take a minute to realize your parents still own their voices. Remember to be honest when you write even if it's painful to confess. Never listen to the negative comments on the bottom of your English essay telling you to change your views. Share with beautiful people that really care about you. And always take a day to recharge, because I know writing is hard, it takes courage." 

Undocumenting: "3 Books everyone should read?"

Emilia: "Malcolm X autobiography, Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe, The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros "

Where to Find: 

Political statements and statements about sexuality are at the forefront of my work i.e. immigration, AIDS, and queer identity. Through these outlets, I aim not only able to reclaim my personal narrative, but to creatively reconstruct history.  Through the reassembly of imagery: colonial propaganda, indigenous codexes, consumer print media, I create new iconography presenting alternative and relevant understandings of colonialism, culture, sex, etc. Beyond the copious use of printmaking to radically expand my work, I am interested in experimentation, not only in printmaking processes but also in conceptualizing the print.

Belonging to a population that is often excluded and condemned, printmaking becomes a response to the exclusionary history books, religious propaganda, and magazines populating my upbringing.  The print and its ability to be infinitely reproduced re-assumes the tools of system for subversion and to insert condemned and excluded people with which I identify into the larger national conversation to provide the missing pages.

Who: Felipe Baeza

Where: Brooklyn, New York by way of Guanajuato, Mexico

Medium(s): Print, Collage, Mixed Media

Pieces:

Felipe's print, "Undocumented, Unafraid, Queer, Unashamed" is a selected print in the limited-edition Migration Now fine art portfolio.

  An Undocumented Artist from Josh Davis on Vimeo.

Felipe was the subject of the short documentary "An Undocumented Artist" by journalist Josh Davis.

  Objeto de la Nueva España 3, 2011| felipebaeza.com

Calaveritas, 2011| felipebaeza.com

  Untitled, 2007

  Where to Find:

Twitter | Website | Migration Now Portfolio

Felipe was also arrested in Georgia in 2011 as part of an act of civil disobedience, along with five other undocumented youth.

Who: Alan Pelaez Lopez

Where: Boston, MA via Mexico City (Afro Indigenous)

Medium: Writing and Jewelry Design

Pieces:

Poem "Speak"

Open your mouth

Go ahead, I give you permission to call me a jota

Una marica

And a faggot

Tell me I’ll never be like you

Call me ese negro pendejo

That nigger

Spick

And illegal

Teach me to beg my mom to get me contacts

But not clear contacts

You know, those that’ll keep me safe from harassment

The blue ones

So I can be like most of my class

The ones that will make a father say  

“That’s my son

With the clear blue eyes”

Instead of a broken healthcare system

That will refuse to provide me care

So when I am in High School

I am working on the streets

For white men that exoticize me

and exploit my undocumented body

Only to pay for those thick frames

That will dress the wounds in my eyes

And allow me to visibly see my reality

Which is that of the WHITE man teaching us to hate ourselves

And conditioning us to think

That WE are disgusting

WE are trash

WE are nothing

But no! No! NO!

I will no longer be your sexual fantasy

You will no longer rape my mind with colonial ideas

I will no longer allow you to masturbate at our struggle

And cum at every suicide, deportation, and the suffrage of our communities

We are FUCKING beautiful

And if we have to, we will sharpie in our existence in every textbook

And make sure we hold YOU

AND each other

accountable

We are not MACHINES

We will not work as a FORD assembly line

Continuing the cyclical violence

Of your disgusting imperial trap

We will de-colonize

Remythologize

And re-create our education

Because we are BEAUTIFUL

Your ideas, are nothing

But a constant reminder

Of what it means to

SURVIVE

In a system were your existence is radical

Your voice— a crime

Your thoughts— a lethal weapon

And your heart— illegal.

I give you permission to no longer hide your thoughts.

Because I, I will not hide mine.

I will speak.

Jewelry 

  Where to Find: Facebook  | Tumblr |Jewelry Website| Jewelry on FB

[On why theater and playwriting] 

Because I love collaborative storytelling. When you share a story where others are needed to make it happen, it's more impactful for everyone. I also believe there is something magical about live performance that human beings crave.There's an electricity that can only happen in that space where you know that real breathing people are living a story, witnessing it.

Who: May Liang

Where: Berkeley, CA via China

Medium: Writing, Theater-making

Pieces:

Short scene from full-length play "Pledge of Allegiance"

Poem: “Dream No More”

I am not your Dream.

I am not a figment of this nation’s imagination.

I am not a fetishized political doll.

I am not just a story.

I am a human being.

If you prick me, I bleed.

If you hurt me, I weep.

If you wound me, I heal.

If you harm me, I fight.

Don’t fit me in a box that cannot contain me.

Don’t shove words into my mouth that don’t represent me.

Don’t sell me out and think that you own me.

I will not be another notch on your belt.

No matter how hard you make it, I will not budge.

I do not Dream.

I Live.

Where to Find:  Facebook 

May is currently the campaign organizer for Asian Students Promoting Immigrant Rights through Education (ASPIRE).  ASPIRE is the first Asian Pacific Islander Undocumented Youth led organization in the Nation. You can find them on Twitter and FB. 

"Stolen Lands" is my coming out story, which I first performed at the March 2010 immigration rally that took place in DC. It has now been converted into song format and I hope to retire it with all the ugly and painful experiences of being Pilipina and undocumented in the Midwest."

Who: Stephanie "Soultree" Anne Ladrera Camba(nationofthangs)

Where: Chicago, IL via Majuro, Marshall Islands via Manila, Philippines

Medium: writing, spoken word, storytelling, singing, mixed media

Pieces:

Stolen Lands  

  "Sampaguita is one of my first attempts at visual art that mixed ancient Pilipino text, Baybayin, passport imagery, blurred relationships with nation-states and individuals, wrapping paper, charcoal, and pencil."

Other pieces include: Home: Act 1 Scene 23, and you can read more of her poetry on Soultreecambanation.wordpress.com. Brown and Proud Press published featured two of Stephanie's pieces on their Zine "On Struggle" 2nd Edition on "Self-Care". 

Where to Find: Twitter  | Facebook | Wordpress | YouTube 

You can also find Stephanie creating amazing music with the band Elephant Rebellion  . Elephant Rebellion is a collective of artist, writers, and activists, who use their talents to spread social justice and youth empowerment. This collective was inspired by the drive and integrity of the late John Vietnam Nguyen who said, "The elephant is an emblem, representing the displacement we face as members of society. Elephants roam in packs, unified by mutual feelings, whether they are complacent or oppressed, and sound their yawp – bellowing and beautiful.” Their music can be found on SoundCloud. 

Stephanie was also part of CultureStrike's first UndocuWriting Retreat this past summer. 

We often hear of singular narratives, cherry-picked for use in talking points and sound bites:

The broader non-profit-led, campaign-focused immigrant rights narrative that narrowly deems exemplary people who want to give back to American society - Dream Act superstars and high-achieving students, the gainfully employed and able-bodied, the high-skilled STEM workers - as the ones worthy of citizenship.

The societal narrative, driven by mainstream media, of the border-wall-jumping criminal alien, the drug cartel-funded gang member, the societal scapegoat seeking services, the dangerous terrorist OR the extreme pole of the harmonious melting pot as a nation of (properly assimilated) immigrants. In other words, the continuous equating the immigrant with the notion of the Other, whether in a positive or negative light, and thus continuing to couch the conversation in “Us vs. Them.”

The limited and often biased histories taught in the education system that fail to reflect the full history of U.S. mistreatment of immigrants - from the Chinese Exclusion Act, the bracero program and Japanese-American internment, to the wave of hate crimes against Muslims post-9/11 and the resumed deportations of Haitians after the devastating earthquake of 2010.

But why are these narratives told? Who do these stories serve? With such a large population of undocumented immigrants, politically and in the absence of a legislative solution, the problem needs to be reconciled by attempting to explain it away. Hence storytelling occurs within a politically-driven bubble and many aspects of the undocumented experience are excluded for their inability to jive with messaging. Sometimes to assimilate is an act of survival in and of itself, and that process of fitting in can be played out through regurgitating these limiting narratives, akin to ironing the accents from our tongues. Also, by using these narratives to paint a damning and derogatory picture of what it means to be undocumented, fear and shame become useful tools to keep immigrants “in the shadows,” for worry of exposing themselves to be that which has now been deemed taboo.

The Stories We Are Telling About Ourselves

Many have fought back against this one-dimensional telling of our experience, through coming out as undocumented, working tirelessly to stop countless deportations, using civil disobedience, establishing local grassroots groups to provide a support and safety space, and so on.

But there are other stories about ourselves that we would like to tell - the awkwardness of dating; our struggles with depression and mental health; the lack of visibility of the non-Latino undocumented population; sexuality, sexual orientation, gender and gender expression; navigating academia…

There are many ways we tell these stories - in conversation, through art, through political action, through working to survive and exist outside of the system which denies us full participation. For example:  

We are multifaceted and greater than the sum of the parts (and the papers) that we lack. We are not defined solely by that which is missing in our lives. This notion of being more than just undocumented has been reflected in the conversations around moving past the DREAMer identity, and the parallel evolution of undocumented, unafraid, unashamed, unapologetic, and undocuqueer.

Through greater visibility of community college students, dropouts, and alternative education seekers, propelled by the diversification of stories within deportation case narratives and projects like 67 Suenos, we continue to push back on the notion that only high-achieving students are worthy (of inclusion, of opportunity, of citizenship).

Our stories are becoming more intergenerational, evolving past the Criminal Parents/Innocent Children dichotomy of past messaging. Through the participation of parents in civil disobedience actions and projects like Dream Moms and the UndocuBus, the wisdom and history within our families are being woven into our collective narrative.

We are moving our vision beyond legislation, and now beyond borders even, and challenging the systemic faults migration lies rooted in - imperialism, the proliferation of neoliberalism and globalization, trade agreements, predatory and discriminatory state & local level policies, white supremacy, a massive detention and deportation machine, and the non-profit industrial complex, amongst other things.

These stories, and many others, are being told to establish and strengthen a counter-narrative, to ensure that stories about us are being told by us, directly from our lived experiences as people affected by lack of legal status. We use storytelling as a tool of empowerment, as a way to guide dialogue in the direction that is desired and needed by our communities, not the direction forced upon us for other motives. We also use these stories to be more inclusive and intentional of the various needs and priorities of those within the undocumented community whose voices are most marginalized.

Through self-initiated blogs, artistic expression and the production of creative works, collaborations with independent artists and media makers who highlight our direct experiences within a formal framework, and direct action that carries with it a new message, we are reframing, reshaping and taking back these conversations around our experience. It is in these various ways that we participate in undocumenting, and immigrants have been undocumenting since they have been on the move, leaving stories in the footprints behind them.

                                                Photo credit: Favianna.com

The Vehicle of Art

Art, through its many mediums, is one way we can lift our stories and our voices. We want to use this platform to highlight the creative work that has been and continues to be done by undocumented people around any and all subject matters (not just migration), and in our own way, contribute to shifting the narrative about our community to a more authentic and holistic one.

Undocumenting aims to really explore and critically analyze the evolution of these parallel narratives  - the stories told about us and by us. The spirit of undocumenting, to me, is captured in these counter narratives that are based on personal and direct experience. It is important that we document and archive our own process of undocumenting, to ensure that our stories and history are not easily replaceable by those who work to silence us. We should also celebrate and collectively share our own modes of self expression, so that we may learn new forms of resistance from one another.

  The goal of this project is seven-fold:

1. To collect, curate, uplift and centralize, in an accessible space, the body of creative work around the undocumented experience.

2. To highlight the multidimensional nature of the undocumented population and to reinforce the point that we are capable of telling our own stories, in a myriad of ways.

3. To listen to the different answers of “Why create?”

Some of us have come to art as a way to grapple with our undocumented reality, while some of us have used art as an escape from that same reality. For others, the inspiration to create may come from an entirely different place. To better understand why (and how) we create is also to dispel stereotypes of what it means to be an artist.

4. To explore the many uses (and benefits) of art: as a means of survival, a political tool, or a mode of self-expression, amongst other things. In the same vein, we’d also like to explore the links between art and activism, and the role art plays in movement building.

5. To explore the dichotomy of art created directly by undocumented people as opposed to art that touches on the undocumented experience by documented folks.

6. To compile relevant and accessible resources for artists looking to grow in their craft or polish up on a skill subset.

7. To act as the base of an undocumented creative collective, where artists and activists alike can network, share their work, receive feedback, collaborate on original content and build community.

We also hope to explore the various ways in which documented people have approached the storytelling of the undocumented experience, and to ask ourselves - Is this perspective harmful or helpful? When is it supportive and when is it problematic? How can these voices work in harmony and not dischord?

Chimamanda Adichie has warned of the “danger of a single story.” The undocumented experience is neither homogeneous nor monolithic; its beauty lies in its variety, in its complexity and sometimes in its contradiction, in its stubborn refusal to be easily defined and thus confined, and in the many songs that make up its soundtrack. We are migrants yet we are more.

For some of us, writing has been an outlet to explore these various parts of ourselves and our experiences, yet spaces and opportunities to improve our craft as writers who happen to be undocumented are very limited. We believe the narratives we are building around the migrant experience should be a broad and inclusive one, for we hold in precarious balance many other identities.

This UndocuWriting Retreat is an intensive writing workshop for undocumented writers, powered by the pro-migrant arts organization, CultureStrike. It aims to create a safe space where our migrant experiences – in all their complexity – are acknowledged and celebrated; where the cultural references in our writing, be they direct or discreet, are heard and understood.

While the immigrant rights movement has grown and built tremendous power through grassroots organizing, many of our stories still remain unwritten and unspoken, our voices silenced and excluded from public conversations around what it means to live in the United States.  

Through this series of writing workshops, we seek to:

Foster opportunities to dig deeper into ourselves – our identities, our struggles, and our realities – and the various ways being undocumented have shaped us, and subsequently shape our writing.

Explore writing outside (but still conscious) of the realm of politics and organizing around immigrant rights; to broaden the perspectives from which we approach our writing and to allow ourselves to be read and recognized in all of our humanity.

Build a linked web of spaces of support for undocumented writers across the country, enabling us to share this form of art as a means of survival, self-care, resistance, self-expression and a tool of empowerment with our communities.

Together during this workshop, we will:

Be introduced to the literary world, where we learn about different styles of writing, read and dissect works from authors of color, share learned practices, and learn to find (or create) a welcoming writing space in your local area.

Gain much-needed access to mentors, skills and resources to grow as writers and to develop our own projects.

Work on daily writing assignments, both in groups and during independent studio time. We will also have opportunities to revise and improve current works.

Publicly read/perform our writing in a community art event at the conclusion of the workshop, and learn to speak our words into existence.

Create an anthology, a living archive of our work from the workshop to be shared between ourselves, future workshop participants, and within our communities.

APPLICATION PROCESS

http://jotform.co/form/31746223134851 

Ten writers will be selected to participate in the UndocuWriting Retreat.  To be eligible to participate in this workshop, you must:

Be an undocumented migrant.

Have at least 1-2 pieces of published or unpublished writing  (creative writing, news article, commentary, and more). Pieces can be in any language as long as an English translation is provided.*

Be deeply invested in improving your writing craft

Be available for the full length of the retreat and be present during the entire workshop.

The retreat is scheduled for August 14-17, 2013, and travel will take place on August 13, 2013. Return travel will take place on August 18, 2013.

* Please note: Workshops will be led in English but writers are encouraged to write in the language they feel most comfortable expressing themselves in.

Your application will be reviewed by a panel of writing experts and artists engaged in social change work. Please note that this is not a writing contest. Your writing samples and application responses will equally be taken into consideration.

Applications are due by midnight PST Friday, July 12, 2013 and finalists will be notified by July 15, 2013.

Travel and lodging will be provided for all workshop participants, and there is no fee to apply. There are 10 available seats for undocumented writers. The retreat will take place at the EastSide Arts Alliance in Oakland, California. Meals are included and have selections in the cafeteria for special diets, such as gluten-free and vegan.

Only completed applications are eligible for review.

Who: Julio Salgado

Where: Berkeley, California by way of Ensenada, Mexico

Medium(s): Visual art

Piece(s):

Billboard on the corner of Bryant and 24th in the Mission District of San Francisco, for June 2013. 

Dia de Los Muertos Mujeres

Illustrations for Papers the Book, from the makers of Papers the Movie

Black Girl Dangerous Illustration

  Undocumented Apparel Series

Where to find: