Photo credit: Getty Images |
By guest poet Marisol
León
Let
my students teach you about violent inequality, warfare, and repression.
About
armed struggles fought against U.S.-backed militaries in their native
countries, and the murders of their brothers and sisters in L.A. neighborhoods-turned-war-zones.
About
death. Displaced families. Fear. Sleepless nights. The sound of el tiro de
gracia.
Let
them teach you about the war of terror waged against their ancestors.
About
countless narratives of resistance, including those found in the obituaries of
their great grandmothers, uncles, and classroom “legends.”
About
the African Diaspora—un pedacito de la historia negra,/de la historia
nuestra to the sound of Afro-Colombian rhythms and beats.
Let
them teach you about unfair and unjust immigration laws.
About
their parents’ forced migration, the vast majority dragged by
that/monstrous, technical/industrial giant called/Progress/and Anglo success…
About
their parents’ sacrifices and unfulfilled dreams… how painful it is to accept
that for them life […] ain't been no crystal stair.
Let
them teach you about the cuts to their education, and no, they’re not just
referring to the current “budget crisis.”
About
the inefficiency of tracking and test scores, and how a classmate never
identified as “gifted and talented” fought his way into a Stanford program for
gifted youth.
About
endurance and strength of mind, let them remind you that you’re pretty
young, so keep living your dream and don’t let no little pink slip stop you
from what you want.
Let
them teach you about past and future revolutions, and their visions for other
worlds and utopian societies.
About
their wants and needs: Wouldn’t you like to have clean streets, no violence,
a government that tells the truth, a community that values peace?
About
the steps they are taking to make sure their voices are heard and their worlds
are built.
Let
them teach you the meaning of solidarity, environmental justice, and grassroots
development.
About
their Solidarity Garden… and how the
organic seeds they once planted are now strawberries, squash, cilantro, and
tall stalks of maize.
About
setting aside differences and working collectively—guided by common values of
respect, humility, and human dignity.
Let
them teach you about fighting for their rights through community organizing,
never forgetting that our word is our weapon.
About
marching, protesting, and staging a sit-in and walkout—all despite the
criminalization of student activism on campus.
About
the protest chants and gritos that brought together students, teachers, and
parents, as new words […] formed,/Bitter/With the past/ But sweet/With the
dream.
Let
my little brothers and sisters teach you…
All
they have taught me.
[Author’s note: I used to teach with the Los Angeles Unified School District. In 2009, I was laid off due to the budget cuts and wrote the poem below for my students as a parting thank you gift. I shared it with them on the last day of school. Everything in italics either comes from a piece we read in our English class, or from my students' writing. “Let Them Teach You” first appeared in Diálogo, an interdisciplinary, blind refereed journal published since 1996 by the Center for Latino Research at DePaul University in Chicago.]
[Author’s note: I used to teach with the Los Angeles Unified School District. In 2009, I was laid off due to the budget cuts and wrote the poem below for my students as a parting thank you gift. I shared it with them on the last day of school. Everything in italics either comes from a piece we read in our English class, or from my students' writing. “Let Them Teach You” first appeared in Diálogo, an interdisciplinary, blind refereed journal published since 1996 by the Center for Latino Research at DePaul University in Chicago.]
***
ABOUT THE
AUTHOR:
The daughter of immigrant parents, both born and raised in rural Jalisco,
Mexico, Marisol León is a proud Chicana from Mid-City Los Angeles. Her older
sister, Susana, helped raise Marisol and instilled in her a sense of
responsibility to use her education as a vehicle for community empowerment. As
a first generation college student at Yale, Marisol founded La Fuerza,
Yale's Latin@ Student News Magazine; her work on the publication was later
recognized by The National Association of Hispanic Journalists through its
Rubén Salazar Memorial Scholarship. While studying Latin American campesino
social movements in college, Marisol traveled, researched and lived with
Brazil's Landless Rural Workers' Movement. After graduation, she spent a year
in Chiapas, Mexico, organizing indigenous and campesino communities with
Friends of the Earth-Mexico.
After a year of informal teacher training in popular education, Marisol returned to Mid-City Los Angeles to work as an educator at her former middle school. A passionate writer, she has published autobiographical pieces, editorials, and research articles in the Los Angeles Times; Windows into My World: Latino Youth Write Their Lives; Yale Journal of Latin American Studies; Harvard Journal on Racial & Ethnic Justice; Diálogo, a publication of the Center for Latino Policy Research at DePaul University; and an upcoming piece in the Inter-American and European Human Rights Journal. Marisol is a graduate of Berkeley Law School (Boalt Hall), Loyola Marymount University’s School of Education, and Yale College. She is happiest when surrounded by former students, family, and loved ones; while listening to oldies, norteñas (Cornelio Reyna, Cadetes, Las Jilguerillas, Ramon Ayala), and 90s hip-hop; and when she gets to make her beautiful 16-month-old godson laugh again and again. And again.
After a year of informal teacher training in popular education, Marisol returned to Mid-City Los Angeles to work as an educator at her former middle school. A passionate writer, she has published autobiographical pieces, editorials, and research articles in the Los Angeles Times; Windows into My World: Latino Youth Write Their Lives; Yale Journal of Latin American Studies; Harvard Journal on Racial & Ethnic Justice; Diálogo, a publication of the Center for Latino Policy Research at DePaul University; and an upcoming piece in the Inter-American and European Human Rights Journal. Marisol is a graduate of Berkeley Law School (Boalt Hall), Loyola Marymount University’s School of Education, and Yale College. She is happiest when surrounded by former students, family, and loved ones; while listening to oldies, norteñas (Cornelio Reyna, Cadetes, Las Jilguerillas, Ramon Ayala), and 90s hip-hop; and when she gets to make her beautiful 16-month-old godson laugh again and again. And again.
1 comment:
This poem/essay is impressive although too militant for my taste. But I'm touched that you spent one year in Chiapas, because my Mexican novel is about a young woman from Chiapas. Maybe you can come back to LA BLOGA and post about your year in Chiapas or share a short story or poems about Chiapas, or maybe tell here where I can look for it online. I am familiar with modern Norteno music like Priscila y Sus Balas but it's nice to get names of older Norteno music. best wishes, Marisol, with all your writings.
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