West Coast (for 5,000 years). Reposted from Shades of Silence
From our births, we are destined to be muxeristas–cultural carriers for the survival of our people(s). We came out of war zones and rebellions where self-defense is our decolonial methodologies. Descendants of fire-breathers and healers, children of the sun, seventh generation walking amongst the dead, we reflect our ancestors’ war chants as we face the future. With Circle A black & brown flags, drums and a conch, we lead the long walk out of 520 years of darkness and into sunrise. Their empire decays as we give light to the night.
From ashes to fire in each colorful stroke, out of a black hole I came, given breath in Zihuatanejo (Cihuatlán): Guerrero within the colonial nation-state of Mexico, alone I came into this world the same way I will go: bleeding, screaming and gasping to breathe light on the same earth walked by my grandmothers’. Defending what is sacred and deeply rooted in the beauty of our peoples’ struggle of survival, we come from a place invaded by guns, war and ongoing systematic femicide/genocide, where in each inhalation we inspire creativity. Indigenous muxeres,* shades of colors born in matrilineal communities and communities in ongoing struggle, liberate generations of warriors trapped inside mental borders and indoctrinated in Eurocentric ways of being: we autonomously free our bodies and minds. We do not recognize nor legitimize Christianity, institutions, borders, nations, racial hierarchies and Empire as we offer a new path of dismantling neo-settler colonialism, hetero-patriarchy and white supremacy to create a different way of living, harmonizing and existing.
Known as women of warriors, my maternal grandmothers’, mother, aunts, sisters and I were destined to be healers and storytellers. We were born in our communities’ sacred womb(yn)s’ land, Cihuatlán, place of Muxeres in Nahualt. This land has and will always be P’urhépecha– sacred land— and spiritually interconnects us with all our relations. To this day, muxeres from the mountains and nearby towns come down to give birth, honoring Cihuatéotl. Essentially, childbirth is viewed as an act of resistance, and women who died while giving birth are warriors who guide the sun at night. Respecting our ancestors legacies’ and honoring the spirit of warriors and women that died in labor is a tradition that curanderas and parteras retained in our community and amongst the muxeres in my family. Respectingthe balance of life and death, our umbilical cords and placentas are buried deep in the earth–the same place we will go once we cease to exist in this world.
My paternal grandmothers’ were stolen from Africa and brought on a ship to this continent by European colonizers who invaded with their bibles and crosses. Our mothers’ were branded by the Catholic Church as witches: raped and murdered by colonizers. There are no words to explain the path chosen for us by our ancestors in the last 520 years of mourning, plight, femicide and genocide of our people (s). As survivors of systematic genocide and slavery, we cannot separate the struggle of Indigenous peoples in this continent from all our relations in Africa, The Pacific Islands, Middle East and Asia. The colonial borders and nations are illegitimate in our eyes. We will defend our ways of being until death. This is how it has been and will always be. When we speak: our ancestor(s) sing melodies.