Columbia, SC Adventure #10

I’m getting better at taking risks in terms of organizing. I went to a gay bar last night…by myself and met two gentlequeers. I have NEVER in my life done bar outreach, but I can now cross that off my “Things That Scare Me” List. Gay bars don’t scare me, obviously, but bar outreach did.

Saw some fabulous drag queens, ordered a Heineken (I prefer ciders..but I wanted to look tough. JK, but I really do prefer ciders #shameless) & talked to the bartender. I didn’t manage to get any numbers, but I did give out my business card. Overall, I’d say it was a pretty successful night. 

I still feel like I’m  in the middle of nowhere. State capitals tend to feel that way- isolated with dull gov. buildings. Columbia, SC  is a little different. It feels like it was in the process of becoming an industrialized city and then once the city reached 50% development, folks dipped. It’s friggin’ scary at night and there are places where sidewalks don’t exist…

I’m staying at a shady-ass hotel that is next to railroad tracks and in front of a warehouse. No joke. I was waiting for a cab last night and the hotel owner (who must not have recognized me) kept an eye on me the whole time. Maybe he learned a rough lesson? TRUST NO ONE? I don’t know. It seemed like the perfect setting for a zombie movie. 

Anyway, It’s so weird/interesting/challenging/great how different the work I do is compared to the type of outreach my Jorgecito-boo and I would do @ CPS high schools. Now I’m sneaking into gay bars with a bookbag and toms shoes (I point this out for two reasons 1. my toms shoes have a hole in them & 2. if you weren’t wearing sandals then you were wearing fabulous shoes to match your fabulous attire. I felt like a peacock.) tryna find the queers that will talk to me and take surveys.

I asked one of the friends I made last night, his name is Evan (who by the way looks Latino!!!!) if he spoke spanish and he gave me a weird look and said “No hablo espanol.” I wasn’t sure if I should feel embarrassed or disappointed. Maybe he’s tired of being tokenized/insulted by white gay men? I look Latina/Mexican though, right? 

That reminds me, one of my cab drivers asked if I was Mexican when I told him my last name was Martinez (He pronounced it correctly, yay!) and he seemed kind of disappointed when I said yes. Wtf? Sorry, I’m not sorry, boo.

So, Evan and I parted and I gave him a big ol smooch on the cheek. I hope he calls me/shoots me an e-mail. (Hahaha)

I must be crazy to be doing all this. 

10 Unbelievably Shitty Things the American Government Does to Homeless People

identity crisis



I am concerned with the immigrant rights movement (and other social and civil rights movements) claiming to be “american” in an effort to be accepted, to not be deported and pass pro-immigrant legislation, like the DREAM Act.



-it encourages assimilation, ethnocide, shame, and therefore feeds into racism, homophobia, islamophobia, xenophobia etc.

-it completely disregards the ongoing struggles of indigenous peoples, including right to land and autonomy

-it buys into a problematic capitalistic and white supremacist american government and gives way to future exclusion and hate towards other marginalized groups



I recently had conversation with a friend who mentioned that after 9/11 a member in her Muslim community asked a group of Muslim folks if they considered themselves “american.” Only a few raised their hands. She then asked if they watched american tv, spoke english, went to american schools etc. Because they did, she confirmed that they were in fact participating in american activities/culture and were therefore part of american society.

I am troubled at how simple it has become to claim an identity and be encouraged to own it. That is not to say that people shouldn’t identify as american, but I for one, find it important to learn about my roots, recognize my ongoing struggle, and align myself politically to a people before claiming an identity. I don’t know what it’s like to be Muslim in an extremely islamophobic society but I do know what it’s like to be queer, brown, Mexican and undocumented in a anti-immigrant, homophobic, racist political climate. And for that, I am critical of both racist laws and political messaging that alienates any oppressed group. I do not claim americaness because I am not politically aligned with white supremacist, patriarchal homophobic, racist american policies. My political alignment is with the people most affected by the american government. I am not american.    



I’ve had a difficult time claiming my own identity these last few months. I realized, through a Freedom University class lecture by Laura Gutierrez, a professor from AZ, that our identities are constantly changing. I was raised to identify as Mexicana/Hispana. Over the last four years, because my politics have developed, I’ve come to identify as Latina, undocumented, queer and now as undocuqueer. Even now my parents continue to identify as Mexicanos. (The fact that Mexicanos can be very nationalistic is a whole other conversation.) Their immigration status is an issue, a situation, not their identity. Their class, race and ethnicity are their identities and they shape their experiences in the U.S. Claiming being “undocumented and unafraid” is a generational thing. I wonder what future [undocumented and immigrant] generations will think about our claimed identity. How they will identify? Most importantly, who are we alienating by encouraging our peoples to identify in any particular way? As american, as undocumented, as Dreamers? 



After being roughly introduced to Chicano history and indigenous struggles happening inside US borders, I’ve become even more conflicted with this idea of being american. I recently had a conversation with a coworker about sovereignty, indigenous peoples and immigration. She mentioned that she’s been told several times by indigenous peoples/tribes peoples that they are frustrated with the “no borders” messaging. It disregards the struggle for land and autonomy that they have fought for decades, and their history of displacement.

I grew up seeing my maternal grandmother use cultural/herbal medicinal methods for healing and I wonder, how much of her knowledge was inherited from our indigenous past? I, too, feel displaced both in our movement’s messaging and in a physical sense. I am disconnected from my people’s land, from my native language (I’m not talking about Spanish), and also the culture and practices of my people in Mexico. Every day it becomes more difficult to remember my grandmother. Every day that I cannot return to Mexico to see my family and reconnect with the land that belongs to my ancestors is one more day that I am not whole. 



So while legislation is important because it affects our immediate safety, we need to redirect part of our energy to make sure our collective vision of a better future includes indigenous peoples. We need to recognize our own connection to the land and redefine what it means to be autonomous. Being unapologetic should not come at the expense of people who have histories in the very earth we walk on. To say that we are entitled to the land that we have lived on for X amount of years is to deny that there are others who continue a similar struggle.

We are not colonists. We cannot continue down the same path as previous movements. We should not strive for equality, because someone has always been left out. What does it mean to be equal to a citizen, to a straight married person, to white people? We have to decolonize our minds and dismantle oppressive systems not strive to be part of them. 

My thoughts and politics are still developing, but I don’t really see how my own vision and concerns fit into the larger immigrant rights movement right now.