Moraga’s latest, “Native Country of the Heart,” is a deep meditation on memory — reflections of the past, recalling hard moments, losing ourselves, and remembering who we are as Mexican-Americans, in more ways than one. She spoke to Autostraddle about her new book and the journey her queer feminism has taken over the course of her career.
The 71-year-old has prided herself on being a hard worker coming from a humble background and being a champion for the people. But her lackluster campaign and her not-so perfect record as Dallas County Sheriff has dampened Texans’ enthusiasm for her as a candidate, including this queer Tejana.
“At the start of every year, I feel an itch to plan and make vision boards and examine my life and my goals. I knew one thing on my 2018 to-do list was certain and it was getting married and having a wedding.”
As I quickly learned from the jump, when two queer Latinas are trying to get married — something that sometimes feels like is unheard of — there’ll be some bumps in the road.
In the 90s, a collective of Latina lesbians founded two radical, bilingual zines. They made culture, connected activists, and scared the sh*t out of the patriarchy.
“At the start of migration season the ruby-throated hummingbird has only one goal in mind – she has to almost double her body weight, in order to survive a treacherous trip across the gulf of Mexico. At the start of migration season, the black-haired filmmaker has but one goal in mind: build a strong enough case to survive the gauntlet of work-visa processing.”
Aguilar was a pioneer in sharing the faces and experiences of various Latina lesbians in the 90s, when there was very little representation. Aguilar’s art gives the marginalized and subcultures within subcultures — poor, fat, woman, lesbian, Latina — a place to be held and seen.
Queer women of color dominated the Texas primary elections!
Whether you’re Mexican, Puerto Rican, Costa Rican, Cuban, Panamanian or Argentinian, there were great examples of queer Latinidad for you.
Everyone in the film is Mexican. Everything in the film is Mexican. Everyone and everything is me.
“Her first step into her first floor apartment was into a puddle of water. Everything was wet: furniture, photos, poems, journals, her shoes. The water lines on her walls marked the flood waters at a foot and a half.”
These podcasts are for the chingonas, the jotxs, and the baddass Latinxs who need some audio magic in their lives.
“Jane is the furthest from bisexual — maybe Gina’s a little closer than Jane is! — but I love that they want that. And I’m all about ‘Jetra.’I love ‘Jetra.'”
Maddi is doing some really brilliant art right now — she’s having a ton of fun and loosening up her style at the same time as she’s refining it and finding her real voice.
Trini, the Mexican-American Yellow Ranger, tells her friends that she’s figuring out her sexuality and that she likes girls, and in the process she finds a family.
Undocumented student Daniela Vargas bravely spoke out at a news conference advocating for immigrants and was shortly detained by ICE. She’s now facing immediate deportation without a hearing. She’s lived in the U.S. since she was 7 years old.
“I’m a queer brown weirdo and I love every short inch of myself. I’m bringing all that round, brown, goodness to this story. All the things that make me laugh and make me feel strong, they’re going to be in America’s world.”
Over the past several months, I have watched my surroundings transform into some sort of fictional dystopia. Despite this, seeing illustrations of America Chavez have filled me with hope.
We talked to One Day at a Time writers, Becky Mann and Michelle Badillo, about gay representation on TV, how Autostraddle came to be in the script, their queer TV roots, what kind of LGBT stories are missing from TV and what’s in store for Elena in a potential next season.
One Day at a Time is so revolutionary in its depictions of what a family might actually look like in America. It’s got the same recipe of an old school family sitcom but turns the norm on its head because it centers the family’s brownness and provides ample social commentary to deliver a fantastic modern-day sitcom.
More than twenty years since they were convicted of a horrific crime, a Texas criminal appeals court declared four Latina lesbians innocent and exonerated. The San Antonio Four’s exoneration serves as a ray of hope in these dark times and reminds us to continue to fight like hell for justice.