You can’t cure families: you can only prevent them.
I’m Regina Rodríguez-Martin and this is the blog of a middle-aged Mexican American woman. In 2004 the word was that blogs were over, but a friend had a blog and I wanted one, too. I started Chicana on the Edge on June 17, 2004 and have kept it going ever since (my friends’ blog ended years ago).
The “edge” refers to being in the margin of the margin of culture and society. For instance, as a Chicana I’m on the outside of mainstream American culture, but I’m on the margin of Mexican American culture as well.
Invoking Steve Martin: I was born a small white child. Actually, I was born in the 1960s to Mexican American parents who raised me in a very white part of Northern California. My parents were born in the U.S and my dad’s parents were born in the U.S. but his grandparents and my mother’s parents were from Mexico.
In the 1970s and 80s I grew up in a white city with white friends, went to white schools and dated white boys. I sound like a white woman when I talk. (As “Regina Rodriguez” I went to Las Lomas in Walnut Creek.)
Later I went to U.C. Berkeley and Cornell and got degrees in English literature. Cornell is where I first faced obvious racism, which made it the first place I really felt like a Mexican. I’ve become steadily more Mexican ever since.
At the age of 27 I moved to Chicago to seek my fortune (still seeking) and every year since I’ve become more aware of racism in all its degrees.
My favorite color is pink, I couldn’t live without peanut butter and my favorite season is winter. Chicago’s gray, protracted winters are a main reason I moved here in 1993 and I’ve always known it was the perfect decision for me. I don’t want to live anywhere else and I don’t want to die anywhere else.
Explore my blog…
The Big Gig
Last night was totally, totally great. Neal, Jean and I were tighter than ever, my singing felt great and the music was rhythmic, energetic, totally dance-able. The sound system was so good people could actually understand the words and later they told me they caught...
help i can’t stop writing bad poetry
I've got to pull my focus off of my suck rat love life and concentrate on today: tonight is the big gig! I'm doing two new songs and a "new" one that's really an old one but I revised the lyrics (I do that a lot). The rehearsal with Neal (guitar) and Jean (percussion)...
Dating, Part Infinity plus one
So This Is Love porous membrane surrounds me fingers push sharp points, but it doesn't break trouble breathing, trouble moving panic starts like an old womb, my prison feels familiar yet hostile I want out my arms are extended, but it stretches with me trouble seeing...
