An Open Letter to Ms. Yates on Granito: How to Nail a Dictator

3 Oct

Dear Ms. Pamela Yates,

I went to the opening of Granito in Los Angeles.  I am thankful and I appreciate the work, time, and energy you have given to the people of Guatemala. When I went to see the film, I did not imagine that the story would be told in such a personal manner. Most journalists or film makers seem to take the back seat because they are so set on telling the story of others, but your personal accounts weave this story together beautifully.  I really appreciate the humanness you have shown through your film making.

There is something you said in your film describing your commitment and connection to Guatemala:

“Guatemala wrapped its arms around my soul and wouldn’t let it go…”

I get it. Through your film, you shared with us what you had witnessed and there’s no way your soul, your being, could not have been impacted so greatly during your time in Guatemala…

I have seen a number films about Guatemala, including Searching for Dominga, Killer’s Paradise, and La Limonada. The level of violence, suffering, and injustice is so extreme and heavy, that it never stops feeling like you can detach yourself from Guatemala. I want to share with you my connection with Guatemala…

I was born in 1982 in Los Angeles. The first in my family to not have been born in Guatemala. When i was a girl I would turn to the index pages of history books, hoping to find something on Guatemala. But hardly anything was ever accessible to me in that way. Before I turned 15, instead of having a quinceanera, I asked my mom to take me to Tikal, Peten. I haven’t stopped drawing pyramids since…

I was not witness to Guatemala in the 1980′s, the height of the repression, the massacres, the disappearances, the reflection of the devil upon earth. However, since I was a little girl, I knew something was wrong in my mother’s country. During my first visits to Guate as a 5, 7, & 9 yr old,  poverty became a concept i began to understand, i would question why my mom’s country was so poor, children my age were begging for food, why are people living so different??? I tried to comprehend the poverty, the alcoholism, and the oppression. I did not have the vocabulary, but i saw something that made me uncomfortable deep inside. When I went to college at UC Santa Cruz, I naturally fell into Latin American and Latino Studies. I had an intense need to learn about Guatemala and Latin America.  My mind has acquired a historical, economical, and political understanding of what went wrong in my ancestral land, but my spirit still mourns.

It saddens me, to know that so much potential for a more righteous and just Latin America was on the brink of existence during the 20th Century. Cuba was the kickoff, but the dreams of Chile, Salvador, Nicaragua, Guatemala, etc.,  were over-taken by the CIA, military coups, and U.S. installed dictatorships. Through U.S. tax dollars, war has been funded countless times. And in the 1980′s, dollars manifested into Genocide and Femicide in Guatemala.

Where are we now? Where is Guatemala… how are people living and surviving? One look at the cover of La Prensa Libra will tell you the violence never stopped. And the trauma has not healed. My cousin, a 20 years old, was murdered in Huehuetenango during March of this year. He left behind his wife, a baby girl, and a grieving mother. His baby girl will grow up and find the story of his father in the newspaper, but the newspaper captured a lie. The town will tell her the truth, and she will be filled with fury to learn that men dressed in uniforms, murdered her father. I will tell her about the donuts his father and I use to eat when we were kids. But that is all I can offer…

Where are we now? I couldn’t answer it completely. It makes my stomach turn upside down. My entire family is in Guatemala. I hear lots of stories; good, bad, evil, miraculous… I will be in Guatemala in a few weeks. I will be spending time with my family. We will catch up, I will find my little cousins that are 5-10 inches taller than last year, the kids are becoming teenagers, and the family keeps growing. I look forward to the story telling, it’s always the best! I will share with my family for a moments worth, then i will fly away from that reality… but Guatemala also holds my heart and my spirit in its hands…

I’ve added a little granito here and there for Guatemala. There was a time when I produced a radio program for womyn that aired in Guatemala. I organized film screenings for two Guatemalan documentaries. I created a collective of womyn called Chapinas Unidas to raise awareness about the femicide in Guate. We participated in the women’s march in Los Angeles in 2008 and also held a conference with an all womyn panel of speakers who were survivors of violence in Guatemala. I still write about Guatemala and inform my friends about what I’ve learned and experienced. In the past couple of years, my granito turned inwards, and i began my own healing, including the healing of inherited traumas. I want to add more granitos de arena, if I can contribute to the next steps of the film, I am open to learning more. In the meantime, Ill encourage my friends to go watch the film!

Take care. Know that you are meant to be safe and protected on your journey. The helicopter falling captures that miracle, the access you were granted is of no coincidence. Everyone has a purpose to follow and I thank you for being a messenger of our people, sharing our stories through film,  and having the courage to act on a purpose bigger than yourself. 

Con Amor, Respeto, y Agradecimiento,

Ana Ruth Castillo

For friends who are reading this open letter, please add Granito thru your facebook: http://www.facebook.com/granitofilm and go catch the film at the Laemmle

Granito de Arena = a film and a humble expression of a collective process for change

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I remember Santa Cruz

27 Sep

This past weekend I returned to Santa Cruz for my 2nd time since graduating in 2006. It’s been 5 years of forgetting, forgiving, and healing from the college/first love/subtly racist hippie town experience. I was unable to return for a while, some of my last memories were painful. I remember when i left i was running away from the Ana in that town. How i got to that town had similar causes…Going to UC Santa Cruz was my ticket out of South Central Los Angeles when I was 18. and between the ages of 18 and 23 I learned to make friends, pass classes, and get by in an affluent, white, expensive-organic food eating, subtly racist beach town…

I grew a lot in Santa Cruz. One post could not capture it all. Lets just say this place offered a wide range of experiences. Positive and negative. I delved a lot into identity politics. I organized on campus for issues that truly concerned me as a student of color. I believed in the retention and outreach of students of color into the university system. I believed in education for people like me. I spoke out at ignorant comments in class. And realized by my third year that I was spending too much time and energy being angry bc I had to explain and defend myself. I worked at finding a place for myself at the university. I found friends through organizing. I remember the threat of resources and mentors being cut out, tuition hikes every year, and my classes holding only a handful of students of color.

Around town, i remember the restaurant with the server that looked down on me for being brown, i remember shopping at Trader Jose for the first time in my life and a man giving me dirty looks for shopping at his store. I remember fighting with a roommate because she was White. damn… I remember when I didn’t want to be angry anymore…

I remember ghost stories. I remember where the caves and best views of the ocean were. I remember walking down windy downtown streets, looking for hot coffee and a quiet place to study. I remember surfers, sunny days, and someone I fell in love with.

I remember the break up. It wasn’t easy, and the poor communication or lack of courage in communicating only hurt the situation.I remember the changes in me as a person. I remember i could only stretch and grow so much in Santa Cruz. I remember a court case where a supposed “friend” did not want to return my deposit money. I remember that woman lying. I remember the friends that believed her and stopped being my friends. yup…

I remember being jailed. I was on my way home, i was pulled over while I was trying to exit HWY 1 to get home on Soquel Ave. I was questioned, made to jump, walk a straight line, and count 30 seconds. I was fine, coherent, but brown. I was trying to get home. I remember them shinning their light in my eyes, blinding and blurring my eyesight. I remember the breathalyzer breaking and they couldnt prove i was intoxicated. I remember it did not matter to them whether i was drunk or not, they wanted to be in the right. I was humiliated, taken to a hospital.  They made me wait for a 3rd person’s opinion on whether or not i was drunk… those stupid cops couldnt decide on their own. i walked a straight line again. I walked straight. But it did not matter, I was hand-cuffed. I was put in jail. I was fuckin cold. I was angry. again.

I never had to go to court. My case was thrown out by the DA. There was no evidence against me. duh. I was only brown.

I am from South Central/the South Bay. I was in my early 20′s. And there were a lot of things that were being figured out during that period of growth. I didn’t go back to Santa Cruz bc th growing pains were too close to my heart and my identity. I didn’t go back because i wanted to desperately forget. In my own healing, i learned to forgive myself. I learned to let go of the hurt. I kept growing…

I went back this past weekend. I had fun. I had really good breakfast food. I went back to the old places i really enjoyed eating at. I still went to the best place i know where the waves crash. A place where my friend and i made friends with a gopher. I saw dolphins in the waves. I walked around a chilly downtown. i had breakfast with a friend and we questioned what really happened to us. Sometimes you dont want to believe someone said something to you or looked at you funky because of the color of your skin. But…it did happen… over and over…

I bought a clif bar at trader joes. The rich hippies and the homeless are still there. Homeless folks can’t collect plastic from trash cans, they will be cited. Homeless folks also cant pick food out of the Whole Foods or any food’s trash bin. Its illegal to take someone else’s trash in Santa Cruz. Classism exists. So does Racism.

I wish I didnt see these things. I wish they were made up in my head. But these inhumane, disrespectful subtleties happen. Everyday. Sometimes worst.

I remembered why i left and didnt go back.

Trust, i rather remember my friends, why i stayed there for 5 years,  and called it my home back then…

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Full Cirle

29 Aug

Circles are made to create unity. Circles and cycles mark the movement of the stars, the Earth and the Universe. Seasons and blessings come in cirles. And we live the sacred circle of life.

Visiting Medicine Wheel: Sacred Circle

In June of 2010 I was in Cypress Park holding my first Solo Exhibition of my art-work. Exactly one year later, a full circle was marked. I was in Cypress Park again, at Nightingale Middle School, directly across the street from the art space where my solo happened. This time, I was introducing myself to the parents and the youth I was going to embark on a journey with for the summer. Previous to this day, tt had been unclear whether or not I would be a camp counselor. The position i applied for was denied to me, but I did not realize the true blessings behind the change in positions. My ancestors and Creator was in the process of answering my prayers and they made the switches to place me as a counselor with high school students returning for their second year of leadership development in Wyoming. Instead of being stationed at a camp site, I was going to hike over 50+ miles at Big Horn National Park with 2 different groups of young womyn from Los Angeles.

C5 Dollz on our hardest day of hiking!

Trek Counselors and Guides at 9810

Photographs and words could not describe the magic and the blessings of the sights and sounds I experienced. I made friendships with trek guides from New Jersey, Maryland, Texas, Ohia, and Cali. I made strong bonds with high schools students spread through out Los Angeles, from Huntington Park to South Central, to Northridge. I taught, I learned, I cried, I laughed, I climbed, and I swam, but what I did most was thank Creator everyday for the beauty before me. Whether it was mountain peaks and Lost Lakes or the youth and their everlasting sillyness, everything and everyone shared a beautiful spirit.

My own spirit felt like it was glowing.

Finding Lost Lake

Everything was so clear out in the mountains. Everything was true and rich; every color, every sound, every bloom. During my first trek, i saw many caterpillars and by the time i returned for my second trek, I saw countless butterflies. I swam in rivers  and drank water from them, knowing and seeing the direct source of the water I was surrounded by was an amazing blessing. 

In nature, everything is purposeful. Every leaf, every wind, every thunderstorm, and every bird singing serves a magical purpose of life and spirit. Having been back in the city for a few weeks now, I notice the noise, the confusion, and the empytness in people’s souls. This man made reality is harsh. It is not an easy one to live by day to day.

When I was in the mountains, i would go scouting for trails through forests and mountains I had never seen before. I would come across animals and rivers and never once was I afraid. I felt free and beautiful. The other day, I walked from 3rd Street to 7th Street in Downtown L.A., and men would stop there cars to honk or ask me where I was headed. Men would stare at every crosswalk and I walked with my head held high, but my spirit was sad for the level of disrespect I was receiving. I reminded myself that I have felt this vulnerability and uncomfortableness before. And healing is also a never ending cycle. 

I thank Creator and the ancestors for placing me in the mountains this summer and allowing my spirit to heal, grow, and evolve. Inspired from nature, I too seek my true purpose. I know that working with youth is my path. 

My first session with the Frig Friggies at Lily Lake

Transformation: Who we were when we entered the mountains is not who we are after climbing out.

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Mi Chikis

17 May

It was two months ago this day, that I put my Chikis to sleep. Its taken this length of time to finally talk and write about her. After making the decision to put her down, it was very hard to think about her, it made me really sad.

I found Chikis Jaguar Ajtun on a cold September night in L.A., abandoned  in a box underneath a light post. As i was walking by I heard her little desperate meows. When i found the box I knew there was no going back once i opened it. Inside was this beautiful little baby kitten starring up at me. She meowed one last time and then cuddled inside my hands for warmth.

I took her inside and fed her milk. She was so little. I started to call her Chikis. By the next day, she learned her name and would come out from underneath the bed when i called for her. I took her to the vet, she weighed 6 ounces and was dehydrated and flea infested. The vets saw her and their hearts melted. People around me began to fall in love with her. Mean while i was trying to figure out whether to keep her or not. I figured a few weeks of care and then i would let someone else take her up.

I was not able to let go of her. I fell in love with Chikis. She was special and I needed to stop being selfish. I decided i would care for her. She came to me during a time that I needed to practice self love and self care, and she would be my constant reminder.

From the beginning I took her painting with me. I figured if she’s gonna be a callejera, it was gonna be because I was a callejera as well. I also took her to work bc someone had to feed her, she was too little to feed herself. Everyone at work loved her, including my boss. Chikis would fall asleep on my supervisor’s lap as she worked on the computer typing away reports. I would sneak her around in my purse, she fit perfectly, she was the size of an orange.

Chikis grew up and was no longer little. She became far from little. She gained excessive weight due to a liver problem. She also became blind and was no longer agile.  She never stopped being sick and was always having digestion problems. I took her to several vets but no one could tell me what was really wrong with her. Vets are expensive and I didn’t know what to do.

It made me sad to see her over-weight, unable to clean herself, and always bumping into things. She was smart and found her self around the apt., but she was also becoming sicker. I couldn’t take it any longer. I had to make the decision to put her to sleep. I asked my co-worker for help and she went with me the morning of March 17th, 2011 to put her to sleep. I sat in the car with Chikis asleep on my lap. When i was ready i put her in a box carrier and went inside the office vet. I sat there and signed all the paperwork crying my eyes out. I signed and paid and had boogers running down my face. I was a mess. The vet just looked at me confused. I was so sad. I said one last good bye and walked away. I cried my eyes out the rest of the day. I became sick too.

Who knew a cat or a pet could cause so much emotion. I love Chikis. But I promise to never take up another animal until i have my own home with a backyard where my pets can play and be happy. I want to have chickens, ducks, dogs, and cats. Maybe some rabbits too. I’ll make a little altar so that all my pets can honor her. She was my first pet and she taught me so much love.

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Reparando

5 May

What is the saddest thing you could ever learn about?

My answer is: Guatemala

Yes, my parents land, my ancestral land. Guatemala is a beautiful place. Undeniably so. Beautiful mountains, tall volcanos, magical lakes, lush jungles with rivers birds, flowers… the culture and the colors shake your senses… and then there’s our temples and pyramids.

So why is it sad? Our history is sad. The longest civil war in Latin America took place in Guatemala for 36 years. Genocide swept our little country under the guise of killing “communists”. Femicide began during the Genocide and continues presently. Young men join the Maras and kill and threaten everyday struggling people. Police and politicians are corrupt and have created a culture of impunity. But when you learn that all the present tragedy is the result of U.S. Military funding, CIA operations, and dictator installations taught at the School of the Americas in the U.S., its devastating and frustrating. And when you learn about what the genocide looked like, how it massacred hundreds of indigenous villages, raped and murdered womyn, and left thousands of children orphaned, your heart breaks.

With all of this in mind, I still took myself to watch a film about Central America’s largest slum dwelling, La Limonada, in the capitol city of Guatemala. (Thank fully i wasn’t on my moon or headed there, the last time I watched a film about Guatemala before my moon, i was in mourning for over a week) Unlike Killer’s Paradise or Discovering Dominga, the film “Reparando”, offered a sense of hope. This film offered a beautiful story of two hard working community organizers in La Limonada that endured difficult challenges in their lives such as domestic violence, immigration, child abuse, and drug abuse.

Tita, is a womyn that began a little school in La Limonada to offer some hope, love, and a safe space for children growing up next to the biggest land fill in Guatemala. The children in La Limonada have scavenged through the trash for many years but through Tita and the school they are educating themselves and creating positive futures in their lives. Shorty, is another protagonist in the film. His father was disappeared during the war, his mother fell victim to drug abuse after her partner’s death, he found himself being raised by the streets. When he was ready to change his life, he came to La Limonada and opened a church and drug rehabilitation center. Their stories are powerful and heart breaking, but their resilience and empowerment lifts you back up. It was an amazing journey to sit in the movie theater and learn their stories and the stories from La Limonada.

Reparando means to repair. This film was created with a positive intention of telling the story of people trying to heal themselves and their communities. The film itself came about from a husband and wife that adopted their children in Guatemala. After learning about Guatemala’s history, genocide, and potential future that their children could have faced, they decided to find a way to help. The film Reparando is one way.

After the film screening I bought a DVD copy. In the past I have seen these films about my home country and have felt alone. There’s a strong need inside of me to share the film with others so that they could understand where I come from. In the past I have done film screenings for Killer’s Paradise and Discovering Dominga because I needed more people to know about Guatemala. I hope that one day I can do more than film screenings and travel to Guatemala with friends and show them the beautiful. Unless you go there, there’s no way of fully comprehending how beautiful Guatemala is. Anyways, if you guys can, please support this film. Any donations to this film production will do the following 3 things: (1) Fund the construction of a bakery for the Drug Rehab Center in La Limonada, (2) Give resources to the schools in La Limonada, (3) Fund the production of an upcoming film about street children in Guatemala.

http://www.reparandomovie.com/

Watch the trailer here: http://vimeo.com/athentikos/trailer01

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Over Qualified

4 May

I had searched early on for a summer camp opportunity to work with youth in the wilderness. I found a beautiful project that took young 8th graders to a 4 week camp in Wyoming to grow, learn, become inspired, and set themselves on a path to college. Relating to the experience these kids were about to have, I spent days working on a perfect resume to reflect my qualifications for this position. I applied and I waited.

Rrrring. Rrrriing. I was called for an interview and I was there, dressed up and happy to be given the opportunity to explain why I wanted this job, why I would be so good for it, why I cared for these kids without even knowing them, and why it would have been perfect all around. The interview was long, I answered everything to the best of my ability, I was honest, and I felt good about it. I walked away feeling that I had done everything I could at that point to get this job. I gave them every reason to hire me.

 A month later I get an email. Im over-qualified and they decided not to give me the summer camp counselor position.

 How do you take in such news? Do you feed your ego? Yes. Do you feel disappointed? Hell yes! Do you think it over and over ?… I don’t want to. Hence why I’ll write it about so I can let it go and move on.

Perhaps I was looking for something outside of myself to give me greater life satisfaction. Perhaps this, that, and the other. But perhaps, it just wasn’t meant to be. Why? Idk yet, so I have to move forward and keep trying my hardest at life. I really can’t spend these next few days thinking about their decision and why it was what it was. Everything I could possibly imagine would just be assumption. Instead I’m going to have to look within and figure out what it means at a higher level to be denied bc I’m “over-qualified”.

 I shake my head. And carry my heart forward. It would have been nice to spend the summer with a bunch of kids under the trees by the river talking about the future. It would have been nice to center myself far-away from the city. I’m gonna let go of whatever beautiful pictures I created in my head when I looked forward to this job. Now I have to create new pictures for another summer where I wont rely on someone else to tell me whether or not I can have it. Im a capable being, and my summer will be everything I want it to be. 

With that, i’ll walk away with this song by Selena, “Desprecios”, i love her !

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Swimming is the bestest

21 Apr

I started swimming a couple months ago at LACC. I needed to sign up for a class so that i could be accountable to something outside of me to get me to the pool. After 10 years of not swimming, everything came back right away. It felt good to work out my entire body and breath rhythmically. Swimming is the bestest exercise ever. And for folks who may have trouble with their joints or feel over weight, swimming and water aerobics is really light on the body.

Today i finally got to the point where my body was asking me to do something on my own. So i searched for the closest neighborhood pool and found the Echo Park Pool. I didn’t know what to expect bc some pools can be dark, dirty, and small. But this pool was really nice. The locker rooms were big and the pool had about 10 lanes for lap swimming. The deck was huge and they have equipment for people to use. I paid $2.00 by showing them my library card and bam! i got my work out on.

I started swimming when i was 5 or something. Back then my father use to take us camping. We would end up at lakes, rivers, and pools. I became use to the water at an early age. Sometime in middle school, my mom put me in a  swim class where i learned a few things, like jumping off a scary, tall ass diving board. When i got to high school i figured i would join the swim team. I started swimming competitively my 9th grade year and swam all 4 years. My senior year i was captain of the team, taught swimming classes at the YMCA, and became a lifeguard. My swimming workout was at least a mile worth of laps.

Today i swam a little more than half a mile. Im gonna get back up to a mile but its gonna take a few months worth of practice. Im really happy i found this pool nearby. I even found one of the LACC swim instructors there.

When I was a kid I never really learned how to play any sports. Im really happy that I found swimming bc it feels amazing. I really enjoy it and a big part of me wants to teach swimming again. Maybe even coach a high school team in the future. I use to teach babies, screaming kids, teenagers, and adults how to swim when i was 17. I feel i could teach anyone. Since Im gonna be outta work soon, i think i might just start offering swim lessons. Anyone want swim lessons?

Anyways, i’m always filling up my time with things and now swimming has come back to my life. Im gonna keep swimming for as long as i can. One day I’m gonna be an old wrinkly lady and be the fast swimmer you ever did see.

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