Saturday, March 17, 2018

To you my mountain

To you my mountain 
P. Dante Cuauhtémoc, M.F.A.
(Winter 2016) 

I am the wind.
Hail and ice.
Water and daggers of obsidian. 
I speak my mind, and cut with shade.
I bless the earth with my wet dance, and flowers to bloom.
Healing mist of a morning due.
Deathly hollow screams in the night.
Cool breeze on a sunny day.
And there you stand, mountain.
The one who does not fear or tremble or bend to my push.
Unyielding in your admiration of my chest and thrust.
You see me.
You smile.
And you stand there.
Unshaken.
Absorbing my dew.
In your valleys I rest my head.
Hugged by your minerals and metals.
Enriched is the soil of our love.
Beautiful is the sunset against the clouds of our heaven.

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

I vogue in the rain

Today I vogued in the rain
without a jacket or 'brella
without caution or wind
I danced in you Tlaloc
like any tlaloque
ometlaloque
faggot of the water
dew of the air.


I vogued for you
my family of the sea
ocean falling upon my face
a splash
a bust
a trickle of what I know is not a trick
but a memory
on monday
of my past when I as a little boy would bask in your radiance and create a dance for you to heal the earth mother from all the poison of oil and plastics that lay upon her flesh and in my bones.


I vogued in the rain today
Butch Queen Performance
Hands Performance
Butch Queen Vogue Like a Femme Queen Performance
and sum other stumble between al'that.


I cried today
thinking of those without my medicine
without water or food, medicine, that keep them alive
every 15 minutes hearing
Acquired immune deficiency is homicide
Acquired immune deficiency is homicide
Acquired immune deficiency is homicide.


Let Us Praise the Masters of Slow Death
I vogued for you
in the rain
wet
moist
sad
soaked
Submerged.


In times of great sadness
it is only a blessing
to feel the tears of the eyes much bigger than my own
in a time of sickness
without compassion
I float in my wet body
I feel the water pass through skin
the drops
hit me
like the dew of sunlight
the the warmth of brown sugar
in forever condensation of sacred love
post love making.


I vogue for you
a cry
in the larger cry
in the larger Tlaloc
a blessing to the thirsty earth.
I walked for you
in performance in the rain
I walked for me
in a fierce bag and beat boots
I walked for us
a vogue to remember
that the cry is a release to feel the thirst of emotion that has been denied to us too long in this world of suffering and invalid segregation.

#BrownSugaTii

Monday, November 27, 2017

November 27th, 2017-- Blessings

It is another Monday, and I have have been very angry and overly confused at the fact that I have so much to do, and I am pretty sure it is impossible for me to do all the things that I need to do.. this comes from multiple levels of abuse coming my way, and and lack of support, due to graduate school, and myself, coming from a limited resource family. But more, I find myself wondering, and wondering, where should I go? What should I do? Why am I not having fun like other gays my age... I see so many of my friends having fun on weekends, while I continue to work, thinking that it is fun-relaxing research, but indeed, it is work beyond work beyond work. Many times I want to be something else, like a cute little guy that richer bigger guys take care of..... but that leads to levels of slavery and lost of personhood I cannot stand.
And so what?
I have learned that I yearn for that which I do not have. and because of that, I cannot have anything. More I am in bad mood, because I started in a place of loss, negativity, and desolation. And so, instead of that, I will focus on what makes me great, and happy.

I am so thankful that I have so many friends around the world. More I am so happy to be a part of the House of Lauren. They have been more than generous with their support of my research, and I am so happy that they love me and my work enough to support my continuance with it. I am thankful that I have a good chair and good advisors that try hard to support me. And I am thankful that I can reflect and express. At the end of the day, I love expressing myself, I love feeling myself, and I love being catalytic.

Perhaps that is who I am,
Cuauhtémoc Peranda
Father Dante Ome'Lauren
The Poet, Scholar, Dancer, Educator
The Glitter Shaman
The Catalysis

and I am thankful that I can redefine myself everyday!

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

Gloria E. Anzaldúa, Happy Birthday, I love you

“The vision of radical Third World Feminism necessitates our willingness to work with those people who would feel at home in El Mundo Zurdo, the left-handed world: the colored, the queer, the poor, the female, the physically challenged. From our blood and spirit connections with these groups, we women on the bottom throughout the world can form an international feminism. For separatism by race, nation, or gender will not do the trick of revolution. Autonomy, however, is not separatism. We recognize the right and necessity of colonized peoples throughout the world, including Third World women in the U.S., forming independent movements toward self-government. But ultimately, we must struggle together. Together we form a vision which spans from the self-love of our colored skins, to the respect of our foremothers who kept the embers of revolution burning, to our reverence for the trees – the final reminder of our rightful place on this planet. The change evoked on these pages is material as well as psychic. Change requires a lot of heat. It requires both the alchemist and the welder, the magician and the laborer, the witch and the warrior, the myth-smasher and the myth-maker. Hand in Hand, we brew and forge a revolution.”
 
--Gloria E. Anzaldúa, El Mundo Zurdo: The Vision

Sunday, September 24, 2017

But is that a real story?

Cuauhtémoc: I'm really interested in 'what is a story? And, what qualifies a story, or storytelling, to be truth, or understood as history?'
The Glitter Shaman: Bitch! Even creation stories have creation stories!
Grandma Azúcar: I think what the Shaman was expressing, was the frustration we students have been having with "the school." Mi hij@z think truth es qué something we have not fabricated--but all receipts are recorded, made, reproduced, and stored, through some pinche flawed human methodologies. And, they always require careful translation and transcription in order to be shared. See mijo, I think your task isn't about truth at all, but a praxis of navigating dancing storytelling to produce transcriptions that are meaningful to those who are in need of that navigated knowledge, but do not have resources, honors, and credentials necessary to access the resources you so easily browse... También, be careful of your privileges mija...
The Glitter Shaman: Facts and alternative facts (lies), are all discourse, and are all chisme--and it all is glitter! It is important to acknowledge the creative bias that exists in all creation, but it is also gloriously necessary that you honor the differentiations and disidentifications in glitter.
Cuauhtémoc: Its like what a daughter of the Kiki House of Mona Lisa affirmed with me at the ball, "realness is first, everything starts with realness."

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Sweaty Hugs are Necessary in Extreme Heat

It was quite chilly last night. And today, I awoke refreshed! More, I seem to have regained much of the clairvoyance I had lost to confusion, and thus lamented all through the weekend for its return. It is something, a heavy something, to know that heat affect me so much. And, it's not an issue of having A/C, but more an issue of needing to be outdoors, and do work, without dripping into the hungry earth, or the sensitive laptop. The heat seems to compound anxieties, forcing fragility in action, leading to inaction, frustration, and morose contemplation. Such a process, so dire and deep, is hard to escape. Yet, somehow, acceptance of the grossness of it all, is how I made it through my time in a 2009 Northwestern Summer; and with the wisdom of contact improv (in all its sharing of sweat), I have found hugs to be the medicine I need to jolt me back from linear destruction. Of course, cool weather, mist, and Karl the Fog, always seem to do the trick as well.
#PhDLife

Monday, July 24, 2017

You are not a failure

"Yes son, I see you are in a rough spot.
But, what has voguing taught you?
You are not a failure! How could you be?
Failure is but a poison of the white man to make you lessor.
To tell you, and make you believe, that your black skin is a failure to be white.
To force you to forget the erudite brilliance that is your African heritage.
To force me to die and my blood become the salt of the earth of the reservation.
No my son, we do not have to drink or smoke the white man's poison.
No my son, you are not a failure.
What has voguing taught you?
What has vogue taught you?
WE. DO. NOT. DIE!
We do not dive to our death.
We but dip.
We but dip and bounce back.
What they have called the death drop is but a dip into hell to return with the grace and resilience of the divine.
What they have called the death drop is but a minor dip into hell, with a promise to return to strike and fly!
We are voguers.
We are voguers.
WE. ARE. VOGUERS!
We know how to die and come back to life.
We know how to be asleep and woke.
You are not a failure.
You are not failing.
You are but dipping."

A message from The Glitter Shaman
Translated by P. Dante Cuauhtemoc Ome'Lauren