Crammed together. Shoulder to shoulder. Legs to back. Everyone sitting criss-cross applesauce. The temperature is well above 80 degrees inside this room even though it is negative 15 degrees out. We are crammed together. We listen intently when Tamara turns off the music and Natalia makes the weekly announcements. I'm in awe, the love and support and family of this 10 x 10 square room that pours out into the hallway. Tamales and horchata and tacos remind me of Los Angeles. The music and laughter filled the air and I'm no longer alone..
Kiki explains to me…
Midwestern constructions of race are not the same as in LA because we have different histories. The midwest functions on a black and white binary and LA is predominantly Mexican people with many “minority” groups functioning as the majority. The way our bodies are read function differently.
Ranya and Antho and I take our RAP group photo.
We celebrate the seniors and take over the entire hallway.
Karina tells me the entire timeline of the Intercultural Movement…
People were threatened with their lives. We patrolled a room in Hoben and stayed there all ten of us, taking turns standing lookout. No one could really sleep anyway. We protested the board of trustees — blocked the doors demanded for this, for more, for all of it. We met with on another. It was chaos. It was drama. We harmed one another many times. We are still healing.
I meet the leaders, some, of the movement…
They recruit Ranya and I to join the POC student union. Sometimes I wonder about the divisions of the campus. Why is there LSO, BSO, APISA, KDESI, KALAMAFRICA, MSA, etc? Why are they so many? Other times, I just want to drink BOBA and talk about generational trauma my parents gave me as first-generation immigrants. But why is there so much division and identity naming? What’s the point?
NAPS ON THE BROWN LEATHER COUCH SLAP. I’ve never napped so hard.
It was here I learned about oppression. ours. mine.
I learned about chosen family.
I learned about liberation and future imaginatives.