Las Flores de Mayo: Introduction
Las Flores de Mayo is a collection of essays, short stories, and poems inspired by my family and current journey of reconnecting to my indigenous roots. my second book has not been released, but i decided to release my book introduction to hype myself up. Enjoy!
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Desde niña, I always kicked it heavy with my Tio Jose. He is my mother’s youngest brother— él bebe del marticardo que son las mujeres que les dicen las cueros. Tio Jose was always that Tio that made me feel cool for being able to chill with him. He rocked baggy clothing and Cortez's; combined with his bald head, he looked like the hardest motherfucker out there. Just like all his siblings, identical to their mother, they had that mean mug stare. Como diciendo, “Que chingados quieres?” Pero como todas mis tías, the RBF was always softened by any friendly interaction. I have learned so much from my tio Jose and continue to. Aside of being the OG cholo of the family, he was well known for always responding to any question (with a timeline) con, “pa mayo.” Le podían preguntar, “pa cuando te regresas a Tinga?” his answer, “pa mayo.” Or even, “when are you going to get started on so and so?” And again, the response was always, “pa mayo.” And to keep it real, this man really did do everything in May. Mi tio Jose always had me excited for all the things I knew would flourish during the month of May. It’s an ongoing joke with my family to respond to questions with, “pa mayo como dice Jose.”
Fast forward to fall of 2013, I’m sitting in my doctor’s office, nervous as fuck. Missed period could only mean one thing. Knowing the answer but needing that scientific confirmation. My doctor walks in and condescendingly tells me, “Well, young child. It looks like your due date is sometime in late May or early June.” The shock hadn’t even set in, and I already heard my tio Jose in the back of my head say, “pa mayo, todo lo bueno viene en mayo.”
As I’ve gotten older, I have learned that May really is the ideal time to bloom, to take action. Mother’s Day falls in the month of May, it is a reminder that the fruits of our labor are being given new life, new beginnings. En mayo, we honor all the seeds planted within me to help break the cycles. The birth of my child, my sun, came in May. The birth of my child, my sun changed me. The birth of my child, my sun, brought me closer to my mother’s family. The birth of my child, my sun, opened my eyes to all the pain my lineage was carrying. The birth of my child, my sun, showed me the ways my family had been planting seeds within me, without me being aware of it. The birth of my child, my sun, planted pain, love, and healing. The birth of my child, my sun, showed me that cycles needed to end with me.
I write this book to honor the beautiful territory my family and I come from. I indulge in the beauty of it and call out lo que no nos sirva, para que se vaya muy lejos de aquí. We name it, but no longer claim it. We name it and release it. I am proud to be an P’urhepecha woman, but that does not mean I tolerate what no longer serves us. With these stories I honor the powerful Indigenous people I come from. By giving name to their pains, their losses, their traumas, I validate them, even if they are in the other world. Healing will continue even when we are no longer walking this land. To my ancestors and elders, I raise my hands in gratitude and with love. Thank you for choosing me to share your stories.
