Hey folx! I’m doing a writing workshop Tuesday July 11th, 2017 at Wasted Ink Zine Distro from 7:00-9:30pm. The topic will be “Racialization of Indigenous womxn bodies.” Hour 1 will be the writing workshop then hour 2 will be open mic for participants. Hope you can make it! Please note: We STRONGLY encourage Indigenous participation but the workshop is inclusive for all. #racialization#indigenous#womxn#bodies#writingworkshop#safespace
Workshop: 7-8pm ($5-$10 sliding scale, no one will be turned away)
Open Mic: 8:30-9:30pm Free
For this month’s off the page, please join us in a writing workshop with the topic, “The Racialization of Indigenous womxn bodies.” This workshop will be a safe space for Native womxn to come to together to discuss Native bodies in the socially, political, cultural and historical sense and how are we as Indigenous bodies dependent on the systems that oppress us? We invite those to come with written material or to come with ideas upon writing a poem, short story, rant, manifesto, song, etc. about said topic. of We STRONGLY encourage this workshop for Indigenous folx but is inclusive for all. Thank you.
Amber McCrary is Diné zinester, feminist and writer. Born in Tuba City, AZ (Diné Bikeyah) and raised in the Bordertown of Flagstaff, AZ. In the small town of Flagstaff is where she discovered her love for Punk Rock and the Do it Yourself Culture. She enjoys many things in life such as fruit tarts, traveling, writing, sulking, gardening, eating, smashing the patriarchy and learning about cultures and her own. She received her Bachelors of Art in Political Science with a minor in American Indian Studies. She is the co-creator/co-editor of the (recently retired)Native American Feminist Musing Zines, Empower Yoself Before You Wreck Yoself Vol.1 and Vol.2, The Nizhoni Beat and Shik’is ShiHeart (My friend, heart). She is also the creator of DANG! Zine (Daydreaming, Awkward, Native, Girl) Vol. 1. She recently had enough money to reactivate her “blog” about Asdzą́ą́ stuff athttps://theasdzaabeat.com/ So, you can check that out, if ya want.
Wasted Ink Zine Distro’s “Off the Page” is a monthly spoken word workshop and open mic offering local Arizona poets, writers, and storytellers opportunities to create, present, and publish their work in a brave space. A brave space is grounded in self-awareness and those in that space place themselves in positions of vulnerability as a form of collective action. It is a commitment that our words be one of many doorways to larger community driven conversations.
Special thanks to the event creators Anastasia Freyermuth, Charissa Lucille, and Joy Young.
Questions? Concerns? Email us at WastedInkZineDistro@gmail.com!
Hot chocolate, Road signs, The Bay of Biscay, bread, butter, stairs, cheese, rivers, confusing door locks and the Mediterranean Sea. When I think of my trip to France, these are the things I think of. 11 days was too long for my mother but not long enough for me. I wanted to climb more stairs, eat more fruit tarts, walk through more neighborhoods, and swim in the sea longer. But vacation is just that, a vacation, a temporary moment of new adventures in an unknown location.
The moment we got into Paris, there was no resistance. Everything felt natural even though I didn’t speak the language very well and I had never been to the country. I took 2 years of basic college French when I was at University and that’s all my mom and I had to rely on for 11 days. It was enough for me. We met up with my good friend friend Kim whom I coincidentally met at ASU at an American Indian Student Services workshop, we probably were the only two Navajo girls taking French on campus at that time. We also have a bond for our love for The Replacements, Indie Movies, Art, books and comics.I hadn’t seen homegirl in 2 years or so, so it was good to see a familiar soul.
The first night Kim took us to a cute Parisian restaurant then my mom and I proceeded to face plant into our beds. Saturday night, we were suppose to watch Full Metal Jacket but due to our prolonged dinner eating the biggest bowl of mussels at Leon’s, a Belgium restaurant down the street from our hotel we realized we weren’t going to make it. Instead, we all decided to sit in front of the Eiffel Tower for the light show. August, is quite hot in Paris, so we sat on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower talked for a bit and enjoyed some chocolate and rosé. The light show soon started and it was so exciting to finally see what I had been dreaming about. Paris is really a damn Romantic City. Due to this my mom missed my dad,ALOT, like so much she didn’t enjoy some of the moments because I think she wanted him to be there to see it as well. Selfishly, I kept thinking how hard I worked all summer for these moments (I worked in 107 degree weather and danced to Prince dressed as a strawberry in a beret at one point during the summer) and was going to enjoy them, damnit. This was just the beginning of our conflicting views and ways of travel in France…
However, I did feel bad when were sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower. There were men that were trying to sell us little Eiffel tower key chains, 5 little towers for 1 euro. Then there was the sneaky one, the one that I was teasing so we could get one of those little light up Eiffel towers for half price. He then sat near us and bargained. We eventually got our Eiffel tower for half price but Kim noticed something out of the ordinary and told me to watch my bag. By the time he left, we made sure all our belongings were still in tact. But poor mom, her little Samsung phone was stolen. I already knew she was going through culture shock but for this to happen to her, thoughts of my first day in India were coming back. Kim and I tried to comfort her as much as we could. She was okay but it’s always that weird sense of violation when someone steals from you even when it’s not an item that important to you, betrayal from a stranger is so surreal and confusing.
The next couple days we tried to fit in as much (Arc de Triomphe, Eiffel Tower, The Avenue des Champs-Élysées and endless fruit tart tastings) as we could but dammit there’s just so much to do in Paris, we couldn’t fit everything in, even during our 12 hrs days. Versailles, was a must, well because of Sofia Coppola. All I kept thinking was a plump short little Jason Schwartzman walking through the Hall of Mirrors as Louis XVI and Anxiety Ridden Kirsten Dunst as Marie Antoinette “running” through the halls of the palace. Despite the 2 and a half hour wait outside the palace and swarms of people zig zagging through the halls of the palace, I think next time I will enjoy the palace during low season.
The best part of the palace? Um, Angelina. Angelina is this decadent tea house founded in Paris that is famous for their hot chocolate. You know that movie, Chocolat? The scene where Judi Dench’s character drinks this crazy good looking cup of hot chocolate served to her by Juliette Binoche’s character. The look on Judi’s face where she pauses and looks up, I finally understood. I had that hot chocolate and I understood how that lady felt. Think of the most rich and luxurious chocolate bar you’ve ever had but melted down in a teacup topped off with a tasty dollop of unsweetened whip cream. Just like I will never have Chai tea like I did in India, I don’t think I will ever hot a cup of hot chocolate as magical as the ones in France.
The next couple days in Paris were nice, exploring, taking the boats rides and walking down the River Seine, experiencing sunsets at 9 pm and eating all the “frites” my heart desired. My madre and I also wanted to explore more of France, so we decided to plan for our trip to the South…
There is a reason I am not a travel agent, I forgot we had to buy our Eurorail tickets before leaving America, so the train was out of the question. Well, we could’ve still took the train but we looked at the prices to rent a car and opted for that.
A couple days later we proceeded to make our way west of Paris in a little black Fiat and so began our road trip around France…
A few days ago I attended a dinner to see a few friends since I’ve been back from my travels. In addition, I met some new folks, did some zine swapping and came home with some Indigenous art and literature goodies. I had the lovely opportunity to get my paws on an aesthetically pleasing zine called Kimiwan zine (http://kimiwanzine.com/) and an AMAZING compilation of stories called “Indigenous Young Women Lead: Our stories, Our strengths, our truths.”(you can download the PDF here ). I have been reading the latter and it felt like my hair was blown back. It is about what Aboriginal Women’s Leadership means. One of the stories left me in tears and with heartache because I related so strongly to her words without having to talk about the endless politics of genocide, racism, rape, hate and all the violence we as Indigenous people have encountered but more so about the human condition and our hopes and dreams we hope to be and to strive towards as an Aboriginal women. It was beautiful. Sorry to get all sappy on you but it’s very rare for me to read something that it written directly and for Aboriginal women BUT when I do, I get all sappy and warm and fuzzy inside (I felt like the girl to the left in the RC Gorman painting below 😛 ). It also made me think what Aboriginal leadership is to me and now I feel inspired to write a piece on it from my experiences as an Indigenous woman. Below is the introduction to the piece that gave me the warm and fuzzies; you can check out the rest of the story here.
What does Aboriginal Women’s Leadership mean to me?
By Audrey Armstrong
It means that you are a strong and confident woman who has been through a tough
life and survived to talk about it. A woman who can share that story with us so that
we may learn and grow from her experiences. If you are successful and happy in what
you do then I look up to you. Hardworking, honest and humble women are who I look
up to. I honestly do not look up to people who have been born into privilege. To me
I don’t think that being born with a silver spoon in your mouth makes you a leader. A
true leader is someone who is not afraid of being different, and not afraid to get down
on the level of someone who is down and out. Being a true role model is someone who
has had to work for everything that they have, and overcoming huge obstacles such as
drugs, alcohol, street life etc. Being able to relate to young women and share the story
of your life is what makes you a leader. That is what makes a person want to change. If
you are able to share your story with young women who are in trouble is what makes
you a leader. You never know whose life you may be changing just by sharing your story.
Some girls are able to see that, ‘hey, if you can do it, why can’t I?’ That’s pretty much
how I am able to succeed in my life right now. I have always looked up to strong women,
not only Aboriginal but of all races. Any woman that was born into a hard life and have
worked hard and are successful today are worthy of my admiration. I have always told
myself, I will be someone; I will make something of myself. And someday I can share my
story with young women. And I do. I work with youth and I tell them my story, I am not
ashamed of what I have been through in life, I am a strong person and I have survived to
talk about it. I have hit a few speed bumps along the road, but really, who hasn’t? Above
Pot of tea
I have so much left in this pot of tea
In Nepal, enjoying the scenery
“Are you from Asia?” They ask me
I shyly smile and shake my head
This weird Mongolian looking brown girl who speaks English, what is she?
I stare down at my pot of tea
From A to B, I live for that pot of tea
But what is she?
I am me
I have my father’s Mongolian features
And my mother’s bashful Kinłachiini smile and curiosity of the world
And they are both Navajo
I am them, as they are me and we are of the people, Diné
But I think “Hey!”
I fit in here as if I am any other Nepali girl
But no, I am from an unknown tribe exploring the world
With eyes wide open
Just me and my pot of tea
Going from A to B