AND
WHEN YOU LEAVE, TAKE YOUR PICTURES WITH YOU
Our
white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
sitting at a factory machine
wielding a machete
in our bright bandanas
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
holding machine guns bayonets bombs knives
Our white sisters
radical friends
should think
again.
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
sitting at a factory machine
wielding a machete
in our bright bandanas
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
holding machine guns bayonets bombs knives
Our white sisters
radical friends
should think
again.
Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
walking to the fields in the hot sun
with straw hat on head if brown
bandana if black
in bright embroidered shirts
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
smiling.
Our white sisters
radical friends
love to own pictures of us
walking to the fields in the hot sun
with straw hat on head if brown
bandana if black
in bright embroidered shirts
holding brown yellow black red children
reading books from literacy campaigns
smiling.
Our white sisters
should think again.
No one smiles
at the beginning of a day spent
digging for souvenir chunks of uranium
of cleaning up after
our white sisters
radical friends.
at the beginning of a day spent
digging for souvenir chunks of uranium
of cleaning up after
our white sisters
radical friends.
And
when our white sisters
radical friends see us
in the flesh
not as a picture they own,
they are not quite sure
if
they like us as much.
We’re not as happy as we look
on
their
wall.
in the flesh
not as a picture they own,
they are not quite sure
if
they like us as much.
We’re not as happy as we look
on
their
wall.
From
And When You Leave, Take Your Pictures With You, published in
This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color,
2nd ed., 1983
Y
CUANDO SE VAYAN, LLÉVENSE SUS RETRATOS
A nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales
les encanta tener retratos de nosotras
sentadas junto a la máquina de fábricas
manejando un machete
en pañuelos brillantes
cargando niños morenos amarillos negros rojos
leyendo libros de las
campañas contra el analfabetismo
cargando ametralladoras bayonetas bombas navajas
Nuestras hermanas blancas
amigas radicales
deben pensarlo
de nuevo.
A nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales
les encanta tener retratos de nosotras
andando por el sembrado en el sol ardiente
con sombrero de paja si somos morenas
pañuelo si somos negras
en faldas de tejido brillante
cargando niños morenos amarillos negros rojos
leyendo libros de las campañas contra el analfabetismo
sonriendo.
Nuestras hermanas gringas amigas radicales
deben pensarlo de nuevo.
Nadie se sonríe
al dar frente al día
excavando pedazos de uranio como recuerdos
o limpiando detrás de
nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales
Y cuando nuestras hermanas gringas
amigas radicales nos ven
en carne viva
no como su propio retrato,
no están muy seguras
si
les encantamos tanto.
No somos tan felices como nos vemos
en
su
pared.
En Esta puente, mi espalda, Voces de mujeres tercermundistas en los Estados Unidos, editado por Cherríe Moraga y Ana Castillo y traducido por Ana Castillo y Norma Alarcón, Ism Press, San Francisco: 1988
Jo
Carrillo (USA, 1959) is a Professor of Law at Hastings College of
Law, where she joined the faculty in 1991. She received her B.A.
degree from Stanford University (1981), her J.D. from the University
of New Mexico (1986), and returned to Stanford University where for
her J.S.D. degree (1996). Professor Carillo teaches American Indian
Law, Critical Race Theory, Property, Wills and Trusts. Her poetry
appears in This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of
Color and has been published in German and Spanish.
From here.
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