Welcome to the Dashboard, !

Close dashboard icon
LibreOrganize 0.6.0 - Documentation

ICE Detainees: ‘Our Voices Need To Be Heard!’

Born and raised in East L.A., Vibiana Aparicio-Chamberlin has become a vibrant activist, writer, and visual and performing artist. Her new collection of poetry and stories, Chicana on Fire: Ignited by the 1970s East L.A. Chicano Protest Movement, pays tribute to her Boyle Heights neighborhood. We’ve adopted this passage from a review of the book by Jimmy Centeno that has just appeared in Latino Rebels.

Opening Aparicio-Chamberlins book evokes an aroma of wet earth. She braids history and politics into poems and stories, and her poetry and storytelling at times take volcanic dimensions, eruptive and explosive. In other instances, her poems reflect soft swells of maternal loving care dedicated to family and loved ones.

 

Aparicio-Chamberlin’s feminist consciousness, specifically Chicana, weaves family, community, and her Mexican heritage through her Indigenous roots and mythology. Her writing comes across as a cactus tree with arched arms full of prickled-pear fruit in resistance against droughts of love and the intolerable heat of racism.

The 1970 police assault on a Chicano peace protest against the Vietnam War at Laguna Park in East Los Angeles sparked Aparicio-Chamberlins poetry of protest. In Attacked, Tear Gassed, and Bludgeoned by Sheriffs at the National Chicano Moratorium Against the War in Vietnam, East Los Angeles, August 29, 1970, Aparicio-Chamberlin writes: “I froze; lost my speech. I cried inside my head.” Her invisible tears, fossilized in this poem like amber.

 

In Dont Open the Door, Aparicio-Chamberlin brings us close to the frightful drama of an undocumented family. The poem starts as a letter from a teacher to the mother of Alejandro, warning her to tell her son not to open the door, to be quiet and stay still if he hears a knock. The mothers consecutive instructions of “dont do this” and “dont do that” string together like beads on a rosary. Aparacio-Chamberlin is rescuing and preserving memory that allows her community the space to become the authors of their own history.

 

Palestine, Haiti, Vietnam — all of the Global South — appear in her political poetry. In Oh, Palestine, Aparicio-Chamberlin yearns to build a perfumed bridge to be close to her Palestinian sisters in struggle. In her poem dedicated to Haiti, she describes her desire for a small plot of land for the poor: “No more quaking only the Earth stretching and scratching to loosen the soil for beans and corn to grow for you.”

 

Chicana On Fire blazes with the ganas  — desire — to build a different, more promising world for us all.

 

Jimmy Centeno has studied liberal arts at East L.A. Community College and Latin American studies at Cal State Los Angeles. He’s currently concluding a second masters in art history.