Jennifer Cendaña ArmasPoeta, dramaturga, actriu, ballarina, violinista i activista cultural nascuda a Nova York. Els seus espectacles combinen la poesia, la música, la dansa i el teatre amb vinculacions amb el hip-hop i la immigració. Escriu en anglès, castellà i tagal.
Foto Matilde Campodónico
LETTER TO A SISTER AND BROTHER IN HIP-HOP
strong sisters survive slaps and slurs beyond our hip-hop world
stretching seas and skins over scars and whims
cuz we don’t have a dick– remind how we brought about sin
but we wear hope in our eyes, rhyme our cries
below our belly, above our breasts
heading west for the sun and east for the womb
bomb walls cause some brothers still go and assume that
we ain’t as tight
flows don’t light the light of a greater understanding
beats ain’t as commanding
bop heads amongst truths they hide
so sisters get placed upstage one spot in a crew
where one is too many and zero’s too few
we fight for some time, disregard one another
but if I’m uplifting my sister don’t mean I’m hating my brother
cuz some women, too, will just look at you
like, “bitch, get off the stage”
but this culture is also made of
our blood
our feet
our voice
more than catchy hooks and hooch shaking noise
we just as fly when our poems don’t rhyme
and we merely pontificate perfectly delivered diction
hip-hop is our world
we feed on bleed on get our groove on work our learn on
sisters got just as much right to be here
and I ain’t trying to break down a list of everything I don’t do
pleading
won’t you show me some goddess blessed respect
cuz that’s still playing a game and this is my yes campaign
cuz I can’t remember the last time we had one–
yes to our ideas
yes to we
yes to making it past the shit we see
yes to our balance
yes to mad loot
yes to el barrio cuz our connection’s not moot
yes to hips swaying cuz my sexuality’s mine
yes to everything more than biding some time
yes to remembering the powers of our mothers
if I’m uplifting my sister don’t mean I’m hating you, brother
it ain’t about them cats
it’s about we
about us
our connection to ourselves
so we don’t see them dudes as a must
the verses we spit
the beats we break
the taggings we tag for sanity’s sake
our bodies rock move smooth our soul
patch visions and knowledge with rhythmic flow
our stories are roots, hip-hop’s our petition
ain’t no progress gonna come without our women’s upliftment
TODAY
today
beginning now
I will rub you out
of wishes and dreams
hope will plant again
fresh
I will rationalize that
learning to open and love more openly
was worth the in between, grey, sludge
with flashes of red and light
but I am old enough to know better
even then
I wonder why you stayed
give so much in my absence
so little with me here
if I just was to counter your boredom
I do not feel strong most days
the sculpt of calves and biceps
pushups and dance drills
I do not feel strong
and am short on conversation
save for my closest
I do not miss one-word assurances of your presence
I wish I could hate you
list a list of horrible reasonings
but it is that you disappoint
even with the lowest of expectations you disappoint
I am tired of anews started
my friends
we will joke
about poetry being born
(at least)
but I’d rather a heart thriving
than this
figuring a way to heal
in this city
where you led me up and around corners
bled music and dance
onto my skin
I will walk and
find new spaces
apart from you
without your name
or images
or laughs
or claros
LETTER TO A SISTER AND BROTHER IN HIP-HOP
strong sisters survive slaps and slurs beyond our hip-hop world
stretching seas and skins over scars and whims
cuz we don’t have a dick– remind how we brought about sin
but we wear hope in our eyes, rhyme our cries
below our belly, above our breasts
heading west for the sun and east for the womb
bomb walls cause some brothers still go and assume that
we ain’t as tight
flows don’t light the light of a greater understanding
beats ain’t as commanding
bop heads amongst truths they hide
so sisters get placed upstage one spot in a crew
where one is too many and zero’s too few
we fight for some time, disregard one another
but if I’m uplifting my sister don’t mean I’m hating my brother
cuz some women, too, will just look at you
like, “bitch, get off the stage”
but this culture is also made of
our blood
our feet
our voice
more than catchy hooks and hooch shaking noise
we just as fly when our poems don’t rhyme
and we merely pontificate perfectly delivered diction
hip-hop is our world
we feed on bleed on get our groove on work our learn on
sisters got just as much right to be here
and I ain’t trying to break down a list of everything I don’t do
pleading
won’t you show me some goddess blessed respect
cuz that’s still playing a game and this is my yes campaign
cuz I can’t remember the last time we had one–
yes to our ideas
yes to we
yes to making it past the shit we see
yes to our balance
yes to mad loot
yes to el barrio cuz our connection’s not moot
yes to hips swaying cuz my sexuality’s mine
yes to everything more than biding some time
yes to remembering the powers of our mothers
if I’m uplifting my sister don’t mean I’m hating you, brother
it ain’t about them cats
it’s about we
about us
our connection to ourselves
so we don’t see them dudes as a must
the verses we spit
the beats we break
the taggings we tag for sanity’s sake
our bodies rock move smooth our soul
patch visions and knowledge with rhythmic flow
our stories are roots, hip-hop’s our petition
ain’t no progress gonna come without our women’s upliftment
TODAY
today
beginning now
I will rub you out
of wishes and dreams
hope will plant again
fresh
I will rationalize that
learning to open and love more openly
was worth the in between, grey, sludge
with flashes of red and light
but I am old enough to know better
even then
I wonder why you stayed
give so much in my absence
so little with me here
if I just was to counter your boredom
I do not feel strong most days
the sculpt of calves and biceps
pushups and dance drills
I do not feel strong
and am short on conversation
save for my closest
I do not miss one-word assurances of your presence
I wish I could hate you
list a list of horrible reasonings
but it is that you disappoint
even with the lowest of expectations you disappoint
I am tired of anews started
my friends
we will joke
about poetry being born
(at least)
but I’d rather a heart thriving
than this
figuring a way to heal
in this city
where you led me up and around corners
bled music and dance
onto my skin
I will walk and
find new spaces
apart from you
without your name
or images
or laughs
or claros
Entrades
