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Conflicting Changes - Part 2

Part 1 

I start my cultural acrobatics functioning through the masculine perspective and from recognizing the patriarchal bias in my New Mexican region.  I preface this because I feel much of my orientation can only represent a view from this side of the gender border.  My conflicting changes have to begin with my gender.  I am not indulging the gender conflict currently enflamed in today's pop culture, I am writing through the male lens, a masculine privilege, and competitive instincts.  I have chosen to be a gentle warrior upholding values for ancestors who I feel had to drift from communal.  This identity has evolved from desiring to be a champion, dominant, and prestigious.  The deep dive into my cultural paradoxes have resulted in a condition that has at times been numbing.  I am human, diagnosed as Chicano.  Yes, diagnosed, better yet self-diagnosed.

My mother is my most influential teacher of focus, birthing me while only a maturing child herself, at 17. She was guiding herself and me into choices both blessed and ominous, yet mostly seeming to turn fortuitous.  My step-father is another.  My father in his brief opportunities to be with me, made a strong impact.  I had uncles and aunts that steered me and at times squished me.  These are my first attempts at loving relationships. I see these relationships are the bedrock for who I am and how I am.
I am about to describe how my darker shades of brown were made.  


This is not an attempt to disenfranchise myself or burn the bridges to my past.  This will be an encounter with my soils.  It will be a critical look into what building blocks and nutrients surrounded me and still feed my existence.  It will be the curious step into machismo, addictions, violence, criminality, and victimization.  It will be the first step towards taking responsibility for being bonded with the idea of being more human and less obligated to be lower case chicano.  It is a way for me to embrace the victimization in me by taking responsibility for not looking for the wellness that transcends labels and identities.

Immigrating Without Borders

      I immigrated from Albuquerque’s city life to a quieter Santa Fe.  Santa Fe is 50 some odd miles north of Albuquerque along the Camino ...