Black Dove: Mamá, Mi’jo, and Me by Ana Castillo

By Ana Castillo

Growing up because the intellectually lively daughter of a Mexican Indian immigrant relatives through the Seventies, Castillo defied conference as a author and a feminist. A new release later, her mother's crooning mariachi lyrics resonate once more. Castillo—now a longtime Chicana novelist, playwright, and scholar—witnesses her personal son's spiraling maturity and eventual incarceration. status within the stifling court, Castillo describes a scene that may be any mother's worst nightmare. yet in a rustic of evident and stacked information, it's a nightmare particularly reserved for moms like her: the inner-city moms, the only moms, the moms of brown sons.

Black Dove: Mamá, Mi'jo, and Me looks at what it potential to be a unmarried, brown, feminist dad or mum in a global of mass incarceration, racial profiling, and police brutality. via startling humor and love, Castillo weaves intergenerational tales touring from Mexico urban to Chicago. And in doing so, she narrates a few of America's such a lot heated political debates and pressing social injustices in the course of the oft-neglected lens of motherhood and family.

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By Ana Castillo

Growing up because the intellectually lively daughter of a Mexican Indian immigrant relatives through the Seventies, Castillo defied conference as a author and a feminist. A new release later, her mother's crooning mariachi lyrics resonate once more. Castillo—now a longtime Chicana novelist, playwright, and scholar—witnesses her personal son's spiraling maturity and eventual incarceration. status within the stifling court, Castillo describes a scene that may be any mother's worst nightmare. yet in a rustic of evident and stacked information, it's a nightmare particularly reserved for moms like her: the inner-city moms, the only moms, the moms of brown sons.

Black Dove: Mamá, Mi'jo, and Me looks at what it potential to be a unmarried, brown, feminist dad or mum in a global of mass incarceration, racial profiling, and police brutality. via startling humor and love, Castillo weaves intergenerational tales touring from Mexico urban to Chicago. And in doing so, she narrates a few of America's such a lot heated political debates and pressing social injustices in the course of the oft-neglected lens of motherhood and family.

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Additional info for Black Dove: Mamá, Mi’jo, and Me

Sample text

Not the México of the splendid gardens of Chapultepec Park, of the cadet heroes, Los Niños Héroes, who valiantly but fatally fought off the invasion of US troops. We wanted no part of this México, where we all slept on the mattress our mothers had purchased for us on the first night in my tío Leonel’s home. It was laid out in the middle of the room, and six children and two grown women slept on it crossways, lined up neatly like Chinese soldiers on the front line at night in the trenches, head-to-toe, head-to-toe.

One year later, my mother was raped—or at a minimum clearly taken advantage of—by the owner of the restaurant on the US side of the border where she had found work as a waitress. ) He was married with a family and considerably older than the teenager who bore his son. The best my great-grandfather could do at that point on behalf of my mother’s honor was to get the man to provide for her. He paid the rent on a little one-room wooden house, which, of course, gave him further claims on my mother.

I didn’t find women who looked like me in the Edna St. Vincent Millay sonnets I fell in love with at sixteen in my secretarial school’s library. That wasn’t me or my mother in the paintings I studied at my beloved Art Institute of Chicago. I didn’t see us on television or at the symphony or the ballet. We weren’t in white smocks in hospitals or running for office. In public schools, I grew up without a single Latino instructor with whom to identify; indeed, I had none in college. The Latino student organization I participated in demanded a Chicano instructor and we finally prevailed in my last year, welcoming a young ABD sociologist not much older than those of us he’d teach.

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