Of Women and Salt by Gabriela Garcia

She knew and, despite the weight of it, accepted her role as liberator of a frightened man. María Isabel thought it had always been women who wove the future out of the scraps, always the characters, never the authors. She knew a woman could learn to resent this post, but she would instead find a hundred books to read.

Full review at LatinoBookReview.com

Of Women and Salt by Gabriela Garcia is a multigenerational story that traces the ways women learn to resist power structures and endure suffering with a ferocity born of love and lack of choices. In the beginning, there is María Isabel, a woman whose survival requires learning to read in secret and working as the only woman rolling cigars in a factory. In the midst of the first Cuban revolution in the 1860’s, María Isabel becomes the matriarch of a long line of courageous women navigating an unjust world. Jeanette, five generations later, is at the other end of two revolutions and a diaspora that led part of the family to Miami.

Garcia’s characters are like the heroes of so many families—mothers and guardians who make impossible choices and spend a lifetime making peace with them. Over the span of 150 years, these families witness revolutionary political changes and cope with their inherited traumas. This extensive timeline is evidence of a tendency for patterns, both good and bad, to persist no matter how much one tries to live in isolation from the past. Irrespective of time and place, Of Women and Salt speaks to the universal human desires to survive and to belong.

My Time Among the Whites: Notes from an Unfinished Education by Jennine Capó Crucet

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Growing up in Miami, Cuban-American author Jennine Capó Crucet saw her ethnicity represented in every facet of her community. Having never been singled out for her otherness, she experienced many of the privileges afforded to most white Americans. Her race is simply rendered invisible by its prevalence. When she is suddenly immersed into affluent white America as a first-generation college student at a private university, she begins the painful journey of learning what it means to be an outsider and unlearning “whiteness” as the ultimate achievement.

As a college student, she finds little affirmation of belonging in an institution that was meant to help her reach her full potential. The more she advances in academia, the more she recognizes what it requires of her—to essentially erase her brownness in the process of molding herself into a model of white success.

Her poignant, unabashed writing goes beyond statistics about inequality and provides glimpses into her personal struggles—everything from ongoing imposter syndrome in her professional and personal life to choosing a suitable DJ for an interracial wedding. Her essays pick apart the flawed paradigm that shaped her own parents’ aspirations and her decisions as a young woman.

Crucet’s essay collection is not just a reflection on her upbringing and early career—it is a hand extended to all the young minorities in the U.S. who have had to change their name, their hair, their accents, and more, in an effort to thrive and advance in this world. It is a reality check for white Americans. It is a call to action for widespread systemic change, despite the fact that even the smallest acts of reform are often met with derision and defensiveness by the people who continue to benefit from and uphold the status quo.

 

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“If I stop paying close attention, academia can be a comfortable, recognizable place, one where I am encouraged to buy into the falsehood of a meritocracy that promises the American Dream to anyone willing to work hard. But I’ve come to see the American Dream for what it really is: a lie my parents had little choice but to buy into and sell to me, a lie that conflated working hard with passing for, becoming, and being white.”

In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado

51ITzTfc7pL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_In this fragmented memoir of her relationship with an abusive long-term partner, Machado imbues her own personal story with an exposition of the “archival silence” on the topic of abuse in the queer community. It starts with a fervent crush on a beautiful, charming acquaintance. Progressing through the stages of friendship, torrid love, and polyamorous romance, the “woman in the dream house” gradually transforms into a manipulative, living nightmare. Their mutual infatuation, tangled up with the euphoria of love and lust, leads to a co-dependent relationship—a deceptive bondage that is all too common in romantic partnerships.

With each short chapter, Machado dares readers to continue exploring every inexplicable contradiction and dark crevice of the hellish relationship that dominates her life. Machado forces the reader into the protagonist’s mind and body with the 2nd person narration throughout the book and a detour into a downward spiraling “choose your own adventure” scenario. The memoir is sprinkled with references to the Motif-Index of Folk-Literature—frequent reminders that while her experience is unique and devastating, elements of her story are also universal and timeless.

As she unearths years of emotional trauma, Machado also explains how gendered perceptions of abusers and victims excludes narratives of the non-binary and queer, leaving a historical, legal, and canonical void where stories of countless people have been invalidated by mainstream culture. Machado’s domestic fantasy turned to extreme dysfunction claims a space in literature that has long been silenced. In the collective bits of her broken self and story, Machado’s insight illustrates why it’s important to value the stories not only of the obvious perpetrators of violence, but also the terrors taking place all the time beyond white picket fences and the façade of the dream house.

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“I speak into the silence. I toss the stone of my story into a vast crevice; measure the emptiness by its small sound.”

Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture edited by Roxane Gay

9780062413505_p0_v4_s1200x630Roxane Gay began this anthology in an attempt to unravel the nebulous concept of “rape culture”– to engage with the question, “What is it like to live in a culture where it often seems like it is a question of when, not if, a woman will encounter some kind of sexual violence?” Ultimately, this piece became a place where diverse individuals across the gender spectrum could reclaim their own stories, free from expectations about what it means to carry the burden of trauma.

Gay and the contributing authors created a space where it’s okay to say, “It WAS that bad. It still is.” This anthology does not offer simple truths about sexual violence or a literary tonic for those scarred by it, but it does provide insight into why these kinds of stories are silenced and why every one of them matters. The authors, so far beyond vulnerable, offer readers the broken bits of themselves so that their experiences might become something more than a car crash everyone likes to observe in a most unhelpful way.

“I’m writing this so it can be a part of the compendium of other sad and bad stories like these, because maybe the compendium will say something in totality that we cannot say alone.”

These stories are brimming with emotional chaos and contradictions, but together, the voices ring true in a kind of perverse harmony of pain and healing. Together, the survivors scream unapologetically that each of us matter, and this can’t continue. Every time someone musters the courage to speak up, every time we refuse to diminish our own pain for the sake of others, the Movement is that much closer to holding people accountable for the suffering they’ve inflicted and a little bit closer to a cultural revolution.

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“It’s time to pull out the scalpel and turn it around. Slash vents in the paper walls of this master’s house of heteropatriarchal colonialist mass hallucination that claims to be our reality. Give vent to our rage. Be bad. Dare to survive.” –So Mayer