Beginning of Diaspora Stories
This is my new Photography-Stories mini project. It is a love and hate relationship but it is a new adventure and I love that.
At my 38 y/o I've found myself as an immigrant from La Isla navigating through Big Windy Chicago City in as many ways and forms I keep inventing everyday. It's an ongoing cyclical process, like the ferns at our family's farm, opening slowly (or resisting to do so) amazed about the sun (if any). Then there's dancing salsa on sidewalks with no music, or dragging english words...inventing them, resisting with my "ay mama". Paying attention. Smiling. Observing. Being angry. Resisting.
"Don't you even try to colonize my mouth mama....never again. My people and I are resisting. We are decolonizing our souls every fucking day in this country. Never again" I say to the white lady saying "ay mama" did sound ghetto.
Then.....
I decided some weeks ago I needed to speed up some money for my midwifery license process so I can go back home. I miss home. I needed to try something else besides teaching, working at a clinic, chasing pregnant people for Reiki, massage or creating merch for my Mama Aicha project (Breathing aiiir iiin....right, only that!)
So without winking I accepted a friend's invitation and decided to do what I was trained to do fiercely since forever by Aida Rodríguez: Clean houses!
She trained me not to only do it at home, but at our community's elders, pregnant people and the sick and she also trained me to learn José José and Camilo Sesto songs while doing it and making out with the broom (I'm serious).
So far cleaning houses I've seen some of the stories I've been needing to complete this puzzle called "Being Diaspora". From the other immigrant worker who needs an extra hand to the rich white guy who never learned how to clean cause they always had maids. So many stories that keep me thinking and talking by myself on the train back home while holding my traveling mapo (these american mapos are too weird for me), finishing my dinner sandwich and feeling people staring at me. I bet I look hot and that's why they stare...sure 😉
So I decided to start documenting these stories because they are becoming a central part of what it means to this woman called Jackie and sometimes Jacoba to be Diaspora. Because I'm not ashamed of it. Because in a way I want to honor Aida who did whatever she had to as well as my Papi to bring food to our table, and because these stories make me think, laugh out loud [in spanish] or cry.
Equipment: Will simply do it with a LG G4 phone camera. Simple and Basic. It's easier to hide a phone than my photography equipment.
Place: Chicago
Time: Ongoing until I no longer have stories to tell, houses to clean or energy to keep on.
