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homegrown a zine

table of contents

3 introduction 5 Image of My Mother by Tiffany Corin Martínez 6 Chinese Proverbs by Claire Ma 9 Brown Hands by Payal Pal 10 la confianza y la justicia || trust & justice by Kim j. Cárdenas and her mom 13 Emotion From Afar by Edelweiss Cardenas 14 Madre Alegria by Edelweiss Cardenas 15 Hermana Conquistadora by Edelweiss Cardenas 17 My daughter and I by Gopa Mukherjee 18 Unlovable by Gopa Mukherjee 19 Freedom by Gopa Mukherjee 20 shona by Raka Sen 22 Theses by Nuha Fariha 23 Shameful Love by Nuha Fariha 24 Bahay Kubo by Maeve Leslie 25 Kalikasan by Maeve Leslie 26 Boondocks by Maeve Leslie 27 Acknowledgements 28 Further Reading

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homegrown

what kinds of knowledges get produced and how do they move–or not–between generations, and across countries, specifically by daughters and their mothers of color?

our research question examines the global south epistemologies that move between immigrant mothers and their daughters born in the “west.” raka’s family immigrated from india and kim’s family from mexico. the aim of this zine is to be a very personal form of feminist ethnography. noting the history of feminist zines, this zine maps the stories and experiences of women with souls across imagined borders in an accessible and homegrown manner, as opposed to high theory intended for an academic audience. these are our stories. these are yours.

this zine includes poems, important pieces of our childhoods and our mother’s motherhoods, illustrations of how pieces of culture and ideologies flow from mothers to daughters and vice versa, and reflections on the surprises, challenges and the journey in general from us and our moms. these works locate themselves in women of color feminist traditions, by subverting universal narratives of mother/daughterhood. at the end of this zine we compiled a list of works we have encountered at some points in our lives that explore these stories as well. and we acknowledge that there are so many more, and we invite you to share those around you.

this zine is being created for a feminist ethnography course at the university of pennsylvania, taught by professor deborah thomas. during this course, we have come to think of feminist ethnography as a reflexive practice of (un)learning that destabilizes dominant gender roles, disciplinary norms, and the notion of intellectual objectivity itself. the underlying assumption undergirding feminist ethnography is that the researcher and the study are constitutive of another. we are our research, our explorations, our experiences. and we own that here.

let’s acknowledge what it means to be multiple places at once. let’s undo borders and dichotomies together.

thank you for learning and sharing with us.

kim & raka

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Tiffany Corin Martínez is currently a youth program Director in Harlem. She loves to write poetry, short stories, and articles within the world of education and sociology.

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Image of My Mother

I want to tattoo my body with the image of my mother

watch my hands master spices see my calves grow in size

so I too can run marathons with four babies on my shoulders

When my voice turns into hers My tongue will grow heavy

with tastes of herbs and te amo‘s watch my whispers soothe cyclones

remind all daughters to breathe again and again

When I crawl into her skin and I taste the church’s wine

I see God underneath my eyelids feel the lord’s blood join our own and the darkness would feel warm

for the first time I want to tattoo my body

with the image of my mother so when I look in my reflection

I can finally believe I too have the strength of a thousand women

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Claire Ma is a bi-coastal, queer Asian-American aspiring artist and academic-in-training. Her mother hails from Taiwan and is still the wisest person she knows. Claire is a doctoral student in Political Science at the University of Pennsylvania, where she studies inequality in the U.S. and the relationship between business and labor.

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@desisforhumanity

Payal Pal is a South Asian-American who immigrated to the United States when she was 6 years old. Her bicultural perspective led her to pursue her passion in social and criminal justice. She is graduating from the University of Pennsylvania with a Masters in Social Work

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la confianza y la justicia || trust & justice

que significa para ti ser una mama imigrante? || what does it mean to be an immigrant mom?

> Significa que vine a este país a ver realizados sueños que en mi país nopodía lograr. Como estudiar y tener unos hijos que fueran a la universidad erami meta principal. Ese era para mi el sueño americano que mis hijos fueranprofesionista que se realizarán mejor que yo.|| It meant that I came to thiscountry to see dreams realized that in my country I could not. Like studying, and havingchildren who would go to university, that was my main goal. That was for me the americandream, that my children would become professionals and that they would realize themselvesbetter than I.

como piensas que fuera diferente tu experiencia como mama si te hubieras quedado en mexico? || how do you think your experience as a mom would have been different if you had stayed in mexico?

>Yo hubiera sido una ama de casa y ustedes tal ves trabajarán como yo en elcampo con mi papa :(. Y como tus primos || I would have become a housewife andmaybe you would work in the fields as I did with my dad :( and like your cousins.

crees que hay diferencias culturales entre tus hijos americanos y tu? || do you believe there are cultural differences between your american children and you?

> Si mucha por ejemplo ustedes son más libres e independientes de como yoera allá. Mi papá nunca nos dejaba salir a ningún la ni cuando teníamospaseos en la escuela y ustedes si || yes a lot for example you are more free andindependent than how I was there. My dad never let us go anywhere, even when we hadschool trips, but you and your brother do.

has aprendido conocimientos nuevos por tener hijos americanos? || have you acquired new knowledge by having american children?

> Si mucho la educación aquí es diferente. Y la confianza también || yes a lot. education here is different. And so is the trust.

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como la confianza? || what do you mean by trust?

> En este país los hijos son más comunicativos con sus padres y en mexicono yo no sentía esa confianza de expresarle algo a mis padres porque de todome reganaban. Por ejemplo si alguien me pegaba en la escuela mis padres nohacían nada ni los maestros aquí si hay más justicia para los estudiantes. || inthis country kids are more communicative with their parents and in mexico i didn’t feelthat kind of trust to tell them anything because they would scold me for everything. Forexample if someone hit me in school my parents wouldn’t do anything, nor would theteachers but here there is more justice for students.

–english is not my language, therefore i italicize

kim j. cárdenas is a southern california chicana, with firm roots in michoacan, mexico. she is a first generation college graduate who is a second-year doctoral student in political science at the university of pennsylvania.

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Edelweiss Cardenas is a Mexican-American emerging artist born in Colima, Mexico and raised in Chicago. In 2010, she received her BFA from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC), where she was the recipient of the Presidential Merit Scholarship and participated in a special artist residency in Prague via SAIC. She has produced commissioned work for the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, and her work has been shown at the Marwen Berkowitz Gallery, the National Museum of Mexican Art, and Murphy Hill Gallery. In January of 2010, she had her first solo exhibition of paintings and drawings at the Living Room Gallery in Chicago. Soon after arriving in New York in the summer of 2010, she held a solo show of new paintings and drawings at Red Horse Cafe in Brooklyn. While in New York, she continued to create art while working at Cheryl Hazan Mosaics for two years and serving as an artist assistant to international artists in residence at the International Studio & Curatorial Program.

Edelweiss now lives and works in West Philadelphia and has most recently shown work in the Mother exhibition at Eye’s Gallery. Her current work is inspired by the idea of empathy. Her identity as a Mexican-American woman and the current political climate has led her to consider the impact anti-immigration and Mexican threat rhetoric is having on Philadelphia’s roughly 15,500 Mexican residents. By portraying first person reactions to this community’s struggles with immigration and transnationalism, she creates pieces that explore different ideas of identity, borders, and kinship to inspire wonder and social action.

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Emotion From Afar by Edelweiss Cardenas, 2014

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Madre Alegria by Edelweiss Cardenas, 2016

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Hermana Conquistadora by Edelweiss Cardenas, 2017

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Gopa Mukherjee

I hail from the ancient land of India. I spent a quarter century there before migrating to USA. I grew up in conservative Brahmin household with a lot of rules and very little freedom for girls. America with all its freedom and equality was a land of great mystery to me. Now I have spent more than a quarter century here I have integrated a lot of this culture to become truly bicultural I think. I started writing poetry at the age of 50 when I think I could actually shed some of the chains that taught me to me only a left brained person. Writing poetry is a true joy for me and a very surprising gift at this stage of my life.

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My daughter and I

The dream of a child Was such a precious wish Coming from India to USA Struggling everyday to make ends meet School and work Living near the poverty line It felt there will never be a time To fulfill this dream But then came the awakening With my mother’s death Life is finite I was ready to invite my children Even it meant I continue to struggle The moment of the birth The squalling infant Stops crying as she hears my voice My heart filled with love It felt bigger than me Raising this child With values of my motherland And hers It is journey of inner conflict and compromise Growing and learning to be the Best mother I can be Looking deeply into her heart Letting it guide me As I see my strong, confident, brilliant and passionate girl I rest knowing She helped me achieve the impossible Blending the best of both cultures Onto her and also into me Proud to be Indian Americans In this land of the free

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Unlovable

Great childhood Wonderful parents Fairytale life Everything comes to a crushing halt Wait What happened As the rose colored glasses come off Reality sinks its nasty claws I see the the little girl Hiding in shame Her lips quivering Her eyes full of unshed tears She is just a girl In a world that only reveres boys The more she tries to earn the love Subduing all her anger and tears Her hopes and dreams To be a perfect person She forgets her own self She rejects the sad little girl within herself She shuts the door and imprisons her own voice To create a perfect world for her parents Then the wall between her real and false self Comes crushing down With it comes the realization She was never seen Never understood And never loved for who she really was I hold my tiny little girl in my arms I dry her tears I listen to her story I teach her to speak in her own voice Then she and I become one Love flows between us And manifests In a thousand flowers Proclaiming we are love And we are always loved in this universe Where everything and everyone Belongs

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Freedom

Sadness Is an old friend I ran away from my friend As I saw that as a weakness I covered up my friend In interesting ways Sometimes it will be wrapped in Thunderous clouds of anger Sometimes it is A powerful wave Of activity That keeps me up day and night Accomplishing Goals of academic achievement Sometimes it is the face in the mirror That looks at itself And knows it can't be loved As there is fatal flaw In myself So many creative ways That I devised to not See the deep river of sadness Which was always there Crying for the love and acceptance from My family The fate of being born a girl Who is always second to a son

The weaker sex The lesser person No matter what I do to prove Myself I will never be a son I will never be given My birthright As I was born a girl I will never be enough As that is the decree of the land No one questions These laws as they were made thousands of years ago Nobody wants to change them But me in the quiet corner of my soul I cry and rebel I want to break these terrible bonds That have chained me to the earth I long to fly I want to be free The sky waits The vastness and the emptiness Where I can be who ever I want to be I can be close to the stars I can be closer to the heavens I will know love again In the freedom of being free I can soar as the eagle The majestic bird of the sky And live a life of Absolute beauty and freedom As eagles don't cry They are free

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shona

for as long as i can remember, ma has called me shona. it is a term of endearment that she brought with her as she migrated from calcutta to colorado. it moved with us from kansas to colorado to kentucky and then back to colorado. shona was the first bengali word i learned and understood.

once i heard my mom call my cousin baby shona. i threw the temper tantrum of all tantrums. i was her only shona. she calmed me down, she was calling him baby shona but shona without a modifying word -- that was only me.

she excitedly exclaims a gleeful shona! when after spending many car rides arguing over indian versus american music and testing out many american musicians with no success, we realize that she loves bruno mars.

a bashful shona when I asked her about boys and about how she met my dad.

i heard her groaning shona from the bathroom across the hall on the night that she tried to teach me how to cook iilish maach, a bengali fish delicacy that can apparently make you very sick if you don’t cook it all the way…

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she sadly shook her head an agonizing shonaaa... when i told her i hated her, in those angsty teenage years when my pink and black shoes were covered in images of skulls and guns shooting hearts.

she chirped a joyful shona when i called her from college in new york to try to learn how to make her dal recipe. then, a bemused shona when I call back to tell her i burned it. finally, a mischievous shona full of laughter when I called her begged to make some dal and mail it to me overnight.

she uses all different tonalities of shona in each and every voicemail she leaves me, of which there are a lot of. rotating between a frustrated shona because i didn’t pick up, an excited shona to tell me our dog learned a new trick or that there is new research showing the connections between mental and physical health, a sad shona when she had a bad day or a hard patient, and every once in a while a mundane shona because she was just feeling blah.

now, those voicemails and calls often make the reverse journey from colorado to calcutta. she answers with an uneasy shona when i call her from my fieldsites in india and bangladesh, to tell her all that i have learned and come to understand about her journey to the us. she worriedly calls her dad and brother, take care of my shona, send her back to me safely. she calls me a comforting shona when i call her crying when faced with the reality that her migration to the united states gave me opportunities that my cousins will never have. and all the while, she types every tone of shona repeatedly over whatsapp, so i know that i have my mothers love and protection from the other side of the world.

in bengali, shona translates directly to mean solid gold.

raka sen is a bengali american woman from colorado, though she spent many formative years in new york city. she is a doctoral student in sociology at the university of pennsylvania, studying the gender divisions of labor in adapting to climate change. her research is in the sundarban forest in india and bangladesh.

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Theses

In our psychology books, we read Experiments show baby cats raised with a cover Over their eye will eventually go blind even if their eyes function properly

My mother combs my sister’s hair Leaves red marks on her scalp Once she sobbed, now she is quiet Do children who are bred to survive Lose the ability to love even if Their hearts function properly?

In our biology textbooks we read Trauma can pass through multiple generations Trauma can change the entire structure of our genes How much does the rape of over 400,000 women Change the birth of our nation?

In our neurology textbooks we read Neurons that don’t receive stimulus die This is called growth, this is called survival Maybe this is why I can ask for water and I can’t ask for love.

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Shameful Love

My mother walks into my bedroom and sees The purple vibrator on the vanity counter its silicone shape, an electric affront “Are you a lesbian? Are you a sex freak? Are you even my daughter?”

We take walks around suburban bungaloos Afternoon lectures in proper decorum “This is not a natural thing. This is not a proper thing. This is not a woman’s right.”

What if we learned to love before we learned to be ashamed? Would you take your hand dance in the summer rain? Would we find the home we look for in other bodies?

Wear your favorite black silk nightgown to bed Spread out over every corner Come home to yourself again and again and again.

Nuha Fariha is a first generation Bangladeshi immigrant currentlynavigating medical school and writing her feelings.

Nuha Fariha is a first generation Bangladeshi immigrant currently navigating medical school and writing her feelings.

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Bahay Kubo by Maeve Leslie

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Kalikasan by Maeve Leslie

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Boondocks by Maeve Leslie

Maeve Leslie As a Filipina-American artist and the daughter of an immigrant, my current work revolves around both my journey and my mother’s journey in America. I express the often-mixed signals experienced as a first-generation Filipina-American born in the United States as a child of mixed race. I seek to share these feelings and experiences with my audience to spark discussion aroundthese experiences, both similar and different. I primarily work in serigraphy printmaking and am pursuing an MFA in Printmaking at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.

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acknowledgments

we would like to thank every single contributor to our zine. your stories matter. we envisioned this zine as documenting the beauty and the challenges of being an intercultural daughter, of being women and femmes of color. this zine would not be possible without you.

we would also like to extend our deeply felt gratitude to nuha fariha for helping us name this zine. we wanted to acknowledge the authenticity of these stories that begin at the home, and grow there. home is somewhere we began, but it is also somewhere that is within all of us–something we build for ourselves.

thank you, jessa lingel, for your guidance in assembling this work. thank you for honoring and continuing the feminist zine tradition.

thank you to our moms for being part of this zine and for helping us understand what it means to be in their shoes.

thank you for reading these extraordinary stories, for taking them home with you. for holding our stories in your hands.

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Further Reading

Films Dancehall Queen Real Women Have Curves

Fiction Brit Bennett, The Mothers Sandra Cisneros, The House on Mango Street Nicole Dennis-Benn, Here Comes the Sun Kei Miller, Augustown Etaf Rum, A Woman is No Man Erika L. Sanchez, I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter Marjane Satrapi, Embroideries Jesmyn Ward, Salvage the Bones

Short Stories Jamaica Kincaid, “Girl” Piyali Bhattacharya, Ed, Good Girls Marry Doctors: South

Asian American Daughters on Obedience and Rebellion

Poetry Claudia Rankine, Citizen: An American Life Yesika Salgado, Córazon Warsan Shire, Teaching my Mother How to Give Birth Nayyirah Waheed, Salt

Nonfiction/Autobiographical Sandra Cisneros, A House of My Own: Stories from my Own

Life

Saidiya Hartman, Lose Your Mother Michelle Zauner, “Crying in H Mart”

Academic Lila Abu-Lughod, “Do Muslim Women Really Need Saving?” Sara Ahmed, Living a Feminist Life Robin D. G. Kelley, Yo Mama’s Disfunktional!: Fighting

the Culture Wars in Urban America Su’ad Abdul Khabeer, Muslim Cool: Race, Religion, and

Hip Hop in the United States