Trauma

Trauma, sometimes it just lays under your skin, waiting for a chill to blow and make your hair rise

Letting you know that it will forever be there 

It can follow you and can be an expressive sign of your obvious discomfort 

And so I think about those women that haven’t had any sexual trauma 

Those women, if they’re out– there that haven’t had any sexual harassment 

How amazing it must be to be fully confident in your most expressive self, the naked body 

Without ever thinking back to a moment when that naked body had been seen with eyes of someone that made you feel anything but confident 

Eyes that made you want to scrub your skin raw 

To remove any and all remnants of that discomfiting stare

Those betraying eyes that made you feel shame for something that is beautiful 

To be forever free of such is amazing 

To know that no one ever made you doubt or want to hide your grace is a gift 

But I wonder, in all honesty, is there any woman out there to be free of such trauma?

 

-Bionica

To Belong

 I always tried so hard to belong 

To belong to the cool group of kids in kindergarten and be accepted by the Dominican girl with the Greek name like Oedipus’ mom slash wife 

But there was never anyone like me through out any of my school years 

There wasn’t anyone with whom I felt that I could identify with 

Not a single place where I felt that I belonged 

Not with my mother, father, brother or family 

My different tastes have always stood out like golden glitter on black paper 

But as a kid I didn’t see the sparkle

All I saw was something scratchy that would make an indent on my fingers if I pressed too hard 

I pressed really hard when I would get my hair straightened but my hair pressed harder when the Just for Me would grow out and it was time to do the roots again 

Aside from making every effort possible to change my hair, I also wanted to change my ethnicity and remember praying that my skin would be white 

That my name would be Melissa or Cindy, something that would be said correctly on the first try 

And when it was time to go shopping I would always pick out something that just didn’t go

And my mother would remind me of this constantly and even today want to change me up just to her liking 

Someone always wants to make an adjustment here or a tweak there to be more of what they like 

But the thing is that I don’t belong to them

I belong to me 

I belong to the happy girl inside that has learned to enjoy being the odd one out 

I have learned that my weirdness is mine only and can’t be taken away 

Does it make me shine like the glitter on the black paper?

Maybe or maybe not….

I know longer care if someone else sees the shine anymore 

I have learned that the sparkle is mine to love and appreciate 

Like the kinks in may hair that may be more coiled on one side than the other 

It’s part of what makes me great 

And the not belonging anywhere 

Well that’s no longer a cross to carry all sad like the men reenacting the stations of the cross

Now it’s what makes me strong to know that I don’t belong anywhere and that’s ok 

To know that I must be the happy home for my being 

Because I belong to me 

I belong to my happiness and my sadness all the same 

Because I don’t have to translate the language of my soul to myself 

I simply close my eyes and open my heart to feel 

Because all these differences, they belong to me so that I can just be… 

Bionica 

On a Quest

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At 27 plus one she stood in the category of still single and not even mingling.  

No boyfriend to date and she was ok with that. Used to the fact of perhaps an occasional date every couple of years–yes years! She wasn't looking forward to much. 

At least it's what she made others believe. It's as if in her stood the external shell of a woman subdued to the fact that all men are the same. None worth any time that isn't spent playing some odd game of I'm not going to call you today but in a few weeks so we can get together again and see what happens. She was tired of silly mind games 'he loves me, he doesn't love me oh but he just texted me'.

She came to terms with the fact that not everyone is meant to be in a relationship and that's ok. 

However her parents on the other hand would like to differ. The dad that she so loved mentioned how he would love to have grand children apparently overlooking the fact that he also has a son that can provide ;) Truth be told, her mom would like to clarify that her only daughter is not a closet lesbian on the verge of being jamona.

After x amount of failed un relationships she came to terms with the fact 'mejor estar sola que mal acompañada' No need to drag things out with someone whose hand you don't care to hold for more than a second to confirm that the satellite time on your cellphone is in sync with the wrist watch. She was over that text conversation with the person that would reply to a message an hour later to a simple 'what are you upto?' with 'aquí ya tu ve…' no mas-no more. 

To go forward and focus on not having to decipher a man with as much intensity as morse code. She was not trying to make out every little hint to find out the he needed more time or to learn that he didn't believe in time and would want to just throw out the word relationship and jump into pure physicality. No she has an actual brain under the frizzy untamed curls. A brain that she very much enjoyed using to explore new worlds in a book where the character's love story unfolds into a fit of unplanned perfection–toil yielding to a not so secret I love you and just want to kiss you. 

But this, this is all made up and fiction. But it's what she went for. Leaving the reality of life to live on vicariously through a persona in a novel whose unfolding story pulled her in all the more. 

Skipping all the madness and drama, reaching all the lovely dovey googley eyes and kisses–she would never settle. She refused to go with someone who wouldn't acknowledge her in entirety. Young ladies deserve to be loved and stared into deeply after week long conversations over the phone. Going on about the day and counting the hours 'till we meet again'. In love one should be as excited to see the bearer of your favorite chocolate confection ;-) as a child looking forward to the close of a school day to run up to their parents arms. You should look at that person and just want to melt so that you can encumber their whole self and take in that scent that you so love. You should be able to hold a silent conversation in which you tell each other everything with a mere glance and brush of hands. It's about a language unsaid but very much felt. 

The one about that quest that must continue tomorrow because as of now this princess must sleep. 

'Till next time my pretties' the conversation of love and what it may be…

-Bionica