If you’ve ever wondered about the stigmas associated with weight loss and food culture, you are not alone. Having endured hateful comments and destructive food habits, author Viviana Rose tackles these issues head-on in her activism and published work.
Nearly a year and half ago, I made a decision to pursue love. Love for myself, love for my work and the love of my life. I took a chance and left everything and everyone I knew to pursue a romantic love, work through my burnout, be one in myself and attempt to figure out what’s next.
I used to hide underneath my towel after a shower, from my own self. I was taught by society to be ashamed to even look at my own body. But through motherhood, I accepted my body for what it was. After seeing it change through pregnancy, giving birth in my own home, and using my breasts to feed my child, I now see my body as something powerful, something that can create and sustain life. I now embrace it completely. I feel comfortable looking at my body, and touching my body and I praise it for it's magnificence.
The reason we are here is because the love our ancestors had for us. They wanted our survival, through the survival of their children who are now our parents, grandparents, etc. As both WOC and POC, and especially when you are first generation in this country, the love that enables our passions is what enables our survival. The survival of our futures, of our community, and especially of ourselves in a world that tries to break us down.
Love was always complicated in my house. Como chiles ardiendo en el aire, stinging your insides as you try to breathe. Love cared for you, controlled you, filled you with possibility and was always there. My mother could never leave my father, even if she should have. That is how I learned how to love.
Dancer between a rhythm and a reality hips open in bloom to a new song while lips, releasing letters into long legged vowels whisper in the ear of another hour An eyelash once spilled from the bottom of a wink predicting tomorrow’s weather.
I couldn’t just volunteer, sit back, and not attempt to do something with the education I received in my certification class. So I started Pixoa as a social media space on Facebook in November 2015 to create awareness about domestic violence for Spanish-speaking individuals who might not know about their legal rights and court processes.
I use my body and voice to make my mark on sites which have been previously conquered. The video centers around the San Antonio River and Brackenridge Park, using these geological sites as sacred grounds for offering and prayer.
In America Latina, I have been sexually harassed, hit on and continuously undermined while trying to work and be creative. It honestly it doesn't matter what I'm wearing or not wearing. I'm tired of it. And I know this ain't nothing new, but damn it's exhausting.
The question of "Where I'm At" was perfect timing as I shifted from holding the individual burden of answering every art request in my inbox to recognizing the necessity of collective responsibility in movement art-making & story-telling.
Currently I am in the Art History graduate program at the Southern Methodist University (SMU) in Dallas, Texas. Thus far the experience has been fairly positive in my particular department. Unfortunately with the graduate experience there is a disjunctive relationship with the wider student body and general campus atmosphere.
I took fragments of that angry grief and tucked it away in dark corners and in the back of closets. I took that anger and buried it so deeply in the recess of my mind, I had convinced myself that it no longer mattered. That I was no longer grieving and angry.
But no matter how I tried to hide it, that angry grief would always show up.