Compasion y Perdon: The Rise and Fall of Miguel Martinez

It is truly an end of an era. Today, Miguel Martinez has been sentenced to 5 years in prison for mail fraud and stealing over $100,000 from public funds for his own personal use. Everyone is angry, saddened, frustrated to know such a bright, intelligent man with the brightest of futures has fallen so hard.

At the turn of the 21st Century, young Dominicans heeded the call to become the next generation of leaders, those who would bring about change to the thousands who have come to this county searching for a better life. 1997-2000 marked critical years where groups like Dominicans 2000 were founded, The Dominican American National Roundtable was founded to bring together folks from all over the country and we witnessed the rise of new political leadership all over the U.S. including the Dominican Republic.

Miguel Martinez, an example of this new found energetic cadre, was active in neighborhood politics . Taken under the wing of his political mentor, Adriano Espaillat, he became the winner of the 2001 NYC Council elections. He went on to change the face of politics in District 10. Many groups were funded that we never funded by the city council district 10 before, he worked with and fought with an array of political allies and friends that were never truly brought into the fold of NYC politics. So much so, his vision and ambition got the better of him and he decided to challenge his godfather, Espaillat.

Summer of '08, Martinez ran for Assembly. This is the beginning of the end for Martinez. Realizing that he would no longer be a New York City Council member (pre-extension of term limits), he eyed the next possible position for him to occupy. Many thought he was insane to fun against Espaillat -to take on the old guard. The newspapers and blogs all ridiculed Martinez for acting like a bad kid in school, un nino malcriado. Congressman Rangel and others asked him not to move ahead with this idea. They promised him that they would find a place for him to go, to remain relevant. He would pay dearly for this. His bravado brought him into the spot light. In conjunction with this, the New York City Council came under the spotlight for its' manner in allotting funds to community based organizations city-wide.

These two occurrences then created the perfect storm to oust Martinez. Through investigations of the council members, Miguel Martinez (and I am sure other people in his circle), stole what really does not add up to alot of money but a whole lot of cheatin' and lyin'. While all of this is going on, in the fall of 2008 he voted for the extension of term limits and it was announced that he and his pet project UCAN was under investigation. No one thought the worse.

July 14, 2009 Martinez resigns. December 15, 2009 Martinez is sentenced to 5 years in jail. All the farthest thing from all of our minds. No one thought that he would fall. Some knew the details, many kept quite, rumors went around but no one really believed it until it happened. so at the end of an exciting and hopeful era, it ends....tragically.

Now a whole generation, a whole people will be judged on the actions of one person who did not think. That let only his ego and pockets guide him. Miguel had the opportunity to be surrounded by intelligent, well-meaning people who have integrity, a north star. But I don't know how or when he got lost.

His meager beginnings in politics did not start on a clean slate. For those who were around him at John Jay College, CUNY would know that the year he because student body or class president -not quite sure - his competitor committed suicide days after it was announced the Martinez won the election. Not that I blame Martinez for this man's decision but the omens were all around from the start.

Regardless of his sins, Martinez has a good heart and is a good person. I will not throw stones. He did great work at a New York City Council member -he spoke out for immigrants, took a public stance against the deportations of US Dominicans to DR and Dominican-Haitians from DR to Haiti. He brought everyone in positions of power to the neighborhood. Martinez supported tenants in their rent strikes (yeah and he did take contributions from landlords). Moreover, he created a debate, competition, make us think about how and why we do politics.

Yes, I am sad. Anyone who commits a crime should pay but his sentence is harsh. Not because others don't even do 1/2 of what he has to do but because weighing all of his positive actions as a council member outweighs the @100,000 he stole. Because so many saw their futures in him, because he represented a new politics, a new breed, a new day.

Our community is resilient. We have faced so many other tragedies and obstacles. New leadership has come in the form of Ydanis Rodriguez and there has been a new consolidation of power for Espaillat as the foremost Dominican elected official in New York. Now we begin a new era, vamos a ver.

(picture from New York Daily News website July 16, 2009)

The Feminine y lo Sexy: Pole Dancing

I have to say that over the years I definitely have lost some of my sexy -that way you move, you talk, you look. When I took my first major position, I strove to be taken seriously, to be seen as a woman with a purpose and not this little girl who was wanted to be in the living room con los adultos. Dominicans will send you to your room or outside and yell at you if you're all up in their adult conversations. Ella si es a'genta! Go and be with the kids, go play your games.

But then that moment comes, the one which no one really prepares you for, becoming a responsible, adult, leader quiene tiene que ser un ejemplo para todos. No one really tells you how to balance this, how to keep yourself, your soul. People make remarks like -oh did you see what she was wearing, did you see what she said, can you believe that she thinks she is all of that, y quien es ella. So as you try to be 'somebody,' you lose your own body. I lost that thing, that little spark that made me me. That make mi gente, that make mi ELLA!!!!

There are plenty of women that use their sexiness to their advantage to grab power and more. Some women know how to tirar esa mirada, shake that booty and shimmy their shoulders -make that glamour. But me, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted people to respect me solely for my mind and intelligence. That they would see my brilliance in my words and actions. I was not to show my vulnerable side, the sexy. But in that process I for lack of another word de-sexified myself.

Sexiness is not only about being powerful and overtaking. Sexiness is about showing that very primal vulnerable emotional side of your being. On Friday, I got a chance to be that vulnerable and strong sexy chic, at pole dancing class.

Como, pole dancing class! How did that happen? Friday, I went to the gym for my weekly yoga class. Arriving 10 minutes late to the class, I wasn't allowed to go in. So I asked the front desk person what is the next class and what time does it start. "7:30, Pole Dancing. Have you ever done pole dancing?" Dios mio I have never done such a thing. I am a respectable woman, I am no stripper chic. But deep down inside I knew that I would love it so I said why not.

What an experience. I clapped for all the women who were performing amazing feats on the pole. There was one young short chunky black woman who W-O-R-K-E-D IT. God damn. The most powerful move, the vagina monster!!!! Woahhhhhhhh!!! It looks like a tarantula that is gonna devour you. Any woman that does that move, definitely got it like that. That is the feminine power.

I cheered myself on as I tried to jump on the pole and slide down which I unsuccessful did about 5 times and today have very sore, purplish knees and a big hickey-type mark on my right arm. How fun it is to go round and round and round the pole. I developed a new found respect for the stripper women of the world that work that pole.

What I liked most was being a room full of woman that were all encouraging one another to work it, to be sexy and strong. A great space for exploration, no judgment, no fear. I am excited to finally come in contact with what I have lost for so long -my sexiness. Actually it wasn't very graceful, or sexy but I could feel the stir in my soul. My body is in crazy pain but I feel little by little the healing of my heart...even through pole dancing.

Mujeres y La Politica: A Community Domestic 'Non-violent' Violence Story, A Meditation

Politically, a nosotras nos dan punaladas, cuchillazos, nos pegan cuernos, nos roban, mienten, de to' yet we always stick by our men. How is this possible? Hablando de amor propio, why do we continue to give up our beauty, youth, vivaciousness to complacer these dudes. I too have been a complicit victim to this silent violence. Thinking that thre is love, he will do right by me but in the end it was all a farce, broken -to feed his ego, his pockets.

Olvidate de eso, I don't want to do my politics with these dudes but some how you always end up in bed with them whether you like it our not. They all live in the same house. We occupy different rooms. But at night, when it is time to go to sleep -ahi es cuando que te lo meten. Shit! Sometimes it feels real good, other times it borders rape.

So if I want to be at the dinner table, not at the kids table, if I want to be an integral part of the deicision-making process, do I have to submit myself to this violence. Or do I have another choice? The family is a big family so there is always someone able to fulfill the wants of the dudes. It is hard to win, because there is always a replacement. You can end up being kicked out of the house, no rights to the table or even to the left over food -you have been disinherited.

Can I leave the house and be a visita de avez en cuando? But then I don't get to be at the table all the time, only when invited. Or do I become like that neighbor that come to your house like everyday with no invitation and gets to sit at the table because it would be rude -but eventually they get tired of your ass and somebody will tell you don't come over anymore.

Or do I go and create my own home, my own family, with new rules of love, respect and communication where no one is hit or hurt. Where we nurture each other talents, vision and purpose and encourage everyone to go and find there own homes when it is their time. Our dinner table is always open to everyone who adheres to our rules and there is plenty of food for everyone.

But eventually these two homes will come head to head, there will be civil war -a non-violent, violent war. This is the war for the hearts of the people. A war of ideas, of vision. Yes, I think that is exactly what we need. I will wage my war not to win the number of votes, but to win the hearts of our people for a more open and civil political system.

To all the young women of color who are considering entering politics or who are there, save yourselves. Create your own home, your own political identity, your own voice. Don't just blindly do their bidding of these men who care little for you or your future. There are some benevolent patriarchs that will care for you, give you a job, give you a promotion, a raise here and there, keep your stomachs happy but will never allow you to fulfill your potential. You are the one to make sure that you fight for your independence, your purpose, your being.

Ally yourself with those people who will help you along on this journey. Mentors, colleagues, friends, family -this too will be difficult because even those that you thought would always be with you will turn their backs on you. Some will insult and assault you. They too will become violent against you. It is hard to identify those who will do this, but something in your gut, your intuition will let you know that something is off. Listen!!!!! Get quiet and LISTEN!!!! Listen to that internal voice telling you -oh, I thought she was my friend, I thought he would react a bit different. BE AWARE!!!!!

But in all of this, I know it is hard, do not lose your sense of hope and faith in people. People are inherently good. Like my mother told me, do not become bitter, because then you will end up like them. You must do everything to protect your spirit!!!!! This has been my greatest lesson in the last couple of years. Keeping your spirit in tact is of the utmost important. This is the center, the core of your being. El Espirtu Santo!!!! You can think of it on religious terms, in whatever terms you like but you must care for and protect your sanctified spirit because this is the one thing that is yours and yours alone!!!! You are the keeper.

Do all that you do with love and light. Do what you feel is right. Say no when you don't want to do something and tell them to respect your no, voice your reasons. Keep fighting for your right to live in a democratic world. Our fight will never end for democracy and our right to be.

Liderazco Es Mas Que Dar Un Saco de Arroz: Reflections on International Human Rights Day

Over the last 12 years, I have thought lots about leadership. What is leadership? Leadership is the ability to move, inspire and make a statement. The ability to articulate a point of view, to move that idea to be the idea of others and to win the heart and minds of a people. Leadership is the ability to know when to act, to surrender, to be loud, to be silent. It is an artform that only becomes developed through practice.

However, there are two major obstacles to leadership that every one of us encounters on a daily basis, fear and ego. Fear sometimes protects us from doing the wrong thing but most of the time it deters us from doing the daring and necessary. Ego on the other hand allows us to believe that we are the end all and be all. Our ego does not allow for the flow of positive energy, it blocks and creates barriers between individuals. It is extremely difficult to put it aside.

So why do I write about this topic today? I am very disappointed in the leadership of my community. While recognizing all of the wonderful things that have been created, barriers broken and the strides made over the years, I am disappointed in that 1) we don't really value one another (unless somebody dies), 2) there is no real space for nurturing and developing leadership -but there is definitely a space to critize, discourage and breakdown leadership, 3) there is no initiative to be LOUD, to defy, to say what exactly we want.

What do I want? I want to see my community expand its own notion of what is leadership, to be purposeful in its' nurturance and development, to be fearless against the establishment/the machine. There is this paradigm of you are either with us or against us, it is black or white, there is no in between and there is no room for independence. That we have to deal with what we got, people just want "un saco de arroz" and that there is no hope in the future leadership.

I want to seek to challenge these perceptions that we have about one another, that our communities deserve the best -not this mediocre crap we have been dealing with all of our lives. I want to strive to create a new cadre of leaders that will think, write, and create. Leaders who have passion, vision and a mission. Leaders who can learn to do it all -be balanced, healthy and strong.

The International Human Rights community has always been consider the most lofty and intellectual side of social movements. I think we must bring that loftiness to our local struggles. We need more writers, artists, social commentators, bloggers, elected leaders who embody the full range of what it means to be activists.

To create change means having a framework, an infrastructure, the word and action. I call on my leaders to write, to be loud, to live happy balanced lives and to demand the best! I call on myself to live out my vision for myself and for the world.

Love, Dating and Facebook: Don't Mix!

I am not much of a "dater." You know Dominicans don't date. You meet, you like each other y son novios. And in today's world, you meet, have sex, maybe hang out a couple times, have more sex and it's over -unless a miracle occurs and something develops. You meet, love eachother and move in, some may marry. Pero vamos al grano de la situacion, the core of the relationship is well in relating -in person. Now with the internet, blackberries, and other gadgets, courtship if you will, has devolved, actually has been thrown out the window entirely.

Recently, I have been confronted with this phenomenon where dudes just want to communicate via text or facebook and they won't even pick up the phone to speak directly to you. I say what is the point. Just to keep in touch with someone. To know that you have someone there if and when you want it. To feel like in you head you are doing everything you can do to be in a relationship. When in reality all of your actions screams that you don't want a relationship, you want nothing serious and you sure as hell aren't looking for love.

So this guy that I see often, sends me a message on facebook telling me that he has been thinking about me and would like to take me to dinner. Now, of course I am a bit excited because it is always cute when someone is interested in you and they let you know about their interest. But then, he never asked me for my number. I didn't quite understand. I see you all the time when we hang out with our friends, we have had extensive conversations in person. We know each other, and you can't ask me or someone in common for my number? You can't pick up the phone and tell me what you think, how you feel and well plain old make the plans for us to hang out?

Once I caught on to this it is safer to communicate via computer attitude, I didn't answer his facebook messages for a couple of days to see what he would do. Would he eventually ask me for my number? Would he call me out of the blue? El tiguere no hizo nada!!! Instead, he sends me a message with his number -dude you are the one interested in me, aqui yo soy la buena. He then sends me a message saying that the night we picked is no good and if we could do another night. Then I waited...I waited and sent him a message with my number and told him to call me. Todavia el no me ha llamado instead he sent me a freakin' text. Esto es el colmo.

I'm about to tell him about himself. He is always bitching and moaning about that he doesn't understand women, what they want, why they basically won't commit to him etc. The deal is that from this brief and short interaction I have learned that he just plain old doesn't want it. Or maybe he realized I don't like him, and that we are not for each other. I don't know but the whole thing has been pretty wack. If he had the courage from jump to pick up the phone, call and talk to me my reaction may have been completely different. I would have so much more respect for him.

Hombres y mujeres, let's bring back romance, the chase, love and lust -the freakin' phone. Let's inspire one another even if the person you are pursuing isn't necessarily the one. Do it with style, con ganas!!!! Avemaria purisima....let's reignite our faith in love and relationships!!! Leave the wackness at the door. Stop hiding behind your laptop! Pick up the phone and call, cono.

Al fin, we all need to open our hearts. I still have much work to do to. For men tips on how to man-up and get back to the basics on finding and keeping love or at the very least impress a woman go to : http://artofmanliness.com/

Muerte and Home III: Luis El Terror Diaz

Luis El Terror Diaz passed away today at the age of 57. I really didn't listen to his music much. More like I would hear it at parties and bars. But today, actually I came to know him and understand so much more about my friends and ex-lover. Luis 'el Terror' Diaz was their inspiration of being a bohemio, of staying true to Dominican roots while exploring, expanding and being. I just called my dad to see if he knew him since they are both from the same town, Bonao. He contributed greatly to the musical, and socio-political landscape of the Dominican Republic. You will be missed and remembered always.

Muerte and Home II: Abuela Pulula

After Friday, I spent some time thinking about my loved ones who have passed over the years and of course I always think of my Abuela Pulula -the matriarch of my family. Abuela Pulula was born in Samana, Dominican Republic September 8, 1906. She was born to Sencio and Anastacia Queri. My Abuela family were cocolos. Cocolos in its' positive context is a term used to describe people who are of African descent, mostly from the West Indies and America who were either freed slaves or escaping slavery. Many cocolos settled in two major areas of the Dominican Republic, Samana and San Pedro de Macoris. My Abuela spoke English, French and of course Spanish -as did and do most cocolos in the DR.

Pulula was her apodo, her nickname. Her real name was Carmen Rosa Queri Jazmin. She was and still is the toughest lady I have ever known. She cursed up a storm, used to smoke, drink and cooked up some mean rabo (oxtail) and habichuelas con dulce (yummy), my favorite dishes. I spent enoromous amounts of time with my Grandmother. While my parents were off working, my Abuela watched me. I would watch all of her favorite novelas with her. Actually she loved watching American daytime soap operas not the Telemundo/Univision ones. Her favorites were As the World Turns, ands General Hospital. She LOVED T.V. My Abuela had like every T.V. guide made since like 1980. She collected them and would do the cross-word puzzles in the back. I remember how I would sit in her lap while she would fill out her crucigrama.

My Abuela actually went to school up to the 8th grade, which in her generation was a big deal. Most folks did even know how to read and write. Abuela Pulula, I came to discover, was very powerful -according to my biological grandmother, Morena. You say whhhhaaaaatttt? Yes, it is true. Not until after my Abuela Pulula's death, did I come to know that she was not my biological grandmother. And that my biological grandma was living still in the Dominican Republic.

Days after Abuela Pulula's death, my mother sat me down, she said that she had to talk to me about something. I had no clue. And then she laid it on me. My Abuela Pulula was not her biological mother. Her biological mother is Morena how lives in the Dominican Republic. I couldn't belive it. Then everything started to click for me. I always wondered how old my grandmother must have been when she had my mother. I mean most Dominican grandmothers are relatively younger and mine was already in her 84. She only had two children -Sandocan and my mother, but her older son had passed away many years ago. My mother was 45 when she passed which would mean that Abuela would have had my mom at 41 which really is unheard but not impossible. I remember like today the day that I climbed up on her, looked really really really closely at her face to see what features I had of my grandmothers -her dark chocolate skin, her black/blue eyes, her big wide nose, her salami-looking legs. I asked her Abuela why don't I look like you? She never told me why.

When I think of this, I always wonder how different my life could have been. In 1998, I went to the DR to meet my biological grandmother. I had no idea what to expect but I knew it was something I had to do. Tio Frank took me to the place where she lived. It was a typical run down street near el Ensanche Quisqueya en Santo Domingo. We drove up into the street and I see this very dark, tall skinny man crossing when I notice the front parts of his feet are missing. Oh shit, this guy only has half his feet. I get out of the car, my uncle asks where does Morena live and the guy points to this blue wooden door that is basically falling off of its' hinges. I am welcomed in with open arms. 'M'ja pero tu si eres blanca," says Morena. I am nervous as hell and am in disbelief at how poor she is. Morena was living in a house made out of cardboard and with a tin roof. She lived there with her youngest daughter and her two children. They shared a kitchen and bathroom with three other neighbors. And all I could think, only by a matter of fate I ended up a gringa.

You see the story is Morena was my grandfather's lover. My grandfather who was married to Abuela Pulula. Apparently at the time, they were having problems -you know typical stuff- Pulula's neice who she was raising had just passed away from a childhood disease I believe (I gotta get that part of the story straight) and to cheer her up, My grandfather brought my mother home to Pulula. My Abuela Pulula took my mother in, raised her as her own and lived with her and us til the day she died. Incredible.

After leaving my grandfather (apparently because of domestic violence), she got a visa to come to the US in 1960 and became a nanny for a Jewish family in Brooklyn -and the rest is history (and another story).

I could go on and on about my Abuela. She passed away on May 31,1995. Abuela Pulula lovingly would call my brother cocolo, was greatly respected and loved by EVERYONE and will forever live in my heart.