Photo credit: Pauline Campos

Photo credit: Pauline Campos

This girl.

She drives me insane.

Pushes every button.

Tries to work every angle.

Won’t take no for an answer.

She’s gonna be one hell of a #chingona one day.

But right now, my job is remind her daily that mama makes the rules and her job is to follow them. She can keep pushing. I don’t want her to ever stop because that’s the signal she’s stopped believing in the power of her voice.

The goal is this — and I tell her this often — you can ask me why, but not until after you’ve done as you have been told. That shows respect and tells me you’re still as smart as you think you are. Ask my why before and you’re telling me that you’re weighing you’re options; trying to decide if not obeying is worth the consequence.

Mama’s not playing that game.

And she gets it.

I know this because tomorrow, we will have this conversation again.

I look forward to it.

 

Update on the #ChingonaFest Project podcast: We’re now shooting for early next week for the official launch of the first episode. Probably Monday or Tuesday. Until then, stay strong, my friends.

 

Repeat after me.

I am…Redefined

I am a

Chingona.

A Hell-Raiser.

A Bitch who takes no offense when you call me

the very word hurled at me as an insult.

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My smile confuses

You.

My thanks steals

The wind in your sails and cools my

Cheeks.

10607929_1401051556783916_297437493_n

This is where I leave you,

Blinking and reassessing, only because

I don’t feel like wasting my time waiting for you to figure out

I never needed anyone’s approval

to

move

Forward

But my own.

10570088_252297338313075_821545248_n

This is

My Journey.

As I define it

I define myself.

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I lay the foundation for

The tomorrow’s during which

My sons and daughters

Will search for their own words;

Their own

Ways.  I am

A Chingona.

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I am not

Perfect. I am my own story

Being Written with Words

I

Choose

to use.

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Words Redefined.

Turns out…

I never needed

Anyone’s approval but

My Own.

wondereliana

Permission Granted.

The ChingonaFest Project Podcast with Pauline Campos is coming. Hopefully maybe tomorrow. I run on Mexican Time, which means I’m usually behind of and ahead of myself, and usually at the same time. Stay tuned in by connecting with me on the ChingonaFest Project Facebook Fan Page, and on twitter and instagram because you love me. It’s okay, I love you, too, in a totally We’ve Never Met But Would Probably Be Besties kind of way. Oh and all that art? It’s mine. I’m on Etsy with my Mexican in Maine shop, but I’m holding the ChingonFest branded art for a lil’ something special that involves me, you, the podcast, and community exclusives. *winks*

 

My BFF Heather always says I am best when speaking only if I haven’t rehearsed. Apparently, planning I guess, is just a reason for me to self-censor, and that jut takes away all the good parts, so I try to do that as little as possible.

So here’s the plan for the Big Thing I’ve been dreaming up for a few years now:

- Weekly #ChingonaFest Project Google Hangouts at 2 p.m. EST on Sundays

- Weekly podcast stemming from the original G+ show

- Conquer the world, preferably by next Monday.

 

 


 

 

Welcome to WEEK 10 of #ChingonaFest Fridays on Aspiring Mama!

 

 If you’re new to the blog, here’s the link to the my Latina Dimelo column that sparked the conversation that’s still going strong. The premise is this: I want to raise my daughter to be a Chingona — on purposeLas Tias and cultural backlash be damned. If you like the column, I’d love for you to share with your social media circles, leave a comment on the link, or whip up a happy lil’ Letter to the Editor telling them how you feel and send it off to Editor@Latina.com. You may not think that kind of thing makes a difference, but trust me when I tell you it does.

 

Have you checked out my past #ChingonaFest ladies? Juliana Maulanda and Lisann Valentin were two of the most recently featured wonder women. Each week, I’m featuring one fabulous Latina who’s moving mountains and raising hell because their stories are worth telling. Twenty questions will be presented to each and 15 will be answered and presented here to you in a Q&A format, like the fancy features in magazines, only with more typos and less airbrushing. 

 

Today’s featured Chingona is ….me.

 

Yes, I realize this smacks of All Things Self-Centered and Self-Serving, but if I tell you that it’s my kid’s birthday week and that her party was today and I decided to say Sure, Princess! when she asked for homemade coloring books as her party favor, and that The Husband and I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning manning the two-person hole-punch & ribbon line while the cupcakes cooled enough to frost, you’ll understand the reasoning behind turning this week’s Chingonafest into a dual anniversary celebration for my role as Latina Magazine’s #Dimelo advice columnist. You’ll also pretend to not notice I’m posting a regular Friday feature on a Saturday night because, yaknow, Motherhood.  It’s either now or never, which is also why I’m mentioning the Speaking at BlogHer ’14 Thing for the first time on the blog. It’s time-management at it’s finest.

 

My mad self-promotional skillz are mind-boggling, I know.

 

Don’t feel bad if you didn’t buy me a present. I didn’t even know I missed it until LinkedIn started sending me congratulatory notifications from friends with better observational skills than my own. I probably owe myself flowers.

 

After I put out, that is. For now, though, let’s get to that Talking to Myself thing.

 

photo(11)

Is a caption really necessary?

Is a caption really necessary?

Pauline Campos: Chocolate or vanilla?

Aspiring Mama: Chocolate if it’s a shake. Vanilla if it’s ice-cream.

PC: Neurotic much? Wait, don’t answer that. Describe yourself in third person instead.

AM: Pauline Campos is neurotic, has a weird thing with ice-cream, including the need to chew it even if it’s plain vanilla, and thoroughly enjoys arguing with her DNA over her love of snow-shoeing. She’s also the founder of #chingonafest and ha that column where she tells people what to do on life, sex, and cultural drama topics. to Oh, and her favorite days are the ones where she gets paid to give solicited advice from the comforts of her couch without ever having put a bra on.

PC: Weirdest. Mexican. Ever. It’s like Freaky Friday but with better dialogue. You do realize there’s a poor Swedish guy somewhere trying to figure out why he felt smug about knowing who Ricky Martin was before General Hospital served as his crossover to mainstream, right? No, don’t answer that one, either. Do you dream in color or black and white?

 

AM: Color. I don’t remember most of them, but when I do, it’s all kinds of High-Def in there. Also? Re-read your last question to me. Now who’s the neurotic one? *blinks* Wait, never mind.

 

PC: You see my dilemma, then. Carrying on…Do you feel Latina enough”?

AM: I’m allergic to eggs, dairy, corn, yeast, gluten, and a bunch of other crazy stuff. What do Mexicans eat for breakfast? Whatever we had for dinner last night scrambled with eggs, wrapped in a corn tortilla, and washed down with Cafe con (a fucking-lot of) Leche. This makes me allergic to my childhood and probably the world’s worst Mexican.

Of course I feel Latina enough.

PC: Let’s play word association. I say CHINGONA and you say…?

AM: FEST!

PC: Do you consider yourself a feminist?

AM: Only if I don’t have to burn my bra. Triple D’s take precedence over social and political ideals.

PC: I’ll second that. Do you think in English, Spanish, or Spanglish?

AM: I’m English-dominant now, but as a kid I know I wasn’t aware of when I switched between languages. Now? I’m so concerned I’ll pronounce something wrong in Spanish while sober that I think I’d benefit from an AA meeting and a sponsor prior to any events where my Spanish-speaking skills are a requirement. Also? Spanglish is my national language.

PC: Do you chew your ice cream? (Or is that just a Me thing?)

AM: Seriously?

PC: Okay then. Moving on. Favorite book and why…

AM: Right now it’s Rick Najera’s Almost White: Forced Confessions of a Latino in Hollywood. It’s so much more than an exploration of Latinos and how we are represented in the media. I’ve been recommending it to writing friends of all backgrounds…because it pertains, dammit. And no, I wasn’t paid to say that.

PC: You don’t get paid for a lot of shit on this blog. But following up to your last answer, how do you feel about Latinas and how we are represented in the media?

AM: It’s equal parts a bullshit and wake-up call. I grew up watching telenovelas at my tias house and all the rich and beautiful were portrayed by the blonde and blue-eyed. If you looked like me, you were the help or the poor villager. While that needs to change — because it’s still an issue — we can’t bitch if we think our job is done simply because we complained.

PC: Opinion much? Who inspires you?

AM: Anybody who has the courage to say what they think and stand up for themselves and what they believe in.

PC: Who is it you hope to inspire?

AM: My daughter, Eliana, is my number one. Right now, she is everything I wish I was growing up; feisty, independent, strong-willed, and confident as hell. Everything I say and do comes from that place where motherhood takes us and the realization that my todays are building the foundation for her tomorrows.

PC: You have the chance to eat dinner and drink wine with one person, living or dead. Who is it, what do you eat, what kind of wine, AND WHY THAT PARTICULAR PERSON?

 

AM: My dad, I don’t care, I’m allergic, and because I miss him.

 

PC: One childhood memory that has stuck with you…

 

AM: My mom and me sitting on the front porch in the middle of the night during sticky summers without central air. We’d tiptoe outside and talk for hours, ignoring the mosquito bites, while the house slept. I can’t tell you one thing we talked about, but I’ll always remember the laughter.

 

PC: Quick! One takeaway you want your children to hold onto after they’ve grown and flown the nest…

 

AM: That it’s always perfectly acceptable to leave the house in red cowboy boots, a blue tutu, and a super-hero cape, public opinion be damned.

 

 

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And there ya have it. To nominate a Latina for a future #ChingonaFest Friday feature, email me at aspiringmama@gmail.com or tweet me with the hashtag #ChingonaFest. And don’t forget to check out my latest Dimelo Advice column on Latina Magazine. A non-Latina wants to know how to navigate cultural differences with her employees.

Oh! And be sure to send me your questions to dimelo@latina.com.

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The Chingona — Defined
This is what happens when one of Mama's friends falls in love with the girl: a Wonder Woman swimsuit and caped socks.

This is what happens when one of Mama’s friends falls in love with the girl: a Wonder Woman swimsuit and caped socks.

As a first generation Mexican-American, I was raised to keep my thoughts to myself and put the feelings of La Familia over my own. Considering the emotional baggage I’ve been packing since childhood, I’d say that line of thinking didn’t turn out so well.

I’m a mother now and my daughter is feisty and brilliant and wonderful. I want to raise her to be a Chingona the Mexican slang term for “bad ass bitch“. It’s a word steeped in history and controversy, but it’s a word I’ve come to embrace. I want my daughter to grow up to be the kind of woman who respects herself and others, stands up for her ideals, and celebrates all that she is without feeling the need to apologize for it. Put in plain English, my end goal is for my girl to grow up to be the kind of woman the word  “bitch” is used as a compliment to describe. A real chingona.

 I want her to know she has a voice now and that what she says today matters so that tomorrow she won’t think to look for validation outside of herself. I want her to feel and recognize her own value because it took me far too long to realize there are certain things we can only find within ourselves. I want for her to understand that the village is probably doing something wrong, even with her best intentions guiding our every choice. And I want her to know she can speak her mind, even if what she has to say goes against the culturally accepted norm.

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This is the look she gave me when I told her to give me her best Lynda Carter.

Maybe my family is weird, but my granddather called us his chingonas the same way most people call their kids sweetheart. Or maybe he called us his cabronas. Right now, I’ve got both stuck in my had because they are so darned interchangable. Either way, chingona is a controversial Mexican slang term that means “badass chick.”

Well, to me, at least.

The term can have more negative connotations (author Sandra Cisneros for one made a case for women embracing it in HBO’s Latino List); I look at it from the standpoint of the word bitch: you either are offended to be called one or strive to be one.

My goal is to raise m’ija to be the kind of hell-raiser that radiates sass, self-confidence, independence, and doesn’t take shit from anybody…but in a respectful way. I want to raise a hell-raiser who is respectful of herself and others, yet stands up for herself and what matters no matter what anyone else thinks. Some would call her a chingona and if I raised her right, the future Eli’s gonna smile when they do. I might just have to print out this blog post from my friend Deb for a visual reminder.

Of course, this line of thinking is not just meant to empower mothers of daughters. Hell, you don’t have to be a mom to get in on this party, either. If you’ve got sons, you’re raising the boys who will become the men who will love the women our daughters will become. Teach them and guide them on their path and show them why there’s nothing better than a relationship in which both parties are equal partners.

No kids? No problem. You are an aunt, a prima, a friend, teacher, a sister. You are an inspiration and the motivation to work harder and do better and never give up. The next generation is looking to you just as they are looking to the rest of us. That makes you part of my village.

Join me tonight for my weekly #Chingonafest twitter party! We will be discussing ways to better ourselves and the kind of examples we can provide for the next generation. I’ll have a few surprises to give out to random winners, so make make sure you let me know you’re there! Raise your voices, ladies. It’s time to let the world know we are here.

 

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