Mean

Montessori school ruined me for normal school and life in general.

“Lo mejor que te puedo desear es que te vaya mal.”
—JENNI RIVERA

Lo mejor que te puedo desear es que te vaya mal

“I’m not glad you’re dead, but I’m glad I’m alive,” I’d told her. “I’m glad I can keep feeling sunlight fade my tattoos. I’m glad I can keep inhaling the corticosteroid nasal spray that relieves my allergy symptoms. I’m glad I can keep on listening to right-wing talk radio for fun.”

I grew up with middle-class pleasure and privilege. Sophia didn’t. She came to the United States from Mexico, picked strawberries for white people, and had a boyfriend who got murdered. She got raped, beaten to death, and left in a park. I can almost hear the Statue of Liberty whispering, “I’m sorry . . .”
It’s not fair that I’ve had so much privilege. And by privilege I mean life.
The privilege of surviving doesn’t feel good. It makes me feel guilty. It makes me not want to enjoy strawberries.

Is that a rapist in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

The abandonment felt like an adventure. My parents were leaving me. This would be new and fun. Kind of like being an orphan.
Anyone who isn’t an orphan has orphan fantasies

Wrecking her makes him feel like she belongs to him.

I have a deep respect for big-time liars. They create religions. They create poems. They make art. Liars move us. Liars make us believe that Nietzsche was wrong. God can’t be killed. Only hidden.

Of course an elderly white dude taught anthropology. Who better to explain all the cultures and peoples of the world than he who is in charge of them