Quinceanera Para Todas las Muchachas ~ una fantasia

The Mexican tradition of quinceanera is a little girl's dream. On or near a girl's 15th birthday she is  given a party which includes a very fancy Cinderella dress, several handsome young male attendants who can dance plus a gala for all the relatives and friends. The party lasts for hours, giving the guests lots of time to offer recognition and applause.

A few days ago in Zehuatenejo I watched this kind of party from a restaurant next door. The D.J had turned the loud speakers up to '11' if you get my reference here to off the charts loud. I know this party was for a young woman named Stefani Vargas. It was an extravaganza held at a beach front restaurant which I figured must have cost over 2500.00 dollars U.S. Lucky Stefani, her parents had to be part of the upper middle class in Mexico.

After watching the dancing and adorations from a distance, I went up to the cashier desk and began a conversation with the young woman who was working there. In the course of our talk (her English was very good) I learned that her name was Isabel, and that she was going to school during the week, and working at the beach on the weekends. She was eager to practice her English, so I was bold and asked her if she had had a quinceanera. She shook her head with a sad little smile.
"My family could not afford it." Our eyes met. It opened a conversation about life. We talked about our childhoods, and we shared that neither of us got parties like this one.

Her deep brown eyes  radiated positive and kind energy. She, of all girls, deserved to be celebrated. The unfairness of the world intruded into my beach day.
 In my own childhood there were financial limitations, and of course a grand party on this order was never even in the cards. It is not a Germanic trait to spend money on frivolous parties, which last for a day and then are just a memory. It is not practical, especially when there are nine children who would all have to get one.

A few days later in the park in Mexico City my friend Liliana and I were just about to start our yoga practice together. She pointed to a group near us, some boys and one girl who were dancing. She told me "They are practicing for a quinceanera dance."
"Ah", I said, "Yes, I just saw this."
 I asked her if she had one of those parties.
 "No." she said, with a shy little tip of the head. " My family could not pay for it."

As I write, my thought tonight is this: if I were queen of the world, I would give a giant party for all the girls who never got a quinceanera. We would all wear whatever fantasy dress we wanted and there would be lots of handsome dancing men. We could have crowns, corsages, giant cakes each with our own names. We would dance for days, while every name was spoken, every woman given the greatest attention for a moment, even for one moment. Una fantasia - a fantasy, my fantasy.

In the small dusty town of Kapula, known for its pottery, a little girl about age 5 smiled at me while I sat in the sun waiting for my friends. She wore a shirt which read: 'I believe in Fairies'.  I pointed to her shirt and read the words in Spanish, except I didn't know the word for 'fairy'. (It is 'hada'). She didn't know English, and seemed not the understand that I was telling her what her shirt said. Maybe that does not matter. Little girls must believe in things one cannot see, in other worlds and magic. How else can we exist in this messy place which, at best, minimizes the feminine, and at worst denigrates it?

So, tonight my fantasy is to lift all the women up, all the poor, all the vulnerable everywhere. You all have been invited to my fantasy party where we are princesses and queens, where we dance as the belle of the ball, where we smile our beautiful faces from our lovely selves, where we know we are special because we are women with the power to nurture life and the world.

Good night all sweet princesses who never got your shining party. You have been invited to my fantasy. It is yours too, amigas mias. In every step we take into the future, we can take it with the thought that we are royal, important, gorgeous and strong.

Yellow Butterfly

Yellow butterfly, touching
touching down, rise, touch, rise,
over the hot sand.

This body I inhabit longs to follow
look closely into yellow wings for shapes like
conversation with a stranger
This body, she knows
if she follows you will be fast gone
and so
she sits, she waits with longing.

Night terrors, she lays, quiet and still
asking
Divine mother, the butterfly of the mind
flying cosmos flight for certain, to touch this mind reeling
She knows - I know you are there
We call out, llame', rock me, find me,
 tell me I am all fine, just as I am.
Then the night comes to cover the mind in sweet sleep

and the dawn brings better thoughts
and yellow butterflies as bright as the clear sun.