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For weeks I hesitated to fledge this out in print. With my own name attached to it. Because with this discussion comes a lot of messy feelings. 

Growing into my own as a mom has consisted of a whole lot of rejecting bullshit norms with a side of praying to the Universe that I’m successfully mending my family’s multi-generational traumas. 

“Pero tampoco se te olvide de donde vienes,” my mother likes to say to me anytime my behavior reflects Americanized ideas about motherhood. 

I had my firstborn at age 19. My body may have bounced back quickly, but my morality had been fractured. Not because of the pregnancy itself, it never was about that. It was because of all the invisible crap that comes along with it. The societal norms, expectations, and toxic cycles. 

I walked around feeling like I’d taken my family legacy back a few notches just by being another statistic. I wasn’t the only teen mom within my family, and while one would believe that would make me feel less alone, it did the opposite. 

I spent years getting looked at like a lost cause by people who shared my blood. There was a smile on their lips, but sadness in their eyes. Some tias did their best to hide it, others teared up whenever they saw me. 

There was also the element of insecurity and projection on my part, but nevertheless, I responded by retreating completely and letting those norms and cycles define me. (Blame my Capricorn sun and Aquarius moon.) 

Whether you experience madrehood (in whatever form) or not, I strongly advise against internalizing. It sent me into “autopilot” for a very long time and was an absolute mind fuck that’s taken me 7 years of therapy to slowly de-program from. 

But because the Universe is all-powerful, ever-present, and all-knowing, She used Motherhood to mold me into the person I was destined to be in spite of all the nonsense I had found myself in the trenches of. 

My rebel yell 

I know what it’s like to be raised by a mother who couldn’t be more different than you, who tries her hardest to understand you, and will go to any length to meet you halfway when the going gets tough. She hides it well, but she’s a fighter when it comes to compromise. Being on the receiving end was so annoying growing up. To no one’s surprise, I also now know what it feels like to be that mother. The one who couldn’t be more different than her kid, who tries her hardest to understand, and who will go to any length to meet them halfway. Trust me, it isn’t any less annoying being on this end. 

Motherhood is a cycle of its own. 

So you see, when stripped down to its barest elements, I’m not so different from my mom after all, not where it truly matters. She and I are on the same journey. We always have been. 

The truth is that my issues surrounding motherhood aren’t ones put there by mi ama, my tias, or even me. 

They were indoctrinated. 

Those issues themselves were force fed to us by conquerors and colonizers. Because who has the ability to spring life into existence in every family? The matriarch. 

And to admit that, for me, is to accept the reality that for far too long, I’ve let the colonizer use me as a tool. And I am no one’s tool. 

I have the power to bear life. I’ve done it twice. I come from a warrior who birthed 4 humans. That is the reality of motherhood. 

The toxicity many of us faced surrounding this experience can be traced back to the root of all division: the colonizer. 

My culture’s relationship with mothering may be messy, but it’s mine to own, challenge, and reclaim. I’m going to embrace my journey into madrehood on the shoulders of giants, the matriarchs who came before me. 

To loosely quote my newest favorite band, the Linda Lindas, I’m going to rebuild what the patriarchy destroyed. 

Madrehood is my rebel yell.

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Who raised you?
Who did you raise?
Were you raised by the rivers and the clouds?
What about the gardens and the flowers?

Do you raise the children around you?
What do you do to support their growth?
Do you give them water, soil, fire when necessary, love, always?

Estoy preguntando xk entiendo la tierra estar mi mama,
Tambien, la lluvia, también, los nubes

Mi visabuela se llama Guadalupe
Or Barbara
O también, el mar

These are all of my mothers,
My mother who birthed me,
Taught me to love myself,
Taught me independence,
Learned love alongside me

Mis abuelas son las plantitas en el jardín,
Tambien son mis amigas,
De verdad,
Siempre apriendo de las mujeres en mi mundo

Y k son mujeres?
Solo energía, las mujeres son kien se llaman mujeres
Pero también,
El pueblo, con todo el gente son mis abuelitos

Los nopalitos, los hormigos, las cebollas,
La madres de mis mejores amigas

These are all of my mothers
Y a todo,
Estoy agradecida.

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It is me
It used to make me feel bad simply to look at it
It’s ugly and worn and used

It is a neglected piece of nothing

The stench of a lifetime surrounds anyone near it
The simple act of thinking about it made me cringe
It is ugly and gross and disgusting. It is fat and stupid and I want to punch it in the face
I want to fall off of a high story window because I
I am nothing.

I can’t even keep a baby because my body is so unwell that it won’t let me

I’m not well
I’m sick and everything is wrong with me.

And then
one month passed
And then two
And then three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

And we met YOU

And you have all your toes
Your head is full of hair
And when you breathe
When you breathe deeply as you smile in my arms I dissolve
And then I wonder

How did this happen

How did I? This incapable human, this nothing, this barren barely human make Make you

It is probably
Probably
It is because
Because
It is me

Because I am it
I did it
I am the matriarch
I am the feathers serpent
I am your mother

My body quenches your thirst
And my nurture kept you well through an entire pandemic

IT IS ME, BABY

I am your sanctuary

I love you
I will keep you well
I will hold you in my arms
And I will nourish you
And I will comfort you and do everything to make you smile so so big

And you too
I will comfort you also
And I will teach you and I will hug you and I will always always be here for you

And I wish that I could just take all of the bad away. Diminish all the chaos, all of the ugly and foul...make it go away
Make IT go away
But it is me

I am the good and the bad
I am the well and the unwell
And I hope I always remember that
And I hope that YOU always remember that
And I hope that when you feel unwell, that when you feel wrong and when the world tells you that you are anything other than this earths most captivating beauty, I hope that in those moments you remember me and you remember this, that you remember it and that it is me,
it is you,
it is US
who makes the good out of the bad, the glorious out of the horrid

It is us that have made a sanctuary out of these times.

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Interesting thing to look back at a younger version of yourself.  I had this dream growing up that I would be the perfect wife, the perfect mother, have a successful career, a couple kids, and a picket fence.  I would envision myself as this perfectly dressed housewife with dinner on the table. No sweat on her brow, not disheveled in the least and I would dream of all the holidays and birthdays I would orchestrate. Now, that is the complete opposite of my current reality. LOL. Can we type LOL into a publication now at days?

You probably think that might be a hard pill to swallow that it is not my current reality..  but, in stark contrast, it is actually quite the opposite.  

It has been an interesting reality to come to grips that this was not how my life would turn out. But I felt solace in this actually. And then I would wonder... How could I want something so much my whole life and then abandon that dream? It was easy, I kind of chose myself in many regards. Is that selfish? Isn’t It a societal norm to get married and have kids? Why did it feel like I was doing something bad making this decision? 

I had people question, so you’re not taking it to the next level with this guy? Don’t you want kids? Married life? 

Simple answer.  ... no. I don’t. at least, not right now.  And sure, sometimes you look at a cute family and think it looks appealing... B U T T T T T I love sleeping in late on weekends, I love binge-watching shows at night. I love being able to step out of my house whenever I want, meet anyone I want … and sometimes I even love eating cereal for dinner.. because I can. 

I admire all of the Mothers in my life and the nurturing and caregiving they exude on a normal basis. They are TRUE FUCKING SUPERHEROS. I admire every Mother that made it through Covid, through homeschooling, all the numerous family members under their household for MONTHS?!! They truly showed us what strength looks like. 

A mother gives birth, bears a child. It is truly fascinating that a full adult human being holds a baby for 9 months in her womb. Why 9 months, too? Ha. I have always wondered why 9 months is the length of time to produce a human being. I realize that you do not have to be a Mother to be nurturing. To have unconditional love. I (hope) I give that to everyone around me … that kind of nurturing love a mother gives. I strive to make people feel special on their birthdays and holidays. I have intimate relationships; I just don’t have kids with them. And although I feel like social norms dictate, we should do this, I also feel times... they are a-changing. *insert wink* and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

#mothersaresuperheros

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Era una niña de siete años la primera vez que visite Chinandega, Nicaragua. 

La tierra de mis ancestros, cuál calor se siente en los huesos, que sube de la tierra y baja del sol. 

Vi a mi madre tierra por primera vez, imponente, desnuda y salvaje. Lagos inmensos, playas de arena oscura, montañas rodeadas por nubes en las alturas. 

Sus volcanes activos grandiosos y destructivos, un recuerdo en el paisaje de nuestra mortalidad humana.

Viviendo entre tanta belleza e incertidumbre note, que la gente Nicaragüense viven intensamente en el presente. 

Orgullosa, luchadora, sin temor a lo que se les enfrente, honrando a la vida con respeto a la muerte.

Caminando por las calles me sentía como un extra terrestre que después de una odisea de siete años navegando entre las estrellas, en fin regreso a su hogar. 

Las caras lindas de un pueblo moreno, bañadas en sudor, de pelo oscuro como los cerros reluciente como charol. 

Un espejo en cual sentí reflejada, la hermandad que no sabía que en el alma me faltaba.

Antes de regresar a la llanura de la Florida, madre me dio una despedida de alta categoría. 

Una nube de humo espectacular, que en lugar de agua, ceniza llovía. 

“Adiós hija” me decía mi tierra, “lleva este recuerdo en tu piel” y desde entonces llevo su magia cerca, y a mi Nicaragua seré siempre fiel.

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As mothers, we are obligated to sacrifice little pieces of ourselves, so that our children can understand where they come from, and how much they mean to us. As we chip away at fragments of who we were before we take on this identity of caregiver, we are expected to remain stoic and put on an unwavering face of sturdiness to provide a safe place for our children. "Mija, you must be planchada y descansando porque no one will ever take you seriously if you don't afford yourself that same luxury." This is a proverb that has trickled its way down through at least four generations of Chicanas carrying the strength of our bloodline within my family. From the time I was small, my great-grandmother sought to instill a great sense of yearning for education and the need to progress into an academic state of enlightenment.There were generational gaps amongst me and the women I loved as a child, and I sought to understand them in an effort to love them in the ways that they needed; in the ways that no man ever could. To be a woman warrior you must bear the weight of the shield and guilt of not conforming to machismo. For generations, Chicanas have braved unknown terrain in order to provide emotional as well as physical safety and security for our families, all the while with men while our men stand behind us and chew on our skirts in expectancy. But a heavy skirt makes for an immobile woman. 

Our matriarch, mi bisabuela, expected that we all exhume the ancient grace that we were born with as women and reflect that with our outer appearance. Historically speaking, the women of my community have taken the brunt of it all...the expectations of men and society serving as lead shoes and making every move forward excruciatingly painful. Nevertheless, we've marched on. The women of my family were indeed taught to shatter glass ceilings, but then sweep up the glass afterward so as to not injure our children on the shards of broken dreams. 

As a child, my parents were largely absent from my life, both emotionally and physically. They had fallen victim to their own trauma and addictions. I was too young to remember their separation, but I never wanted them to be together like many other children wished for. I knew that my father and mother were fire and gasoline and I already struggled with accepting their selfish ways when it came to my needs as an adolescent, the last thing that I needed was for them to become overwhelmingly codependent on one another yet again. From the minute I was born, Ani and Wella (my paternal tia y Abuelita) knew that my parents would never be willing to step up to the plate for me, and so they took me in as their own. As did my great-grandmother. To say that I grew up without love would be a complete and utter lie, I was supplied with an abundance of adoration and warmth from these women, and they made many sacrifices to make sure that I had what I needed because they believed in my future. At times, I must admit that I was bull-headed and self-pitying, but now as a mother, I have grown to understand that their intentions were always pure and steps were taken in order to protect me from any self-destruction that my parents would often bring about. I cannot say that my birth mother taught me how I love my child, however, my grandmother, great-grandmother, and countless aunts and great aunts have. The patience and grace that I grew up witnessing as they raised their children and myself is truly something that I admire about our culture.

As a Chicana feminist, I choose to reject the angry ways of machismo and Chancla Culture but instead make the conscious decision to be slow to anger and quick to reassurance when disciplining my son. I was an intelligent child, very aware of my surroundings and the cultural lines in which I constantly had to toe; and because of this my mothers afforded me an admirable amount of dignity and trusted that I was mature enough to determine my own path (with a little assistance, of course). I say all this to say that children deserve dignity. Children are intelligent, enlightened human beings, and are perhaps the purest of heart. Instead of rushing to punishment for fear of disobedience we must listen, and empathize. 

How could I ever successfully raise my son to know who he is when my own identity stands unaffirmed and in question because I lack the strength to stand tall and dignify who I am? Being raised by such powerful women, I was given the tools not to know exactly who I am, but seek out my own identity along the path that I have chosen, riddled with familiarity through shared battles of transgenerational triumph. Mi bisabuela, Mis tías, Mi Abuela y mi Madrina have all paved the way for me to embark on a beautiful journey so that I may explore my inner self in ways that they were not able to. Honoring their many sacrifices as mothers to provide and work is part of embracing where I come from. You love people for their style faux pas and clumsy stumbles, not just in their moments of glory. 

I believe fiercely in the power of communal mothering and shared wisdom from the elders. As a mother, I now realize that my son must see that although I am not always put together, planchada y descansando-but rather very messily strung together and struggling to catch my breath in order for him to appreciate all that I've done to offer him the childhood he deserves. And it is through this realization that I am clearing the path for my son and this family onto better things while loving everyone with the fierce grace of the generations before me.

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I’ve struggled with depression practically my whole life. After years of trying different treatments, I had finally found one that made me feel stable. And then... I got pregnant and I had to stop my treatment abruptly. Much to my surprise, everything went well despite the fact that my baby was premature and this meant a lot of special care throughout his first years of life. Two years later I had my second son and I still was able to function “normally” without antidepressants.

Life was great and four years later my husband and I decided we wanted to have another baby. We had a healthy baby girl in 2016. I struggled so much with breastfeeding, I adored my baby but I started feeling overwhelmed and lonely. My little one slept so much that I never felt tired because I slept with her, but I still felt like something was off.

I never thought I had Post-partum Depression because it was extremely different than my previous experience with depression. It seemed less dramatic, I never felt the urge to vet, all I felt was the desire to stay in my bed all day. And suddenly one day I couldn’t bring myself to drive to pick up my boys from school. I felt such an overwhelming sense of dread that I had to rely on my husband for any activity outside the house. Any social interaction filled me with terror, it seemed like I was back to being a shy teenager. I had so little energy that I had to use it all to take care of my children, I felt so many aches that I started thinking I had a chronic illness.

I had so much going on with three kids that I didn’t seek help right away. Until one day I had so much rage bottled up inside me that I exploded with my husband. It was so out of character for me that we decided it was time to consult with a psychiatrist.

I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. The diagnosis was a huge hit for me, after all I grew up with the notion that latin mothers are supposed to be tough super-moms, great cooks, strict but loving, the pillar of any household. I wasn’t any of those things, I felt that I fell short in all the requirements of motherhood.

This time around it has taken so much more time to get better, I sometimes forget to take my medication because my children’s needs are always at the top of my list of priorities. But for my family the pandemic came with a little blessing, I finally had the time to see a therapist online, and it has helped me so much to stop doubting myself as a mother and also to start putting my mental health as the most important thing, so I can take care of all the other important things going on in a family of five.

I appreciate my struggles with mental health because they have helped me to identify red flags in my children pretty much immediately. I already know that treatment at the right time can make the path to recovery much shorter, I also know that anxiety disorders are hereditary in many cases, so I have sought help immediately whenever I notice that any of my kids are having a hard time regulating their emotions. I truly hope that my experience will allow me to supply them with enough tools to make their life a little bit easier than mine. I now consider myself a tough mom, after all I have no fear of admitting my struggles and seeking help for them, sometimes I require professional help, other times all I need is a chat with good friends to stop my overactive mind from creating scary scenarios.

Modern times have given us an advantage over our own parents, we have so much more information and resources available to us, let’s use that for our own good, to avoid the struggles with mental health that our generation of mothers has had such a hard time dealing with.

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Dios me dio la oportunidad de ser madre de dos hijos y dos hijas, cuando fui madre por primera  vez mi vida cambió, el amor floreció, lleno mi vida de alegría, y así con cada uno de mi hijos.  Cuando vi sus caritas por primera vez me sentí tan llena de amor para darles, y un sentimiento  de protección para darles. Es bello el sentimiento de ser madre. 

El año pasado perdí a mi compañero, a mi esposo, al padre de mis hijos. El COVID me lo arrebató, mi vida está llena de dolor de tristeza, pero mi amor como madre sigue fuerte y firme  por mis hijos. Todos los días le pido a Dios por ellos para que estén bien, soy bendecida por  tener a mis hijos, son maravillosos, los amo con mi corazón con un amor incondicional, lo doy  todo por ellos.

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I WANT TO DECLARE WHAT I'VE LEARNED TO SHOUT IT OUT LOUD LIKE IXCHEL IN SANDRA CISNEROS' ONE HOLY NIGHT
SAY, "I KNOW". 

ABOUT A WOMAN'S STRENGTH
AND HOW IT IS SLOWLY REVEALING ITSELF TO ME
LIKE I'M OPENING UP THE FACE TO A TIMEPIECE

HOW I FELT THIS POWER DEEP BENEATH
IN THE SLUMBERS OF MY SOUL 
BUT I LEFT IT THERE 

LIKE THE WATERS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA, THIS STRENGTH WAS BELLOWING BELOW ME. 

AND NOW, I KNOW.

...HAD TO SUMMON IT UP TO SURVIVE. 

THAT LOVE THAT DROVE
MY MAMA TO WASH CLOTHES 
AT 12 AM, OUTSIDE, ON THE WESTSIDE
BLACK GUARD DOG AS HER LOOKOUT

WHAT DROVE HER TO NOT OWN HER OWN CAR 'TIL SHE WAS IN HER 60S 
BUT MAKING DAMN SURE HER THREE KIDS HAD THEIR OWN SET OF WHEELS

I KNOW.

HOW LOVE ISN'T JUST ABOUT THEIR HAPPINESS
BUT RATHER, ENSURING THEY'RE HEALTHY
AND STAYING UP LATE TO HAVE THOSE "COME BACK TO JESUS" CONVERSATIONS

HOW BLOOD IS THE ONLY THING 
THICK ENOUGH TO HOLD YOU TOGETHER 
WHEN YOU ARE COMING UNDONE

HOW A MOTHER'S LOVE WILL SHAKE YOU AWAKE EVERY HOUR
TO HOLD HIM
TO NOURISH HIM

HOW THIS KIND OF LOVE IS LIKE THE HOLY SPIRIT ENTERING THE BODY AND YOU OFFERING YOURSELF LIKE A SACRIFICE 

LEMME TELL IT, I KNOW.

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My real-life Wonder Woman is my mother Gloria G Martinez.  This lady raised two girls as a single mother with the help of my beautiful grandparents. She never once complained or let us know that we did struggle from time to time. Growing up, she always taught us that hard work pays off,  to never give up, and that family is everything. Fast forward to me being 23 and having my first child. Watching her become a grandmother filled my heart and was the best gift I could gift her.  

In April of 2016, that’s when she became the real-life Wonder Woman,  being diagnosed with colon cancer turned our lives upside down but it also brought us closer together. In December of 2017, I was stuck in a job I hated and I was ready to throw in the towel.  My mom encouraged me to quit and start my own business. I  couldn’t financially just quit and here came Wonder Woman to the rescue. She helped me start my business in spite of everything she was going through, she was still my biggest supporter. Four years later I’m still in business and grateful for  her telling me “Just do it, I know you can.” 

Through chemo treatments, surgeries, hospital visits, doctor’s appointments, and so on, she hasn’t given up. Fight after fight after fight, my Wonder Woman is still standing. God has blessed me with the best mom I could have ever asked for.  No matter how sick she's feeling, she has been there for me,  my sister, and my son. 

Thank you for everything MY WONDER WOMAN!

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The creation of this issue was truly like childbirth. It was exciting, scary, painful, and definitely exhausting. But in the end, as my mom would say, “es un dolor que no resientes.” We definitely felt the pain, but we also feel the joy of presenting to you our second child; The Madrehood issue.

From the moment we created Panocha Zine we all knew we wanted to explore stories around motherhood. We all have our complicated relationships with the concept of motherhood. As to how it relates to ourselves as mothers, as daughters, as sisters, comadres, partners. It all seems to stem from the relationships we have with the person who birthed us and/or raised us.

This is why we wanted to find stories that have a broader perspective on motherhood in the Latinx community. We think that in this issue you will find very unique views that will help validate and/or question your own views on what it means to be a mother.

From the bottom of our hearts we want to thank all the mamis in this issue, and also, to our community who helped us bring this to live. ¡MIL GRACIAS!