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Tags: Boricua, Puerto Rico, women, reggaeton, Ivy Queen

Black and Brown Girls Storytelling Fellowship The Black and Brown Girls Storytelling Fellowship aims to provide a platform for Black and brown girls to tell their stories. We are providing storytelling training, support and mentoring to nurture the development of a creative storytelling project of the fellows choosing. Our fellowship will culminate with a showcase in September 2023. Be on the lookout for showcase announcements, but get to know each of our storytellers now! Experience fellow Nabila Anandira's work now! Experience fellow Journey Hightower's work now! Experience fellow Mia Prince's work now! Experience fellow Hannah Richo's work now! Experience fellow Shyienah Jiménez-Rivera's work now!

An Ode to the Quiet by Anonymous I have no mouth No vocal chords with which to speak My eyes dart back and forth hoping to find my chance It never comes I struggle with the silence It’s all I can hear And I feel weak Yet I continue teeth to teeth Lip to lip Waiting for the sound That never comes

The 1619 Project The 1619 Project is an ongoing initiative from The New York Times Magazine that began in August 2019, the 400th anniversary of the beginning of American slavery. It aims to reframe the country’s history by placing the consequences of slavery and the contributions of black Americans at the very center of our national narrative. Click on image to take you to site.

This is the beginning excerpt of Zoe Umeh 's short story. This is a working draft. It seemed close to touching the sky. Decorated with a mud-like color, its rough exterior was easy to judge before touching. Fractals ingrained its skin, stretching throughout its body. It stood stoic---an undeniable beauty seen by all beings. A plane of soft wind gently touched the varying branches of the tree, almost as if asking for permission before hugging her whole. Her leaves laughed as though being tickled. Watching nature interact, I slowly began to notice I can go quite some time without speaking when I’m alone. I find greater interest in my other senses—-seeing, hearing, smelling. Raising my head with the wind, I peered to the gentle sky. My inquisition of the incessantly transfiguring painting that coated the earth filled my body with warmth. Eyes closed, sitting in waves of contentment, tender touches of comfort held my skin as the clouds offered room to the sun. “Chi?”, a confused voice summoned my attention. I abruptly opened my eyes from the darkness that embraced them. As my vision found balance, tan knees met my eyes first. Dark denim shorts clothed her thighs while a light white tank top covered her chest. Her hands were occupied with two nearly white cups of coffee that had a very obvious milk to coffee imbalance. “Mj?”, I asked, sharing her confusion. “I thought you had a class”, she inquired with deep curiosity. Her brows furrowed then relaxed as a smile crept on her face. Unrushed, undulating, particles oversee our existence in every new stroke of faultless rearrangement. Outloud, I revealed with amazement, “The sky is like a continuously changing painting”. Mj turned to me with eyes wide and curious. Raising her head, it seemed that a wave of whimsical ease and understanding filtered through her body. Her lips squirmed into a smile, eyes twinkling from the impact of an inherent beauty. “Hmm, I never thought of it like that”. Mj brought her cup to her lips, drinking the caffeinated beverage with a pensive expression and a slight smirk. ……“Mj”, I paused for a moment, scrambling internally for the right words. Peering beyond her, I asked, “Do you ever feel overwhelmed by your existence?” Mj’s brows returned to their furrowed placement. Her eyes found mine as she asked, with what sat as concern, “What do you mean?” What do you mean? Not that I curate a ranking, but I hate that question. “I guess what I am asking is, does existence ever feel heavy for you? That there are too many options. That we were placed here and now are tasked with creating meaning in all that we do. That we cannot disappoint or concern. That we always have to be better or more. That to exist means to absorb. That there are entities soon to be born and those that did not get the chance to. Not to say I dislike the opportunity that is our existence, but has existing ever felt heavy?” I could hear the reverberating beat of my heart echoing in my ears as I peered into her pupils. Within the darkness of her brown, dirt-colored eyes, I searched for resonance. Mj appeared stunned by the apparent intensity of my question. Her eyes, now wide, seemed to be excavating a stream of thoughts, sifting out an answer. Looking past me, she shared with doubt, “I’m not sure, honestly” She continued, “Maybe I haven’t thought hard enough about this. I think I often forget the absurdity and randomness of our collective existence”. Her mouth twitched to the side, it seemed like she was not fully satisfied with her response.

Excerpt from Creaex Flex by Desmond Ugoji “I don’t want any trouble at all.” I slowly brought my hands to the air and gave him my most innocent smile. “Relax,” I told him and myself. It was a bright sunny day, perfect for a stroll. The enormous trees of the forest surrounded us and I remembered passing by a dazzling pond. Of course, I would have loved to have taken full advantage of this beautiful day but with the patch of grass still on fire next to me, and a very unstable man with his hands ignited with fire in front of me, it was impossible to do. His skin was similar to mine, a coconut-colored brown. He had short, black hair that was cut in a mohawk and a sharp nose. He wore a black hoodie with ripped jeans, which looked more like this guy made the holes himself because they looked like the size of melons, and he finished the look with some grey, leather boots. I didn’t really know his name or why he was throwing fireballs at me. I was just walking casually through the forest till he started yelling. “Don’t try to hide it! I know who you are” he growled as he launched a barrage of fireballs. I shifted my body to the right to avoid one to the arm. I turned around and sprinted away from more fireballs heading my way. It had been a couple of months since I’d run anywhere close to as fast as right now. I’d been told that my speed put a cheetah’s to shame and since Primary 2, I’d been in a bunch of statewide races, winning gold in the 100 meters, the 1 mile, and the infamous 400 meters where, as a 14-year-old, I completed it in 10.7 seconds. I scurried up a short tree and lifted myself onto a long, sturdy branch. I leaned toward the bole of the tree and grabbed my heart. I haven’t run for at least fifteen seconds but I was already covered in sweat and my breathing was out of whack. I took out a small photo from my pocket of me and Leeb when we were eleven or twelve. I sighed in relief. “Good, the picture is safe.” Because of the flash from the camera, I was frowning while my left hand covered both my eyes. In contrast, Leeb was smiling widely as he always did. I put the photo back in my pocket and jumped down from the tree. I didn’t see any more fireballs so I thought it was safe, more or less. I’d love nothing more than to continue sprinting away but I left my bag back there. How am I gonna get my bag with that homicidal lunat—? “Found ya!” The crazy guy hollered. Around twenty feet in front of me, he stopped at a dime, and in his right hand, he held a fireball the size of a bicycle wheel. It looked just like a spitting image of the sun if it were smaller and way less bright. He took the stance of a major league pitcher and gave me a bitter stare. I put my hands on my knees to stop them from trembling. It’s like being held at gunpoint. I could either run or be a hero and fight. Of course, running is always my first option but I couldn’t afford to lose my bag. I sweated ferociously, so much that it stained my green sweatshirt and my grey sweatpants. A bird flew near the Fire Man and immediately combusted into a fire. I still heard the rapid pounding of my heart despite the loud cackles of the miniature sun. Suddenly, one by one, trees combusted as well. I’m used to heat, heck, I used to light stuff on fire when it was like 110 degrees. But when I tell you the heat the miniature sun was emitting, it was like living on the sun with another sun blasting a heat ray. It got hotter and hotter as more and more trees and birds combusted, and his miniature sun increased to the size of a truck tire. He finished his pitch by chucking the bigger miniature sun straight at me, and, in half a second, my feet moved before my brain could think. I sprinted toward the miniature sun. Now I had one option left and that was to use my own creaex. As I got closer to the miniature sun, my clothes cemented onto my simmering skin, and my right boot combusted on fire. I couldn’t breathe. At this point, it couldn’t be called sweating anymore; I was melting, dripping, possibly evaporating, and anything else ice cream did on a hot day. In a matter of seconds, I stood a few feet away from the miniature sun, showing why having speed can be considered both a blessing and a curse. I saw its ugly, fiery face. I also saw that if I messed up my estimation on the spacing between me and this giant fireball, if I missed one single second and if I overestimated how much heat my body can take, I will die painfully. “Die,” he snarled. I slid my hand to my butt and a thick, green tail, a couple of inches taller than me, appeared. At the base, it started a couple of inches wide and as it curved up it got wider and wider. Leeb used to tell me all the time that it looked like a green chili pepper from his grandma’s garden, which when I thought about it, was a really good comparison. I pivoted 360 degrees and with an immense swipe of my tail, the miniature sun instantly dispersed, leaving only fragments of cinders. To be quite frank, I didn’t know what to expect. I was just as surprised as the guy who threw the fireball. He was frozen stiff as a board and his eyes were wide, bitterly staring at me. I gave him a stare of my own that lasted a couple of seconds, just to show him he ain’t as tough as he thought. I exploded off my left leg and ran straight toward him at top speed. He tripped over himself and closed his eyes, probably thinking, I’m gonna get my head popped off, and he’d be exactly right. I leapfrogged over him instead and continued running because I was on fire. “Hot! Hot! Fire! Fire!” I screeched. I patted down my shirt and pants. I didn’t feel anything but heat. Just the thought that I could be engulfed in a fire had me shook. I ran frantically to the pond I walked by earlier. My tail wobbled up and down and, as usual, the tail felt a little uncomfortable and threw off my balance. But after a couple of seconds, I got used to it. “Ahh—” I was about to scream till I remembered that fire had smoke, and smoke was a big no-no to the lungs. So I held my breath and continued running. After about a minute or so, I spotted the large pond about twenty feet away. Just seeing it made me run faster. I’m not usually the religious type but I could only thank the Almighty up in the sky because I did not think I was going to find it, especially in such a small amount of time. I made it to a small beach and I felt the sand on the sole of my right foot, which was weird because my boot was supposed to be there, but I can solve that mystery another time. As I was at least eight feet away from water, I belly flopped into it and created a huge splash that scared some fish. The water immediately extinguished the fire. I’d never been so thankful for water. I couldn’t care less if the water was contaminated or had sharks. I floated on my back and swiped my tail through the water like it was a paddle. I drifted farther and farther away from the coast. I picked up my head and smelled a toxic scent of smoke coming from the forest. It burned fiercely. Wow. I thought it was just a saying, but fire did spread quickly. I don’t know how to feel about the forest burning. I was happy that I was not in the forest anymore, but I kinda felt bad for the trees that the animals used as their homes. And the burning forest, in a way, looked as if it was painted on a portrait. I looked at my favorite green sweatshirt that I knitted myself. The sleeves were burned off of my shoulder so it looked less like a sweatshirt and more like a tank top. I looked at my grey sweatpants and from the height of my knee to my ankle, it burned off and turned into shorts. I looked at my black fleece boot that I had also knitted as well. The sole of my left boot disappeared and my right boot was completely gone, probably somewhere in the burning forest. The sole of my right foot and toes could’ve been seen through a huge hole in my sock. I lifted my arms over my head and inspected them. I sighed in relief. “Ok, good. Only blisters.” I grabbed my chest. It felt like it’s on fire. But that’s nothing my good ol’ inhaler pump couldn’t fi—, I covered my face with the palms of my hands. “Crap. I forgot my bag.” I take my palms off my face. “I forgot my bag!” I cringed. I forgot! I forgot! I forgot!” What the heck?”

An excerpt of Clear Blue Paranoia by Mercedes Garcia "Who's there?" "Please don't hurt me." "I don't want to die!" Angela forced herself to sit up in the nighttime quiet of her bedroom. Her head throbbed from lack of sleep and her heart beat fast from fear of the unknown. She sat up and turned the lamp on, looking around the room as she did so. Her therapist told her to face her fears to prove that they were irrational. With conviction, she jumped out of bed. Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened her bedroom door quickly then closed it again when she didn't see anything. What was that noise? S he asked herself. She walked over to her bedroom window and looked through the thick, black security bars. She could see her back porch and the tidy yard that housed a few aged, tall trees. There was an old green fence, then a jungle-like yard surrounding another house across the way. Angela looked at the decrepit, old house and wished someone would tear it down. It wasn’t helping the night terrors that have plagued her for years. Every time she thought about it, she wondered who could be hiding behind its rotting wood, waiting for the right moment to attack. Angela, you’ve got to get a grip. S he told herself. She turned the lights back off and got into bed, convincing herself that all will be well. But twenty minutes later, she still wasn’t asleep. The tree shadows seemed to be putting on a show and keeping her awake with the choreography. Worse, the more she watched the shadows the more she could follow along. It was as if the trees had something to say and it wasn’t good. God , she thought, what was wrong with her? People had always accused her of being paranoid and tonight it was worse than normal. Five years ago this week, her father died, and it was still difficult to accept. It wasn't just that his death was unexpected, but the fact that she found him made it 100 times worse. His blue, decaying corpse etched into her memory like a cave drawing. Angela would never forget seeing his dead body on the kitchen floor of his lonely little apartment. It had been two weeks since she had heard from him, which was normal. They weren’t exactly close and he had gotten so weird by the time he died that hardly anyone visited him anymore. She had been leaving messages for him for about a week, but he hadn’t been returning her calls. She called the landlord then, went to his apartment and knocked on his front door until the landlord appeared. The landlord opened the door with a master key and as he did so, the strong smell of old trash and rotting food assailed them at the entrance. Angela remembered giving in to the urge to gag. She called out to her father, but there was no answer. As the landlord went off to the bedroom to see if her father was in there, Angela stood transfixed in the small living area of his apartment. The sun was shining through the cracks in the thick velvet curtains, highlighting the specks of dust flying through air. On the coffee table were small replicas of Jesus. There was Jesus with his arms open wide, welcoming visitors. There was Jesus holding a staff and Jesus with two fingers in the air, giving the sign for peace. The randomly placed Jesus figurines somewhat resembled a nativity scene, but Angela knew that they were permanent decorations in her father's home regardless of the season. Angela remembered hearing the landlord walk behind her and into the kitchen. He gasped and came immediately out of the room. "What?" Angela asked him. The landlord tried to get her to leave the apartment with him, but Angela wouldn't go. She broke away from him and ran into the kitchen. Her father was on the floor, with his hand permanently clutching at his heart. His body had a purple hue and flies were circling his head. Angela remembered wanting to turn and run away from the scene, but was mesmerized by her dead father’s eyes. They were both open wide and seemed to say, “I told you so.” If you would like to read the full story, please reach out to us at info@theuntoldnarratives.com

Debby's Project María When we roam, change unlocks doors to new bonds, new home "Me vine a este país por mi hijo," Maria softly said, Her sacrifice echoed by many, hearts heavy with fear. Chapters start and end Leaving kin behind, for your own, a familiar immigrant's dilemma, Building a new life, among struggles, under foreign light. Language barriers rose, obstacles to surpass, "Me sentía totalmente desconectada," a whispering recount. In roles assigned, sometimes our own selves we neglect, "Uno es esposa y madre, pero uno también es mujer," María reflexionó. Chapters unfold, as María paints her path in bold hue, Not a journey to tread alone, but with companions true. Her son, her steadfast advocate, by her side did stand, Through gains and losses, navigating this foreign land. For age knows no limit, nor does the changing tide, La esencia de la vida persiste, más allá¡ de lo que alguna vez vemos When burdens weigh heavy, holding back our flight, It's in letting go, we find our wings, taking flight. "I love you," whispered to oneself, with sincerity true, Opens the door to self-discovery, revealing life anew. -Debby Go Back to Inspired By ... 2024 Project List