sali - stories

Dia De Los Muertos Tucson Photos

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 11:57:51 +0700

Hola, he puesto los photos de La Dia De Muertos, Tucson, Noviember 09 debajo de 'Memorials'.
Photos from the All Souls Procession in Tucson, Nov 09 are posted under 'Memorials'.

Distro Project

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 08:55:41 +0700

Hey y'all,
We're still working on putting together a distro of things created by sali's friends and loved ones (see below for a better description). It's taking a bit longer than expected, which is both good and bad. It's good because it means that there's still time to create something if you haven't, or send something you already made. There are lots of great writings on this website and could be awesome in the zine that's being put together- so if there's something on here you'd like to see printed and sent all over please get in touch (see below). The new date is mid-october (let's say the 15). For real. Everything is going to be in both english and spanish, so to have time to translate please send stuff by october 15.
So, email to bicyclevillain [at] riseup [dot] net to submit internet writings or to get an address to mail other anythings.

The plan is to put together a zine of poems, writings, pictures, etc... that friends have made in response to sali's murder. As well as anything else that can be reproduced- posters, patches, yer own zine, stencils, anything you want. Then it's going to be mailed all over the US, and

Oh Sali

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 07:45:26 +0700

Dear Sali, Happy Birthday sweet young woman. We love you and miss you, pretend this is everyone who loves and misses you screaming your name and our love from the tops of cliffs and mountains, where our voices might carry the farthest and find you wherever you are today.
   We too died a death of sorts this year from all our grief, but I suppose we must still pretend to live.
      Your Birthday today, but you will always be a young 20 to us, not 'the wide-eyed and young' Sali but the young, beautiful woman that I will always remember you as. It's lovely here, I can see you everywhere I go, you seem so tangible but so far.
I keep pretending that you're not gone but just continually riding some trains to somewhere.
   This is our Scream from Cliffs for you,
Sali Sali Sali Sali Sali Sali We Love You, Sali We Miss You, We will Always Be Sad That you Have Gone, But
We Will Always remember your Stupidwonderful laugh, You were our amazing present for those almost- 21 years. Happy Birthday Sali.
.

following some advice.

Wed, 16 Sep 2009 01:56:01 +0700

salita. how am i gonna get through this? i havent written you because i know its just too painful to be reminded that youre not there to receive it, but right now i dont know how else to make these memories three dimensional and i need to be surrounded by you. i admit, i have these moments pretty regularly where i think to call you or write you because i forget that youre dead. i remember the dream i had of you, when i was like where the fuck have you been? and you laughed and said just living outside of town. i wonder if youd like the things people write and say about you. i sometimes cringe, as it appears the way i knew you and the way other people knew you have very little to do with each other. i dont remember young, wide eyed or reckless. i knew you "late" in your life, as it were. i had so much respect for you, immediately. i saw this person who was serious and scared, like i am. and i feel so lucky to know about your alone moments, the ways you felt hurt and hesitant. i think we both saw ourselves in each other, just as so many of our dear friends predicted. and i wanted to protect you, isnt that fucked? i just remember the gesture of you spreading the butter in your hands, talking about gettin through the fear. you writing to me about puffing your chest out to trick people into thinking you had it down. you and me shouldve found a disgusting little cave to hide in instead of running off in separate directions, pretending we were way more confident than we really were. our vulnerability was a secret that we shared between us, and i think sometimes we even fooled each other when we were realllly insecure. i saw so much worry in your face and i fucking love you for this. why the fuck not? i could tell that you had a lot of defenses up, and you had been wronged far too many times. and i remember the strongest desire to erase the pain you were living with, the feelings of rejection and confusion. i remember sitting in the kitchen together, quiet, lamplight, tea. is that fucked up? you were asking me, as if you didnt know that you had a right to be treated with dignity, honesty, respect. its been a year now since youve been gone, and i wish i had something more to offer you. i wish i could be like, here, borrow some of this excess strength i took on since we last saw each other... i wish i could say that ive stood up for myself enough for the two of us or that ive become brave in the places i used to just pretend were brave. but im not there yet. im admitting this to you, in secret. because we both know that its not safe to let other people know that we falter. salitamija. i cant forget the images of you fighting in slow motion. i remember feeling lucky to be your self defense partner, because you were attractive and intimidating and it was a way for two frontin tough-asses to create intimacy between themselves. but perhaps this wasnt on your mind at all, perhaps you were just concentrating on your form. either way, i remember the way your body moved to defend itself and it haunts me. i have so many memories of being physically close to you, as if i always knew where we were in relation to one another even though i had no idea how much i was paying attention to it at the time. we got to be friends in a strange context. cleaning wounds and serving soup and whispering translations back and forth. sleeping in the cruz roja together because we were the only girls in the camp. im repeating all of these memories because they really are nourishing me. sometimes i forget to remember the good things, the tender moments, and focus too much on my sadness and anger that youre gone. i wish i would think more frequently about the sound of your voice pronouncing "tranquilo" and "acento", and the look youd get on your face when youd be pretending to listen to someone, really impatiently. for many reasons, i saw this face a lot. and also this face of yours that was so revealing of sadness but obviously not wanting to show it. sali, i want you to be proud of me. i want to be making the decisions that i would have wanted you to make. does this make sense? we are cabronas for a reason, shit. come visit me more often, hm? it sucks without you.

what a hard year

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 21:47:31 +0700

i don't want my grief to be all that is left of my friend, this is a great fear of mine.

when i am not so overcome, i wise up a little bit and know that my vivid memories of sali are burned into my brain, that they aren't going anywhere. she lived too hard and joyous and strong to fade away. i cry when i think of how wonderful you all are to have kept sali alive in so many ways: through this website, song, sharing memories among our mutual friends, through memorials, through struggle.

christ this is an intense night for me, for some reason.

if you all haven't heard it yet, my friend santa's band "adelitas" wrote a song for sali, called "la que lucho" or "she who fought". the chorus says: "la que lucho por la vida, no se le llama muerta, tampoco morira" or "she who fought for life, you can't call her dead, she will never die"

my grief is so inarticulate. it tastes like salt and smells like simple green cleaning fluid... i got a call on the bus on my way to work at a youth shelter last year, that's how i found out. i couldn't stop shaking. i got to work and a friend/coworker called and called to find coverage for my shift, which he eventually did. if i left, the shelter wouldn't have been able to open for the night and 30 teenagers wouldn't have had a place to sleep. i couldn't stop crying and saying "sali" and folding laundry and scrubbing down counters and hoping someone would relieve me before the youth came. the tears just keep coming and my breath catches in my throat, thinking about it all.

she has touched so many people. one of my new coworkers, at a transitional youth house, heard about her story independently of me... and was so touched by sali's courageous, silly, raunchy, and sweet life. she felt a connection, and was so glad that somebody like sali existed.

its almost been a year, im trying to think about what i would like to do to honor our friendship and her glorious existence. if any of you have any ideas, please post them... i read and re-read this all the time.

hugs all around
julia (pdx)

Ashes By Dendron

Wed, 01 Jul 2009 09:24:49 +0700

Her body lies nightly in my room

Growing heavier by the minute

Gray and black speckled remains

Tightly wrapped in pink tissue paper

A body full of words

A body covered in art

A body now gone

I wanna send her into air

On the tracks of her angst

On the land of her birth

On the ocean where she grew

Mermaid fins

And back to feet again

Her body lies nightly in my room

Stirring by my sleeping head

Humming while I burn

White copal and myrrh

And I wanna send her back to earth

To the dirt that covered her living

To rest like she always needed

To fly like she always hoped

To heal like we all know she did

How the grief accumulates....

Fri, 26 Jun 2009 01:14:28 +0700

Tonight i sat at a reading a close friend of mine was reading at. A big ole queer event with people sharing their guts and feelings and all that, it was beautiful, but the thing that has brought me to this website tonight is that a family;a mother and two sisters of a woman named jennifer who died in a car crash in december came to read her stuff to this crowd of queers, to honor her memory, to keep her alive. how brave this was, how beautiful that they knew who she was. that her queerness among other things was not hidden, not shamed into the sidelines of conversation.. i cried through the entire reading, so touched and so reminded of sali... our beautiful beautiful friend who's mom knew who she was, knew all the secrets (well probably not all). at sali's memorial in eugene i was blown away by how integrated her blood family, those she grew up with and the traveling crusty anarchists were the whole time. i had people walk up to me after i sang and read my piece say to me"you really brought her spirit here, thank you for keeping her alive in this space" how amazing to be speaking of this wild eyed crazy dumpster diving emotive diva and have those who didn't nesasarily view her in that way to appriciate and not deny. Sali was not denied who she really was, she wouldn't let herself be denied in life and she has not been denied in her death. there have been a lot of deaths around me lately, feels like the summer of death.was with a best friend while his dad died of cancer, some close friends very close friend drowned a couple weeks ago, someone from my community killed themselves. i am very sad for the loss of these people, for the people that i care for and their pain, their long process of grieving. also their deaths bring back my own grief for sali. someone said to me that the grief just accumulates till it is almost all the same grief, just one big pile of heartache and keeps coming back every time you lose someone, but also that it gets easier, not that people don't mean as much to you, not that you get desensitized, but that it is integrated into your body, that we remember that a part of the living is the dying. but it is still so hard for me that sali's death was murder, murder and rape and its still so hard for me to get over, i mean i will never get over it, i guess that's whats different about violent deaths, its harder to accept. through all these new deaths i have started up a ritual with burning candles and burning myrrh and white copal(something i learned from Lindsay. white copal is burnt as a offering to the dead, myrrh is burnt for the ones grieving death, to comfort) both of these are used in latin america for rituals and while they are not my cultural practices i have integrated them in my own way for my own spiritual practice. as i have been burning them i have felt sali's presence again, i know shes with me sometimes, laughing at my drama, at my insecurities, at the little things that get me down, i know she is what keeps me going sometimes, this drive and inspiration that still shines through even in her dead form, her spirit form, wherever and whatever she is now. most of the time i can accept that this is the way she is in my life, but sometimes i just want to hold her again, hear her laugh again, listen to her stories, and look into her eyes. our beautiful sali gone? those are the times i cry and wonder if my housemates can hear me, if they worry about me, if they even remember that i am still grieving, that this pain is still so deep, that this will be with me forever, a part of my bone matter, right up next to legacies of abuse and racism and homophobia, right up with all those lessons of self hatred, right up there with feeling so so alone and depressed and suicidal. that this pain settles and fuses doesn't make it any less, it makes it easier to go on, but it still fucking hurts, that sali is not in the world fucking hurts. i have learned a lot through this process of communal grieving, have learned that it is so much easier to do it together. it seems like we have all moved on with our lives a little more the past few months(i think the last posting was in march) but reading these postings here tonight and writing has been so important, to remember that this is not over. i know that so many of us still sob as we fall asleep, hold fear of violence, and can't get out of bed. i know that we are still grieving and won't stop, i know that some of us must be just getting out of the shock, or are heading into depression phase. please lets not forget each other, cause i know that we haven't forgotten sali and as someone posted before, this is how we are all connected, this is how we can hold each other, cause we all loved and held sali in all differnet ways, and we all feel that void no matter how small without her .i would love to hear how others are doing, how people are moving on, how they are not. this is how we can keep her alive , through all of us. so much love to you all

Love love xoxoxo,
Dendron

stompinbarefeet@risup.net

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 17:16:14 +0700

I know that on the other side of the pendulum of my anger, grief and sorrow are the same weight of emotions, mirrored in intensity, but complete opposites because of how profound my love and admiration for her is. The price for loving Sally and having the privilege of knowing her is that the loss is felt immensely and carried heavily. The pain is as beautiful as it is tragic. The beauty comes from Sally-who she is to me-her intensity, how she lived her life, our friendship, the love and understanding we had for one another, the times we shared together and what she meant to me. I’m haunted by her death, but my memories of her keep me from getting lost in it. I keep her spirit alive by remembering: her laughing in the sweet light of an August evening in a corn field-I can still feel your dreads tickling my shoulders if I sit still and bring myself there, all the stories we shared, seeing her for the first time, lying my head in her lap while she sang to me as I felt my heart crumbling, cuddling under a makeshift tent from the rain, her tanning her smelly raccoon hide for days on end, singing together, watching her belly dance, being ridiculous, having serious and heavy conversations as well as sharing positive life experiences and her whaling while she strums her banjo in which ever town we happened to be wandering.

Sally, I’m sorry I never wrote you again. I suppose I don’t count emails. I was waiting for you to get back to Arizona so I could mail off the care package I started for you buddy. To answer your questions: I miss and love you too sweetheart. These days I’m passionate about a lot mostly building community, gardening, acupressure, getting a dog and learning about mushrooms and wild crafting-I thought about how funny it was that we went to Burdock fest and never learned much about burdock root there. I saw some in the store the other day and thought of you. I finally left Brattleboro and am really close to settling down in Portland, I know two years later. I hope I can have a house with a garden. I’m going to keep learning Spanish too before I lose it entirely. I wanted to pick your brain about Oaxaca, talvez some day. Thanks for keeping me in your thoughts from time to time, updating me on your travels and sharing what you did while you were there. I love to live vicariously through people when I’m not traveling. I love you so much and miss you terribly. You’re fucking awesome and so beautiful woman. I know few people who smile as much as you did. I really, really loved having you stay with me. I’m so lucky to have met you. I don’t think anyone has given me as many nicknames as you sister squirrel! We did have ridiculous times together and it is amazing how we met at my favorite swimming hole in Vermont one hot swampy summer day in July; the next thing I knew we were navigating a crazy time adventure through New England together as if we had known each other for years. Anarchista amiga mia, nunca te olvidaré.
adios ~ good bye love
con mucho fuerte y amor
Christy

Sweet Sali

Tue, 02 Dec 2008 14:03:05 +0700

Hey all,

this is dendron, i wrote this and read it at the memorial in Santa Cruz and was planning on reading it in tucson but we ran out of time, the first piece is a piece that goes with the song me and leah wrote about sali and the second piece i wrote specifically as a sort of performance piece, i sing the tyrese song which is a song that me and sali used to sing to eachother whenever we saw each other with our names in the place of "lady", i hope everyone is well, love to you all.......

Inhabit
I can see your eyes
swollen, piercing
always changing
you held your life in those eyes
taking in more than you could handle
but as much as you deserved
wild fuckin strength
knife in hand
always ready
you knew the violence of misogyny
not through women studies 101
but in your body
deep deep down
n those muscles you trusted
isolated muscles
to use for
dancing, hoping trains, sex
you worked out those memories
the hold they had on your life
through movement
self-reflection
writing and song
a blast of voice no longer repressed
confidence steaming like an engine
or a tea kettle eagerly announced
you are an ink blot
on sweaty notebook pages
a carefully crafted fur lined hat
a masterpiece with no master
chewing on life like there is
nothing else

they told me they killed you
with that deadly concoction
but i know
they never broke you
you broke
their hold on your body
long before you lost
inhabitation.

Sweet Sali

(To the tune of Tyrese "Sweet Lady")
Sweet Sali, would you be my
sweet love for a lifetime
i'll be there when you need me                                             just call and recieve me.......

reunions, voicemeails, greetings
our song of remembering, announcing
the strength that comes
from having each other's backs

I remember your body...
not as a lover does
but as someone who intimately
witnessed your process of
learning to love it
day by day
unfolding more and more
each time we saw each other
your graceful intention with
what you put into it
how you adorned it
what you did to keep it
strong and flexible
happy and able
and your struggle with it
the constant hating we are taught
the lifelong struggle
of relationship to food
self-harm and addiction
I remember when you started masterbating                           learning your body despite
the training of shame
you started to glow
in the satisfaction
of knowing your spots
of knowing "you dont need no man"

I remember your back...
muscles hold up gallons of water
piles of dirt, years of the trauma
of learning to be yourself
shoulders pop and crackle
the excitement, the power
of getting shit done

Sweet Sali, would you be my
sweet love for a lifetime
i'll be there when you need me                                             just call and recieve me.......

I remember your hips
how you moved them that
crazy isolated figure 8 way
your immense joy in getting it just right
you taught me how to do it
one night at that little house you
lived at in portland
you said "bend your knees like this
start moving your hips
from side to side
making sure to keep your belly still
up and down
up and down
picture your hips drawing a figure 8
in the air
you got it, yes thats it, right on"
in your Sali supportive way

I remember your hands...
the dirt under your nails
how they moved like two birds
and all that you filled them with
freight train bars, animal skins, other
hands, fire, and plants, feathers and
leather, books and learning, joy, and
sharing, sowing, rocks, and charms
Swimming, you woudl use them
to keep your head above water
dancing, you would use them as accompaniment
playing, you would use them to tease
singing, you would use them
to pluck banjo strings
to make food for your puppy, belly
or give me a bomb as massage
or tear apart meat for eating                                                or picking plants for making medicine
you took care of people with those hands
you healed people with those hands
you healed all of us with those hands.......

Sweet Sali, would you be my                                                sweet love for a lifetime
i'll be there when you need me
just call and recieve me....

I remember your belly...
ungelating in the sunrise
peacock feathers and jingles of coins
sometimes you hated it
like i hated mine
and we hated together
but you started to use it as a tool
a part of you to guide your dancing
creating love between the folds
sometimes when we'd cuddle
I would feel it gently pressing against
my back as you spooned me
Your belly was home, comfort and close
You were home
Your body next to mine

I remember your neck
how the dirt would streak and speckle
how it would stretch
to look at stars
tops of trees
incoming trains
and the rain on your face
how you could lay your little head
against anything
to get some rest
your dreads wraping like snakes
the treasures that hung
like you were born like that
squirrel feet and all

Sweet Sali, would you be my
sweet love for lifetime                                                          i'll be there when you need me                                             just call and recieve me.......

I remember your feet...
how you would balance on train rails
on gravel roads
highway overpasses
forest trails and logs                                                            your dorky sandles you
salvaged from the free box
perfecting kicks in self-defense class
those feet that moved you across
states, across stages,
across every livingroom floor you could make space
for yourself in
that night in eugine at that show at
the crows nest
we glided across the dance floor
you and me
we were like butter
smooth and melting
like we rehearsed it
like magic
till we fell exhausted to the ground
heaps of sweat
and your smile was all i could see........

I remember your mouth.....
speaking the truth
how you felt, what you lived for
your insecurities, your strengths
screaming at the top of your lungs
on a fast train
blackberry juice staining your teeth
as you smiled that huge silly smile
the one where i knew you weren't
faking
With that mouth you got yourself through crisis
guided your self
talking in out and intuition
talking with me about bodies, family, resistance
sex, and trusting ourselves
comfort came from your mouth
affirmation and pride
you inspired with your words
and when you said something
it happened.
breathing slow to calm yourself down
gritting teeth to keep from screaming
your power, your passion, your life
force trying to escape your body
through that beautiful mouth

Sweet Sali, would you be my
sweet love for a lifetime                                                       i'll be there when you need me                                             just call and recieve me.......

your blood flows through my veins
passion and vision
can never die
your message continues                                               through the terror that haunts
all of us

"If I cannot do what i believe,                                               then I am nothing."

more memories and thoughts c/o juli@...

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 02:18:06 +0700

i read these stories every day. sometimes just a paragraph, sometimes post after post. i like thinking about her, and all her strong friends who i have and havent met, rather than fixating on how i felt when i found out what had been done to her, or the images that have been running through my head when i start thinking about all the wounding that friends and i have been forced to deal with.

most times when i read these posts, i think about a characteristic of sally that i hadnt turned over in my mind a million times over the past month.

who loved her thumb tattoo? that little tree was the best.

and im so happy that she got to ride trains with a group of ladies. that was definitely a recurring theme in our conversations: how awesome it would be to be in a big crew of ladies riding trains across the country together.

practicing how to say 'no' and sharing our strategies to deal with men's entitlement issues was another ongoing conversation.

being mostly sober and making sculpey jewelery at a party while other folx got wasted... she made HUGE slugs that i worried wouldnt cook through to the center, but looked rad anyway.

we affirmed each others suspicions that joan jett singing 'crimson and clover' was, well, pretty much one of the hottest things ever.

i loved talking with her about being really weird kids growing up.

talking about wearing makeup, then not wearing makeup so much.

talking about families, how to come to some understanding of and mutual respect within our own, when it is worth it, butterflies over taking that step.

i also remember her passing by a punk show where some friends and i were, and her trying to get me to give it up that evening and go square dancing instead...

i loved running into her unexpectedly, sneaking up on me at food not bombs, walking around town, busking.

getting a letter on the shittiest day of the shittiest month of the year in pdx that came in a golden wrapper and was decorated over every square centimeter with her drawings and words.

getting an email "ill be there TOMORROW! in 4 hours!" etc.

on and on.