April 26, 2006

Not your typical Sorority Chic




For those that don't know...I've been an Hermana of Latinas Promoviendo Comunidad/Lambda Pi Chi Sorority, Inc. for almost 10 years. I joined during college and am still an active member today. I also happen to sit on our National History Committee. As a result, I was asked to give a speech at one of our chapter's last night about our organization's genesis. I couldn't have been prouder (or more nervous) to do so. I strayed away from the typical pamphlet/brochure/website spiel and instead simply spoke from the heart in a way to somehow convey the essence of how and why our Hermandad was founded. Judging by the reaction of the crowd, I did a pretty good job. Enjoy the written version below.

Founders Dinner
Xi Chapter, SJU
April 25, 2006

Imagine a world without options. A place where your color or last name and how you spoke it, put you in one category – either black or white. But in reality, you were one, or the other, neither, or both.

Imagine carrying the expectations of your family, your friends, your neighborhood, on your back because you were the first to accomplish something others around you did not: going away to college.

Imagine not being seen. By professors, administrators, officials, peers and colleagues, some of them just like you or close enough to be.

Imagine seeing others like you give and nurture and support and work and lead but never be acknowledged, respected or appreciated. Not because they didn’t deserve it, but because of their gender.

Now imagine seeing these same women who you spent years working, studying, bonding with, suddenly disappear. Diplomas bought freedom, freedom bore forgetfulness. With each woman that leaves, you lose another friendship not out of maliciousness but simply the passage of time and no real thread to keep you connected, no reason for them to reach back and remain in your life or you in theirs.

This was Cornell University in the 1980s. When Hispanic women were literally the new kids on the block and people just didn’t get why they wouldn’t pick a side of the race/culture spectrum.

In 1986, on this sprawling campus in centrally isolated Western NY five Latinas lives intersected- Eva Marie Sosa-Grandison, Viveza; Maria Caban, Sayan; Patricia Rivera, Nipin; Irma Almirall-Padamsee, Esencia; Migdalia Franklin, Raiza. On the surface they were different, but they had something important in common. “We each felt a need to find a place where we would be valued for our brains, our commitment to the Latino inner city communities we came from, and the belief that as women we could stand on our own two feet, independent, strong, not willing to take no for an answer,” Esencia says.

During this time, each of our founders desired something more than the options they were given: they could either join a traditionally Anglo sorority or pledge a historically African American sorority. Or join nothing at all. The longer they were on campus, the more they realized how crucial and necessary having another option was.

Out of this need, a discussion and support group La Organizacion de Latinas Universitarias (LOLU) was started. But while it provided a supportive space, it was fleeting, filling the need for the moment but not a permanent piece of their lives that they would carry with them after they left. Our five Hermanas still yearned for something more; something that would celebrate and unify Latinas, something that would consolidate their collective strengths and allow them to give back to their communities in a tangible way, something that would allow women to remain connected and support one another throughout their lives, even after they had left campus.

But traditional sororities—the elitism, the hazing, the frivelousness-did not appeal to them. What did appeal to them was the idea of a life-long network that could promote change in the communities they held so dear.

So after two years of talking, dreaming, envisioning something that didn’t yet exist, in the spring of 1988, in a small apartment on Buffalo Street in Ithaca, Lambda Pi Chi was born.

They chose the ideal and values that would become our bedrock for all that we do:
La Comunidad (community), La Cultura Latina (Latino culture) and La Hermandad (which literally means sisterhood but in reality has no translation for us because it is an emotion that can only be experienced).

This ability and desire to support one another in our personal and professional lives is what has allowed us to share our goal with all women, of so many diverse ethnicities, races, religions and orientations, that there are too many to list. But it is proof that something has and always will strike a chord with any and all who share our vision of uniting and celebrating women.

In their tenacity to do something unique our organization has accomplished numerous milestones. The first Latina sorority to be founded at an Ivy League institution, the first Latina organization to use the term Hermana, the first organization to use the word “Latina” before it became fashionable or common, the first Latina organization to step and incorporate our music and dance into our performances.

It was this same desire for options and long lasting connections that brought us, Xi chapter, here to St. John’s University. After a year of tireless efforts, four women: Luz Tanon, Hermana Naliquet; Heather Arabadjis, Hermana Kiesal; Yalitza Vasquez, Hermana Tarelis; and Liemore Camby, Hermana Alikare, established our Hermandad here in New York City, creating another option for women in the New York City region.

In the 18 years since our founding, we have continued to grow, support and flourish. We have welcomed over 400 women into our Hermandad, established 18 undergraduate chapters and 5 professional/ graduate chapters. In 18 years LPC went “above and beyond what we ever imagined.” Each founder professed.

We are Las Hermanas of Latinas Promoviendo Comunidad/Lambda Pi Chi Sorority, Inc.

We are undergraduate students, graduate students and working professionals. We are doctors, lawyers, engineers. We are military officers, human resource specialists and innovators. We are teachers, actors, activists, organizers, and social workers. We are public health workers, nurses, researchers and technicians. We are entrepreneurs, MBA’s and union officials. We are artists, poets, professors and government officials. We are writers, cultural workers, journalists and geologists. We are constantly striving, reaching and thriving. We lead non-profit and for-profit organizations. We have shaped government policy and laws. We are musicians and doctors of philosophy. We are dancers and shape shifters -- chamellions that constantly change to be able to give, lead and follow. We are mothers, wives, daughters, partners, aunts and Hermanas.

Happy Anniversary Lambda Pi Chi, we look forward to the next 18 with eager anticipation.

April 23, 2006

April 21, 2006

Spring Cleaning

I've never been good at letting things go. Blame it on my packrat tendencies or sentimentalism, but I cling to things for comfort, memories and security. And i mean everything-notes I traded in JHS, my cheerleading sneakers that I know I'll never wear again, childhood birthday cards, old Menudo buttons. I hoarded it all. I even rationalized it was necessary. This was the physical evidence of my life that would be soarly missed if ever an archive about me was created (ha!). But as the years passed and I found myself lugging boxes filled with lots of stuff that I hadn't looked at since it came into my life except when I was packing and shifting it around, I realized I needed to let some things go. So I relented and found that perging items from my life that I had no use for was actually a good thing. I became a minimalist of sorts (maybe not quite but at least I'd pared down on the amount of stuff I had) and began keeping only the necessities and only hanging on to those things I could not bare to part with.

I say all this because I recently made a major purge from my life. During one of my ADD moments this past week (warm weather and procrastination always do it), I began perusing my cellphone's contacts aka my phone book. As I scanned the list searching to make room in my overpacked contact list two entries in particular caught my eye-Michelle and Tom, my ex- boyfriend's two best friends. It's been over a year since my last real relationship ended in an "As-The-World-Turns" dramatic fashion (there was a fight, he walked out and it was a wrap). In actuality, we haven't seen or spoken to each other since.

During the last few tumultous months of our relationship, his two best friends were my only connection to him. When his behavior baffled me, I'd call Michelle to vent and gain insight. When he lost his phone or was nowhere to be found, Tom was who I called. But the truth was our connection hinged on my romantic relationship with their friend. After we broke up, I did call both of them, I wanted to know how my ex was doing aka I wasn't able to fully let go. They were both incredibly understanding and comforting, convincing me that I was better off without him. Eventuallly I did let go of my anger and hurt feelings and moved on. So deleting his friends numbers from my phone should have been no big deal, right?
Yea, not so much.

I must have stared at those two entries forever. I'm sure it was really just a few minutes, but it felt like so much longer. I stared and stared before I got the nerve to sever the only remaining ties I had to my ex. I mean even with all of the drama, I'd cared for him and once upon a time he had been an important part of my life. But I knew it was necessary for me to permanently close some doors so that I could allow others to open. So I pushed the button. "Are you sure you want to delete?" The message automatically popped up on the screen both times I went to erase their numbers. And both times, I scrolled to the "yes" option and hit "done." And it was.