top of page

Nombre: Excerpt from Voces de las Mujeres in My Family | Marisela Gomez

m: Tu nombre aparece en momentos sin importancia en la carretera, camino

a casa y una canción recordando a un padre suena sin previo aviso

y allí sale tu nombre en pedazos cortados.

M: My mother knows how to say her daughters’ names with

enough volume to move through the walls of her kitchen,

living room, hallway, and into their shared bedroom.

m: Me quedo muda y dejo que mi mente te olvide.

M: She can use one breath to deliver my sister’s full name,

while pronouncing all eleven syllables, and still have

enough air in her lungs to include the six syllables of my


m: Tu nombre se lo lleva el tiempo y todavía apareces en momentos sin importancia.

Estas en documentos que te conectan a mí y allí me enseñan tu nombre común.

M: My mother knows that she must insult you for my lack of

syllables. She reminds me to blame you and says, “es la

culpa de tu pinche padre que te dio tu nombre sin mi


m: Me quedo sin sentido y sonrió al error que han cometido

y borro tu nombre.

M: She dives into her story of the day she had me, which I

can recite without missing a word as she says, “me desmaye

y cuando me desperté ya te avía dado el nombre de su

pinche ex novia.”

m: Siempre encuentras un momento sin importancia y te metes en escenas de padres

de ficción que adoran a sus hijas y existen más que tú.

M: My mother knows that legally I don’t have her maiden

name like my sister. I am her daughter con el nombre que

ella no escogió. My six syllables remind her that you

existed, but I am still su hija.

m: Aprieto mi garganta y me trago las lágrimas que tampoco existen.

M: She tells me again of the name that she wanted for me

and says, “podías haber sido mi Estrella pero tu pinche


My response is usually a thanks for you, because I am not

an Estrella.

She continues with more insults of el pinche güero, but I

assure her that my name belongs to me. My name is a

reminder of my future without you.

20 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

What Once Was:Amber Castellanos

Aged wooden chairs in the summer of 2011 gnarled with antiqueness and crayon stains I can still find them if I look hard enough colored encrusted sticks of wax sped in little hands as warmth sizzled o

Spitting- Image by Amber Castellanos

She was gone before I could even comprehend what death was. for the longest time she was just the one who could never sit still for a picture and for years a picture is all I wanted to see. My mom fou

Why I Hate Weed by Amber Castellanos

I learned in D.A.R.E about the pointy plant that grows in the ground earned a T-shirt and a dance for a promise That Beats in my stomach with the nausea of Winter’s Past That Jan. 15th the only presen


bottom of page