© Eva, 24 years old.


Born in Venezuela, of Venezuelan family. Lived in Barcelona most of my life as a latina in Spain. I live as an activist, writer, poet, traveler and, more recently, a settler. I left Barcelona when I was 19, and eventually settled in this strange place called Portland. Since my family moved out of Spain I lost all sense of home. Most of what I do is directed to figuring out how the hell am I going to recreate that home, in such a foreign land. I can't wait to be on my personal list of empowered women.

I'm also dedicated to changing the world.

5th April 2014

Photo with 2 notes

5th April 2014

Photo with 3 notes

2nd April 2014

Link reblogged from Makes Haste Well with 9 notes

A Fool's April →


I’m pregnant. I don’t know the dad. Or the child. Or how this happened. Details to come.

I’m engaged. He’s loved me a long time. Forgotten me for more.

I’ve always been Margot Slezack. I’m sorry if this disappoints you.

I follow the Julian calendar. I sleep only on the fortnight. For a…

Tagged: poetrypoem

6th March 2014

Post with 1 note

I’ll make my home

your home.

My place will be in yours,

as I approach

this new space that

in a few occasions

is safe.

I’ll make your place,

my safe space,

you’ll let me in

as I start to stay.

You’ll let me in,

You’ll let me stay,

we will make it seem,

like it’s all okay.

5th March 2014

Post reblogged from Hola, TÚ with 2 notes


Y con la noche,
me despido de mí
y de todos vosotros,
los que de paso
os habéis convertido
en los fantasmas de los que
sin querer,
me escondo.

Tagged: poemapoesiapensamientosoledadmiedonocheescribirespañol

4th March 2014

Photoset reblogged from Shaking My Damn Head At Y'all with 6,166 notes





The Trouble Between Us: An Uneasy History of White and Black Women in the Feminist Movement


Segregated Sisterhood: Racism Politics American Feminism


Black Sexual Politics: African Americans, Gender, and the New Racism


Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment


Ain’t I a Woman: Black Women and Feminism


Feminism Is For Everybody: Passionate Politics


The Womanist Reader: The First Quarter Century of Womanist Thought


Black Feminist Voices in Politics


Living for the Revolution: Black Feminist Organizations, 1968–1980


Reblogging for future reference
If you’re a white feminist and you place WoC, particularly Black women/feminists/womanists, and their struggles, narratives and activism on the periphery of the women’s liberation movement, or you belittle them as “special interest issues”, and you place white/Western women/feminists at the center of- and as the authority of the women’s liberation movement, then congrats. You really are a white/ Western “feminist”.

2nd March 2014

Post with 1 note

I’ve been out of practice… I haven’t been writing… and that means I haven’t been healing or progressing much in what I need to do. Tomorrow it’s a different day.

Maybe this whole extroverted thing, this whole need to be surrounded by people and full of things to do with goals that seem completely abstract like that of becoming a better activist, a better learner, a more complete and admirable human being, a feminist. But then also the best friend, partner, mother, daughter, woman, ally, lover. All of these things I want to be, all of these things that are important to me, without sitting down and strategizing, or just letting my brain stop and roll around in its destructive thoughts so that by the end of the day I learn something new about myself, something I might not like but I will take it and have it be there, present, forever. And then I see what I do with it, but first I need to know.

And for that, I need to heal and progress. Write.

Tagged: writethoughtsbrainstuckwriting

14th February 2014


I doubt despise dislike myself,
and I could even say
that it’s hate, or som’ else
when I think of my dreams,
and the reality in me.

compare it
and scream.

But I don’t doubt myself
like I don’t know.
Like I would like to know
but I don’t know

I don’t doubt
that I can sing
I don’t doubt
that I can write
or play,
or smile.

I doubt
that I can’t let the moon leave
and then it leaves
and I die.

Tagged: not sureself-doubtdepression

11th February 2014


"There’s a story I could tell when the cold wind starts to blow
Like a whisper in the night from a friend that you know
It says, “Keep holding on to my body below
Forsake me not, don’t ever leave me alone”

There was a time when the sun gave its life to the trees
And the air it smelled sweeter for the honey and the bees
The ocean rolled salty and wild and free
The fruit swelled and ripened and burst with their seeds

But what starts with desire can turn into need
The chest gets all tight like it’s got some disease
What burns in the fire just ends up as coals
What floats on the water can sink like a stone

Now I want to believe every word that you say
I want you to need me to not go away
Have trust in the nighttime and faith in the day
To walk on the water, be never afraid

Can you bear it upon you? My love has gone under
Above all the stars have forgotten to glow
But if you keep holding on to my body below you
I’ll warm you and keep you from feeling alone”

Tagged: Mirahlyricssongwriterbrilliantalonelonelinesslovedesireneedrelationships

7th February 2014

Quote reblogged from Clementine von Radics with 7,188 notes

Okay, we didn’t work, and all memories to tell you the truth aren’t good. But sometimes there were good times. Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep beside me and never dreamed afraid.

There should be stars for great wars like ours.

— Sandra Cisneros (via writingsforwinter)

Tagged: lovebreakupwarrelationships

Source: macedonianmess