Get to know these TSW voices.
Today, we’re sharing 9 pieces written by Seventh Wave writers and poets that we published across our past 17 issues. In this powerful roundup, you’ll find essays that illuminate a long lineage of trauma brought about by empire; poems that dig into the history of discrimination; pieces that celebrate the joy of kinship; and short stories that render entire webs of complex relationships visible on the page.
These writers represent a vast array of forms, lived experiences, and identities, and their words paint a stunning collage of perspectives. Our hope in sharing these pieces is that they will act as entry points for you to get to know some incredibly urgent, necessary talents within our TSW community.
Below, you’ll find work by the uber-talented Aline Mello, Jesse Gabriel González, Aling Zulema Dominguez, Maya Garcia, Alysia Gonzales, Rogelio Juárez, Teri Vela, Dayna Cobarrubias, and Michael Sarabia. Read and return to these voices often.
- All Posts
- 1: Perception Gaps
- 10: Willful Innocence
- 11: Actionable Storytelling
- 12: Before After
- 13: Rebellious Joy
- 14: Economies of Harm
- 15: Root Systems
- 16: Proximities
- 17: The Cost of Waiting
- 2: Labels
- 3: Who Gets to Belong?
- 4: You Are Politics
- 5: Artificial Realities
- 6: Dangerous Bodies
- 7: In Opposition
- 8: Power And
- 9: What We Lose
- Anthologies
- Art
- Audio
- Bulletin
- Drama
- Film
- Interview
- Poetry
- Prose
- Uncategorized
- Back
- Fiction
- Nonfiction
This is how you keep your head down; this is how you thank God for this country: loudly so they hear / you;
The problem with draining the world from your head / is what rushes in to take its place.
They make border out of moving body / and announce that it is dying / and that Mexico owes the U.S. water / but not from our wet backs.
This is a body / and this body is this thing of terror—how / in this world every / woman is a survivor and every...
When Mom called to tell me the news that Memito had died, I went to go fish out that old photo from what could barely be called a closet.
I could talk your ear off about the current state of Mexican-American literature.
it is a form of mothering / to hurt yourself / rather than others
“I need you to do something for me,” you said as you sat across from me in the locker room.
El Coyote appears before my shack, silhouette illuminated and clear. He removes his fedora and taps it against the wall, dust and sand in my eyes.
Throughout the year, you’ll continue to find pieces like this that celebrate our community of voices. If you’re looking for more resources or writing from Latinx writers and poets, check out CLMP’s roundup, “A Reading List for National Hispanic Heritage Month 2024.”
