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Banderas

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Banderas, 22nd Street in San Francisco's Mission District. The clothes hanging from the yards and roofs, are our red flag, announcing that we are still here, visible, our dresses, bras and underwear, ripped jeans and flowery sheets, the defiance of clothes lines, unkempt in the wind and the sun, we hang our laundry out for the world to see, y que?, so they can see that we are still here, present, in these old houses, that even though we have no title or papers, they are ours, because we’ve made them ours, we’ve paid for them a hundred times over, with rent and work, yes, but also with our presence, our hanging clothes, our flags of rebellion. There’s less clothes lines every year, our apartments upscaled, flipped and condoized. But we still fly our flags, banderas rojas de rebeldía.

La ropa colgada de las yardas y de los techos, son nuestra bandera roja, anunciando que todavía estamos, visibles, nuestros vestidos, brasieres y calzoncillos, jeanes rotos y manteles floreados, el desafío de la ropa volando en el viento y el sol, para que todo el mundo vea, y qué?, para que vean qué todavía estamos, presentes, en estas casas viejas, que aunque no tengamos título o papeles, son nuestras, porque las hemos hecho nuestras, las hemos pagado cien veces, con renta y trabajo, sí, pero también con nuestra presencia, nuestra ropa colgada, nuestras banderas de rebelión…


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