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La Profesora's Pen

~ Regina YC Garcia's prose and poetic musings on culture, relationships, societal issues, and our connection to God

La Profesora's Pen

Author Archives: Regina YC Garcia

Hallowed Be Thy Name

14 Sunday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Ancestry, BlackLivesMatter, NewMovement, SocialJustice, SpirtualAwakening, Strength

Hallowed Grounds: Sacred Sites of African American Memory

Hallowed Be Thy Name…

In my mind, there are sacred sites of striding and struggling

Striations of strain and strength 

In memories I once lived and those I inherited, I marvel at how they and I “made it over,” as if I floated in on the broken but braced backs of a superhuman ancestral brood…

For how on earth, Heaven, or hell could I have moved clay lips to laugh, lie, cry, love, preen, protest, speak life, and dodge death…

And I’ve come to realize that these sanctified places of terror, trial, and triumph are ordered in my thoughts, a reminder that true freedom is always bought with a price of great sacrifice and and justified only through an ointment  of redemption

And so the Spirit moved among these places

Gave a massaging message while they were moaning while in manacles

Hallowed be thy name…

Inspired  their holy dance while in deprivation 

Hallowed be thy name…

Gilded the Grace that would carry them

Hallowed be thy name…

Answered prayers whispered only in their thoughts

Hallowed be thy name…

Cloistered me in an ancestral seed

Hallowed be thy name…

Birthed me on a bank of better 

Hallowed be thy name

Reined in my reckless

Hallowed be thy name

Gave me strength to fight the feckless 

Hallowed be thy name…

The Spirit has moved in many times and places, yet today can be seen in faces of those who know in their hearts that they are but a small part of a greater plan and can still cry “Hallowed be thy name…” in wholly fickle lands

Regina Yvette Carter Garcia

I am Regina Yvette Carter Garcia, daughter of Evelyn Jean Simpson Carter, daughter of Bessie Lee Teel Adams Simpson, daughter of Carrie Teel Adams, daughter of Margaret Carroway Teel, daughter of Cinda Woolard Carraway.

A powerful lesson that my grandmother Bessie Simpson taught me during a time that I was having a crisis of faith was that whatever I believed had to be something that I knew for myself. I needed to be able to see it proven in my life. She never told me that I had to believe what other people told me, to believe one ideology or another, but to believe what I saw working in my own life. Then she shared her testimony with me. It rocked my world! As I applied and tested, my faith in my Divine Power grew stronger…Everyday, I praise my God for who and what she was in my life.

On Moldy Minds and Mal-Intended Monuments…

10 Wednesday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Change, Confederate Monuments, Racial Intimidation, Racism, Relics of Racism, Social Justice, Unity

Pitt County Confederate Soldier Monument located in front of the Pitt County Courthouse, Greenville, NC
Removal of a Confederate Monument in North Carolina

In Those Old Temples

I hear there is fear

Those who desire to stay

And even watch some be  slayed

From the comfort of their chairs

Saying there are “bigger fish to fry”

Than a rock, a piece of stone, let alone

Should anyone risk life, limb, or reputation

Trying to remove the bastions of our “Southern Nation” 

That repressive obsessive Confederation 

Never moving foot nor fingers nor pen to protest

In those old temples

Mouths form and rhetoric spills

Wrapped in ideas, overly pedantic and frantic

Expressing the fear

of what one word beyond the status quo will mean

Frightened by revolutionary freedom fighters and Tiki Torcher dreams

Glued to couches and computers focused on screens

And overly concerned about what this insistence means

And what friends will think from post, comment, or like

Lurking silently, watching the gory

 Existing in a land of double-minded glory

In stasis, hopefully never to be perceived as liberal revolutionary or racist

Sitting in those old temples

Afraid that the upheaval of the believers will create a confusion 

Based on the conclusion that a collusion of ideas 

Will tear down some peaceful salvation

But salvation cannot exist with justice

Especially if the justice to be had is not withheld from everyone-Just Us

In those old temples

There is a fate worse than death

It is the sacrifice of a brilliant afterlife

All because we couldn’t love each other enough to stomp out each other’s strife

So in a New Temple of Societal Sanctification

Fear and these manmade monuments must die

For in the words of my elders, “God can’t use no coward soldiers”

And we all have gifts enough to spare to make this world aware 

After the dust settles

In a New Temple…

These monuments must lift up

Reformed, Repurposed, Re-stationed

So that my God, creator of all mankind, can show us a new nation

In a New Temple…

Therefore I am charged to  walk in my calling, as you are in yours

Daughter of Griots and Healers

Born from empathic feelers

Down through generations 

From both those who received and offered degradation

In a New Temple…

We come

Prophets offering

Truth and pointing towards redemption

Whispering Incantations of inspiration

Rituals to rise

Pouring sweet libations

As we melt down Hate’s desperate cry

In a New Temple…

We moan a litany of love

Poured from our lips over

Monuments of stone

And rigid concrete minds

Those that force us into dark corners, all alone

In a New Temple…

 Those mausoleums in human form

 That were built and maintained from fear and formed to despise

Me, any of my brothers, my sisters, my family, my friends, mankind

Who have screamed out “I matter! We matter”

And wallowed in vain

Will finally feel a valued part of the land in which they remain

In our New Temple

We grind down ashen rock into into dust 

And then love it back together

Shaped in renewed mind and spirit

A picture of forever

In the New Temple

We dream it

We speak it

We walk it

We believe it

We protest it

We contest it

We pray for it

We live it

Go down, broken clay pot

And arise again

Something different

Something new

New legacy of freedom, justice, equality, unity

We protest until you do

We protest until you do

Regina YC Garcia

Word By Fire

07 Sunday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

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This Fire Tastes Like – Word By Fire!

by Regina YC Garcia, originally printed in "The Firetalker's Daughter," March 2023, Finishing Line Press
  1. This Fire Tastes Like 02:25
  2. La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton 09:32
  3. Royan B in the Place To Be! 26:13
  4. No Entanglements. I Want God. This God. 20:47
  5. La Profesora's Word of the Week: FASTIDIOUS! 25:55

This Fire Tastes Like – Word By Fire!

by Regina YC Garcia, originally printed in "The Firetalker's Daughter," March 2023, Finishing Line Press
  1. This Fire Tastes Like 02:25
  2. La Profesora voices "The People Could Fly" by Virginia Hamilton 09:32
  3. Royan B in the Place To Be! 26:13
  4. No Entanglements. I Want God. This God. 20:47
  5. La Profesora's Word of the Week: FASTIDIOUS! 25:55

On Flesh Temples of Self Loathing…

07 Sunday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

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Tags

#BlackLivesMatter, #BlackThought, #CandaceOwens

Okay…(breathe)

I know that I am at least one day late and about $5 short in regards to a weigh in on Candace Owens. A few reasons for that, the primary one being is that I didn’t know who she was. My faith system doesn’t carry me in her direction. I don’t know her mama an’ nem, and I don’t watch much religious media programming. My spirit can’t roll with all of the masked agendas. However, since I had more than one person inquire regarding my thoughts, I decided that I needed to go back and watch her video so that I can speak intelligently.

🙄

I don’t even quite know how to begin except to say that hearing her say George Floyd was not an “amazing” person, to hear her indicate the black community panders to the “least common denominators” within their communities made my stomach turn, and that, outside of anything else she has to say, tells me these things:

  1. She is not to be taken as a spokesperson for the black community. This is not because she is not black. Certainly she is.

However, she is not adept at explaining the black condition. Why this is the case, I can’t explain with certainty. Perhaps she is operating in a shame of black association. I don’t know her childhood, her experiences, her rejections. I’m not sure if she, on occasion bore the “Oreo” label (Smart kids, that’s a tough label. I know. I’m good, though). I don’t know if she is taking out her revenge on some culture of poverty that she escaped by flinging around a “bootstrap mentality.” I’m not even sure if she is emotionally repaying someone who insists (overtly or implied) that she continue the oppressive narrative of the generational carriers of the colonizers’ mindset. I don’t know what promises or gold stars await that would prompt or enable her to condemn the situationally unarmed incapacitated dead.

  1. Conversely, I don’t know who accepted her in her development, whether the acceptances were conditional or unconditional. I’m not sure if someone or someone(s) told her, showed her, or implied that if she promoted the narrative of the racially-based class apologists she could get a pass that would propel her up the structure.
  2. All I know is that some itching ears were just waiting to have an excuse to ignore the societal imperative of equality, equity, and protection under the law, as well as “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” for all people, in particular black and brown people carelessly “handled” by those within the government and justice systems.

Some of them who waited call themselves Christians. They were waiting to hear from other folks who call themselves Christian to give them a Christian word, as opposed to looking at what the teachings of Christianity espouse.

They were waiting, and then…

She handed them a box of bullets.

Bless her heart.

All that I know is that the Bible consistently conveys that “we are our brother’s keeper,” “not one is without sin,” “all praises belong to God,” “all flesh is grass.”

All that I know is that none of us is “amazing” all of the time.

All I know is that we need to stop looking for reasons not to treat each other right.

All that I know is that idol gods take many forms.

All I know is that worshipers of self abound and tear down.

All I know is that the meek matter, the oppressed matter, the poor matter, the caged matter, and…

Black Lives Matter!

I’m telling you this because I want you to get it right, whoever you are because #YouMatter

Come on now! You better let God into your heart.

You know. Real God.

❤

Black Thought…

Just a thought…a Black thought…my Black thought 

What if Black was unconfined, 

Not restricted, soul, body, and mind?

And what if Black could see itself 

With all of its glory waving, issues unshelved?

And what if Black could escape the box

The one with all the indiscernible locks

And whisper chains secured ’round maintained by those yet free and those still bound by those without and those within, jailers and wailers, sanctified and full of sin, standing close and afar while they moan and grin?

What if the flesh asylums fall, 

the ones built to  keep Black beyond the wall?

What if every Black Gift ignite

Oh what a sight! What a sight

That would be!

If Black could give creativity free

And still could live life unfettered?

Oh peace be!

Slay the flesh!

Find the key!

Regina YC Garcia

Word By Fire

06 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

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Tags

Cultural Commentary, Literary Podcast, Podcast Trailer

Trailer for Season 1 of Word by Fire! 

In the time of revolution, empty words and promises create convolution. La Profesora is finding her space to add breath to revelation in order to evaluate and contemplate a solution to the wrath, injustice, and confusion! 

When relevant commentary and poetry meet the air, Embrace The Fire!

For my birthday, I decided that I needed to live a few dreams, for after all, even queens have dreams! Thank you for helping me realize them! Love you much ❤

06 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

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Scribe

06 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

In the revolution, I want to be a scribe

She who died, pen in hand

Sketching a new world order

For all her sons and daughters

Yeah, that’s what I want to be

Translator of the prophecy

God’s mouth on my ear

I just want to hear the plan

I want to write the words that will heal this land in a way everyone understands…

I just want to be the scribe

The one of some who hears the song

That my people have needed for so long

As they’ve wandered in this distant land

Unconnected to indigenous roots

Fed lies on spoons called truth

Three quarters a man

Treated lower than dogs

With knees on their necks

And their minds in a fog

Of trauma persistent for generations

Yet, builders of cities and towers and creations

That made the world gaze at this nation

But so many were so hard pressed in body and spirit

To climb out of their station…

So…

In this revolution, I want to be a scribe

I want to give light to the plight and the rights denied

And I want to fight with my pen

so that we could be freed…

Yet again…

But this time on another level where we could revel in the glory of the permanent win

Yeah, my people

Sing the revolution, and I’ll write the solution

And this time we’ll hold it tight. Alright?

❤

Regina YC Garcia, 06/05/2020

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I Don’t Want…

06 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

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I don’t want to mourn my people
Not the living nor the dead
I don’t want to fight
The coming of the beast
That carries deadly dread
I don’t want to have my babies
Grouped among the marked
For fighting ancient demons
Who reside in shadowed hearts
I don’t want to leave my mission
Nor run dark thorny paths
Nor retreat into survival smiles
Behind masks and hollow laughs
I don’t want to fight flesh caverns
Of those riddled with putrid hate
I don’t want to guess intentions
Of those who think they hold my fate
I don’t want to give up basking
In the bright sunshine
I don’t want all of those
Who’ve left me here
To ever leave my mind
I don’t want my blessed ancestors
To sense my shards of pain
Because I could not do enough
To stop Evil’s cursed refrain
All I want is peace and time
To behold beloveds in my eyes
To pluck some dreams left on the vine
Create a story that will live and fly
I don’t want to have to write
That I don’t have the right
To live with all my might
To move around this great wide world
Radiating light

Regina YC Garcia, June 1, 2020

 

The writer is shaped by the air, the cries,, the tears, the sighs, the laughter, the morning after, the love, the despair, the need for repair… Most of all the writer is compelled by the “fire shut up in her bones” (Jeremiah 20:9 NIV)

 

 

On Mothers and Mountains

06 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by Regina YC Garcia in Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

I have birthed mountains…

that tower beyond the highest peaks, formed within me, stretched in front of me, now steadily trying to overgrow my reach

I have birthed mountains…

And I ask that though they not stay, that their chosen way move them higher, closer, clearly, not over, but nearly to the places that bless them the most

Surrounded by hosts that usher them in to the presence of the primer and polisher of perfection, humbler of their boast

Oh, I’ve birthed strong mountains…

Their very best striations not made by me, but layered with stones of purpose and gifting by hands I could not see

My own eyes coated by the clay film marking my own humanity

Yet yes, I am blessed to bring forth a semblance of divinity, velveted, framed. Indeed I have been ordained to love another trinity 

That adds to the harmony

In lands and lives, maybe not yet seen nor conceived, not even by me. 

I have birthed mountains…

Tripled peaks of promise so intriguing that I can barely entertain the meaning of how and why they burst into my life and turned my heart over and over and over…I can hardly contain the confining love that roars to keep them in my grasp,

Alas, assignments shift and change and pass…

I have birthed mountains

I’ve been the vessel and the maiden who poured

She who yet adores 

They who point and stretch toward the sky 

She who tries to drink back the selfish cry

As she continues to try

To remember that although their ascent is their own

Her prayers rendered will never leave them alone…

I have birthed mountains, mighty mighty mountains

Regina YC Garcia 02/20/20

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