Xicana Quotes

When America Cuts My Daughter’s Hair" every chair in the strip mall salon where she rents a little space of her own reflects a face waiting to make a change. Another mother next to me rips an ad for the full Hollywood wax & here the best graffiti: DON’T DO DRUGS, BE SAD. They’ll grow back, my own mom on the bangs I butchered more than once. Do you think America is pretty? This skinny blonde kid who never really has to ask if she is, asks me as we walk more hot city blocks because by now we’ve chopped the pecans to protect the power lines. I think America is pretty. A pierced Xicana with one side of her own do done in deep brown waves, the other buzzed tight & dyed a bright chemical green. America fits the description & when she’s done holds up her small mirror in the big one turning my girl around so she can see herself. You can call me Erica, she says if you like, but we like America better here.

They hate sexism, not men.

I liked that once again Spitboy was defying stereotypes and preconceived notions about who we were, what we did, and how we did it.

we didn’t endorse separatism, and we didn’t want to be called girls.

had gotten somewhat used to the sexist attitudes about female musicians and people’s weird fetishes for female drummers by the time

Girls can’t play music.” “Who you telling we can’t play music?” I said to one of them at a party, getting in his face, “I’ve been playing an instrument since I was in third grade.

The two things people thought that surprised us the most were that we were mean and angry or wild partiers.

You guys have really improved.” People liked telling us that. They would use that word, too: “improved.” It was supposed to be a compliment “You’re a lot tighter now.” I’d clench my jaw every time. I had never heard anyone, especially a guy, saying that to another guy in a band. Imagine someone saying that to Neurosis or Econochrist.

Hey, if you want to prove your womanhood, shut up and spread your legs or play.” All the heads in the room turned toward the voice. “What did you say?” I asked over my vocal mic. “Shut up and spread your legs or play.

didn’t take anyone with us on our first tour, boyfriends or otherwise. That may have been a mistake, but we wanted to prove that we could do it all: write our own songs, play our own instruments, drive the van, navigate the interstates with a paper map, unload our own equipment, and change our own tires (and in only a matter of minutes).