The Moon Within Page 9

to accept me for who I am

  and who I will be.

  Teresa then places a necklace around his neck

  on which hangs a charm—the symbol of Ometeotl

  she kisses and hugs him tightly.

  The rattles shake loudly

  with tears and yelps of joy.

  Mima turns to me

  holds her hands out so that

  I join her near the altar.

  She clasps my hands

  her black eyes a soothing balm over me

  and speaks:

  A full moon for many cultures

  is a time for magic

  for healing

  for rituals.

  Indigenous ancestors created a space

  called moon time

  where women

  could replenish, create, dream, and rest

  when they bled.

  Our ancestors believed it to be supernatural

  that women could bleed for so many days

  and not die

  then give life.

  And so the community honored and respected

  these days for every woman.

  With this ritual, we honor you, Celi, because

  you are now part of this ancestry

  a lineage of life-givers.

  We are here to hold you as you

  leave your childhood behind

  and become a new moon, a woman.

  She places a necklace around my neck

  and explains that each black clay bead

  marks a day in the twenty-nine-day lunar cycle

  separated by moonstones for each

  of the eight phases of the moon.

  She continues,

  Tonight you will offer

  your first blood to Mother Earth, Tonantzin,

  who will keep your power and transform it

  to good soil and new life that we need to live.

  Mima hands me a purse

  that holds a little piece of cloth

  stained brownish red.

  She announces that this is my

  first blood she collected and cut from

  my underwear in the hamper.

  Then she asks me to wash

  the cotton cloth in

  my basin with agua florida.

  The water turns a pale red with my blood.

  I don’t blush or turn away.

  My locket unhinges.

  I’m in awe by how

  the red-tinged silk of the water

  easily swishes

  through my fingers.

  Then Mima asks me

  to dig a small pit in the ground

  with a hand shovel and gives me cut flowers

  to line the rim of the hole like a wreath.

  The smell of freshly turned dirt

  fills my nose with a lulling safety.

  Then Mima asks me to pour

  this water into the pit and say:

  Madre Tierra, Tonantzin,

  please receive my first blood,

  my first moon.

  Then, I add without Mima asking,

  Tlazohcamati, Tonantzin.

  Gracias, Mima, amigas, y mi amifriend.

  Thank you, Grandmother Moon.

  Tlazohcamati, mi Luna.

  May the circle never be broken.

  On my last word

  the rattles shake loudly.

  The sound shatters my locket.

  I am as open as the moon.

  I look up to see Luna’s moonbeams

  circle all of the people that surround me:

  Mima, Teresa, Yeya, Marco too.

  Luna is dancing tonight.

  Translucent light glistens

  around my hands

  my first blood

  the earth I’ve fed

  the flowers hanging in my hair

  in my new woman’s womb

  and finds a place to rest

  in my heart.

  It is nearly midnight

  when I come in from the garden

  and settle into bed.

  I try not to wake Juju.

  My skin still tingles.

  The stories and advice

  every woman

  shared with me

  about their moons

  about being a woman

  stir in my mind.

  Secrets

  that could only have been given

  to me now

  after my own moon.

  They fill my locket

  and I feel it overflow.

  I open my jar of moonbeam water

  take a sip and I notice

  Luna’s rays have followed me in.

  In the middle of the room

  we flutter together

  my arms outstretched

  longer now

  and winged.

  I look into the beautiful dark

  and sway with Luna’s moonbeams

  as we dance into the night.

  El Fin

  Dear Reader,

  Throughout history, there have been as many ways to connect with the moon as there have been people. How could we not marvel at the closest celestial body to the earth? How could we not feel how she affects us, when we pay attention? The moon faithfully shows us her many phases month after month, even in brightly lit urban areas, like Oakland, where we don’t always see stars.

  For those of us who menstruate, our natural connection to the moon is undeniable. Our menstrual cycles mirror the moon’s own twenty-nine-day cycle. People in many cultures across the globe have honored this connection and practiced ceremonies and rituals (both big and small) for thousands of years. The modern-day Western ideas so prevalent in the United States today, which say that our bodies and our menstruations are dirty, to be feared or hated, are but one small piece of the human experience throughout history.

  In the Americas, much of the knowledge of this natural connection has been lost, erased, or went underground as its peoples were conquered and forced to take on the customs of their colonizers. Many of the oral histories, passed down by indigenous women, tell us that our moon cycle is something beautiful and worth celebrating and honoring. How moon ceremonies in particular have been performed by women with indigenous blood has changed and continues to change with each generation, as we migrate, mix cultures, experiences, and knowledge. What I’ve shared in this book is one such way that was inspired by my Mexican indigenous roots but that also combines Caribbean traditions (as Celi is bicultural Puerto Rican/Mexican, and multiracial Indigenous, African, and European), plus modern-day elements, my intuition, and ideas. There are other ways Xicanas (girls and women in the US with Mexican origins, pronounced shee-kah-nahs) practice coming of age rituals too, like Xilonen (shee-lów-nen), which involves up to a year of preparations and is rooted in Aztec dance. What unites us is a reverence for coming of age rituals, our ancestral connection to the moon, and an insistence that the practice of honoring the moon’s connection to our beautiful bodies survives.

  One way to ensure this survival of knowledge is to keep it close within communities, to avoid adoption or misinterpretation by outsiders. Another is to share it more widely. With deep respect to the former and the act of resistance it represents, I chose to write my version of a Xicana moon ceremony because I believe the forgetting, erasing, and lack of access to this information has contributed to the negative ways many Xicanas see menstruation. In my view, these risks are more damaging than the risks of exposure. For the young Xicanas and Latinas with similar histories out there, I want to ensure you know that traditions like these exist and belong to you. I want you to understand your bodies and your ancestry more fully. I know I wish I had as a young girl.

  Similarly, it was precolonial indigenous ideas that inspired me to write a genderfluid character like Marco. As a cisgender Xicana, disappointed with the often negative way that some in my community view and treat gender-expansive people, my intention was to offer an alternative. Mesoamericans had a broader understanding of gender and som
e evidence shows us that xochihuah (sho-chee-wah) were more often seen through a sacred lens, with respect. Though we can’t be certain if it was otherwise, my challenge to my community is to use some of this ancestral wisdom as a guide to embrace xochihuah, and to reject intolerance. To young gender-expansive readers, please know that within these pages you are seen, you have a place, and you are held in love.

  Finally, we must understand that though all of us are connected to the moon and our ancestors, the practices shown here are not necessarily meant to be taken as one’s own. I encourage you, reader, to look into your own ancestry to see what has been done. And if those traditions do not honor you, then use that source as inspiration to correct a wrong and create something meaningful for you and the girls, women, and gender-expansive people in your community.

  There are a couple of additional offerings that you’ll find here. The first is a wonderful poem, “A Flower Song for Maidens Coming of Age.” Writer, translator, and scholar on Mesoamerican cultures and languages David Bowles translated into English this poem that was originally written in 1440, before European contact in Mexico, and found in a collection of Yucatec Maya poems called Songs of Dzitbalché 7. When I first read “Flower Song,” I was moved to tears, not only because this was a huge opening in my understanding of myself as a woman and my ancestral cultures, but also because it validated this book. “Flower Song” is the only Mesoamerican precolonial written description of a moon ceremony in existence and it is written in verse, just like this book. When I read it, though it was Maya and not Mexica, I felt as if the ancestors had reached across the centuries to bless this book in both content and form. David Bowles has graciously allowed us to reprint his English translation here. It is my every hope that you feel its blessing too.

  The other offering you will find here is a moon calendar, drawn by the amazing cover artist Joe Cepeda. The easiest way to begin to learn how you are connected to the moon is by charting how you feel throughout the months. You can trace or copy this moon calendar onto a clean sheet of paper and use it to see how your feelings and your body change throughout the different phases of the moon. If you do it month to month, you will likely begin to see patterns, a wonderful ongoing choreography of your very own dance with the moon.

  May all of these offerings find a place inside your locket. May you find comfort, healing, understanding, and curiosity about your body, your gender, your art, your ancestry, your community, your beauty—whatever is inside your heart. May this inspire you to not fear but to love the power that is within you. May this courage help you to be proud and to speak your truth so that we may change negative ideas that would rather see you silent or ashamed of who you are. May all of this, dear reader, ring out into the world for the strengthening of us all.

  With love,

  Aida

  The beautiful, beautiful moon

  Has risen above the woods,

  Tracing her bright path

  Across the heavens.

  Suspended, she pours light

  Upon the woods,

  The earth entire.

  A breeze blows sweetly,

  Carrying perfumed scents.

  The moon reaches her zenith—

  Her glow silvering the world.

  Joy sings out

  Within every good soul.

  We reach the center,

  The womb of the forest:

  Utter stillness.

  No one will see

  What we have come to do.

  We have brought flowers:

  Lol nikte—frangipani blossoms,

  Lol chukum—dragon’s blood blooms,

  Lol u ul—dog jasmine petals.

  We have brought copal incense

  And wild bamboo.

  A tortoise shell

  And crystal dust.

  We have brought new cotton thread

  And gourds for our spindles.

  A large, lovely flint

  and a counterweight.

  New needlework

  and a sacrificial bird.

  New sandals, too …

  Everything new,

  Even the thongs we use

  To tie our hair back

  So the old woman,

  Teacher and guide,

  Can anoint our necks with nectar

  As she instructs us

  In the ways of women.

  “We stand at the heart

  Of the forest,

  Beside the stone pool,

  Waiting for Venus,

  The smoking star,

  To glimmer

  Above the trees.

  Remove your clothes.

  Let down your hair.

  Bask in the moonlight,

  Naked as the day of your birth,

  Virgins,

  Maidens,

  Women.”

  (Songs of Dzitbalché 7)

  Translated by David Bowles

  Use this calendar to track the cycles of your body and heart with the cycle of the moon. This can be started at any time and used every month. Use this diagram to copy into your own monthly moon journal. Important: you do not need to menstruate to see how the moon affects you!

  To begin, find the phase of the moon in the sky and mark that as your first day. Quiet your mind and think about what is happening inside of you. Use the spaces (see sample) to fill in a word(s) or symbol(s) to show how your body and heart feel on that day. Be as creative as you’d like! Repeat the following day until you’ve filled the entire month. Then, repeat the next month.

  On the beautiful day your moon cycle arrives, make a new chart. Look to find where the moon is and mark that as your first day. Your moon might land on a waxing moon or a last quarter moon. This is okay! Start there and keep going throughout your cycle. The important thing is to find your connection to the celestial moon, to see what sort of dance you and Luna create!

  Gracias hasta la luna …

  The Moon Within was born because of the sacrifices, lessons, and blessings given to me by an intricate cosmology of people and spirits. I am deeply grateful to each ancestor, each elder, each teacher, each writer, each dear one whose magic held me or challenged me but ultimately lifted me so that I could write this book. This work is because of you and for you.

  To Marietta Zacker, not only my agent but true kindred spirit and homegirl, gracias del alma for your belief in my work and for being a brilliant guiding light. I am beyond grateful to my wildly gifted editor, Nick Thomas, whose laser beam mind and open spirit found my work in the rubble at the SCBWI-LA conference and to my amazement became the greatest ally, counselor, advocate, and loving protector of the truth within these pages. Biggest love to Kait Feldmann, magical editor of my picture book, Jovita Wore Pants: The Story of a Revolutionary Fighter, and feminista sister who went to bat hard for me, and whose fire and light inspire me to stay true to my vision. Arthur A. Levine, it humbles me to no end that you trust, stand with, and have fought for my voice and choices, thank you! Gracias to the incomparable Joe Cepeda, who understood the essence of this story so perfectly that to see his first sketch of the cover left me breathless. Lunar thanks to my stellar accuracy readers whom I will call “p/madrinxs of the moon” for blessing this book with your expert wisdom: Mason J., Dr. Lara Medina, Yolanda Coyolxauhqui Valenzuela, Elise McMullen-Ciotti, Parrish Turner, Kyle Lukoff, and especially, David Bowles, who led me to his translation of a very special gift—“Flower Song”, the last surviving piece of precolonial literature about moon ceremonies in the Americas. Warm thanks to Erin Casey, Nancy Gallt, and the Gallt Zacker Literary Agency team for being so amazing to me.

  Thank you to my wonderfully supportive book-loving family at Scholastic—Weslie Turner, whose woke analysis contributed to the strength of this book; to wonderful designer and artist, Maeve Norton, thank you for making this book so gorgeous; Lizette Serrano, weaver of book dreams come true, thank you; and the dynamic Emily Heddleson, Danielle Yadao, and Jasmine Miranda for all your team’s support. To my fabulous publ
icist, Crystal McCoy; to Tracy van Straaten, Ellie Berger, Jody Stigliano, Yesenia Corporan, and Ann Marie Wong; and the warm and generous US Scholastic sales team, to whom I had the honor of meeting, thank you for helping my book reach more children than I ever imagined. Special thanks to Andrea Davis Pinkney, whose book The Red Pencil first inspired me to return to my origins as a poet as a way to tell this story.

  Gracias de todo corazón to my amiga, Diana Perez, for your unconditional and enthusiastic support of my writing since we were mocosa seventeen year olds, and for nursing this story with so much tenderness and plot doctora skill; to Yolanda Coyolxauhqui Valenzuela, moon priestess and dearest friend whose astrological and spiritual wisdom first sprouted and sustains my love of the moon; to my amigas adoradas, remarkable writers and artists among you: Maria Elena Fernandez, Vickie Vertiz, Maris Curran, Adia Millett, Isabel Garcia Gonzalez, Victoria Delgadillo, Jamaica Itule Simmons, Joe Loya, Raul Balthazar, Norma Liliana Valdez, Yaccaira Salvatierra, Leticia Del Toro, Sandra Garcia Rivera, Susan Marchiona, Elizabeth Hansen, Roberto Lovato, Jesus Sierra, Michlene Cotter, Shefali Shah, Raquel Pinderhughes, Conceicao Damasceno and Yamile Saied Méndez, for providing the best feedback for the book or for seeing me through many meltdowns when I was buried in motherhood, afraid of writing, and for listening—truly listening—and loving me through it until I remembered that I was an artist too. To my dearest artist friends, both children and their adults (so many they would fill an entire book), in the LA and Bay Area Xicanx, Puerto Rican bomba, Brazilian, Cuban, Latin jazz, world, folk, and hip-hop dance, music, writing and art communities: Thank you for making the arts our family’s lifeblood.

  Cosmic thanks to my IBPOC literary cannon who have dug our stories out from the margins and paved a way with your magic words. The greatest gratitude for your reading and generous blurbs and support, Juan Felipe Herrera (trailblazing cloud poet and enduring muse), Margarita Engle, Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich, David Bowles, and Naheed H. Senzai (who was the first ever to professionally read and encourage these pages). I will be forever grateful to Daria Peoples and Leah Henderson for opening the door and my eyes to the world of publishing in such a selfless and loving manner. To my fantastic Las Musas collective (Hilda Burgos, Jennifer J.C. Cervantes, Tami Charles, Ann Davila Cardinal, Natasha Davis, Mia Garcia, Isabel Ibañez Davis, Tehlor Kay Mejia, Ana Meriano, Nina Moreno, Maya Motayne, Claribel Ortega, Emma Otheguy, Kristina Perez, Laura Pohl, Nonieqa Ramos, Michelle Ruiz Keil, Yamile Saied Méndez, and Mary Louise Sanchez), I am so grateful to be on this journey with you. Thank you to my imprint siblings for our sweet AALB/Scholastic bond—Mike Yung, Kelly Yang, and Tony Piedra. Thank you to Latinx in Kidlit, Latinx in Publishing and POC in Publishing for the selfless work of opening and keeping the gates opened for us. Gracias to the amazing Marcela Landres, who gave me such generous and spot-on strategies to become a professional author; to Christina Garcia and Carolina de Robertis and all the beautiful writers at Las Dos Brujas Workshop 2017, I love being a bruja with you. To La Lunada Literary Lounge, thank you for being a steadfast refuge of words for me. To my sister writers at Community of Writers at Squaw Valley and at the magical Hedgebrook, thank you for holding space for my pain. To Hilary Homzie and Mira Reisburg at Children’s Book Academy, whose teachings helped me revise my first draft of this manuscript; to Lin Oliver and all the SCBWI writers and workshop leaders for offering their best. To the wonderful Oakland Public Library librarians and staff: Derrick DeMay, Annabelle Blackman, Mirriam Meadow, Mahasin Jullanar, Isela Anaya, and Pete Villaseñor, who provided the perfect book world for a hibernating writer and her book-hungry kids. A most special thanks to Isabel Shazam, Roberto Miguel, Patti O’Reiley, and the Sonoma Conservatory of Dance—the first to believe that moonbeams and girls were meant to dance together.