Over the summer, I asked abuela Belem to tell me a story about my mother. Although my grandmother and mother only lived together for twelve years before my mother became a perpetual migrant, my grandmother decided that the story I needed was not a story about my mother, but a story of shape-shifting people and rituals in our community.
This is a story I won’t repeat, but what I will share is that ever since being offered this story, I have re-oriented my relationship to my entire family and to an understanding of stories as theory, transgression, and archives.
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