Marco’s a xochihuah and
a reflection of the Creator, Ometeotl.
That Aztec calendar on your board
well, guess what?
The Mexica’s number one creator spirit is Ometeotl
who’s both male and female
just like Marco.
And if you are too stupid to see that
he’s supposed to be honored and respected
because of this, then you have no
business having that calendar on
your board and no business
talking to me!
I walk away from Iván
my lips clenched
breathing fast
clasping my fists closed
in a knockout knot.
The day before the full moon
Mima and I build an altar
on the ground in the center of the garden.
Careful to honor the
Mexica four directions
we lay out the items …
In the East, the realm of Tlahuizlampa
the element of fire
where passion, illumination, and energy live
we lay candles.
Facing West, Cihuatlampa
that is the body of Mother Earth
where we are grounded
we offer leaves and moss.
To the South, in Huitzlampa
the element of water
where our cleansing, deep emotions, and dreams go
we place a bowl of water.
And North, Mictlampa
we revere the air
our spirits, the truth of our spoken word
and so we place a bell, a feather, a twig of sage.
The center pedestal
we reserve for statues of goddesses and spirits
from my Mexican side and my Caribbean side.
Mima asks me to arrange these statues as I wish.
I scatter them like the petals of a cempazuchitl flower
looking every which way.
Tonantzin / Guadalupe—Mexica Earth Mother and Mexican Virgin Mary
Coatlicue—Mexica mother of the cycle of life and death
Yemayá—Yoruba spirit of the ocean
Oyá—Yoruba spirit of the wind, of hurricanes
Ochún—Yoruba spirit of sweet waters, fertility, and love
Atabey—Taíno supreme goddess of fresh water and fertility
Xochipilli / Xochiquetzal—Mexica flower prince and princess of the arts and all genders
Ometeotl—Mexica creation spirit in divine balance
In the absolute center I place my favorite goddess:
Coyolxauhqui—Mexica goddess of the moon
She lies on a disc, a woman fallen and broken
but a warrior who fought the god of war, the sun
for honor.
Though she failed, she tried.
Coyolxauhqui comes back in bits
every single night
illuminating the sky little by little
until all of her broken pieces
become one.
As my last offering to my moon altar
I lay my first doll, Alma, inside an open gourd
then I add a flint, for protection
and a spool of thread to mend
her bird-print dress
I say goodbye beneath my breath
while Mima sprinkles her
with crystal dust
that feels like love.
Mima and I wrap four poles
one for each direction
with twine and red ribbons.
We hang strings of white lights
on trees and bushes
in what looks like a circle of light.
We talk about the new ceremonial white
dress I am going to wear for the night
my new sandals
and my grandmother Yeya’s rebozo
that will fall from my shoulders
and surely touch the ground.
Teresa and Marco arrive later to help us
but only Mima and Teresa
build the moon hut.
Marco and I watch as they
bring six bamboo poles together and
tie them at the top ends and extend them
so the figure looks like a tiny stick house.
They cover it with an ivory crochet bedspread
that belonged to my Yeya’s grandmother
and looks like a beautiful spiderweb.
They decorate with evergreen branches and flowers.
This is where I will sit during ceremony.
We arrange straw mats on the grass
pillows and chairs for the elder women
who can’t sit on the ground.
We wash and dry small glass jars
with their lids, then fill the jars with filtered water
and trim with a glittery ribbon.
These will be placed in front of each woman
to collect the light rays of the moon
so that we can drink
when our hearts need healing.
Marco and I collect kindling
Then place thirteen rocks around
the fire to represent the thirteen moons
that appear in a year.
Papi and Juju gather
caxixis, bells, maracas, and shakers
from Papi’s collection for each of the women
because there will be no drums
allowed in this circle.
When I ask why,
Mima reminds me that Coyolxauhqui
has bells on her cheeks
and we honor her by only invoking
those sweet sounds.
A big pot of pozole
is slow cooking in the kitchen.
The smell that warms my belly
escapes our little house and finds
its way to the garden.
Tomorrow will be my first moon ceremony.
I look out into our garden
at the power we’re gathering
then at Mima.
The feelings of strangeness
and nervousness that I’ve had
before today
peel away
as we work quietly
with our hands.
The next evening
as guests arrive,
I can’t stop biting my nails.
My aunties, my Yeya, and Chuyina
who’ve all come from LA are here.
The women from Mima and Teresa’s women’s circle
and Ms. Susana greet me
with the biggest hugs, which make
my anticipation rise
like warm bread in the oven.
When Marco and Teresa arrive
the small quivering of my skin begins to calm.
Marco is wearing pants AND a dress
pretty jacalosúchil flower beads around his neck
a xochihuah in the flesh.
The women magically whirl about
dressed in white outfits
and enjoy Mima’s pozole dinner
when there’s a knock on the door.
It’s someone who wasn’t invited.
Iván stands in the doorway.
When Marco and I near
my face reddens
my breath shortens
my eyes dart
from
Marco’s too serious expression
to
Iván’s cheeriness.
So I just close them and
open them when Iván says,
Hi, Celi, can I talk to you real quick?
Then he lifts his head at Marco
in a sort of friendly way.
I’m too embarrassed that he’s here
that I don’t say no.
I close the door behind me
walk away from the porch
down the steps toward the street.
When he follows
the flaming orange sun sets fast
behind us.
What are you doing here?
I just want to say I’m sorry. But wait,
what’s happening in there? You having a party?
I straighten up, take a deep breath, and say it,
It’s my moon ceremony.
Oooh, his eyebrows pop up.
Like the Aztec ceremony your mom talked about?
Yes, and I gotta get back.
He bites his lower lip like
his nerves need to be held down
but then his words
come rushing out.
I’m really sorry if I made you mad, Celi. I’m not used
to being with people like Magda and I know she’s
your friend and everything but it’s just hard
to get, you know?
You didn’t have to be so mean to him?
Right, it’s a him. She’s a him. I mean.
See, I don’t get it, but I want to.
Look, I just really like you. Like, “like” you.
And I know I’ve got to get Magda
or else I can’t get close to you.
Mar doesn’t deserve how you’ve been
regardless of me.
I know, you’re right.
My panza begins to turn.
I’m having a hard time swallowing
words and my own nerves rumble
the ebb of sparkling feelings lures me to him
but then the flow of Marco’s friendship
pushes me back to shore.
Before I can respond
Iván gently reaches for my hand
moves near
says softly, You look really pretty, as he
drops his head to the side
and looks at me with will-you-forgive-me eyes.
He is so close
I can feel
the heat
of his face
near mine.
Celi, I’m sorry, he whispers.
In my ears his words are
a never-ending tide
pulling against time but not
because now the sun is gone
darkness creeps across the sky
he leans in
could this be my first real kiss?
Then, in an instant, the
sky
swirls
and Luna pours into me.
I see Marco’s joy
our echo dancing and playing
that makes me soar
like our two-birds-locking-and-flying
handshake.
There can be no dance without music.
I remember also
my moon ceremony
the women in white
their hugs, the circle.
I remember that I am a butterfly now.
I turn my head away from Iván
and run up my stairs.
I am ready to fly.
After the pozole
we move to the garden
where Luna shines
in all her brightness.
The fragrance of night-blooming jasmine surrounds us.
Yeya, our elder,
smudges each with copal incense smoke
before we enter the circle.
We look into the blazing fire in the center, hold hands.
Mima, Teresa, Ms. Susana, Yeya, my aunts, Chuyina,
other women from Mima’s women’s group,
Marco and I.
My stomach does somersaults.
In Mima’s welcome, she asks us all
to say thank you in the Mexica language, Nahuatl.
Tlazohcamati!
Grateful first to Ometeotl
to our ancestors
to Mother Earth
and especially to Grandmother Moon
for which we have all dressed in white.
She acknowledges that we stand
on Ohlone land and honors
the indigenous people of Oakland.
She honors all present
the elders who no longer bleed
those who bleed now
those who don’t bleed
and those who still haven’t bled.
She asks us to say out loud
the one thing we are grateful for
at the same time.
Though my palms are sweaty
as I hold Marco’s right hand with my left
I say I am grateful for my body.
I can hear Marco has said the same.
Mima has us turn
to each of the four directions
to thank each for their gifts
but we also look down to the earth and finally up to the sky
to receive a blessing from the entire universe.
We know to turn our bodies because Teresa blows
into a conch shell the size of a melon
and releases its bellowing sound into the air.
I walk slowly into
the brightly lit moon hut
and don’t know
on which of the two pillows to sit.
My heartbeat races
like a horse inside my body.
Without warning
Mima sings a song loudly that is
by the elder, Abuela Margarita,
Luna llena, luna llena
Lléname, lléname de amor
Luna llena, luna llena
Lléname, lléname de amor.
All the women shake their rattles
when she is done.
Tonight we are here to welcome the coming
of Celestina Rivera’s first moon blood
her moon within
under the light of this ancient full moon
by the sacred fire
with all of the divine feminine energy
in the center of our altar and in this circle.
I look around at all of the women and
their eyes
are all
on
me!
Instead of wanting to bite my nails
or hide like I thought I would
I feel a warm air travel
from my feet
to my chest
and rush
to the top
of my head.
And we are also gathered in this circle
to celebrate a sacred member of our community,
Marco Magdalena Sánchez, who today
we publicly honor for being a xochihuah,
the one who bears flowers
who is a reflection of our Creator, Ometeotl,
and holds both the female energy and the male energy
in harmony.
We believe that our Mexica ancestors knew
when two energies came together
as one, it could only be considered sacred.
And as we reclaim and rebuild our traditions
we also create this space for you to be blessed
by your community.
I turn to Marco
sitting cross-legged
next to my hut
and his mouth
is open in surprise.
Teresa walks over to Marco
helps him to his feet and moves him
over to my moon hut
and signals him to sit
on the empty pillow next to me.
I reach out and hug Marco
our eyes begin to water
but we fight back our tears.
Our mothers sit on either side
of the hut that is now ours
as they take turns
leading the different rituals.
We both stand in front of two tin basins
filled with agua florida, flower essence water
that Yeya’s prepared for us.
She’s mixed
jacalosúchil blossoms and roses
plus, dragon’s blood blooms, ruda flowers
and night-blooming jasmine.
Eac
h of our mothers dips their hands
in the water and lightly brushes the water
on our feet, our hands, our clothes, our necks, our heads.
This is our cleansing, our freeing.
Yeya prays: May this sacred water wash away
your fears, negativity, and sadness. May it leave you
feeling inspired and ready to dream on your life’s journey.
Each woman takes a flower, a xochitl, from the
center altar and places or pins it in
our hair, clothes, around our ankles and wrists.
Now Teresa prays: May these flowers, symbols of
your blooming into adulthood, help you continue to blossom
into the person you are meant to be. Marco Xochihuah,
especially, these flowers are your beauty, your strength,
your perseverance and purpose.
I turn and pin a xochitl over
Marco’s chest
I understand that he’s never
had a secret locket at all
but an open, flowering heart.
Mima guides me back to the hut
and Marco stays standing.
Teresa in front of him
holds his hands while
she stares into his eyes.
In an almost chant-like tone she calls:
Tonight, I honor you, Marco Xochihuah,
for the balance and duality that you are.
Two energies in one body
like the day and night
sadness and joy
death and life.
There cannot be one without the other.
As a reflection of Ometeotl
you are fluidity in motion.
You may bleed like a woman
and you may move as a man in the world
as you have chosen to do now.
Wherever you decide to thrive
remember that you are perfection in the crossroads.
No one can derail you from who you are
not even yourself because you
have been made this way by the Creator.
I honor your wisdom.
I honor your power.
I honor your strength.
I love you.
Tlazohcamati, xochihuah.
Tlazohcamati, Ometeotl.
Teresa then steps back and asks Marco
to speak.
Ever since I was little,
I felt like there was more to me
than what people saw.
I didn’t know how to
explain it until I learned
about the xochihuah and Ometeotl.
Duality seems like
me on some days
but most days, I feel more
boy than girl.
To be honest, I’m still trying to figure
out where I’ll end up—a boy, a girl, or both—
but I can say this:
I feel lucky to have
this spiritual path to guide me.
I just want my family
and friends to understand me