October 20, 2014
Reyden's Fund -- Please Share Widely!

blunthought:

A message from Reyden’s mother: 

"After nearly 6 months of illness from anxiety that manifested into an ulcer, numerous doctor visits, and finally a trip to the ER, I was pleasantly surprised to find out I was 5 months pregnant with a baby boy. I did everything that I could to prepare myself for his arrival—reading, online research, etc. When the time came, I was ready. I was determined to have my first birthing experience be safe and healthy, so I decided to have an all natural childbirth in a holistic birthing center in Miami, Florida. 

After 16 hours in labor, on June 29th, 2014, at 6:57PM, Reyden (meaning “From a King”) Amir Quinonez was born, 7lbs exactly.

On his birth day, while laying on my chest during our first moments together, he lifted his head to look me right in my eyes and held his gaze until he was ready to lie down again. This was surely a sign for growth to come. Reyden has always been very aware and develops quickly. 

He began practicing to walk and swim on his own at only 2 months old. At just 3 months, he is already capable of crawling. He loves to be outside and look up at the leaves and the trees, inherently at one with nature.

Reyden’s father is a US Marine Corps Veteran, who fought for our country during the rise of the Taliban. Consequently, he suffers from post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and is a displaced worker. Unfortunately, his military background makes him ill-tempered and unbecoming for a parent or partner, which has caused me to raise Reyden on my own.

I am a committed entrepreneur involved in various small businesses for the purpose of providing for Reyden from home and being his foundation, knowing this is a very critical time in his development from my personal work experience in infant care and early childhood development.

I’m learning a 3rd language, Spanish, to teach him to speak and encourage pride in his multiracial heritage, in addition to having the ability to speak with his father someday. 

Although there are not many who understand and/or support us, the people that do have done more than I could’ve ever imagined.”

I, the organizer of this fund, am Reyden’s godfather. The reason for this fund is to provide Reyden’s mother with some stress relief. She has been on her own for quite some time. I and a few others who make up her support system are dedicated to making sure she doesn’t have to raise Reyden alone. 

Due to raising him alone and Reyden’s amazingly quick development far surpassing his infant milestones, his mother needs some extra money for some expenses.

This is where you come in!

All of your donations will go towards Reyden through the following purchases:

  • A highchair.
  • A standing bouncer.
  • A dresser.
  • A baby monitor.
  • Feeding dishes and utensils.
  • A food processor (to make food for him).
  • Swimming lessons.
  • An occasional Spanish-speaking Nanny.
  • Photos to send to his father.
  • A flight home for the holidays so he can see the rest of his family.
  • Montessori-grade Toys. (learning tools)
  • Books. (he loves being read to at bed time!) :)

Any size donation helps!

It truly takes a community to raise a child. Please become a part of ours.

Much love to you.

October 20, 2014
apartment therapy’s gentrifiers saving the ‘hood one cute apartment at a time. 

apartment therapy’s gentrifiers saving the ‘hood one cute apartment at a time. 

3:16pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Zd2l8w1TdQ37E
Filed under: gentrification 
October 20, 2014

for yall who can’t read another not coming out narrative for today, or yall who might get triggered by reading this because it’s about a parent coming to terms (maybe) with their adult child being queer, just move right the fuck on along, don’t read my shit. also because i’m trying to process by writing i’m sensitive about my shit right now so don’t leave comments or send me messages that invalidate me or some other tip about how it could be worse. 

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i am not your thing that my mother birthed, by which you can measure and parade your manliness with. 

I am your daughter.

I am your daughter. The one that cries while listening to Beethoven string quartets, BachNina Simone, and Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. The one that cherished your Charlie Parker cd as a child. The one who will talk with you for hours about paintings and old school photography processes and would be really happy to hang out in a chemical scented darkroom with you all day. All of this is linked to back to you. 

I am your daughter. The one who still wonders what your past life was like as a violinist on a cruise ship that sailed all over the world. What did the beaches look like in the Carribean? What did icebergs breaking apart sound like? What do ports smell like? 

I am your daughter. The one that sees your aging body. The one that wonders if you remembered to take your medication for your failing heart. The one that knows our time together as who we are is not forever.

I am your daughter. The one who didn’t invite friends over when she was little not because she was ashamed of you but because she wanted to protect her dad from immigration agents. 

I am your daughter. The one who put her body on the line to tell you, show you that violence is not ok. The one who read, over and over immigration laws to understand exactly what is happening to you. The one who tried to understand where we both were within interlocking structures of oppression. The one who believes we can both dismantle white supremacist capitalist hetero patriarchy together.

I am your daughter. The one that believes you can change and transform to someone better. Someone who thinks any form of violence is not ok. Even now I want to believe you can do better because I see your loving, I see how much you want to express the full width of your love for people around you. I can taste it in your terrible cooking, from your hands and the way you hug me and tell me i love you, say bye to me when I leave the house, when you sing karaoke at home, overflowing in the notes you play with your violin, on the paintings you painted of your kids. Even if it takes a few years. 

I see you dad. I see you. I have been watching you all of my life from all kinds of distance and closeness! You believing you failed means what I have been doing to lift myself up and other people, that me doing my best, is a failure too. And I totally don’t see it that way. See me. Hear me. As I do for you. While you still can, it’s not too late.

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