i was going to write one of my typical posts,
but i just found out that one of my heroines, chavela vargas, died today.
somehow my swatch just doesn’t seem that important anymore.

i’m having a lot of trouble articulating why i feel what i feel. it seems rather absurd, really, that upon reading of her death, i burst into tears. it makes no sense that one of mexico’s most beloved (and controversial) singers would be a hero to a white dude from michigan who doesn’t even speak spanish. but there’s just something about her life and music that . . . *sigh* i don’t know. she was a person who lived a hard, beautiful life and i admired her for it. for whatever reason, she meant something to me.

if you listen to paloma negra, and you don’t feel anything, i could never hope explain it to you. that’s the only way i can think to put it.

chavela vargas was one of the 20th century’s bravest, most important lesbians, and i worry history will forget that.
at least i won’t.

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