Inaugural PHD Chicana Nuevo México

"See, we are power. They deal in violence and repression, we are power. We are a part of the natural world. All of the things in the natural world are a natural part of the creation and feed off the energy of our sacred mother, Earth. We are power. But they have separated us from our spiritual connection to the Earth, so people feel powerless. We look at the oppressor and we look at the enemy because they have the most guns and the most lies and the most money. People start to feel powerless.We are power, we are a natural part of the creation, we were put here on the sacred mother Earth to serve a purpose. And somewhere in the history of people we’re forgetting what the purpose is. The purpose is to honor the earth, the purpose is to protect the earth, the purpose is to live in balance with the earth, the earth is our mother. And we will never free ourselves as human people, we will never free ourselves as sexual people, we will never free ourselves until we address the issue of how we live in balance with the Earth. Because all our resistance and all of our struggle is hollow, it’s false, it’s another one of the oppressor’s hypocrisies. If we do not look out for the welfare of the Earth first, because I don’t care who it is, any child who turns on their mother is living in a terrible, terrible confusion. The Earth is our mother, we must take care of the Earth."

- John Trudell

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The best-known madam in Santa Fe, New Mexico's history was Dona Tules, who used her earnings from winning consistently at Monte (a card game that originated in Spain) to open her first bo****lo in 1841. Notable is that being of Spanish heritage, "Madam T" as she was also called, remained independent and powerful with unquestioned rights to her own money, property and legal rights. Here is her story from my book, Good Time Girls of Arizona and New Mexico: A Red-Light History of the American Southwest:

"Dona Tules, the Bell of Santa Fe

"New Mexico’s earliest city was Santa Fe, established as the capital of New Mexico in 1609. It was here that one of New Mexico’s earliest and most celebrated courtesans made her mark in history. Her given name was Maria Gertrudis Barcelo. Over time the lady went by many names, mainly La Tules and Dona Tules. She also was known, however, by many other monikers: Tula, Tulas, Tia Barcelona, Lona Barcelona, La Barcelona, Madam Barcelo, Senora Toulous, Dona Lona, Dona Julia and, simplest of all, Madam T. Who called her what largely depended on where they were from and their country of origin, for in time, Madam T was known far and wide.

"The woman of many names was most likely born in Sonora, Mexico around 1800. Between 1815 and 1821, the year Mexico won its independence from Spain, Madam T moved with her family to northern New Mexico territory. On June 23, 1823, she married Manuel Antonio Sisneros. True to the customs of her homeland, Madam T retained all of her personal rights after marriage. Her maiden name, property, legal rights, money and control over her own body all remained hers alone, a benefit that probably largely contributed to her independence throughout her life.

"Those who disapproved of Madam T’s eventual lifestyle choices would later enjoy pointing out that she was already pregnant at the time of her marriage. And unfortunately the child, a son, died after a month. A second, legitimate son, died at four months. Madam T and Sisneros gave up on childbirth and adopted a daughter instead, who lived with them until the girl married in 1841. Later on, Madam T also adopted another daughter and alternated her time as a mother with honing her gambling skills. She began playing professionally in about 1825. Her favorite game was Monte, a Spanish card game using a deck of forty cards. Players, of which there could be any number, placed their bets on certain cards. Five cards were turned up, and if the fifth matched the suit of any of the first four, those who bet on that card won. Soon, Madam T was traveling to outlying camps around Santa Fe to play cards, and even willingly paid fines for gambling in the Ortiz Mountains and at the camp of Real del Oro. The meager amounts of the fines easily offset her considerable winnings.

"By 1833 Madam T, along with family that included her mother, lived in Santa Fe proper, and she continued making money left and right. Some of her earnings came from mining endeavors, but most of it was made at the Monte table. Indeed, Madame La Tules, as she was now known, was now an expert at Monte. She had learned to know the “tells” of every player she encountered, watching their eye movements, observing their posture, and looking at the way they held their head and hands that would reveal their thoughts about the game. As for the Madame herself, “her manner never revealed emotions. She played with the expression of demure loveliness. A lonesome man could easily imagine himself in love with this amazing woman.” What man wouldn’t want to play cards with an absolutely lovely, mysterious woman, even as he knew she might take his money? As word spread of the much-respected lady, travelers passing through Santa Fe often sought out Madam T’s house to challenge the renowned card player.

"For years, the men and women of Santa Fe were in awe of Madam T. They danced at her parties, played her at Monte, and respected her to a great degree. Outside visitors enjoyed her hospitality as well, although Anglo writers would often portray her in a less than respectable light, due to their distaste for her outrageous behavior. Proper women of the time simply did not behave that way. Madam T may not have known about their writings, or perhaps she did not care. In Santa Fe, however, she commanded respect from all who knew her. Twice during the 1830’s, she went to court to fight Mexican residents who had slandered her good, if controversial, name.

"Around 1841, Sisneros appears to have split up with Madam T. One source submits he was somehow “excommunicated” and eventually died near Manzano, southeast of Albuquerque. Coincidental to Sisneros’ disappearance from Santa Fe was Madam T’s newest endeavor: running a brothel. Her gambling house was in fact located in B***o Alley, Santa Fe’s red light district, and located between San Francisco Street and Palace Avenue. The building spanned a full block, with plenty of room in which her girls could work. The inside of the place was a virtual palace, with “floors covered with the finest thick European carpets. Elegant etched glass mirrors illuminated the entire setting. Crystal chandeliers, rich drapes and imported furniture were brought across the Santa Fe Trail by wagons from St. Louis, Missouri.”

"The Madame herself was as ornate and gaudy in appearance as her house. One person described her as “rich and stately, wearing diamonds and rubies on every finger, a massive cross of gold on her ample bosom, a servant used as a human footstool beneath her brocaded slippers.” Another description of her recalled “her fingers being literally covered with rings, while her neck was adorned with three heavy chains of gold, to the longest of which was a massive crucifix of the same precious metal.” Clearly, the woman uniformly wore her wealth with a standard outfit of jewels each day, exhibiting even more outrageous behavior by using one of her servants for a footstool!

"Such antics inflamed the ire of Susan Shelby Magoffin, a trader’s wife on the Santa Fe Trail who observed Madam T in 1846. Magoffin noted that the woman “made her living by running a house where open gambling, drinking, and smoking were enjoyed by all…with no thought of being socially degraded.” As for Madam T’s appearance, Magoffin described her as an “old woman with false hair and teeth…a stately dame of a certain age, the possessor of a portion of that shrewd sense and fascinating manner necessary to allure the wayward, inexperienced youth to the hall of final ruin.” Author Josiah Gregg got an eyeful of Madam T as well, recording her as a woman of “loose habits.”

"Officers of the United States Army, and General Stephen Watts Kearny in particular, viewed Madam T in an entirely different light. In 1846, the generous woman actually loaned money to the military during the Mexican-American War. The money was enough to pay Kearny’s force of men, and secured Santa Fe from the Mexican government. For once, the knowledge that many of the grateful officers would spend their money at her place was merely a bonus for Madam T; more importantly, she sought to make sure the United States would keep control over Santa Fe and allow citizens to continue living peacefully. In appreciation for her efforts, General Kearny gave Madame T an official military es**rt to a Victory Ball held at the prestigious La Fonda Hotel. The ball was heavily attended by the “cream of Santa Fe society” as well, who could no longer deny how influential Madam T really was.

"Madam T attended other social events as well. In December of 1847, the Santa Fe Republican reported on a local ball, noting, “Madame T was there, as young and blooming as we ever saw her, and seemed to enjoy it.” Two weeks later at yet another ball, the Republican reported that “the social life in Santa Fe surely required enormous stamina by the gambler called La Tules, who, after dancing away the evening, played Monte the remainder of the night.” Still, Madam T’s independence, daring behavior and staunch pride unnerved American traders even as it intrigued them. In 1847 a Dr. J.M. Dunlap took note of “Madam Toolay” and also the fact that women, some of them pregnant, participated in fandangos and other goings-on at places like the madam’s.

"Towards the end of her career, Madam T retained her wealth, but there were many who owed her money too—either by loans she extended to them, or due to their losses to her at the Monte table. Those who failed to pay her in a timely manner were often hauled into court, earning her a few enemies. Their grumbles mattered little to Madam T, however, who they said managed her business dealings as well or better than any man. When the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed in 1848, Madam T waited alongside her fellow Santa Fe citizens for one year, defined as the time period during which to decide whether one wanted to claim American or Mexican citizenship. Madam T was among the ninety percent of those who chose to become Americans.

"For Madam T, too much of a good thing eventually did her in. Years of cigar smoking, drinking, and late nights caught up with her. In January of 1852, she became bedridden with heart disease at the youthful age of forty seven. Even on her death bed, however, Madam T instructed the executors of her estate to make sure they collected all debts owed to her. As with any respected lady, Father Don Jose de Jesus Lujan performed the Sacraments of Penance, Extreme Unction and Eucharist over her. She died on January 17 and was given a most lavish church funeral, much to the chagrin of those who disapproved of her. Notably, Madam T was the last person buried beneath Santa Fe’s La Parroquia Church, which survives as St. Francis Cathedral today.

"Madam T’s will, carefully executed a year before, left most of her property to her sister, brother, and her two adopted daughters. Divided among them was $10,000—an amazing amount of money in 1852—and several houses. Today most of Madam T’s properties have long been demolished. One of her houses is now the site of the Santa Fe County Courthouse. The last known rendering of Madam T was published in Harper’s Monthly Magazine in April of 1854. Given her reputation as a beautiful mistress, the drawing hardly did her justice. It was, in many ways, the final insult someone could fling fruitlessly at the amazing woman who proudly flaunted so much wealth—and power.
www.JanMacKellCollins.com

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What they uncovered was extraordinary.

President Sheinbaum described it as one of the most significant archaeological discoveries in Mexico in the past decade.

The tomb, found by INAH in San Pablo Huitzo, Oaxaca, was almost lost before it was ever studied. An anonymous report of looting in 2025 led researchers to the site — and their first priority was to secure and protect it.

At the entrance to the burial chamber stands a striking sculpted owl — a Zapotec symbol of night, death, and power. But there’s more: within the owl’s open beak, carved into the stone, appears the painted face of a Zapotec lord. His gaze intense, his ears adorned with large hoop earrings. The owl seems to hold him in its mouth — protecting him in death, just as it safeguarded the tomb for more than 1,400 years.

Inside, the walls are covered in vivid colors — ochre, white, green, red, and blue — depicting a procession of figures carrying copal incense, capturing a funeral ritual frozen in time. At the entrance, carved figures of a man and a woman stand on either side, possibly representing ancestral guardians.

Before stepping inside, one INAH researcher paused at the threshold, raised their hands, and asked permission from the wind, the earth, and the Zapotec ancestors to enter.

The Zapotec civilization — often called the “Cloud People” — built one of the earliest urban centers in the Americas here in Oaxaca. They were writing, constructing, and governing societies while Rome itself was still emerging.

And even now, their tombs continue to reveal their story. 🦉🇲🇽

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🐺🌵 THE LEGEND OF LA LOBA — WHERE MYTH MEETS MEMORY 🌵🐺

Look closely at this story.

This is not just a tale…
This is ancient folklore passed through generations, carried by voice, memory, and meaning.

In Mexican legend, there is a figure known as La Loba — the Wolf Woman.
She is said to live deep in the desert, far from cities, far from noise, where only wind and silence remain.

According to myth, she spends her days collecting bones — especially the bones of wolves.
Not for fear. Not for destruction. But for something greater.

When she gathers a full skeleton, she begins to sing.

And in that moment, legend says the bones begin to move…
The wolf rises…
And runs free again across the desert.

This is not history written in books.
This is ancient storytelling — the kind that carries truth in symbolism, not statistics.

Because La Loba was never just about wolves.

She represents something deeper.
She represents what cultures have always understood —
that what is broken can be rebuilt,
what is forgotten can be remembered,
and what is lost can still return.

Across generations, myths like this have helped people make sense of hardship, survival, and identity.
They remind us that even after silence, something within us still knows how to sing again.

That is why legends endure.
Not because they are literal…
But because they are meaningful.

❤️ This is about memory.
❤️ This is about resilience.
❤️ This is about the power to restore what was once alive.

Ancient folklore does not just tell stories.
It preserves wisdom.

💬 And sometimes, the oldest legends carry the most powerful truths.

Among the teachings shared within the traditions of the Hopi are stories that speak about cycles of balance and change on Earth. Some interpretations describe a series of “great shakings,” moments when humanity experiences upheaval and is reminded to return to harmony with the natural world. In many retellings, the first two shakings are associated by modern interpreters with the global conflicts of the twentieth century, events that profoundly affected people across the planet. 🌎🪶

Teachings connected with a third shaking are often described as a time when the Earth shows signs of imbalance through natural forces such as storms, fires, floods, and other powerful events. Within Indigenous worldviews, the Earth is frequently understood as a living, sacred presence—sometimes referred to as Mother Earth—whose well-being is deeply connected with the actions of humanity. These teachings emphasize respect for the land, water, animals, and all living beings as part of a shared circle of life. 🌿⚡

Some storytellers connect this period of change with the idea of the “Rainbow Warriors,” a vision often shared in modern spiritual interpretations about people from many cultures coming together to restore balance and care for the planet. While details vary across communities, the message often centers on unity, responsibility, and compassion for the Earth. At its heart, the teaching serves as a reminder that living gently upon the land and honoring all life can help guide humanity toward harmony once again. 🌈🙏

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Heather Cox Richardson sits in a quiet fishing town in Maine, far from the frenzy of breaking news alerts. While many of us refresh our feeds in a state of low-grade panic, she slows the noise into something intelligible. A historian at Boston College, her nightly writing feels less like scholarship and more like triage for an overwhelmed public.

Richardson studies the moments when democracies fractured—and the moments when they survived. From that work, she draws a lesson that is both unsettling and strangely reassuring. She asks us to picture an American household in 1859. In hindsight, the Civil War feels unavoidable: the battles mapped, the outcome known. But to those living then, the future was opaque. They were ordinary people watching neighbors grow hostile, watching language harden, and hoping someone else would step in. They noticed the danger, yet one small step at a time, they walked straight toward it.

This is the weight of historical knowledge: seeing exactly where the off-ramps were, and how easily they were missed. But Richardson is careful to make one distinction. The future is not the past. History is fixed—its pages sealed—but tomorrow is not. Unlike people in 1859, we are not blind to the pattern. We know what happens when institutions erode, when groups are stripped of humanity, when societies drift toward the edge. That awareness—painful and precious—is not a curse. It is leverage.

Democracy almost never collapses in a single dramatic act. It erodes quietly, through a thousand small abdications. It weakens when decent people decide politics is too draining, when they forget that the system is not an abstract thing but a collective creation. Yet history also offers a counterpoint. The 19th Amendment did not arrive as a gift; women endured jail, hunger, and decades of ridicule to secure it. The Civil Rights Movement did not prevail because success was assured; it advanced because ordinary people, exhausted and frightened, kept showing up. At the time, those victories felt implausible. They happened anyway.

We now occupy our own hinge moment. The next chapter is unwritten—and that uncertainty is terrifying. But it is also an invitation. Every day asks something of us: how we speak to each other, whether we participate or retreat, whether we let events sweep us along or decide to shape them.

Richardson spends her life studying the wreckage of yesterday, but she does not dwell there. Her work points forward. Inevitability belongs only to the past. The future remains soft, unfinished—like wet cement—waiting to see whose fingerprints will remain.

REPORT: Black Panther Party Says No One ‘Would Have Gotten Touched’ If They Were Present In Minneapolis Amid ICE Protests

Paul Birdsong, who labels himself as the group’s national chairman, and attending members feel ICE should be abolished and the current administration should be held accountable for its actions, according to the website Black Enterprise.

“You got people that are part of a cabal, that are self-serving … and they prey on the common folks of the United States,” Birdsong said.

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50th Chicano Moratorium/Contingent Arizona Arts & Humanities Website

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54th Chicano Moratorium with artist Greg Mares, producer Ricardo Lopez and Brown Beret founder David Sanchez. ✊🏽💚