Woman Hollering Creek

“There ain’t no boys here. Only girls and one father who is never home hardly…and so many sisters there’s no time to count.”

Part of what attracts the narrator to Lucy’s household is how female-centric it is. Lucy’s father is rarely on the scene. It is a world of women and girls where the rules are less exacting and the environment is imperfect but welcoming.

“Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit inside the other, each year inside the next.”

Rachel would like to be instantly more mature and prepared to handle whatever life throws at her. Unfortunately, she learns during the incident of the red sweater that maturation doesn’t work that way. She will still struggle with social situations at any age of life.

“Grows smaller and smaller to the eye, dissolves into the bright horizon, flutters in the air before disappearing like a memory of kites.” 

Salvador, being small and soft spoken, is nearly invisible to those around him, including the adults he has to make frequent apologies to for being late or showing up in wrinkled clothes. His suffering is also nearly invisible, as he silently goes about his job of being a father figure to his younger brothers.

“[U]sually somebody dies but not Pedro Infante because he has to sing the happy song at the end.”

The narrator savors the experience of going to the movies with her parents for several reasons. One of those reasons is the happily-ever-after ending offered by some of the films’ storylines. She likes the big cheerful ending that reassures her everything will be alright.

“If you dress her in her new “Prom Pinks” outfit, satin splendor with matching coat, gold belt, clutch and hair bow included, so long as you don’t lift her dress, right—who’s the know?” 

The sisters of this story are determined to have what their peers have, even if their barbies have been damaged and purchased in a fire sale. The girls are learning that the clothes make the woman, and if their Barbie is dressed in the latest outfits, the doll and the girls themselves will pass for being the equals of and having as much as their peers.

“We’re Merican, we’re Merican and inside the awful grandmother prays.” 

Micaela’s grandmother despairs over her grandchildren’s cultural identity which is not Mexican nor wholly American. As the kids themselves hint upon, they are “merican,” truly a hybrid of two cultures. This prompts their grandmother to ardently pray for their souls. For the kids, it is just a semi-amusing fact of life.

“He said he would love me like a revolution, like a religion.”

Ixchel knows very little about the man who approaches her at the family pushcart and leads her back to his rented room behind the auto body shop. She isn’t sure of his age, family history or even his real name. But he is offering freedom and personal revolution, and that is something she craves enough to land herself in very grave danger.

“Disappeared from a life sentence at that taco house. Got tired of coming home stinking of crispy tacos. Well no wonder she left.” 

Though the narrator is irritated at her name twin for not following through with setting her up with her crush, Max Lucas Luna Luna, the narrator is sympathetic to her tocaya’s predicament. Patricia’s family responsibilities, and perhaps an abusive parent, define the terms of her life.

“He has said, after all, in the hubbub of parting, I am your father. I will never abandon you. He had said that, hadn’t he, when he hugged her and then let her go.”

Cleofilas depends on men in her life to protect her and give her life meaning. At first, her father fills this role. Later, when the man she marries proves to be abusive and unfaithful, she imagines going back to her father in order to have a strong male protector again. 

“Everything about this woman, this Felice, amazed Cleofilas. The fact that she drove a pickup. A pickup, mind you, but when Cleofilas asked if it was her husband’s, she said she didn’t have a husband. The pickup was hers. She herself had chosen it. She herself was paying for it.”

Cleofila’s meeting with Felice is an eye-opener for her. She has never before met a woman who views herself as utterly independent of men. She is shocked that Felice has her own money and her own vehicle. She is all the more astonished when Felice decides to holler as they cross the arroyo together. Ultimately, Felice inspires Cleofilas to do the same.

“Well, yeah. That is if we’re talking about the same Marlboro man. There’ve been lots of Marlboro Men. Just like there’ve lots of Lassies and Shamu the Whales.” 

The friends who speculate on the identity of the male sex symbol that is the Marlboro Man freely admit that they are likely not talking about the same guy. He doesn’t exist as one person, they decide. He is more fantasy than reality but still they enjoy speculating about who he may have been, what kind of person he might have taken as a lover, and where he might have ended up.

“And Carmen was a take it or leave it type of woman. If you don’t like it, there’s the door. Like that. She was something.”

Carmen is adept at manipulating men to get the things she wants. She prefers the company of powerful or rich men and refuses to settle down and play the role of faithful wife. This enrages some of her paramours but she is always ready and able to replace them.

“But I’m not Rudy when I perform. I mean, I’m not Rudy Cantu from Falfurrias anymore. I’m Tristan. Every Thursday night at the Travistry.” 

Dance and fantasy allow Ruby a sense of transport and reinvention. As Tristan, Ruby is able to be sexy, powerful and courageous. Even death cannot conquer Ruby’s invented persona of Tristan.

“But what could be more ridiculous than a Mexican girl who couldn’t even speak Spanish, who didn’t know enough to set a separate plate for each course at dinner, nor how to fold the cloth napkins nor how to set the silverware.” 

Clemencia watches her mother be harshly judged by her in-laws, who look down on her for being American. Not only does she not speak the language, she is also not proficient in the domestic tasks that the in-laws feel are required of a good and dutiful wife.

“We were hungry. We went into a bakery on Grand Avenue and bought bread. Filled the backseat.” 

The unnamed lovers of this story are both hungry. They crave the physical comfort of food and of sex and romance. They cruise through a shared setting together, one that they have different memories of, and feast both on food and love. 

“You married her, that woman from Villa de Ayala, true. But see, you came back to me. You always come back. In between and beyond the others. That’s my magic.” 

Though Zapata is not faithful to Ines and, in fact, takes another woman for his wife, after first telling Ines he will never marry, she still feels that he is faithful in his own way. Their relationship endures, even over the course of many years and throughout the war. She feels that her magic guarantees her a spot back in his life.

“You have your pastimes. That’s how it’s said, no? Your many pastimes. I know you take to your bed women half my age. Women the age of our Nicolas. You’ve left many mothers crying, as they say.”

Ines is well aware of Zapata’s infidelities. He has other women and other children by these other women. Ines is aware that these women have suffered in their love of Zapata, just as she has.

“I looked at all the Virgen de Guadalupes he had. The statues, the framed pictures, the holy cards, and candles. Because I only got $10. And by then, there was other people had come in.” 

With only ten dollars to spend, the narrator is in search of the perfect image of La Virgen. Though she would like to cross the border to find something more authentic and superior, a loved one has been hospitalized, meaning she is in desperate need of this religious item and has to frequent a shop owned by a man she dislikes. He views her as a pest and a window shopper though she is set on finding the most genuine and effective item she can acquire with her lean funds.

“I don’t know how it all fell into place. How I finally understood who you are.

No longer Mary the mild but other mother Tonantzin. Your church at Tepeyac built on the site of her temple. Sacred ground no matter whose goddess claims it.”

For Rosario, worshipping La Virgen is a form of participating in a patriarchal view of the world. She struggles with traditional Christian archetypes, in which women are cast into positions of lower power. Her spiritual faith hinges on her realization that indigenous spirituality views the divine differently and images of the goddess allow Rosario to have religious faith.

“Oh boy, she was clean. Everything in the house looked new even though it was old.” 

The speaker is belatedly appreciative of his late wife. Though he was annoyed during her life time by her constant cleaning, he sees now, after she’s gone, that her cleaning and ironing, even of his boxers, were all a labor of love. 

“Every other Friday the man drank his beer and laughed loudly. Every Friday in between the woman drank her beer and laughed loudly.” 

Circumstances such as payday and the schedule of friends manage to keep apart two desperately lonely people. Both the man and the woman frequent the Friendly Spot Bar. Both drink in the hopes of drowning their sorrows or giving voice to what is truly in their heart. Ultimately, they are both alone because their paths never cross.

“Return my life to me and end this absurd pain. If not, Rogelio Velasco will have loved in vain.” 

The author of the acrostic, writing under his pen name, describes himself as the victim of a fickle and unfaithful woman. He implores her to end her power over him so he can return to his once peaceful existence. This version of the love story between “Rogelio” and Lupe is in every way different than the one presented in the next story in the collection.

“How could I ever think of making love in English again? English with its starched r’s and g’s. English with its crisp linen syllables. English crunchy as apples, resilient and stiff as sailcloth.” 

Flavio’s authentic Mexican identity is his main appeal for Lupe, a Mexican-American artist and intellectual who longs to connect with something true and indigenous. When he croons to her in Spanish, when they’re in bed together, she feels she will never again be able to have an intimate experience using English, which feels harsh and impersonal to her.