Chula is very lauded within our (Dominican, Latinx) community. Yet even as a fellow Dominican that can relate to Alcántara's prevailing sentiments of straddling cultures, identities, and existences, it was still tough for me to get through.
I applaud Alcántara's candor and unapologetic boldness in putting her work, her words, her story out in the world. That is no small feat and deserves to be highlighted in and of itself. It requires a certain level of fearlessness to bear so much of oneself on a page for the world to see. And that fearlessness is evident throughout the text, as Alcántara's unrelenting self-confidence (even in the face of dark moments and, at times, abuse) reverberates in virtually every piece - sometimes brash, at others soft and in the vein of self-love (76, 90). The actual labor of love it likely was for her to execute Chula was palpable. For me, those cords are the strongest elements of the text and why it even earns two stars from me.
Other than that, Chula largely felt all over the place, like the stream of consciousness one expects to find in the pages of a schoolgirl's diary: replete with random thoughts, rhymes, memories, and musings, yet following no definitive path or trajectory. Part 1 in particular felt like it had no cohesion or common thread other than the fact that the pieces were penned by the same author. Many bore no title (which became a big sticking point for me) and in the table of contents, were merely labeled by the corresponding piece's first line.
Part 1 gave the impression of Alcántara seemingly trying to fit in every childhood/adolescent memory possible, while also purging herself of every act and deed she's committed (sexual and non). The lack of discernible grouping (thematic, chronological, or otherwise) proved problematic and confusing. It translated to repetitiveness and clunkiness, due to backstory/context of incorporated characters (family members, friends, exes) and situations only being disclosed in later pages. In "I've been living on my own," for example, brief mention is made of her cousin's husband stalking her but we are only given the full story in a subsequent account in "Trigger Warning."
Even within individual pieces, the writing often felt unfocused. For example, in "When I had just arrived" Alcántara starts out talking about class rankings and then digresses to a lengthy footnote noting things she had not gotten to do in DR but did at her U.S. high school. "Before moving to the United States" opens focusing on attempting to lose her virginity in DR before relocating to the U.S., then jumps to (in contrast to her experience in DR) not having friends upon arriving, to her favorite songs, before circling back to losing her virginity (though oddly mentioned in passing, in just three short sentences).
By comparison Part 2 felt like a breath of fresh air after plodding through Part 1, though I'm not sure my sentiments would be the same were I just encountering Part 2 on its own. Nonetheless, the poems and their brevity provided respite. Part 2 also contained what I considered to be the text's standout pieces: "Learning how to make té pa'l mal de amores" where she discusses inherited ancestral gifts, and "Buelita's Songs" in which she recounts her abuela's songs to her as a child and the origin of one of her favorites.
In the end, Chula contained plenty of kernels that could potentially be fleshed out into coherent essays or even vignettes. Alcántara also does discuss a number of important topics, including: misogyny, machismo, anti-Blackness, mental health, abuse, ancestry, and identity. Unfortunately Chula felt largely mishmashed and jumbled, with Alcántara trying to fit way too much in the span of few pages. Even recurring symbols that obviously bear significance to her (an upside-down world map - 59, 79, the "About Me" at the end; sheer blue curtains - 59, 61, 79) are never unpacked or explained. While the text's content may have seemed logical to her as its author (these being her own thoughts and lived experiences) with regard to order, placement, and inclusion, as a reader it certainly did not feel intuitive. Instead as a whole, it was downright frustrating and exhausting to navigate. Upon finishing, it felt reminiscent of experiencing whiplash.
If I had not seen the other publications Alcántara has already had pieces appear in, I would have thought Chula was one of her early works. I anticipate that I am likely in the minority in hoping her writing evolves, given the acclaim she's received, the fact that she is already well-established within notable publication and community circles, and that she has found a style that clearly works for her and her devoted readership.
Noteworthy lines and passages:
"Mi abuela on my dad's side era curandera - at least that's what my dad told me [...] And so, when I drop these petals into this tea, I think of her too. I try to remember what she was never able to teach me. I think of how her hands must've been: were they soft and gentle? Or rough from hard work? I picture su casita en el barrio de Pueblo Nuevo." ("Learning how to make té Pa'l mal de amores," 82)
"My grandmother died before I knew which questions to ask and somehow, on my face, she still shines" ("My resistance goes beyond being alive," 84)
"The warmth of her hands was my spiritual baptism; they themselves were the tradition she passed down. It's like magic, but it's tangible. I breathe deeply when I think of her, I can feel get warmth. What a blessing that it is my first memory on this Earth." ("Buelita's Songs", 102)