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198 pages, Paperback
Published May 1, 2021
I always feel a sense of loss when I sell one of my paintings. Each piece takes hours to create and is often a labor of love and pain —a chance to expel what is happening inside me onto canvas. There is one piece in particular that I still struggle with the loss of. She is called "Brown Girl Worshipping," and I sold her to a white woman who had subjected me to several racial microaggressions over the course of an evening.
I was the artist being showcased in a small bookstore, and she was a friend of the owner. Friendly and complimentary, she still misnamed me several times and repeatedly tried to practice her Spanish on me despite me telling her I am no longer fluent. I found her exhausting and was especially grieved to hand her "Brown Girl Worshipping" — a piece about the constant struggle to practice my faith in churches where I am continuously othered. The sad Irony in her loving and buying this painting was not lost on me.
I wanted to say "No, you can't have her. You don't deserve her," but I needed the money and didn't want to make things awkward. So I said goodbye to the painting. I think about her and the woman who purchased her often. I find myself hoping she passes it everyday and is slowly convicted.
How often do those of us on the margins find ourselves in this place? We are alone even in the presence of others. We make allowances that hurt us for the sake of others' comfort. We give up pieces of ourselves that we desperately want to hold onto.
I wish I had told that woman "No." I wish I had said "Yes, but... You need to understand what this painting represents. When you look at it, I need you to know you are complicit. Do you still want her?"
— AnaYelsi Velasco-Sanchez
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