by Letxia Cordova
I felt so beautiful this day.
A cobalt goddess
- under duress, she is stressed -
will electrify.
As a Mexican American photographer in Los Angeles, Latina representation matters amongst the self-portrait photographers of our city. These pictures were shot by Sharad Shankar; makeup, concept, and editing is by me. Shot on a Nikon D3300, 18-55mm zoom lens, and edited in Photoshop, I consciously made no effort to edit human details like acne, armpit hair, etc. because these details define my humanity and make me feel more beautiful. I always did like special effects over CGI; it felt more real. However, I am secretly (I guess not so secretly anymore…) excited that my skin with so little effort looks this amazing. My makeup and outfit were inspired by my functional desire for leisure and Aztec, regal beauty, with my makeup aiming to reflect the shape of my earrings and the dreamy colors I was wearing. This calming, blue color scheme coupled with the warmth of my cinnamon skin in the sun - I set out with Sharad to quickly gather a few shots.
I love the romance of these shots - the passion in my eyes, the gold in my skin, the glow of my being as I twist in the wind and sun and car exhaust on the side of the loud, busy street.
Pictures’ description: Pictures of my look before I headed out.
I’ve been inspired by this color - this soft, indigo, cobalt blue that is soft when sweet and electric when loud, meaning periwinkle with less contrast and saturation, indigo with more. According to this article I found in a google search, “[the] blue chakra is associated with your capacity to express your genuine self and converse freely with other (Seema). A good throat chakra enables you to live with integrity, authentically express yourself, and abide by the ideals of honesty and truth.” This resonates with my newfound sense of self and voice as of late. I’ve come out about sexual abuse recently, and suddenly, it feels like I’m free again. Unseen chains had begun to rust and stiffen around my throat, and now it feels like I can finally flex my neck and tilt my chin up to the sky to shout with freedom.
What a relief.
It feels good to share my thoughts and feelings with confidence, to share my truth freely and with self-acceptance. I’ve been using my voice unapologetically, on Facebook, through texting. This color is the calming, soothing peace that I need, the revitalizing and cooling that my heart needs to heal from recent events.
Why do I ache to capture my countenance so? Because there aren’t enough Mexican American goddesses with the privilege of such creativity, pleasure, and leisure. History is written by victors, and as such, there aren’t enough beauties among the victors that look like me, with a background like mine. I want to give my ancestors a fulfillment they’d never dream of - to preserve our beauty so wonderfully, even within this ephemeral medium. This feels like an ache my heart aims to soothe: to exist in the kind of permanence I am most familiar and skilled with - preserved through pictures, immortal as trees are to their own ashes, that float away as we burn them for agricultural purposes… There are other ways to leave a mark in this world, but I have not yet embraced the idea of children, nor have I explored other methods. I do know that I would love to have a foster home someday.
Perhaps my desperation for preservation comes from the loss of identity I feel in not having an emotional attachment to any particular family, having been adopted, and then having a strained relationship with my adoptive family because of abuse before cutting ties with them altogether recently. Having no pictures, memories, sweet anecdotes of my biological family to give me root in the meaninglessness of our existence, I feel that it is my responsibility to explain to previous and future ancestors, who we are today within our biological lineage. When once we were in our own kingdom, existing with abundance under the sun, our communities are now torn apart - babies sold to the most available white-passing bidder (adoption), people cast as slaves on our own land.
Who is she, this woman in our lineage that continues to exist so bravely after all that we’ve endured? What does she look like, think, act, say, do? How wonderfully, fiercely does she exist?
As a human being, I am desperate to be remembered in a world where I feel unloved, disconnected from my biological community, where I am afraid to be forgotten, where my power as a woman is too threatening to see flourish with aplomb. As a goddess, I project my voice loudly in the hopes that it will help stroke fires - inspire other creative, outspoken, little brown girls like I was, and still am.
How tenuous life is, with all its supposed improbabilities and labyrinthine craftiness. How regal and soft and sweet and touching and tender and nurturing and creative and wonderful and empowering it all can be, too.
Director, Model, Editor: Letxia Cordova
Photographer: Sharad Shankar
Fun facts:
The scar on my stomach is from the film, “Reflection,” that I made with friend and dancer, Amira Murphy, and friend and artist, Benjamin Ortiz. I will write about that day more extensively someday.
The scar on my mentolabial crease is from riding an electric bull at Benjamin’s cousin’s party in Inglewood years ago. A random partygoer was operating it, and needless to say, I had to go to the hospital to get stitches. Wasn’t the best idea to let an inexperienced partygoer operate the bull, but I was unwittingly fearless, and it was that kind of free-wheeling party anyway xD