And Still

By Ruthie Marlenée 

When the prequel to And Still Her Voice, failed to launch in 2020, because of Covid, I wanted to give  up writing. I wanted to curl up and cry. “I’ll give you something to cry about,” I could hear Mom say. So, I dried my tears, laced up my bootstraps and tried a little harder. “You can do this. Let me  help,” I could hear Grandma’s voice, and the idea for my next book was born. 

So, I set out to pen And Still Her Voice about the daughter/granddaughter from my previous book,  Curse of the Ninth. But first, I needed to figure out what kind of story I wanted to tell.  

As I wrote, pantser-style, my musings evolved into an adventurous tale about a feisty young  Mexican-American heroine searching for self in a mixed-up world. And because she also ran away with her white grandmother literally sharing a consciousness, I knew my story would be the same,  yet different than other coming-of-age stories.  

In 1967, Ann LeMar, is sixteen during the Summer of Love. I was only ten, but have memories of  the social upheaval at the time. As a five-year-old in 1963, it was scary for me to learn that the  president of the United States had been assassinated, and then Martin Luther King, Jr. It was  traumatizing to watch the news every night about Vietnam or to see the protests and all the civil  unrest.  

I was confused when I saw women burning their bras and men burning their draft cards. I was  terrified of the Black Panthers and the power of the Chicano Movement, and yet it broke my heart  to see the mistreatment of my Mexican family–to see my Mexican mother treated differently than  other fair-skinned moms. I couldn’t make sense of all the chaos swirling around in my head within  the four walls of my home. Remembering what it was like to be sixteen, I simply transferred those  feelings into that era. I imagined running away from home as so many had done back then. 

When describing Anna’s grandmother, I cringed when using the word “white”. I grew up thinking  the word was as derogatory as the word “beaner”. As a half-white woman, more doors are opened  for Anna than for some of her family members. Lately, privileged women are being called to step up  and tap into their power. I recently heard a young woman addressing white women: “You do not  have the right to be hopeless, you have the right to be patient and to be radical, because you don’t  know what people are going through.” Privileged, yet progressive, we learn that Grandma Phoebe, is  ahead of her time as a white woman trying to guide her granddaughter while also trying to make reparations. 

My research reminded me how for centuries women and minorities have been struggling with the  same issues and fighting for human rights. When Anna thinks Grandma isn’t hip enough to  understand the times, she asks, “Oh yeah, Grandma what do you know?”  

Besides World Wars, the Spanish Flu and the Great Depression, Grandma recalls the drama of her  own era. “I was once just a young woman giving piano lessons to support myself. I, like other  women, wanted suffrage, but why should I have to marry in order to have any rights? Why did men  have all the rights?” Grandma said. “Women had already been fighting for nearly one hundred years. I belonged to the Votes for Women Club in Los Angeles. Finally, the 19th Amendment was ratified in 1920, granting women the right to vote.” I imagined Grandma marching and passing out ‘Votes  for Women’ buttons in Southern California during women’s suffrage. 

Less than fifty years after Grandma marched, we were in Vietnam, still fighting for women’s rights and civil rights. So, I put one foot in Anna’s shoes and one in Grandma’s to compare the struggles  and accomplishments. 

While things might move forward, the pendulum swings back when the powers that be fear  resistance and loss of power. In 2017, a new president, running on the idea of making America great  again, was inaugurated and we all witnessed the country getting pushed back fifty years. I attended  my first Women’s March and imagined what it might have been like to march during the 60’s or the  20’s. I imagined we could still make a difference. 

As I finished up my new book just prior to the 2024 election, the first paragraph in my query  warned, tongue in cheek, about history being doomed to repeat itself, unless your dead grandmother  transfers her consciousness over to guide you. I never imagined it would get this bad. And still, here  we are.  

And Still Her Voice tackles issues of identity, class, and belonging. It’s about a daughter who’s  inherited the essence of her mother, grandmother and all the women who’ve come before her.  “Anna never stops fighting for love and freedom despite her meddling grandmother—and the odds  stacked against her.” ~~ Cristina Garcia, Dreaming in Cuban 

Now, as books are being banned, history erased, perhaps like Anna, with the voice of ancestors in  our ear, we might learn “to listen, when to resist, and how to trust the quiet power of our [sic] own  inner voice.” ~~Julia Park Tracey, Whoa Nelly!

AND STILL HER VOICE

A wildly original, soul-stirring ride through the Summer of Love…

It’s Easter, 1967, when Anna LeMar, a lonely half-Mexican teen, stabs her father and runs away, but she’s not alone. Grandma Phoebe, her dead white grandmother, has colonized her brain and hitched along in a mental sidecar for the ride of their lifetime. Anna has also inherited Grandma’s musical talent and so reluctant travel companions, they navigate the world with Anna’s guitar strapped to her back and the knife she used on her father strapped to her leg.

On the road, Anna encounters all sorts of characters and begins to discover her own voice as she searches for a way to cut the strings that bind her to Grandma Phoebe. Set during the Summer of Love and the tumultuous 60s, this coming-of-age speculative story chases history through Anna’s adventures and quest for love. A generational family drama, it’s also a story of mothers, daughters, granddaughters, and the ties that bind us for generations.

And Still Her Voice tackles issues of identity, class, and belonging. It’s about a daughter who’s  inherited the essence of her mother, grandmother and all the women who’ve come before her.  “Anna never stops fighting for love and freedom despite her meddling grandmother—and the odds  stacked against her.” ~~ Cristina Garcia, Dreaming in Cuban 

Now, as books are being banned, history erased, perhaps like Anna, with the voice of ancestors in  our ear, we might learn “to listen, when to resist, and how to trust the quiet power of our [sic] own  inner voice.” ~~Julia Park Tracey, Whoa Nelly!

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Ruthie Marlenée is a Mexican-American novelist, poet and screenwriter born and raised in Orange County, California, and lives in Los Angeles and the desert of the Coachella Valley with her husband. Marlenée earned a Writers’ Certificate in Fiction from UCLA and is the author of Isabela’s Island, Curse of the Ninth, nominated for a James Kirkwood Literary Prize and Agave Blues, from which an excerpt A Good Tabernero Listens is nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and is forthcoming with Touchpoint Press 2/15/22. She is currently working on a sequel And Still Her Voice. Her poetry and short stories can be found in various publications, including Shark Reef, The Coiled Serpent Anthology, So To Speak, Detour Ahead, What They Leave Behind: A Latinx Anthology, Silver Birch Press, and Slow Lightning: Impractical Poetry. She’s received awards for her screenplays from the Women’s International Film Festival, the Oaxaca Film Festival, Carmesi International Fest, and the Mexico International Film Festival.

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing