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4/5 (44 valutazioni)
59 pagine
34 minuti
Sep 8, 2017


One of the most original performance poets of her generation, Melissa Lozada-Oliva has captivated crowds across the country and online with her vivid narratives. Humorous and biting, personal and communal, self-deprecating and unapologetically self-loving, peluda (meaning “hairy†or “hairy beastâ€) is the poet at her best.
The book explores the relationship between femininity and body hair as well as the intersections of family, class, the immigrant experience, Latina identity, and much more, all through Lozada-Oliva’s unique lens and striking voice. Peluda is a powerful testimony on body image and the triumph over taboo.
Sep 8, 2017

Informazioni sull'autore

Melissa Lozada-Oliva is a spoken word poet & educator living in Boston whose fierceness and charm have made her a poetry phenomenon, with her work appearing on Upworthy, Huffington Post, Buzzfeed, and countless other media outlets. Melissa's ability to speak truth to power as an unapologetically feminist Latina comes as a breath of fresh air to people expecting the "same old poetry." Blending power, warmth, and flat-out hilarity, Melissa leaves readers and audiences not only excited about changing the world, but excited about being a part of that change.

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Anteprima del libro

peluda - Melissa Lozada-Oliva


Origin Regimen

before there were legs, bikini lines, eyebrows, upper lips,

underarms, forearms, labias, assholes, chins,

or the waxing table there were houses

& two immigrants who cleaned them. there were sinks

inside of those houses. carpeted staircases, tile floors,

windows with curtains like your eyelashes, closets

your mother’s whole family could live in

if she brought them here with her but instead

she left—joo need to heat up de wax to

250 degrees—your sister played with cats

at the top of the stairs. she scratched

behind their ears & pulled on their tails

& they yowled. she gave them names

they never asked for & once a cat opened

up her little claws & scratched her back. the cat hid

under the dining table to escape the wrath

of your mother, who put neosporin

on the scratch—with a leetle bit of cotton

joo have to test it with the wooden paleta

because if joo are no careful jor skin could

look like a e-snake—your father whistled

while scrubbing the toilets

he danced into rooms

that would never be his own,

wiggling his hips to a song

that was not there.

his hairy dark arms

wrapped around your mother’s waist

like vacuum tubes. later, she would point

to clay pots with old flowers in them, or coffee

with not enough milk to show what kind of color

he was when she loved him. before the beauty

business there was a hot homeland

with gossiping aunts, there were mountains

there were things we enjoyed more because we didn’t

have enough—noise, basta, joo are old

enough joo can do dis by jorself now, every week

joo should do dis, joo don’t need

my help—you were there the whole time,

in your mother’s belly, weighing her back down

with the heaviness of your life, inhaling fumes

from the windex & the bleach, you have no name

but you have nails & hair

like your father’s, thick & dark

from an origin with ships,

origin he never really traced.

you will come out late, you will—wait wait wait,

‘spera! leddit dry!—& if you start waxing early enough

the hair will grow back thinner & if you’re in america

long enough you can get rid of your accent

you can—pool it out faster, like-a faster,

like-a harder en de opposite direction, joo don’t wanna

reep de e-skin off esa cuca, ha-ha!

the best part about waxing is after

when you are looking at the strip of wax

at all of the hair sticking up like bodies

or fossils or misshapen street signs

all pointing to

der we go, see?



we can see jor

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Recensioni dei lettori

  • (5/5)
    This book caught my eye at the library when I was collecting books for my readathon TBR stack, but as it happened I read the entire book that same day instead. I was charmed from the very beginning -- from the graphic cover to the quotes selected for the epigraph to each and every poem contained within -- poems dealing with class, race, immigration, identity, beauty ideals, and (most importantly) hair. As someone who has always been defined by my curly hair, and as someone who has refused to shave my body hair for most of my life -- I sometimes identified, was sometimes fascinated, and sometimes woke to new aspects of my white-girl privilege that I'd never considered before.I laughed, I learned, I cried.I recommend this highly.
  • (4/5)
    Wanted to read this for some time, and it did not disappoint!

    Her poetic voice is exceptional and genuine and this collection is certainly proof of that.
  • (5/5)
    I really loved this book, and after reading it I plan on seeking out more of Melissa's work. New school poetry that is evocative and beautiful.