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Out of profound respect for and in memory of the countless lives lost to structural racism in the United States of America, Spanglish Voces unites in solidarity with the many protestors across this country who have risked their health and...

Andrea Cañizares-Fernández is an actor, artist, and writer living in Chicago, Illinois. She is constantly exploring what it means to be a daughter of two Ecuadorian immigrants and a redhead Latina raised in the US. Website: https://www.andreacf.com

Todos hemos conocido alguna vez a un personaje que parece vivir en una realidad ajena a la de los demás mortales. Son personas a las que se les puede considerar “quijotescos”, porque llenan su realidad de fantasía y delirios, y...

It is a reminder that my parents did not just immigrate to Nueba Yol; they also time-travelled to a future time period where: machismo is less overt, gender norms are a decade or two more progressed, certain Spanish-to-English translations are...

Mami, ¿cómo se dice fountain? Pileta, muñeca. Pileta pileta pileta Oh right Don’t forget You might need to recall that word later Que bella es esa pileta                           ...

for my father, who wakes up in the dark, and through storm or errant sickness, must ferry strangers to whomever may be waiting for them on the other side. for my mother, who must don vest and name tag to...

Encima de aguas agitadas se encuentra una lengua más temblorosa. Una boca que quiere asentarse como el sol al atardecer. Asentarse en las palabras del español como si fuera un pájaro que atrapa un pez-presa. Como si fuera parte del...

       For this nomad, shelter-in-place in a pre-war third-floor walk-up has been difficult. Travel is a sense of identity rather than a mere hobby. It’s a form of self-preservation as an act of rebellion against the capitalistic modern...

“You do not belong here.” – Jaquira Díaz In my America Earlier this year, as I delved into the personal essay form, I couldn’t help but gasp when I read the following lines in a piece written by Jaquira Díaz:...

My Abuelo used to peel them for me— warm brilliant spheres of varying sizes. He’d tear back their rinds in tiny bits, as much as his aging fingers could manage, then wrap them in plain white paper towels & place...