Spinning Backwards with Mercury Retrograde
Eleventh installment of Writing and Entrepreneurship Workshop for Latinas in Tech, aka Brujeria Navigation 101.
Before we jump into the next chapter of my bisabuela Maria La Gata’s entrepreneurial story, I wanted to write about Mercury Retrograde. If you’re familiar with this celestial phenomenon, which happens three times per year, you’ll know that it began April 1 and ends on the 24th. It’s a time to reflect and allow the rum to ferment, so to speak. It’s a time to look backwards before moving forward.
If that’s too much brujeria-Espiritualismo for you, let’s just say I have been spending these last three weeks thinking more deeply about my experience with the Latinas in Tech Entrepreneurship Program in March. My favorite part was meeting 38 Latinas like Maria del Rocio Feaster, Aylin Ramirez, Gabriela Catalina Reyes, and Nefertari Carranza who were all simultaneously learning how to navigate the complicated ecosystem of tech and venture capital.
On a personal level, the workshops gave me an opportunity to listen to their ideas while putting my own experiences at tech startups since 1999 into present-day context. Part of me wanted to tell them, “Don’t waste your time begging the masters of the universe to fund your project! Create your own biz model! Build a solution that the market wants and you’ll avoid all the red tape and ownership messes that investors cause!” But it’s not my place to tell another entrepreneur what her path is, especially since mine has been such a zig-zag, so I let myself simmer and meditate a bit longer. As a result, two bigger questions came up:
What’s your purpose?
To be a good role model to my sobrina and hijastra; and
What kind of entrepreneur are you?
Solopreneur
ARTrepreneur like Edith Quintanilla, founder of PoderosaDivina
Scalable Startup Entrepreneur
Consultant
Hustler
Intrapreneur like Genuinely Genesis
Opportunist Entrepreneur
Socialpreneur like Gilda Alvarez, founder of Latinas in Data
Zig Zag Entrepreneur - Me
None of the above and something entirely different like franchisee
TBH, I have been a little bit of all of the above at different times depending on the opportunities that flow in my direction during different seasons: A Zig Zag Entrepreneur, haha. Between 2003-2006 and 2008-2015, I was a freelance journalist, editor, web developer, writing workshop teacher, and all around hustler under my business Biscayne Writers, Inc.
During the gap between 2006-2008, I worked full-time as a web developer and publisher for a tech startup that matched angel investors with entrepreneurs, so in a way, I still felt like a hustler, but I was actually an Intrapreneur, which apparently is very popular at Google and other big tech startups where innovation is part of its DNA.
My biggest takeaway after closing Biscayne Writers, Inc was: Running a business requires too much time and paperwork. At one point, I had more clients than I could handle, so I hired the tenant who was renting my condo in Miami to help me when she was having trouble making rent. This turned out great, but then I realized the only way to grow was to hire more people which meant managing people, which I never really wanted to do, so I closed the business and took a full-time job that came my way to create some financial stability and to build up some 401K money until 2018 when I had the chance to become a consultant, which I’ve been doing since 2023…until my contracts ended…
And thus…here we are today. If you’ve been subscribed to this Substack since I launched it last November, you know I’ve been diving into full-time Writing and Filmpreneurship. I’ve been targeting Latinas in Tech, Data, Animation, SEO, and Video with my stories about Dr. Nutmeg and Maria La Gata, while slowly building up subscribers, and my heart and soul have been fulfilled…
And now, I think I found a way to take care of the bank account so I can keep publishing this Substack. When this Mercury Retrograde ends I’ll have a better idea, for sure. Meantime, here’s a great quote from a couple of part-time entrepreneurs:
“The all-or-nothing mindset is rife across the startup world —
but there's a less risky way of building a business.”
— Sven Jungmann and Johanna Ludwig created a card game for doctors that sells over 2,000 units annually — without paid marketing. It’s also an award winner, listed as "Amazon's choice," and just launched English-language and nursing versions.
All this while they continued with their careers…
And now back to the show…
In last week’s chapter, Maria La Gata meets two powerful women who are running their own businesses: Tex is the owner of El Fey’s Speakeasy and Cleo Lythgoe, also known as the Queen of Rum Row, is literally selling hooch off a boat alongside a mysterious (and handsome) blue-eyed Irishman.
In this week’s chapter, Maria can’t stop thinking about these women during the last week of the Broadway show, and wonders if she has the ganas to do what they’re doing…
Chapter 11: Spinning Backwards with Fred
On Monday, before heading downtown for work, Maria stands in front of the mirror doing her hair like The Queen. She says to her reflection, "I am Maria La Gata. I sell hooch."
On Tuesday, while kicking her legs on stage next to Josephine, she imagines smuggling rum by day with Quin Cardona and snuggling by night with Chucho.
On Wednesday, while riding the subway to Broadway, her fantasy transforms abruptly, in a way that is disconcerting. Instead of pursuing her dream with Chucho, a little boy from el campo, she imagines the Irishman by her side. Why would she want to go into business with someone she doesn’t even know? Besides, he’s already taken by the Queen of Rum Row. It was clear by the way he never kept his eyes off her that he is a man whose gaze is already occupied. But what if she could distract him or pitch him a deal that sounds better than whatever the Queen is giving him?
On Thursday, Maria slips into the deep familiar darkness of the river back home. She dreams of swimming upstream alongside other women who seem to have fins instead of legs. They lift their heads to suck a breath of air in between frantic strokes through tumultuous waters. Seaweed tangles through their fingers and hair. And then she awakens, covered in sweat, wondering how Tex and the Queen got to where they are.
On Friday, Maria stares at her unruly blond hair in the bathroom mirror. Angelina is right. She can't expect another man to save her. She needs to make her own move.
By Saturday, the final show ends with an anti-climactic splat. The dancers are chattering about their plans to go on tour. Maria remains standing in one place for a few minutes, watching the hubbub on 48th Street, watching Josephine and her light disappear in a taxi cab headed uptown, basically a repeat of the week before, but it’s more final. There is a part of her that wishes she followed Josephine. But there is another part of her that’s enjoying standing in place. Just for a minute. She doesn't want to think of the after parities or the Conjunto at the Rivera's apartment. She doesn't want to think of what happens after the after parties. She just wants to be right here, in front of the theater, savoring the moment. It's over.
There is a part of her that wants to cry.
And there is a part of her that does not know how to express that kind of emotion. She feels hands around her waist, and the breath of Fred, the Baby's Papi, on her neck. "Come with us," he says, knowing she would have to take the subway if she doesn't get into the taxi now with him. The smell of Fred’s sweet breath and sweat beckons to the part of Maria that hasn’t been touched for ages.
She squeezes in, packed with sweaty musicians. Fred grabs her hand and whispers sweet ideas into her ear.
Oh no. She will ignore him even though his leg is pressing up against hers.
Oh no. As much as Maria wants this, she keeps her focus outside the window at the swishing gray buildings with yellow lights. When his hand finds its way to her thigh, she looks back at him. "Fred," she says moving his hand away. "Stop." The chitter chatter of the other musicians pumped up by moonshine and absinthe mix into Fred's attempts to seduce with hot whispers in her ear. "Te quiero, Maria, te lo juro, tu eres el amor de mi vida."
Maria counts the street numbers from forty-eight to forty-nine to fifty-five. Stop at a corner to wait their turn to get around a pothole. Pa'l carajo, Nueva Yol traffic, she screams in her mind, silently praying they will catch up to Josephine and the others.
When the taxi stops in front of a familiar hooch joint, Maria jiggles the handle, and tells the driver to let her out here, that this is her stop, but the door won't open.
"It's a sign," says Fred, smiling his beautiful smile that always makes Maria feel like she's hanging upside down from a tree, tied up, no arms or legs. There's nothing she wants more than to allow herself the kind of pleasure Fred gives, but it always ends up in a bad ending, whether it's Fred disappearing or Fred telling her he has to marry some other woman who is also pregnant with his child.
"It's a sign you should pay the driver so he can open the door for me," Maria manages to say with a bouncy banter because that's the only language Fred understands and speaks.
Fred kisses Maria's neck. A tingle runs up and down Maria's spine as she leans away. This is their game. Push, pull. Cat, mouse. Maria watches Fred pay the driver too easily. It sets her off immediately. "Ah, you have enough money to tip the driver but not for your own baby," she says loudly in Spanish, as she bounds toward the front door of a speakeasy, where a bouncer moves the velvet rope, but only for Maria.
Fred yells after Maria, but she’s already bounding ahead toward the light that can only be Josephine Baker, sitting in the middle of a VIP lounge.