Quetzal | Maucci

My mothers and I in 2022 near my home in London, United Kingdom. I am on the left, Mama Flavia in the middle, and Mama Lu on the right. They were both visiting to celebrate my 30th birthday.

Mama Flavia and Mama Lu at an artisan market in Oaxaca, Mexico in July 1991.

The San Francisco Chronicle from March 15, 2005 when Judge Richard Kramer struck down Proposition 22 and found the state’s same-sex marriage ban unconstitutional. I was 12 years old. Proposition 22 came about in 2000 when California passed a law that restricted marriage to a man and a woman. It was mainly applied to dismantle a loophole that recognized same-sex couples marrying outside of California. In 2008, three years after Judge Kramer struck down Prop 22, California introduced Proposition 8; a proposition that would limit marriage to opposite-sex couples only. This proposition passed and was later overturned in court in 2010. Even though my parents were not in a relationship anymore, I remember feeling angry and upset that we were still having to fight for marriage rights of same-sex couples. It wasn't until 2013 that same-sex marriage became legal.

A 1994 May/June article from Oakland’s bimonthly magazine: Third Force. It was a special edition on gender and sexuality and it presented text alongside black and white photographs of my mothers and me when I was 18 months old. In the article, the photographer and author Rick

Mama Lu and I in our kitchen in the summer of 2023 on my return home to see if the adoption would be confirmed. It was also the year anniversary of my abuelita's passing. I was having a difficult moment sitting in the kitchen knowing she would not sit down with us for breakfast.

The view from Bernal Hill in 2023 overlooking where I grew up in San Francisco, California.

Mama Flavia in London the summer of 2022.

Preschool graduation at the age of 4 in San Francisco, California, 1996.

My first birthday in 1992. Mama Flavia is lighting my birthday candle while Mama Lu is holding the cake. The candle is one that is carried in the processions of El Señor de los Milagros, the most revered Catholic symbol in Perú. The vast majority of my mother’s friends and their children were present. Friends from Mexico, Venezuela, Colombia, Argentina, Italy, Ecuador, Peru. It was a big celebration and my mothers hired a clown.

Mama Lu’s bedside table photographed in 2023 featuring a school portrait of myself at age 12.

A drawing I made in 1996 around the time of my mother’s separation.

Mama Lu in her bedroom with our dog, Pukyu (Quechua for spring), photographed in 2019.

Flowers growing in my family friend’s backyard in 2021.

The photograph being held was made by Mama Lu in 1993 of Mama Flavia holding me while I slept on her chest.

Mama Lu, me, and Mama Flavia in November 1995. We had recently moved into this house. This house then became the home that Mama Lu, my abuelita, and I lived in. Growing up, this multi-generational house was not very big but it held many. It was a dreaded brown and white on the facade of the house while the inside had a different color on each wall from warm mango to deep red to earth blue. I have memories of family lunches with loud conversations in Spanish, memories of my abuelita making Peruvian cau cau de pollo con arroz while the sounds of activists on KPOO radio or Latin American music weaved through the house. Memories of peace lilies and bamboo plants, cigarette stubs and photographs of Peruvian friends, indigenous artwork, and hundreds of vinyl albums that were scratched up by our old cat Lulu. In my memories, my abuelita is still in that house praying in the corner of her bright yellow room telling her God to protect our family.