Pascal Arnold und Jean-Marc Barr zeichnen ein humorvolles Prepare to sweat Topic: piss off dudes. Topic: phim my. Two softcore fan made music videos with clips from movie and TV shows. Topics: music, video, softcore, movie, TV, erotic. Anything wth a bit of the other in it.
Fun and games inuendo and lots of naked girls. This is a scratched up multi-generational dupe of the stag film entitled "Getting His Goat" Note: If you have a slow computer or connection, film is best viewed as a download.
There were numerous splices, breaks and defects in this film. Being a mulit-generational dupe, much of the shadow and highlight detail has been lost along with some portions of the film. In addition the film was mostly a mass of underexposed dark and light greys with no black or white. In any case, Les Babysitters Topic: Les Babysitters. John Favorites. John Favorites Topic: favorites. Shah Sb Favorites. Clips: Here is the theatrical trailer with the usual over-heated narration: ".
Recorded in the early 's. We never knew what the person would transform into during the shoot. Elaine came in a very straight uptight person who made us shut off the camera when she changed costumes [but she changed before Linda and me because we didn't have a dressing area on purpose]. I had to work hard! This is why I never give up on a person! Topics: Frank Moore, nonfilms, play, erotic play, eroplay, eroart.
This is simply pure uninhibited nude fun! A woman looks during lovemaking to the viewer. The devoted rapture in the face of the actor lets the viewer imagine that this is not a compulsory exercise, but a pleasurable freestyle happening. Lutz Mommartz is the purist among German filmmakers. His scenes focus on the basic Loosely based on the notorious Richard Speck murders, this is the grim tale of a disturbed Vietnam vet returning home via Belfast, who invades a house shared by eight nurses and proceeds to terrorize and murder them.
Recorded 7. Today, it is still padlocked. The sign reads: " Keep out. Trespassers will be shot. The land they toiled over had once belonged to many of them, or had been used commu nally by them.
Later the Anglos brought in huge machi nes a nd root plows a nd had the Mexicans scrape the land clean of natural vegetation. In my childhood I saw the end of dry land farming. I witnessed the land cleared; saw the huge pipes connected to underwater sources sticking up in the air. As children, we'd go fishing in some of those canals when they were full and hunt for snakes in them when they were dry. In the day growth season, the seeds of any kind of fruit or vegetable had only to be stuck in the ground in order to grow.
More big land corporations came in and bought up the remaining land. To make a living my father became a sharecropper. Rio Farms I ncorporated loaned him seed money and living expenses. Sometimes we earned less than we owed, but always the corporations fared well. Some had major holdings i n vegetable trucking, livestock auctions a n d cotton gins.
I remember the white feathers of three thousa nd Leghorn chickens blanketing the land for acres around. My sister, mother a nd I cleaned, weighed and packaged eggs. For years afterwards I couldn't stomach the sight of an egg. I remember my mother attending some of the meetings sponsored by well-meani ng whites from R io Farms. They talked about good nutrition, health, a nd held huge barbeques. How proud my mother was to have her recipe for enchiladas coloradas i n a book.
Los gringos had not stopped at the border. By the end of the nineteenth century, powerful landowners in Mexico, in partnership with U. Currently, Mexico and her eighty million citizens are almost completely dependent on the U.
One-fourth of all Mexicans work at maquiladoras; most are young women. Next to oil, maquiladoras are Mexico's second greatest source of U. Working eight to twelve hours a day to wire in backup lights of U. While the women are in the maquiladoras, the children are left on their ow n. Many roam the street, become part of cholo gangs. The infusion of the values of the white culture, coupled with the exploitation by that culture, is changing the Mexican way of life. The devaluation of the peso and Mexico's dependency on the U.
No hay trabajo. Half of the Mexican people are unemployed. By March, 1 , 1 , pesos were worth one U.
I remember when I was growing up in Texas how we'd cross the border at Reynosa or P rogreso to buy sugar or medicines when the dollar was worth eight pesos and fifty centavos. La travesia. North A mericans call this return to the homeland the silent invasion.
Smugglers, coyotes, pasadores, enganchadores approach these people or are sought out by them. This time, the traffic is from south to north. El retorn o to the promised land first began with the I ndians from the interior of Mexico a nd the mestizos that came with the conquistadores in the 1 5 00s.
Today thousands of Mexicans a re crossing the border legally and illegally; ten million people without documents have returned to the Southwest. Faceless, nameless, invisible, taunted with " Hey cucaracho" cockroach. Trembling with fear, yet filled with courage, a courage born of desperation. Barefoot a nd u neducated, Mexicans with hands like boot soles gather at night by the river where two worlds merge creating what Reagan calls a frontline, a war zone.
The convergence has created a shock culture, a border culture, a third country, a closed country. Without benefit of bridges, the " mojados" wetbacks float on inflatable rafts across el rio Grande, or wade or swim across naked, clutchi ng their clothes over their heads.
Holding onto the grass, they pull themselves along the banks with a prayer to Virgen de Guadalupe on their lips: Ay virgencita morena, mi madrecita, dame tu bendici6n. The Border Patrol h ides behind the local McDonalds on the outskirts of B rownsville, Texas or some other border town.
They set traps a round the river beds beneath the bridge. Cornered by flashlights, frisked while their arms s tretch over their heads, los mojados are handcuffed, locked in jeeps, a nd then kicked back across the border. One out of every three is caught. Some return to enact their rite of passage as many as three times a day. Some of those who make it across u ndetected fall prey to Mexican robbers such as those i n S mugglers' Canyon on the A merican s ide of the border near Tijuana. As refugees in a homeland that does not want them, many find a welcome hand holding out only suffering, pain, and ignoble death.
Those who make it past the checking points of the Border Patrol find themselves in the midst of 15 0 years of racism i n Chicano barrios in the Southwest a nd i n big northern cities.
It is illegal for Mexicans to work without green cards. But big farming combi nes, farm bosses and smugglers who bring them i n make money off the " wetbacks"' labor-they don't have to pay federal minimum wages, or ensure adequate housing or sanitary conditions. The Mexican woman is especially at risk.
Often the coyote smuggler doesn ' t feed her for days or let her go to the bathroom. Often he rapes her or sells her into prostitution.
S he cannot call on county or state health or economic resources because she doesn't know English a nd she fears deportation. She can ' t go home.
She's sold her house, her furniture, borrowed from friends i n order to pay the coyote who charges her four or five thousand dollars to smuggle her to Chicago. Or work i n the garment industry, do hotel work. Isolated and worried about her family back home, afraid of getting caught a nd deported, living with as many as fifteen people in one room, the mexicana suffers serious health problems.
N o t only does she. This is her home this thin edge of barbwire. Y como mi raza que cada en cuando deja caer esa esclavitud de obedecer, de callarse y aceptar, en mi esta la rebeldia encimita de mi carne. Debajo de mi humillada mirada esta una cara insolente lista para explotar. Me cost6 muy caro mi rebeldia-acalambrada con desvelos y dudas, sintiendome inutil, estupida, e impotente. R epele. Hable pa' 'tras. Fut muy hocicona.
Era indiferente a muchos valores de mi cultura. No me deje de los hombres. No fut buena ni obediente. Pero he crecido. Ya no sol6 paso toda mi vida botando las costumbres y los valores de mi cultura que me traicionan. Tambien recojo las costumbres que por el tiempo se han provado y las costumbres de respeto a las mujeres. But despite my growi ng tolerance, for this Chicana la guerra de independencia is a constant.
I stand between my father a nd mother, head cocked to the right, the toes of my flat feet gripping the ground. I hold my mother's hand.
I had to leave home so I could find myself, find my own intrinsic nature buried under the personality that had been imposed on me. I was the first in six generations to leave the Valley, the only one in my family to ever leave home. But I didn't leave all the parts of me: I kept the ground of my own bei ng.
O n it I walked away, taking with me the land, the Valley, Texas. Muy andariega mi hija. I had a stubborn will. It tried constantly to mobilize my soul under my own regime, to live life on my own terms no matter how unsuitable to others they were. Even as a child I would not obey. I was " lazy. Every bit of self-faith I'd painstakingly gathered took a beating daily.
Nothing in my culture approved of me. Habia agarrado malos pasos. Something was " w rong" with me. Estaba mas alla de la tradici6n. There is a rebel in me-the Shadow-Beast. It is a part of me that refuses to take orders from outside authorities.
It refuses to take orders from my conscious will, it threatens the sovereignty of my rulership. It is that part of me that hates constraints of any kind, even those self-imposed. At the least hint of limitations on my time or space by others, it kicks out with both feet. Cultural Tyranny Culture forms our beliefs. We perceive the version of reality that it communicates.
Dominant paradigms, predefined concepts that exist as unquestionable, unchallengeable, are transmitted to us through the culture. Culture is made by those in power-men. Males make the rules and laws ; women transmit them. The culture a nd the Church insist that women are subservient to males. If a woman rebels she is a mujer mala. I f a woman doesn't renounce herself i n favor of the male, she is selfish. If a woman remains a virgen until she marries, she is a good woman.
For a woman of my culture there used to be only three directions she could turn: to the Church as a nun, to the s treets as a prostitute, or to the home as a mother. Today some of us have a fourth choice: entering the world by way of education a nd career a nd becoming self-autonomous persons. A very few of us. As a working class people our chief activity is to put food i n our mouths , a roof over our heads a nd clothes on our backs.
Educating our children is out of reach for most of us. Women are made to feel total failures if they don't marry and have children. Se te va a pasar el tren. St, soy hija de la Chingada. I ' ve always been her daughter.
No 'tes chingando. Humans fear the supernatural, both the u ndivine the animal impulses such as sexuality , the u nconscious, the unknown, the alien and the divine the superhuman, the god i n us. Culture a nd religion seek t o protect us from these two forces. The female, by virtue of creating entities of flesh a nd blood i n her sto mach she bleeds every month but does not die , by virtue of being in tune with nature's cycles, is feared.
Because, accordi ng to Christianity and most other major religions, woman is carnal, animal, a nd closer to the u ndivine, s he must be protected. Woman is the s tranger, the other. S he is man's recogn ized nightmarish pieces, his S hadow-Beast.
The s ight of her sends him into a frenzy of a nger and fear. La gorra, el rebozo, la mantilla are symbols of my culture's "protection" of women. Culture read males professes to protect women.
Actual ly it keeps women in rigidly defined roles. It keeps the girlchild from other men-don't poach on my preserves, only I can touch my child's body. Our mothers taught us well, "Los hombres n o mas quieren una cosa"; men aren't to be trusted, they are selfish a nd are like children. We were never alone with men, not even those of our own family.
Through our mothers, the culture gave us mixed messages: No voy a dejar que ningun pelado desgraciado maltrate a mis hijos. And in the next breath it would say, La mujer tiene que hacer lo que le diga el hombre. Which was it to be-strong, or submissive, rebellious or conforming?
Much of what the culture condemns focuses on kinship relationships. The welfare of the family, the community, a nd the tribe is more important than the welfare of the individual. The individual exists first as kin-as sister, as father, as padrino-and last as self. In my culture, selfishness is condemned, especially i n women; humility and selflessness, the absence o f selfishness, i s considered a virtue. I n the past, acting humble with members outside the family ensured that you would make no one envidioso envious ; therefore he or she would not use witchcraft against you.
If you get above yourself, you're a n envidiosa. If you don't behave like everyone else, la gente will say that you think you're better than others, que te crees grande. Respeto carries with it a set of rules so that social categories a nd hierarchies will be kept in order: respect is reserved for la abuela, papa, el patron, those with power in the community.
Women are at the bottom of the ladder one rung above the deviants. The Chicano, mexicano, a nd some I ndian cultures have no tolerance for deviance. Deviance is whatever is condemned by the community. Most societies try to get rid of their deviants. Most cultures have burned a nd beaten their homosexuals and others who deviate from the sexual common. La gente def pueblo talked about her bei ng una de las otras, "of the Others.
They called her half a nd half, mita ' y mita ', neither o ne nor the other but a strange doubling, a deviation of nature that horrified, a work of nature i nverted. There is somethi ng compelli ng about being both male and female, about having an entry i nto both worlds. What we are suffering from is a n absolute despot duality that says we are able to be only one or the other.
It claims that human nature is limited and can not evolve i nto something better. But I, l ike other queer people, am two in one body, both male a nd female. Fear of Going Home: Homophobia For the lesbian of color, the ultimate rebellion she can make against her native culture is through her sexual behavior.
Being lesbian a nd raised Catholic, indoctrinated as straight, I made the choice to be queer for some it is genetically i nherent. It's an interesting path, one that continually slips i n a nd out of the white, the Catholic, the Mexican, the indigenous, the instincts.
I t makes for loqueria, the crazies. It is a path of k nowledge-one of knowing and of learning the history of oppress ion of our raza. It is a way of balanci ng, of mitigating duality. The two lesbian students and we two lesbian instructors met with them to discuss their fears. One of the students said, "I thought homophobia meant fear of going home after a residency. Fear of going home. And of not bei ng taken in.
We' re afraid of being abandoned by the mother, the culture, la Raza, for being u nacceptable, faulty, damaged. To avoid rejection, some of us conform to the values of the culture, push the unacceptable parts into the shadows.
Which leaves only one fear-that we will be found out and that the Shadow-Beast will break out of its cage. Some of us take another route. We try to make ourselves conscious of the Shadow-Beast, stare at the sexual lust and lust for power and destruction we see on its face, discern among its features the undershadow that the reigning order of heterosexual males project on our Beast.
Yet still others of us take it another step: we try to waken the Shadow-Beast inside us. Intimate Terrorism: Life in the Borderlands The world is not a safe place to live in. We shiver i n separate cells in enclosed cities, shoulders hunched, barely keeping the panic below the surface of the skin, daily drinking shock along with our morning coffee, fearing the torches bei ng set to our buildi ngs, the attacks in the streets.
Shutting down. Woman does not feel safe when her own culture, and white culture, are critical of her; when the males of all races hunt her as prey. A lienated from her mother culture, " alien" in the dominant culture, the woman of color does not feel safe within the inner life of her Self.
Petrified, she can't respond, her face caught between las intersticios, the spaces between the different worlds she inhabits. B locked, immobilized, we can' t move forward, can' t move backwards.
That writhing serpent movement, the very movement of life, swifter than lightning, frozen. We do not engage fully. We do not make full use of our facul ties. We abnegate. My Chicana ide ntity is grounded in the I ndian woman's history of resistance. Like la Llorona, the I ndian woman's o nly means of protest was wailing. So mama, Raza, how wonderful, no tener que rendir cuentas a nadie.
I feel perfectly free to rebel a nd to rail against my culture. I fea r no betrayal on my part because, unlike Chicanas and other women of color who grew up whi te or who have only recently returned to their native cultural roots, I was totally i mmersed i n m i ne. I t wasn' t until I went t o h igh school that I " saw" whites. U ntil I worked o n my master's degree I had not gotten withi n an arm's distance of them.
I was totally i m mersed en lo mexicano, a rural, peasant, isolated, mexicanismo. Yet in leaving home I did not lose touch with my origins because lo mexicano i s i n my system. I a m a turtle, wherever I go I carry " home" on my back. Not me sold out my people but they me.
So yes, though " home" permeates every sinew and cartilage in my body, I too a m afraid o f going home. Though I ' l l defend m y race a nd culture w he n they a re a ttacked by non-mexicanos, conosco el malestar de mi cultura. I abhor some of my culture's ways, how i t cripples its women, com o burras, our s trengths used against us, lowly burras bearing humility with dignity.
The abili ty to serve, claim the males, is our highest virtue. I abhor how my culture makes macho caricatures of its men. I can understand why the more tinged with A nglo blood, the more adamantly my colored and colorless sisters glorify their colored culture's values-to offset the extreme devaluation of it by the white culture. It's a legitimate reaction. But I will not glorify those aspects of my culture which have injured me and which have inj u red me in the name of protecting me.
So, don' t give me your tenets a nd your laws. Don' t give me your lukewarm gods. What I want is an accounting with all three cultures-white, Mexican, I ndian. I want the freedom to carve a nd chisel my own face, to stal,lnch the bleeding with ashes, to fashion my own gods out of my entrails.
And if going home is denied me then I will have to stand a nd claim my space, making a new culture-una cultura mestiza-with my own lumber, my own bricks and mortar and my own feminist architecture. Nos condenamos a nosotros mismos. Esta raza vencida, enemigo cuerpo. Malinali Tenepat, or Malintzin, has become known as la Chingada-the fucked one. She has become the bad word that passes a dozen times a day from the lips of Chicanos.
Whore, prostitute, the woman who sold out her people to the Spaniards are epithets Chicanos spit out with contempt. The worst kind of betrayal lies in making us believe that the I ndian woman in us is the betrayer.
We, indias y mestizas, police the I ndian in us, brutalize and condemn her. Male culture has done a good job on us. Son los costumbres que traicionan. La india en mi es la sombra: La Chingada, Tlazolteotl, Coatlicue.
Son ellas que oyemos lamentando a sus hijas perdidas. Because of the color of my skin they betrayed me. For 3 00 years s he was invisible, she was not heard. Many times she wished to speak, to act, to protest, to challe nge. The odds were heavily against her. She remained faceless a nd voiceless, but a light shone through her veil of silence. A nd though she was unable to spread her l imbs a nd though for her right now the sun has sunk u nder the earth a nd there is no moon, she continues to tend the flame.
The spirit of the fire spurs her to fight for her own skin a nd a piece of ground to sta nd on, a ground from which to view the world-a perspective, a homeground where she can plumb the rich a ncestral roots into her own ample mestiza heart. She waits till the waters are not so turbulent a nd the mountains not so slippery with s leet. Battered a nd bruised she waits, her bruises throwing her back upon herself a nd the rhythmic pulse of the feminine.
Coatlalopeuh waits with her. A qui en la soledad prospera su rebeldia. En la soledad Ella prospera. Largas, transparentes, en sus barrigas llevan Lo que puedan arebatarle al amor. Oh, oh, oh, la mat6 y aparese una mayor.
Oh, con mucho mas infierno en digestion. I dream of serpents, serpents of the sea, A certain sea, oh, of serpents I dream. Long, transparent, i n their bel l ies they carry All that they can snatch away from love. Oh, oh, oh, I kill one and a larger one appears.
Oh, with more hellfire burning i nside! No vayas al escusado en lo oscuro. Don't go to the outhouse at night, P rieta, my mother would say. No se te vaya a meter algo por alla. A s nake will crawl into your nalgas,2 make you pregnant.
They seek warmth in the cold. Dicen que las culebras like to suck chiches, 3 can draw milk out of you. En el escusado in the half-light spiders hang like gliders. Under my bare buttocks and the rough planks the deep yawning tugs at me. I can see my legs fly up to my face as my body falls through the round hole i nto the sheen of swarming maggots below.
Avoiding the s nakes under the porch I walk back into the kitchen, step on a big black one slithering across the floor. All around us the woods. Quelite 5 towered above me, choking the stubby cotton that had outlived the deer's teeth.
I swung el azad6n 6 hard. When I heard the rattle the world froze. I barely felt its fangs. Boot got all the veneno. I stood still, the sun beat down. Afterwards I smelled where fear had been : back of neck, under arms, between my legs; I fel t its heat slide down my body. I swallowed the rock it had hardened i nto. When Mama had gone down the row a nd was out of sight, I took out my pocketknife.
I made an X over each prick. My body followed the blood, fell onto the soft ground. I put my mouth over the red and sucked and spit between the rows of cotton. I picked up the pieces, placed them end on end. Culebra de cascabel. It would shed no more. I buried the pieces between the rows of cotton. I n the morning I saw through s nake eyes, felt s nake blood course through my body. The serpent, mi tono , my animal counterpart. I was immune to its venom.
Forever immune. Snakes, viboras : since that day I've sought and shunned them. Always when they cross my path, fear and elation flood my body. I know things older than Freud, older than gender. Like the a ncient Olmecs, I know Earth is a coiled Serpent. Forty years it's taken me to enter into the Serpent, to acknowledge that I have a body, that I am a body and to assimilate the animal body, the animal soul. Siempre tenia las velas prendidas. A lli hacia pro mesas a la Virgen de Guadalupe. My family, like most Chicanos, did not practice Romah Catholicism but a folk Catholicism with many pagan elements.
La Virgen de Guadalupe's I ndian name is Coatlalopeuh. She is the central deity connecting us to our I ndian ancestry. Coatlalopeuh is descended from, or is an aspect of, earlier Mesoamerican fertility and Earth goddesses.
As creator goddess, she was mother of the celestial deities, and of Huitzilopochtli a nd his sister, Coyolxauhqui, She With Golden Bells, Goddess of the Moon, who was decapitated by her brother. Another aspect of Coatlicue is Tonantsi. They divided her who had been complete, who possessed both upper ligh t and u nderworld dark aspects. The Nahuas, through ritual a nd prayer, sought to oblige Tonantsi to ensure their hea l th a nd the growth of their crops.
It was she who gave Mexico the cactus plant to provide her people with milk a nd pulque. I t was she who defended her childre n against the wrath of the Christian God by challenging God, her son, to produce mother's milk as she had done to prove that his benevolence equalled his disciplinary harshness. They went even further; they made all Indian deities and religious practices the work of the devil. Thus Tonantsi became Guadalupe , the chaste protective mother, the defender of the Mexican people.
El nueve de diciembre de! A lz6 al cabeza via que en la cima de! Parada en frente de! Nuestra Senora Maria de Coatlalopeuh se le apareci6.
Dile a tu gente que yo soy la madre de Dias, a las indios yo! Juan Diego volvi6, llefio su tilma 1 2 con rosas de castilla creciendo milagrosamiente en la nieve. Se las llev6 al obispo, y cuando abrio su tilma el retrato de la Virgen ahi estaba pintado. Guadalupe appeared on December 9, 1 5 3 1 , on the spot where the Aztec goddess, Tonantsi " Our Lady Mother" , had been worshipped by the Nahuas a nd where a temple to her had stood.
Lopeuh means " the one who has dominion over serpents. Soon after, Mexico ceased to belong to Spain, and la Virgen de Guadalupe began to eclipse all the other male and female religious figures in Mexico, Central America a nd parts of the U. The role of defender or patro n has traditionally been assigned to male gods. During the Mexican Revolution, Emiliano Zapata and Miguel H idalgo used her i mage to move el pueblo mexicano toward freedom.
Pachucos zoot suiters tattoo her i mage on their bodies. In Texas she is considered the patron saint of Chicanos. Cuando Carita, mi h ermanit o , was missing in action and, later, wou nded in Viet Nam, mi mama got on her kneesy le prometio a Ella que si su h ijito volvia vivo she would crawl on her knees and light novenas in her honor.
She, like my race, is a synthesis of the old world and the new, of the religion and culture of the two races in our psyche, the conquerors and the conquered. She is the symbol of the mestizo true to his or her I ndian values. IA cultura chicana identifies with the mother I ndian rather than with the father Spanish. Our faith is rooted in i ndigenous attributes, images, symbols, magic and myth.
As a symbol of hope a nd faith, she sustains a nd insures our survival. To Mexicans on both sides of the border, Guadalupe is the symbol of our rebellion against the rich, upper and middleclas s ; against their subjugation of the poor and the indio.
She mediates between humans and the divine, between this reality and the reality of spirit entities. IA Virgen de Guadalupe is the symbol of ethnic identity and of the tolerance for ambiguity that Chicanos-mexicanos , people of mixed race, people who have I ndian blood, people who cross cultures, by necessity possess.
IA gente Chicana tiene tres madres. Yet we have not all embraced this dichotomy. In the U. Southwest, Mexico, Central and South A merica the indio and the mestizo continue to worship the old spirit entities i ncluding Guadalupe a nd their supernatural power, under the guise of Christian saints. Ustedes que persis ten mudas en sus cuevas.
Ustedes Senoras que ah ora, coma yo, estan en desgracia. Before the change to male dominance, Coatlicue , Lady of the Serpent Skirt, contained and bala nced the duali ties of male and female, light and dark, life and death. The cha nges that led to the loss of the balanced oppositions began when the Azteca, one of the twenty Toltec tribes, made the last pilgrimage from a place called Aztlan. The migration south began about the year A.
Three hundred years later the adva nce guard arrived near Tula, the capital of the declining Toltec empire. By the 1 1 th century, they had joined with the Chichimec tribe of Mexitin afterwards called Mexica into one religious and administrative organization within Aztlan, the Aztec territory. The Mexitin, with their tribal god Tetzauhteotl Huitzilopochtli Magnificent Humming Bird on the Left , gai ned control of the religious system. Huitzilopochtli assigned the Azteca-Mexica the task of keeping the human race the present cosmic age called the Fifth Sun, El Quinto Sol alive.
The Aztec people considered themselves in charge of regulating all earthly matters. After 1 00 years in the central plateau, the Azteca-Mexica went to Chapultepec, where they settled in 1 the present site of the park on the outskirts of Mexico City.
There, in 1 34 5 , the Aztec-Mexica chose the site of their capital, Tenochtitlan. From 1 , the Aztecs emerged as a militaristic state that preyed on neighboring tribes for tribute and captives.
For if one "fed" the gods, the human race would be saved from total extinction. Women possessed property, and were curers as well as priestesses. Accordi ng to the codices, women in former times had the supreme power in Tula, and in the beginning of the Aztec dynasty, the royal blood ran through the female line. A council of elders of the Calpul headed by a supreme leader, or tlactlo , called the father and mother of the people, governed the tribe. The supreme leader's vice-emperor occupied the position of "Snake Woman" or Cihuacoatl, a goddess.
The final break with the democratic Calpul came when the four Aztec lords of royal lineage picked the king' s successor from h i s siblings or male descendants.
These collective wailing rites may have been a sign of resistance i n a society which glorified the warrior a nd war a nd for whom the women of the conquered tribes were booty. The nobility kept the tribute, the commoner got nothing, resulting in a class split.
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