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“Mom, you have to read this book!”
Usually, I’m the one pushing my favorite young reader books onto my 10-year-old daughter, Cleo. But on this day, she shoved Anna Lapera’s debut novel, “Mani Semilla Finds Her Quetzal Voice,” into my face. Every few hours, she asked, “Have you started? Have you gotten to this part yet? Have you finished?”
So, I stopped what I was doing and started to read about Mani.
Hijole! 1Geez!
Mani Semilla is a seventh grader straddling the cusp between girlhood and womanhood. She wants to leave her child self behind, get her period, and win the Speak Up contest, an end-of-year project that challenges students to create a campaign for an issue they find important. Mani and her friends are sure they have the best idea, and they will win the trip to New York City for the summer.
There’s just one problem. Mani’s mother, a Guatemalan immigrant, is set on protecting her from the male gaze and has planned a mysterious trip to Guatemala on the day of the contest, which also happens to be Mani’s 13th birthday. To make matters worse, Mr. Dupont, the principal at Mani’s school, punishes and blames girls for the bad behavior of boys and fosters a culture of female shame.
Anna’s book took me back to the early 1980s when I was enamored with everything Judy Blume: “Blubber,” “Deenie,” “Forever…” and “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.” Like millions of young girls, I felt like Judy Blume was the one adult who would tell me the truth about my body, boys and sex. My immigrant Mexican mother’s “talk” after I got my period consisted of telling me I had to be careful because “los hombres solo quieren una cosa 2boys only want one thing.”Also, like Genesis, one of Mani’s BFFs, I was taught that a tampon would take your virginity and only muchachas flojas 3loose girls used them.
Querida 4beloved Genesis, I see you, hermana 5sister.
“Mani Semilla Finds Her Quetzal Voice” is a book for feminists, young and old, of all genders. But don’t take it from me; take it from a fifth-grade reader, Cleo.
It inspired me a lot, because it’s a story about a shy girl who turns into one of the most powerful girls in school.
I would describe it as a book for girls who might feel embarrassed about periods and how their bodies change, and how to never feel embarrassed about it. Also, I would say that boys should read it so that they will learn to respect a girl’s body.
When the boys assaulted A’niya, it made me feel uncomfortable and grossed out. The way the principal acted wasn’t fair. A’niya was so strong, and her confidence was just gone. She became invisible.
Well, it felt really exciting, because it’s my favorite book! She wrote my favorite book, and I felt honored. Anna was kind, funny and she posted on Instagram about me!
The Quetzal is rare, and you never hear them sing a lot anymore. I think it symbolizes bravery, finding the voice that is stuck inside of you, the words that are hard to say out loud.
My class is going on a field trip to the Kennedy Center, and I don’t want to go because I don’t support Trump. I don’t support him because lowering taxes will hurt the poor. He’s giving all the power to the billionaires. He’s deporting immigrants, even the ones who just came here to stay safe. I feel bad that some of my friends are still going on the field trip because it’s like giving him power. It will make me feel a little like the odd one out because I’m not going and so many others are, but I’ll never feel guilty about it because I am the one standing up for what I believe in.
Cleo, thank you. You’re like Mani when she finds her Quetzal voice!
This story has been updated to correct that Mani’s mother is a Guatemalan immigrant.
— Story by Lorena Ortiz
— Copy edited by Samantha Gonzalez and Kami Waller
Lorena Ortiz is a Mexican American fiction writer born in California. Her work has been published in PenDust Radio, The Acentos Review, Latino Book Review and Konch Magazine. She has been supported by VONA, Tin House, Macondo and Kenyon, and she is a 2025 Periplus Fellow. Lorena currently lives in Washington, D.C., and shares a home with her husband, her mother, her 10-year-old daughter, an adored black cat and a few young adult children who come and go as they please.
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