HISTORY
8.9.19
imagine
propelling halfway across the earth
away from friends, family, language, culture
in pursuit of the unknown
thrilling?
you have a thousand pre-defined impressions based on your fishbowl
yes im sure economy coach – backpacking across Europe’s beer sipping cobble stone archways are more than welcoming to a foreigner who looks just like you, green eyes looking at green eyes, pale sheen of the all too perfect jawlines dimply smiling at their roundtrip ticket comfort.
and you call this culture
news flash honey – your international adventure is no different than a Sedona Jeep tour top down, shaded by sun hats, swimming in the holy vortex waters stained with sunblock and mosquito repellent, you disgust me.
“you don’t look hipsanic”
sweetheart – the line you’ve drawn to define your perception of race
is the narrow minded privilege in which you shelter yourself – daily
im as much hispanic as you are European
Yo Soy Latina
Caribe, Bogota, Cundinamarca
do you not know how insulting that is?
you are the reason grandparents buried their children s accents
burning one language without fully speaking another
imagine the fear of being judged
being greater than the fear of not having a tongue
Spanish was given to our people at the end of a hispanic sword
each rolled R is a red wet finger pointing me back to this
Spanish, is not my native language
english, is not my native language
the languages i speak are bursting with blood, but they are all i have
i own only my hot mouths pending against an assimilation clock
and colonial legacy
and what is “hispanic” to you, anyway?
i could guess what you mean
and assume that it’s the low priced gardening tool like the one buried in the shed behind your Victorian summer home
or that invisible harvesting instrument that picks all of your grapes for you
and has to survive on slave wage plantations without unions or bathroom breaks
or maybe when you say “hispanic” you mean your standing parent
that person who raises your kids for you when you’re tired of being a mom
that mouthless set of hands and knees that scrubs the crap from your toilets
or maybe i haven’t had the need yet
but i haven’t come across a hispanic
I have met Latinos and Latinas
proud of the vibrant quilt we weave across the endless cemetery that cradles our past
a swollen dust underneath our souls
wherever we stand that we nickname “home” twisting roots at war looking for nothing else but to be held
you know, like a family grasping onto each other
because they left behind everything
and only have their memories and each other left
arriving on mars without a guide book or a map
i guess this is what you’re scared off
The fear that you will one day wake up and no longer recognize the great big isles you so proudly call home
before borders were nailed onto the hands and feet of earth my Agua de Panela and your British Tea may have shared a cup of Ethiopian Coffee
its just the immigrant you fear
coming from over there to over here
you’re more cautious chewing when the flavor is new
remember, immigrants don’t have space for caution
imagine no room for caution