Stranger

Extranjera

Speaking words that aren’t
mine
from a place I can’t call
home.

Sometimes
I ask myself,
me pregunto,
if I´m a walking,
talking
symbol
of oppression,

Of a mother´s wish
to throw off her culture
to be like everyone else,
to reject those that scorned her,
to make life easier.

Extranjera

Sounds and smells
so familiar,
yet,
not entirely my own,

A passing memory
or a childhood dream,

Hard to cling to
and muddied by time.

Extranjera

A diluted phenotype
begs questions:
Where are you from?
Why don´t you speak Spanish?
Calls for isolation:
Los primos blancos
The Mexican cousins

Extranjera

Like an uprooted tree
replanted
in unnurturing ground,
looking for nutrients
searching for
a fixed identity

¿De donde soy?

 

For me, this poem sums up my experience as a Mexican American student in my first days on this journey. In sharing this, I hope to highlight how intersecting identities– sometimes even identities in conflict with one another–can surface. Thanks for reading 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *