Stuck in between Spanish and English is a bilingual nightmare constantly switching between languages gives me a lifelong jaqueca and at times I don’t get it right it’s switching between two identities Latina or American it gets hard and confusing at times but it’s who I am Hablo con mamá en Español I speak to my sons in English Hablo con los pacientes en Español I speak to my coworkers in English and to code switch parece una comedia I’m told that I’m fun and loud en Español pero soy profesional y reservada in English eventually I learn to meld my American and Latina personalities and I find my most authentic bilingual and bicultural identity
At 40, I feel like the ultimate Queen after losing layers and layers of my princess skin The broken princess I had to beat to finally feel enough and complete Friends and men full of duplicity Have no place in my world of authenticity I no longer wear my crown of guilt and shame It caused me too much emotional pain Instead I wear a crown of confidence and power being true to myself is my superpower Fuck anyone who thinks I’m too much or not enough You assholes were never deserving of my love I am the ultimate Queen and I’m finally making myself seen
Cometiste un gran error que me rompió en mil pedazos antes estaba llena de ternura ahora busco venganza mis palabras se convertirán en espadas aguda de furia Gritando como tus mentiras jodieron mi mente y mi vida Me dices que debería olvidarlo todo Cariño, debes acostumbrarte tu y esa rompieron mi cordura ahora deben enfrentar las consecuencias Estuviste mal en traicionar a una chingona bilingüe Te matare en español y en inglés
I wrote this in 2008 in my creative writing class. I actually hated that class because I didn’t fit in. It’s a long story for a blog post at a later time.
I don’t want to be a style ,a genre a multicultural read with scattered Spanish in my text that is interpreted as Chica or Latina lit -NO!- I refuse to be a mere category Or a trend or a fad When there is a much bigger message Than the stereotypes people want to imply
I wrote this in January of 2018 when me and my starter husband had opened up our relationship. The person “B” who inspired this poem was the first guy I was with after this transition. It’d be the first of unstable whateverships/relationships from that year that would restart this unhealthy pattern. This poem is also a perfect example of my black and white thinking. I idealized my husband and devalued the other person. I also felt guilt and shame sleeping with someone else who wasn’t my husband even though we were in an open relationship.
I’m disappointed once again -being here with you You represent everything I thought I wanted But- You don’t compare to him You make my body sing with kisses but don’t sweep up the mess that I am You give me pleasure but can’t handle my pain You are there to fuck me but never to rescue me SO I choose him Who chooses to be there for me When I chase for death in a bathtub or a bottle Because while sex and lust feels good When it’s happening It doesn’t compare to the love and support he’s provided in keeping me alive So I say goodbye to a life Full of lust filled fantasies and accept the one and only who truly cares for me
Fue el destino cruel hacerte cruzar la línea Entre amor y odio Fuistes una desperdicia de tiempo Nunca sabras lo bueno que pudimos ser tu amor era solo una pantalla de humo Hasta pensaba que teníamos Para siempre Quería creer que tu eras un amor verdadero pero tu eras otro “lo que sea” Y yo fui otra falda No hay nada más que decir es tiempo de olvidar todo lo que fuimos o pudimos ser
Lo siento por ti piensas que has ganado pero serás otra mujer usada crees que te ama pero es una de sus mentiras piensas que el es tu príncipe azul pero tu dignidad parara en el suelo tienes un canalla y mentiroso a tu lado que te dejará con un mal sabor en tu boca no digo esto porque te tengo envidia es una advertencia para que no acabes como mi otra de sus muchas mujeres que el trate como una muñeca de trapo
I wrote this in 2007 when I transferred to a 4 year University. It was a rough experience.
I feel small in this enormous and elitist world it doesn’t seem like I will ever fit It only seems like a perfect fit for my younger, blonder, whiter, and younger counterparts Older, hispanic, and poor is not acceptable here. Should I even try ? When I’m destined for failure on this institution’s steps Failure on the steps is what I feel here- a place where my browner, poorer self feels like an outcast, an undesirable- by the eyes of prejudice
I wrote this poem in December of 2016 after my almost love affair with death on December 5th. It’s strange how aside from my journal entries from that month, I hardly remember that month. I just remember feeling so broken inside and like a failure after that happened that it was so hard to get up every morning. I do know that writing saved me during that time because I started journaling way more consistently. I would learn years later after being diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder that up to 10 percent of people with BPD die by suicide. Five years later, I’m glad that I had people by my side that prevented me from becoming one in ten. I’m glad that afterwards, I was able to slowly come back from thiseven if I was mostly depressed the year after and it was a fight to get up every single day.
For more information about the high risk of BPD and Suicide, here is a link from Psychology Today with info about it: