I actually started writing this poem sometime in 2017 and finished it in January 2020. A big part of my identity is being an immigrant. This poem was inspired by the hardships and struggles I’ve seen my parents and other immigrants go through. This poem was also inspired by the Trump administration and the xenophobia that was felt in my life during that time.
immigration leads to discrimination of immigrants into this so called united nation the ones with brown skin and dark eyes justice to them is greatly denied xenophobia is the driving sensation
their bosses sing a song called exploitation and they hum along to it to live in this democratic nation they leave their language and culture behind to endure the american lie but don’t quite fit into the gringo equation
Is their sacrifice worth so much separation from their families, their language, and their nation? Ah-America – the land of the free yet none of them are truly free living in a soulless and consumerist society
“back when I was living for the hope of it all”-Taylor Swift
I’m a poet, I’m a writer but when it comes to expressing the romantic in me I have the hardest time I’m great at expressing my anger, my disappointment, my shame but when it comes to love, I shy away and put my guard up it’s a mix of trauma and cognitive distortions I’ve held within me since the age of 16 self limiting beliefs that no man has ever loved or respected me and failing at all of my love stories no matter how hard I tried to succeed, no matter how much I accommodated or changed for my partner, he leaves me and I’m left flabbergasted, devastated, traumatized so embedded and attached to my past tragedies I’m apprehensive and hesitant when it comes to trying on someone new. when to comes to pursuing anything more than friendship it leaves me in the land of “I don’t know how to fucking do this again without it breaking me” and so I sit still, waiting for my crush to say something, do something to restart my heart once again
I’m a lone brunette wolf in a world full of blonde sheep my exes always preferred blondes over me I never knew exactly why perhaps blondes really do have more fun perhaps blondes are easier to manipulate this used to bother me greatly, even robbed me of my sanity and sleep but eventually I had a great epiphany the one meant for me will not just love how sweet I can be He’ll also love and encourage the savage in me he’ll know how to ride the turbulent waves of my mood swings I’m not sure if I’ll meet him soon or if he even exists but after this grand epiphany I no longer care about my exes and their blonde sheep In fact, I wish them all the best fairytale ending
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
the prettiest stocker/receptionist on the Eastside of Athens
I exist between stocking and typing I exist between boxes and documents I exist between hip pain and carpal tunnel I exist between grocery clerk and receptionist
ask me how many fucks I had to give about UGA football…lol
we won the national championship and everyone is so happy and I feel nothing I graduated from UGA but never felt included so while I’ve pretended to care, I’ve always felt like an outcast in a town who cares more about football and idiotic art and bike lanes for woke and privilege white people than for their poor and marginalized communities
It’s been 4 years since I took an oath to become an American citizen. I took an oath specifically to Trump which makes me nauseous typing BUT I also took an oath because of Trump. Before making the decision to become an American citizen, I had never really cared about politics but that was until Trump got elected. If you were a POC or immigrant or both, you felt the shift in the racial tension in the U.S right before the election but especially after the election. Racists overtly made their ignorant beliefs known that immigrants were not welcomed in this country. DACA was in the process of being repealed. DACAmented kids who should have been protected were being deported and there was a rise in deportation for undocumented immigrants as well or well the media made it seem like that. I felt that as an immigrant with LPR (legal permanent resident) status, I could possibly be next. In February of 2016, I sent my paperwork to USCIS to solidify my relationship with America. One could say that for better or worse, I finally decided to make a commitment to this country. Here is my blog post about the process:
What has changed in the past 4 years since becoming an American and what does being American mean to me now?
Well, I’ve voted in 2 elections since I’ve become an American including the national election in 2020 (yay, no more Trump). In October of this year, I applied for my passport and have received it. Now, I can take a trip out of the country without any worries or concerns. While it is an immense privilege to be an American citizen since I now have a whole new world of opportunities opened up and I can travel anywhere; I feel that I haven’t really changed on the inside. I still see myself and identify as an immigrant but now I also call myself an American. But to be honest, my idea of being an American has changed. I used to think I needed a piece of paper to say “Oh, I’m American” but for better or worse, America is and has been ingrained in me since that hot September day in 1986 when I set my foot on American soil at the age of 5.
I was an American when every morning at school I would say the Pledge of Allegiance in my broken and terrible English at the age of 6 and 7.
me in 1987
I was an American when I went back to Peru at age 9 to get my resident alien status solidified with my family.
me at age 9 in Peru during my trip with my family to get our LPR status
I was an American when I met my childhood best friends in Hawaii at age 11.
me with one of my childhood best friends from Hawaii
I was an American when I had my babies at ages 17, 24, and 30.
me with my three kids right after their births
I was American when I started working for the government at the age of 18.
me at the age of 18 in 1999 working for the government
I was an American when I got my college degree in 2009 from the University of Georgia .
me in 2009 with my parents at my graduation from college
I was an American in 2016 and early 2017 when I attended protests and marches for immigrant and women’s rights.
me in January of 2017 at the Women’s March in Washington D.C
And I was an American when people told me, “my english is good for being a Mexican” or I’ve been discriminated against or oppressed in this country by the people that don’t want “my kind” here.
I used to believe that I didn’t belong here because of the racism, prejudice, and ignorance I’ve encountered but that’s no longer the case. This year, I finally let go of those beliefs because I’ve embraced that I am America and America is me. My life may have been harder in many aspects because I wasn’t the average “American born” citizen but I will tell you that I wouldn’t trade my experience as an American to be average. I I feel that working harder than the “average American” for my success has made me appreciate my success so much more and for that I am thankful. My parents had no idea of the many hardships they would endure making the decision to immigrate to this country but I am glad they made that journey. It’s taken me 35 years to get here but today I can honestly say that I’m proud to be an American.
me in November of 2021 telling my crazy story about being an essential worker
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
I’ve taken off my mask and stop repressing my true self- And while it’s terrifying at times, I show the world my authenticity and vulnerability I share the parts of my story that are terrible, happy, sad, lovely, crazy, beautiful, and tragic so others don’t feel alone and find solidarity in my chaotic and bicultural story of love, rage, defeat, hate, and resilience And bring to light my rich and vivid experience of the duality of being a rooted and rootless, Peruvian and American, a hateful and kind woman living her life fearlessly and shamelessly
my final step in returning to myself was returning to my homeland once I finally found my stable sense of identity I had desperately searched for since I could remember- I felt like Alice in Wonderland my eyes wide open, my mouth opened in awe- taking in the glorious sights and sounds of my birthplace the 32 years away from it didn’t matter the ocean, the mountains, the city welcomed me back Reminding me it had always been there for me to come back to and the powerful and profound emotions I felt in standing on the ground that saw my birth and early childhood made me understand there really is no place like home
another illegal dies under suspicious circumstances and no one cares or mourns him, some even comment on how he should have stayed in his country- and it’s hard to understand the inhumanity, the hateful rhetoric Is his life worth less because of his ethnicity and immigration status?
my aunt treated us like we were inferior and subhuman constantly pointing out our flaws with subtle sarcasm putting pressure on my mom to choose her over us insulting my father or sister what about us made her project her insecurities Was it my dad’s intelligence or my sister’s beauty? or maybe she really hated my mom for having everything she didn’t have a loving and doting husband and all healthy children What made us a target for my aunt’s abuse?
the facade of equality is cloaked in good intentions and lovely words- and while laws have been passed to prevent discrimination and to try to level the game of success, it’s all a sham, it’s all a con we still live in a world where the color of your skin and social status and gender determine your prosperity
Life on the BPD 