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
I want to find my way to forgiveness instead I’m covered in hate I want to find my way to kindness instead of being stuck in this cage of anger and rage I want true radical acceptance instead of being a victim to my black and white thinking I want to be full of Zen Instead of being full of insecurity I want a stable sense of identity instead of this constant confusion about who I am I want to write about happiness and joy instead of filling up my pages with petty pouts
I had fallen in love with brown and hazel eyes Before the disaster with blue eyes walked into my life Those blue eyes would make me believe in love again Those blue eyes would be the first to make me want to die of shame and guilt and cause more trauma than he ever intended Then again, I was only twenty and there were a dozen years between us he should have known better than to fuck with a girl who was barely a woman but carnal desire ruled both him and I And we were tricked thinking it was love but we were completely wrong and he got to walk away without any consequences While I was slut shamed and had to endure the trauma
In anticipation of the night I was excited to see you But then we met And the look you gave me said it all without saying anything at all I had warned you I had changed But you refused to believe it and held onto an idealistic image of me in your head Worthless small talk ensued Even though there was nothing left to say Your body language screamed: “Get the fuck away from me” But a small trickle of hope cemented my feet to the ground next to you And then a sorry excuse trickled from your lips And you left me stranded that night
I want to hold on to what’s real and not be stuck in a daydream I want to live in my present And not stuck in my past I want to be over you and not be triggered by the memory of you
So I wrote this essay a couple of years ago as I was reflecting about the end of my marriage:
As my eight year marriage comes to its inevitable end, I’ve been rewatching the series Mad Men. When I first watched the series, I admired Joan and Peggy for being strong female characters in the show but I always thought there was something about Betty Draper that I could relate to. It’s strange to think about considering she’s a white upper class sixties housewife in New York and I’m a working class millennial immigrant Latina woman in Georgia. It’s hard to grasp that there would be any similarities between but there are many indeed.
Betty and Don at Fancy Event
(Me and Hubs at my brother’s wedding reception)
Betty feels trapped in her suburban idyllic existence and often times feels frustrated; I’ve also felt this way throughout the past fifteen years. Betty wonders if there is more to life than what she is living which is rearing children and being a good wife; I’ve constantly wondered the same thing except that I have the added burden of working.
Don, Betty’s husband acts like she should be happy with her life and gets mad at her when she shows real emotion, kind of accuses her of being crazy and sends her to a psychiatrist that he secretly talks to about her sessions without her consent and knowledge. My husband never went so far but for most our relationship he did accuse me of over reacting and/or accuse me of being crazy if I got “emotional” about something and/or brought up needs that weren’t being met in our relationship. It always felt that I was expecting too much out of our relationship for wanting normal things in a relationship. My husband has also acted like I should settle for what the little he can give me in terms of companionship and be happy with that since he was. For a long time, I felt that maybe I could and should settle for this but settling made me miserable for several years.
Don also kind of stopped investing time and energy into his marriage. He took Betty for granted because they were married with two children and hid behind his work and his many dalliances. My husband was never one to make time for us or continue to woo me in any sense after we started living together. Instead, he hid behind the raising of our children and the fact that he was always tired. He could never spontaneously compliment me and I was always either too fat or almost too skinny for him. Betty overlooked Don’s lack of affection for several years in the same way I overlooked my husband’s. I feel that this had to do with how women are conditioned to be polite and swallow their emotions because again–we’ll be accused of being crazy and/or hysterical.
The beginning of the end of Betty and Don’s marriage started when Betty eventually gets fed up after having one of Don’s affairs rub in her face and throws Don out but later they get back together because she finds out she’s pregnant with their third child. Don does try to be a somewhat better husband but eventually goes back to his philandering ways. There have been a few times throughout our relationship that I did try to break up with my husband but because he always apologized and said he would change, I always took him at his word and wanted to believe he would change. We even planned our third child and got married shortly after getting pregnant. I think I subconsciously did this because I thought a baby and a marriage would be the band aids that would fix “us”.
Betty eventually gets tired of Don’s lack of effort and also his lies and eventually asks for a divorce, she tells him something like, “I don’t feel anything when I kiss you”; it seems that this was when she knew that it was over for her and Don. For me, it took me a couple of years to be firm in my decision to divorce my husband. I think that I finally realized that there was no way I could continue the façade of our marriage when I realized that I no longer cared that he didn’t notice me or felt anything remotely like romantic love when I kissed him. It took him a while to understand why I wanted a divorce since he was happy with “us” and his main concerns were, “what about the taxes?” or “what about the kids?”. But like Don, he eventually agreed to it and said that he wouldn’t fight me about it. It’s kind of eerie that women like myself can still relate to a sixties housewife when it comes to relationships, marriages, and the stigma of divorce. I’m sure that people wonder why I would stay in a stagnant and awful relationship/marriage; that’s simple; I loved my husband. I thought that loving him meant that I had to settle for a marriage devoid of any real affection. I thought that the love I felt for him would be enough to change him one day.
I wake up on a Sunday Mad and angry You’re not here In my arms Because I was too much I was too Insane Too old So I lay alone In tears that won’t fall Numb Wondering- When will I ever Find someone To take away The numbness Of the experience Of a life not loved Of a face not kissed Of an intimacy faked!
I can’t live without you another day But I have to stay away You are now part of my past To you, I was another piece of ass Even though I wish your love was mine Without you, I will be just fine Because no matter how weak I get The memory of you, I must learn to forget So with these few words I may win the war On loving you no more
I wanted you but God wanted you more Perhaps you were an angel not meant for earth Perhaps you were a hard a lesson in grief and loss That I needed to learn A lesson that I should never take love and hope for grant No matter how brief the stay is A lesson that your heart can break within a span of a few minutes A lesson in surviving what you think is unsurvivable
Life on the BPD 