I have lived in America my entire life. I was born on this soil in a hospital only a few miles from the Mississippi River. I grew up in a city between the cornfields of Iowa and Illinois. I’ve never once danced on the streets of Mexico. I can’t have a conversation longer than “Hello, how are you?” with a Spanish tongue. I have always felt stuck between the Hispanic part of me and the American side. For years I’ve had so many feelings swirling inside me. I was lost in my own body. As a writer, I have learned the amazing healing that writing brings. A few months ago, I began a project that’s been in my heart for a while. Writing it hurt, healed, made me smile, and made me cry. It was a beautiful experience, getting to make something of my story. Following this is that very project, a poem about my experience being a Mexican-American in this country.
the united states of assimilation
…
assimilation
…
the process whereby
individuals or groups are
absorbed into the dominant
culture of a society,
the process of
assimilating
involves taking on the traits
of the dominant culture to such a degree
whereby
you are now
indistinguishable
…
i think in
kindergarten
i grabbed the wrong crayon
…
negro
durazno
marron
blanka
black
tan
brown
or white
…
there was never
the right color left
in the box
…
not white enough
for the white kids
not dark enough
for the hispanic ones
my skin has never matched
my heritage
…
so maybe it was the wrong crayon
…
or maybe my color was washed away
with the water
on my grandma’s back
…
or was it textbooks
that didn’t dive
deep enough
…
or white teachers
teaching spanish class
…
white teachers teaching
every class
…
white teachers
and whiteboards
white classrooms,
white houses,
white stars and stripes,
white clouds in the sky
…
assimilate
…
assimilation dances across
my skin kicking
the pigmentations
of my past to
the dirt
…
it flirts
with the shadows
in my mind reminding me
…
assimilate
…
forget the little girl
you once were
when you obsessed over
latin pop stars
…
forget grandparents
finding their way to
this country
…
forget the grandma calling you chula
forget the railroads they built
forget the darkened skin
forget who you are
forget the person
…
assimilate
…
imagine my great
grandparent’s
humiliation at the hospital
the first day family members
change my name
…
bi-ay-jo
turns into vuh-lay-jo
and el-en-uh
turns into ee-lane-uh
…
how do you pronounce
a family name
tied down by
your anxieties
…
you don’t
…
you keep quiet
you nod your head
you go along with it
…
assimilate
…
each descendent
gets a lesson on
submission
…
don’t twist
your tongue,
wipe the culture
from your jaw
…
after a few
generations of
cultural genocide
i lost my hispanic side
…
i don’t speak spanish
assimilate
i don’t like spice or rice
assimilate
i can’t speak spanish
assimilate
no salsa
assimilate
english, please
assimilate
no, i can’t speak spanish
assimilate
…
try to sound white
act white
speak white
breathe white
be white
be white
be white
…
assimilate
…
indistinguishable
…
i raise my hand
to my heart
and follow the prayer we sing
to the flag
…
i pledge my pigments allegiance to
the flag,
the flag that waves my past away,
the flag of the united states of assimilation
to the republic not dominican or puerto rican
to the republic which stands and claps for people losing themselves
in this
one nation
one nation under god
under a white god
one nation
indivisible
indivisible as long as you follow along
with
liberty and justice for those who listen to whiteness and trust it
liberty and justice
forgets me.