This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Augustana chapter.
Latina by Elia Murillo
Maybe it’s my pale skin
Or maybe it’s my blue hair
The ripped black skinny jeans
The skull jewelry
But when the Spanish rolls off my tongue
And you see me dancing to the Latin rhythm
You realize your mistake
I may have the face of a colonizer
Pero nací con la corazón de una azteca