after Danez Smith’s “Dinosaurs in the Hood”
–
Let’s do arts and crafts in the barrio
preschool meets college art seminars meets ‘this is going on the fridge’.
There should be a paper where the little Mexican girl with a braid is
taping and gluing and ripping and creating,
creating because all she wants is for her own hands to get a chance to hold
something beautiful.
–
Don’t let this workshop be led by Andy Warhol. In his class, Hispanic girls play
with dirty laundry, the metaphor: Mexican girl tries to wash her dirt away,
the foreshadow to her end, she follows Mami and Abuela.
F*ck that, the girl has a crayon or a paintbrush
and this is proof of love for the Virgin Mary or love for not virgin older sisters. I want a canvas
–
where oceans become waterparks, a painting
where water rolls its way off your back. Don’t let
white men in this art class. I don’t want any racist shit
about African Americans or overused Muslim stereotypes.
This art is for a neighborhood of royal folks –
–
children of immigrants and laborers and asylum seekers – making their own block
into a beautiful land. I don’t want some progressive
girl next store with perky boobs and
nepo power. This is not a vehicle for white girls to
get into college. I want ninos, children, making a mosaic of a new world
–
with the memories in their head and in Abuelo’s grave. I want those
one-hundred-dollar markers, I want Sandra Cisneros to write a poem or two.
I want Selena to write a new song and cumbia on the stage,
one last time. But this can’t be
a Latino statement piece. This can’t be a Latino statement piece. This art can’t be dismissed
–
because of the hands that molded it or the story it tells. These crafts can’t be a metaphor
for Hispanic families and childlike attempts to be something. This art can’t be about race.
This art can’t be about Latin pain or cause Latino pain.
This art can’t be about a long history of having a long history with hurt.
This art can’t be about race. Nobody can say sp*c in this class
–
who can’t say it to my face in public. No wet-back jokes in this class.
No handcuffs on fathers. And no one takes the Mexican girl away from her family. And no one takes
the Mexican girl away from her family. And no one takes the Mexican girl
away from her family. Besides, the only reason
I want to do arts and crafts is for one masterpiece: the Mexican girl with a braid in her hair
writes a poem and hangs it on her fridge
–
and her words, tell our story, right there.