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 wherebyÂ
individuals or groups are
absorbed into the dominant
culture of a society,
the process ofÂ
assimilatingÂ
involves taking on the traits
of the dominant culture to such a degree
wherebyÂ
you are now
indistinguishable
…
i think inÂ
kindergartenÂ
i grabbed the wrong crayon
…
negro
durazno
marron
blanka
black
tan
brown
or white
…
there was neverÂ
the right color left
in the box
…
not white enoughÂ
for the white kids
not dark enoughÂ
for the hispanic ones
my skin has never matchedÂ
my heritageÂ
…
so maybe it was the wrong crayonÂ
…
or maybe my color was washed awayÂ
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 teachersÂ
and whiteboards
white classrooms,
white houses,
white stars and stripes,
white clouds in the sky
…
assimilateÂ
…
assimilation dances acrossÂ
my skin kicking
the pigmentationsÂ
of my past to
the dirt
…
it flirtsÂ
with the shadowsÂ
in my mind reminding me
…
assimilateÂ
…
forget the little girl
you once wereÂ
when you obsessed over
latin pop stars
…
forget grandparentsÂ
finding their way to
this countryÂ
…
forget the grandma calling you chula
forget the railroads they built
forget the darkened skin
forget who you are
forget the personÂ
…
assimilate
…
imagine my great
grandparent’s
humiliation at the hospital
the first day family membersÂ
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 descendentÂ
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 sideÂ
…
i don’t speak spanish
assimilate
i don’t like spice or rice
assimilate
i can’t speak spanish
assimilateÂ
no salsa
assimilate
english, please
assimilate
no, i can’t speak spanishÂ
assimilateÂ
…
try to sound white
act white
speak whiteÂ
breathe white
be white
be white
be white
…
assimilateÂ
…
indistinguishable
…
i raise my handÂ
to my heart
and follow the prayer we sing
to the flag
…
i pledge my pigments allegiance toÂ
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 thisÂ
one nation
one nation under god
under a white god
one nation
indivisible
indivisible as long as you follow alongÂ
withÂ
liberty and justice for those who listen to whiteness and trust it
liberty and justiceÂ
forgets me.