Pale and blue-eyed

they call me a gringa but that's not who I am.

Some say that I'm lucky

that I don't look like a stereotype,

but we are people, not Jeopardy questions

and we should not be shoved into categories.

That's not to say I'm not proud,

of the Mexican blood in my veins; because I am.

But I'd like to be known for what I am,

and not what people think I should be.

It's not "lucky" to look whiter,

It's not a compliment to say

"but you're not really Mexican"

Because I am, really.

The Spanish that rolls off my tongue,

that you hate to hear because it hurts your ears,

I will keep speaking my language

because it is part of who I am.

Stop silencing us

and instead,

learn to listen. 


This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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