I am from a city

A city full of colored faces and still filled with their own discrimination and racism

What does it matter?

The race of them, it doesn't matter,

They continue to try to make a fool out of me.

They have mocked me for my Indigenous features,

They made fun out of my beliefs,

They laughed at my traditions,

They thought my language was silly and annoying.

"Get in where you fit in."

Is that how it goes?

What if I am too Native to be accepted by my Mexican friends?

Then I am too Mexican for any Native Indian.

None of my culture or people are accepted here, anyway

They're isolated elsewhere

How unlucky my family must be to have to live in this city, this city where it's people judge us for our rosy-brown skin, our long thick black hair, and our beaded feathered jewelery,

Is it really just a costume they see?

Of course it isn't necessarily our style that they judge.

Maybe they try to shame us because we have none.

But our hearts and spirits long for the remote town with Papa's ranch, the Indian smoke shops on every corner, small abandoned looking schools full of brown faces that smile at everybody.

The Reservation.

It's not that I feel like only Indigenous will ever accept me,

I am tired of hiding my identity

I want to express my Indian voice

I wonder why is it I make more friends when I am open about being Mexican-American

And I get a laugh in my face when introduced as Native.

I never knew that discrimination and racism were still so present

Until it was made a point that my skin and theirs were not the same.

My eyes and their eyes aren't the same either.

Why is it that the cocky racists and ignorants want me to keep my head down and let them walk all over me?

Why do they think they are so much better?

They aren't richer,

smarter,

kinder,

they didn't grow up better than me.

We come from the same slummy side of the city

We all experienced poverty on the same street and discrimination and neglect in the same school

Are you thinking now it's your turn to backlash the hate you felt unto someone else?

Then you have let them plant their roots in you.

I don't care.

I love that my house smells like burning sage, or that my Ma' braids my hair every weekend with red ribbons, I love the language spoken to my elders,

Because I was born Native, I have never felt ashamed or embarrassed by it, I embrace it as much as possible.

I will not hesitate to jump at the people who mock us.

Judgement and jealousy is all these people have in this world

Our minority and faced discrimination brings us all closer together.

Visiting on the rez and I now know how deeply I miss it,

Waking up at 7 everyday on a Winter morning and going outside to see rocking chairs on the porch and many unfamiliar faces that all smile and wave.

This is my home but I cannot stay.

I am from a city

A city full of life, but it has no heart

Atleast not anymore

I visit my loved ones in rural, remote towns and reservations

I take in the fresh air there, along with the scenery of green, brown, blue, and orange-yellowish colors.

I am here with my people,

I am home.

Haanil le ka'ano', taah k'a'an iik'.