Yo soy Irma,

not Irma.

Cansada de escuchar personas pronunciar mi nombre mal,

y forzada con estar bien con eso:

I am Irma living in a world where people can’t even pronounce my name correctly,

being forced to be okay with it.

Being called rude, for correcting people on how

they pronounce my name,

yet I am encouraged to be original.

If Pancho Villa was in my position,

he would have shot them like there was no tomorrow.

Living in a rather prejudice community, where every gringo

believes that every Mexican in eye sight jumped the border.

My father lost himself in the American Dream,

he was blinded by the money that he needed, the money for my premature sister.

My beautiful mother roamed the desert,

and hid from cops, just like Gregorio Cortez.

My mother jumped the border to come get

a sense of the American Dream.

I shed tears knowing that my family is separated by a wall.

I say take down the borders that separate us all,

let us all learn about the Aztecs civilization, three finger jack,

Joaquin Murrieta the man who saved a lot of people dying

because of poverty.

In Mexico, church is worshiped as a holy figure,

and the government as the most satanic thing ever.

Los Cristeros, fought hard for us to have faith in

our own real leader, God.

In church we value our land, for it was once almost taken away

during the Revolution.

I value the Indian Mestizo that I see everyday in the mirror.

I am a Mexican girl living in the U.S

Planting my roots into soil that doesn’t fit who I am.

My roots will forever hold a taste of my querido Mexico,

but for now..

I am a Mexican girl living the “American Dream”.