I, Mestiza
They call us
thieves -
filthy, hungry,
bean-eating
wetback thieves.
They look at our
brown skin
and sneer.
But
they do not know
who we really are.
I am the daughter of
Cleopatra,
bastard daughter of Cortes,
loney child of a Mayan priestess -
I stand with one leg between the
Nile,
and the other between the
Rio Grande.
I am a golden brown
that has been diluted from
Aztec bronze
African coffee
and Spanish milk.
My skin is not dirty -
my skin is beautiful.
My skin is the color of
cinnamon,
powdered gold,
ground coffee beans,
rich soil,
clay.
I am both
the result of genocide
and the result of hope.
I am equal parts
suffering
and joy.
They can sneer all they want,
can call us dirty,
demean and degrade us,
but they cannot make me ugly -
ugly are their white shark teeth,
ugly are their serpent mouths,
but I -
I am beautiful,
I, mestiza, am a smooth
flawless
rock standing firm against
two rivers -
I, mestiza, am not a
dirty rag that's been used
by many
to clean up their mess -
I,
mestiza,
am a flawless character,
pioneer of future change and unity,
dreamer and do-er;
I grasp the world with both hands
and kiss it
and bite into it,
because that's what we do,
we take the world
so that is is
too much with us -
and I ingrain it into the fibers of my
soul
so that I cannot forget my place
within it -
I, mestiza,
am beautiful,
and flawless,
and too, too
much
for the devils of
prejudice.