I'm not un coco....

  I am a chicana, but I used to not believe it. I know my family, where they came from.That's not the problem. It's others. To them, being Mexican is a checklist: Speak Spanish? Uncheck. Eat spicy food?  Uncheck. Brown skin? Uncheck   They called me coconut jokingly,but I let it get to my head. I started feeling unhappy; my face hot when I couldn't talk to my abuelos,when my mom had to make the rice plain, or when my skin lost its tan during winter, and I became pale. Using their standards, I felt more like a Gringa than a Mexicana. It took me awhile, a long while, to feel confident with my title, in my skin. Now, I'm not insecure. I realised, I don't need to prove my worth to others. I know who I am, my culture, my ancestry.  I know,soy una Chicana. 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741