Privilige, Fair Skin and Latina Pride

Privilege, fair skin, and Latina pride


My privilege is living in America with Latina blood and fair skin


My privilege won’t let a man in blue suit, gold badge, baton and Glock 40 throw me down on the city’s cement because I walked out of a liquor store with hands in my pockets


My privilege is residing in an affluent area full of fresh, preservative free, edible resources


My privilege is not having to take a bus then a train a bus then a train a bus then a train to nearest grocery store to feed a family of 5


My privilege is not living in the middle of a food desert where meals are served from a liquor store with a broken window, 3 dollar cigarettes and alcohol for all ages


My privilege won’t let me eat A bag of chips with 60% air

A 40oz glass of malt liquor that tastes like gasoline 

and a cup of top ramen for dinner every night


My privilege is not having to play sick from school to my mother because I’m known as the car thief, speed demon, berry picker, cherry picker, coke camel, 




My fair skin and body type, however, keep people guessing What I am


My fair skin and body type keep people asking


“where are your people from?”


My fair skin and body type make people say


“ooooo You’re mixed, and ahhh that’s why


you are so beautiful”


And mono-racial people aren’t?

And If I weren’t mixed, then what?

And if I’m just a small, curvy, porcelain, cherry cheeked, semi-freckle faced, jet black, front bang, thin browed Ruca and DOLL sitting on a large shelf built from sugar coated compliments and dehumanizing comments

for you to admire


then what?

another check off of the list of ethnic girls you’ve dated?

This poem is about: 
My community
My country


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