Because I have imperfect Spanish,

I am never Mexican enough to those who speak better than me

Because I have imperfect English,

I am always too Mexican for those who speak better than me

I have always been questioned why

My first name and last name don’t quite fit together

As if I can quantify the melanin in my skin

As if there is a line drawn directly down the center of my body

As if I am a physical representation of my parent’s re-marriage

Because others always like to point out

Which of my organs belong to either of my parents

But never belong to myself


It was in high school that I developed my identity

Huerta and Chavez taught me that I belong to la raza

Anzaldua taught me that a wild tongue cannot be tamed

I am justified in being exactly who I am

So I stopped defining myself by how I live up to other’s expectations

So I started defining myself by how I live up to my own expectations

I define myself by the relentless passion I have advocating for my people

I define myself by the way I give back through teaching others to advocate for themselves

And I may always be imperfect if I forget that

I am always perfect being me

This poem is about: 
My family


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