Why the fuck am I here?
To do what? To speak Spanish? To be someone I am not? To look for the person I was supposed to be? Why am I so ashamed to be who I am? You know why? Because it’s hard, it’s soooo hard to have one foot in one place and the other in another.
How can I be a Latina when they don’t even claim me because I don’t know the language? WELL GUESS WHAT PUNKS I AM? My name is Cruz, my first name is Sierra, and yes I had tortillas and refried beans and enchildas and tacos and tostadas growing up! But you know what else I had? I had the whole other side of my life too, I had good ol’ Texan stuff, brisket and barbecue and sliced bread and etcetera and etcetera.
Why should I keep apologizing for being one person stuck in two worlds, how can I continue to when I feel like more and more I don’t know who I am? Why are there so many rules for identity? I can’t destroy myself over this, but I feel like I am and I have and it hurts, because I’m trying. Everyday I’m trying, or I feel like I am, being here is entering the wound.
The language is a reminder of the person I’m not, but how dare anyone myself included try to make me feel like my existence is nothing, I will not apologize for that, so yeah I am 7th or 3rd generation Mexican. NO. I don’t speak Spanish. NO. I don’t know where my family live in Mexico. NO NO NO.
I can’t keep hurting myself like this because I can’t decide what part of me to ignore and what part of me to lose or to keep, why should I compromise myself, how can I be asked over and over again to deny the person I am, the history that has led me here. NO.
The answer is no.