An Open Letter to Latinas on Predominantly White Campuses/Pages ripped out of a tired, Latina’s diary
When professors you’ve studied under for two years mistake you for another Latina in your class,
Become larger than the sun,
Say your name the way your mother first taught you,
Roll your f****** R’s,
Make their eyes bulge out of embarrassment,
Ignore their flimsy excuse (“I did not have my glasses on,” “There’s so many students to keep track of,” “I haven’t had my coffee yet”)
Or don’t.
Say nothing,
Smile,
Sit in the chair across from them,
Take out the problem set you’ve been working on for too many hours,
Had three nervous breakdowns over,
And ask your questions.
Save your comments for the exit surveys
Or don’t.
Let your anger, not you, dissociate.
When the white boy you’ve been crushing on for weeks asks, “Where are you really from?”
Say “my mother’s v*****” and leave.
Wait!
Spill whatever magical alcoholic concoction made you even consider him a potential mate
ALL over on his Vineyard Vines sweater,
Then leave.
Or don’t.
Smile warmly,
Answer his question,
Give him a chance,
Tell him months later what your thoughts were,
Remind your friends that they weren’t born “woke,”
That if we want to point fingers on who’s oppressed womxn of color,
Just as many fingers can be pointed at men of color.
When your political science essay prompt asks you to construct an argument for or against an “open borders” policy,
Write for open borders,
Remember your mami’s stories of crossing El Rio Grande,
Trash the weak and inhumane economic theory against it,
Include a dedication in your paper,
Let it read:
“Para mi mami,
Para mi papi,
Para mi gente,
Para mi linda patria.
Como flores creciendo entre cemento,
Crecimos y prosperamos,
Donde no estuvimos supuesto,
Donde todo estaba a nuestro contrario.
Ahora míranos sonreír
Debajo el sol,
Libres e infinitos”
Or write against open borders,
Take the easy “A” that follows offering a “controversial” point
Overturn the idea that America is a “haven” for your people,
Shine light on the housing discrimination that concentrates Latinx communities in food deserts
(And then dares ask why so many Latinx children are diabetic or obese?!)
That sends children like you to underfunded schools,
With teachers that do their best with what they have,
But leave so many of us behind.
Latinx immigrants aren’t infatuated with America,
Rather, with opportunity,
With survival,
And full-bellies.
Remind your class that the real problem is international inequality,
Something that open borders isn’t positioned to fix.
Because when Shire wrote,
“no one would leave home unless home chased you to the shore”
She was trying to say,
That leaving absolute poverty and oppression,
For a disenfranchised, socially marginalized, but more economically stable position,
Is still a prison.
America is just a landmass in a sea of injustice.
When you are a Latina attending a school not created for you
You will be reminded of your skin,
Your hair,
Your (absent) accent
You still sometimes be exotic enough to be interesting
Other times too ethnic for comfort
And always too different to fit in
You will question whether your voice matters
In classrooms,
In debates
At parties,
Ever.
You will sometimes be torn
between being the next Dolores Huerta,
Ready to chant through loudspeakers
Rosary in hand
Exposing America for what it is
Or just existing,
Getting out of bed
Keeping up with your classes
Or at least trying to?
When you are a Latina attending a school not created for you
It may help to remember that
La patria todavía te espera,
Mami still plays Aventura on Sunday mornings,
Papi still hopes you’ll call,
Your brother is still up to no good.
You are not
Too small
Too inarticulate
Too culturally out of touch
Indebted to anyone
Or any institution
You are the human manifestation
Of sun-cracked soil
Forests ablaze
Resilient
Y
Resistant
So find happiness
However,
With whoever
You can
You want
You will