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An Open Letter to Latin@s on Predominantly White Campuses/Pages ripped out of a tired, Latina’s diary

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Williams chapter.

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

 

Tania Calle is from Corona, Queens in NYC. She attended the Calhoun School '16 and is now majoring in political science and concentrating in public health while on a premedical track at Williams College. She focuses on reproductive justice and racial politics. For fun, she dances, writes poetry, thrift shops, and loves dogs.