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not so mexican and not so black
This or that.
I have always had trouble deciding
Who am I or more accurately what am I?
a question I am so often asked.
I’m mixed. I am Mexican. I am black
But I’m not so Mexican and I’m not so black
my peers have labeled me without my consent
there is an invisible label plastered on me
that everyone else but me can see
white-washed. because people get confused
my skin is brown but my voice
It doesn’t spit out the typical slang
but regardless of my proper vocabulary
I still am the one who is followed in the store
with a group of my caucasian friends
and I will never quite fit into an exact category
Whether my hair is straight. or curly. or in braids
because I’ll never be able to please my people
I walk past a group of Mexican kids and they don’t bother looking at me
why can’t they sense it on me
that I go home every day to tacos and enchiladas
that my name is Mija at home and I share
the same experiences as them
and when I walk past the black girls
they give me a forced smile
a you-look-like-us-but-you-aren’t-us
kind of look
but I am them. in ways that they don’t know
little did they know I got the police talk too
to never talk back to a cop and not to wear my hood up
we are connected even though we don’t hang out after school
and the white kids take me in like a make-a-wish project
oh poor you. what are you? can I touch your hair?
so where do I go?
what do I say when they ask
what are you?
I am me. not so Mexican and not so black
but I am so Mexican and i am so very black
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