We're not as related as before, you and me
I am a synthesis of multiple ethnicities
From the way that I walk
To the way that I talk
You are my brother--
Down to the very last strand
Of your DNA
But I am mixed, and you are not
For eight years we shared a classroom
Sometimes a bedroom, the experiences
Of our trans-cultural childhood—
The stories of our heritage.
Then you forgot.
The foods, you grew to dislike.
The mother/father lands, you didn't know.
I am not American, and I am,
But you always are.
You have been this and then that
While I am always those and these
"I am Mexican," you might say
"I am not just," I would think
"Don't you remember," I might ask
"Remember what?" you would answer
That Tamar of Genesis is our mother
And Judah is our father
That our great-step-grandmother was a Trini witch
That Zapata was our comrade
That your blood is European, your skin Indian
While your hair is French, your eyes Chinese
"I am me" you would say
Not wanting to be taken apart
"And I am me, but these are us, "I would know
Liking the pieces
"We’re just brown," you'd say
"Not just," I'd answer.
Which is why we are less related now
Than then
Because I am mixed
And you are not.
Stuff I think about. A collection of my poetry, fiction, articles and essays. If you like something, want to use something or want to publish anything you see here, please let me know.
Showing posts with label mixed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mixed. Show all posts
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I Am Mixed
Multicultural, biracial, mixed, mestiza
Ethnicity, ethnocentric, anomaly
Race, culture, identity
Your blood mixed with mine
The historiography of my parents' sexuality
The power play between two shades of brown
Descriptions, constructions, definitions—
I am not a conglomeration of labels
Races put on like cloaks
Stripped down into stereotypes
Condensed for people who are not me.
Not just two halves of what you can’t see
You want to know me?
Then ask.
I am the only one with eyes that see this view
You don’t know what my hands can do
Your heart has never loved who I loved
Your brain never thought the thoughts I think
Your feet don’t plod the path I trod.
I am multidimensional, multi-intentional, multi-generational
So much more than multiracial
Yes, my blood is multinational
It may be rich but it’s still red
So much more than a statistic
Of colored people who shared a bed.
Ethnicity, ethnocentric, anomaly
Race, culture, identity
Your blood mixed with mine
The historiography of my parents' sexuality
The power play between two shades of brown
Descriptions, constructions, definitions—
I am not a conglomeration of labels
Races put on like cloaks
Stripped down into stereotypes
Condensed for people who are not me.
Not just two halves of what you can’t see
You want to know me?
Then ask.
I am the only one with eyes that see this view
You don’t know what my hands can do
Your heart has never loved who I loved
Your brain never thought the thoughts I think
Your feet don’t plod the path I trod.
I am multidimensional, multi-intentional, multi-generational
So much more than multiracial
Yes, my blood is multinational
It may be rich but it’s still red
So much more than a statistic
Of colored people who shared a bed.
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