You Aren’t Mexican | SAM SOTOMAYOR

You Aren’t Mexican

poetry by SAM SOTOMAYOR

You aren't Mexican The year is 1939, my great grandfather has become a United States citizen after crossing the border in 1918.

You aren't Mexican The year is 1944, my great grandfather is being sent off to fight in Germany, a war that he was awarded a Bronze Star and Purple Heart for.

You aren't Mexican The year is 1946, my great uncle walks into a segregated school. The town of Gilbert Arizona has decided to send all of the brown students to one school and all the white students to the other.

You aren't Mexican The year is 1955, my grandfather watches as one of his classmates gets hit by their teacher for speaking Spanish.

You aren't Mexican The year is 1969, my grandparents can't teach their two young children Spanish because they were never taught for their own safety.

You aren't Mexican The year is 1973, my dad eats homemade tortillas made by my great grandmother on the same tortilla pan that now sits in my parent's cabinets.

You aren't Mexican The year is 1997, my parents welcome their second child into the world, my dad will never be able to teach either of his children Spanish because he never learned himself.

You aren't Mexican The year is 2005, the children in my class asked me if I speak Spanish, when I say no, they tell me I am not Mexican.

You aren't Mexican The year is 2009, Sonia Sotomayor is appointed a Supreme Court Justice, she is Puerto Rican, we share the same last name.

You aren't Mexican The year is 2014, I listen to my grandfather tell me stories about my great grandparents, the only connection I have to my culture, I have grown up hearing these stories.

You aren't Mexican The year is 2018, one of my coworkers tells me that I am not a real Mexican because I am mixed with white.

You aren't Mexican The year is 2019, I am 22 years old, I am trying to navigate a world in which I do not feel like I belong to. I do not speak the language of those who have come before me, due to the fact that at one point it was not safe for my family to speak it. At the same time I am fair skinned and those who look down on Chicanos think they can say backhanded comments to me. It is not fair. I am 22 years old trying to regain the culture that my family was denied. I try to do my Duolingo lessons daily, learning how to say something as simple as “the woman,” la mujer. I make chorizo y eggs in the hopes that when I'm eating it, I feel a little bit more brown.

You aren't Mexican It is today, whatever today's date is, however old I am, I am reclaiming my identity. Yo soy Mexicana.