Being American Does Not Make Me Less of a Puerto Rican

As I walk in a room, the red hot stares pierce through my skin.
I can already tell that I am being judged on my appearance. 
I return the stare.
I give the classroom of students a stare that says I am not intimidated by them.
This of course is a front.
My hair is curly.
My eyes are a bright pool of brown.
My skin is tan.
My figure is slim but there's a thickness to it. 

As I sit down in the classroom full of students, I am nervous.
What are they thinking? 
Do I look weird? 
Is my hair looking too crazy today? 
A boy who looks to be of some sort of Asian descent turns around.
"Where are you from?" he says.
"I'm from Manhattan" I say back. 

"No, what is your ethnicity?" he says, correcting himself.
"I am Puerto Rican" I say.
"You're pretty much an American then. Aren't you?" 
"No I am not. I am Puerto Rican." 

A thought appears in my mind in that very moment.
Everyone must think that I am simply a hispanic who has lost touch with her roots.
Well, no I have not.
From the looks of me
You can't tell
But there is the blood of a tribe of Tainos running through my veins.
There is sofrito from a dish of rice and beans that I ate being broken down in my stomach.
And there is a mix of African, European, and Indian in the texture of my hair.
On my face are features that have been given to me by my ancestors.
There is my slim but wide nose.
There are my almond shaped eyes.
There are my cheekbones.
There is my super defined jaw.
 I am Puerto Rican and I am proud.
But most of all I am human.