Dreamers
Dreamers
By: Arion Hart
In America, California es el
Estado donde ‘se cumplen tus suenos’
‘Where your dreams come true.’
In my suenos there is no racism
There is no skin color
There are people.
When you look at my you only see color.
You see 5’3” light skinned red hair.
You see white, black, brown, and yellow.
I don’t want you too look at me and say,
“White!”
Look at me and say, “Alondra.”
When I tell you, “I’m Mexican.”
Don’t think, “Dirty wetback.”
Think, “Strength.” Because you don’t know
How hard it is for My people to get here.
You don’t know how much they have too abandon.
When I tell you, I speak Spanish,
Don’t assume I learned it in high school,
Where they teach you shit, and call it “proper” Spanish.
“Como si el espanol que yo hablo es corriente y inapropiado.
Por que el espanol es mi primer lengua y el ingles
Es Segundo.”
Spanish is my first tounge and English is second.
When you tell a Hispanic,
Speak English, this is America.
I hope you know Mexico is part of America.
When you call me a ‘Beaner’
Remember that it is my culture that feeds you.
We are the hands that plant the seeds for you,
So that you can stuff your sinful mouths with our labors.
We live in a society where being different is
Shameful.
Where being Mexican means drop-outs
Means pregnancy, means cholos, means narcotraficantes.
Where racist jokes have become
Where alienation and segregation have begun too rise
From their graves.
Back to the times where the paliduchos stole the land
From My people.
Back too when stealing was finding.
Genocides were insecticides
And We were the vermin.
My mother tells me, “Mija nunca olvides de donde vienes,
Nunca olvides tu cultura.”
Never forget where you come from,
Never forget your culture.
Because I come from a white Mexican women
And a chocolate dipped Mexican man.
I come from a mother and father,
From Maria and Fransico.
My blood says Mexican.
My culture says Freedom
America says, “Illegal Immigrant.”
My people come here with nothing up their sleeves
But the border patrol beats them as if they had guns up their sleeves
When all they have is hope.
My people fought to create the 'Dream Act'
But dreams are being shattered left on the freeways of broken dreams.
Spirits are being subdued left in front of Home Depot.
Tongues are being disjointed left on the doorsteps in front of school.
In America English is your tongue.
In America California es el estado donde se cumplen los suenos.
Where your dreams come true.
In my suenos there is no racism.
There is no skin color.
There are people.
Just people.