HisPANIC

Hispanic

​His-PANIC! What’s all the hys-teria about? None of this would be happening if you helped an amigo out. But instead of lending a hand and trying to understand, you lend him a shovel and treat him like he isn’t a man.

​Build that wall! Well, that wall has already been built. A wall full of pain, and ignorance, and guilt.

​Hey, to lighten the mood…here’s a funny joke. Why do Mexicans make refried beans? Have you ever heard of a Mexican doing something right the first time? Well, that Mexican probably built your home, the source of silence and solitude that you so comfortably call your own, and he didn’t need a second chance. He slaves away as you do your clever joke dance.

​And where is his home? In Mexico? A place he hasn’t been in years? A place full of lies, and suffering, and tears? A place where he cannot become successful because his success would result in failure and fear? Or maybe he resides here, in las favelas, Macon, Little Mexico down the street. “Don’t go near Kingsbury unless you want your tail beat!” Violence in the schools, murder in the sanctuaries, crime in the streets; have you never thought about the fact that maybe their motivation is to get a little something to eat.

​America, is supposed to be the home of the free, a land of opportunity, but where is that opportunity if you don’t speak like you and me? “Ay, primo, can you give me un trabajo? Mis chicostienen hunger, and my quality of vida is bajo.” We get one J1 working visa for families of not two, not three, not four, but five. In an oppressive land of the free, how are we to survive?

​Our degrees are stripped away, and we’re forced to workmanual labor jobs for low pay. With Pedro down the street running game making bank, to adequately feed your family, wouldn’t you do the same?

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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